Deep down, below the Opera Populaire, the Phantom finished writing a letter. He folded it, placed it carefully in an envelope, and dripped some red wax on it. Just before the wax cooled off, he took a seal - not his usual, skull-shaped one, but a new one he recently plundered right under the nose of the Opera's manager - and pressed it into the wax. He turned over the letter and wrote the address. Then he stood up, and went to a curtain. He pulled it aside to reveal a tall, smashed mirror. He pushed a switch beside the mirror and it swung open. He took the pitch-black passageway. After a few left turns and some ascending staircases, he came to a wall. There was a small slit in that wall, from which a paper thin ray of sunlight fell on the mucky floor of the tunnel. He slipped the letter through the slit, and it fell on the desk in the room beyond.

The Phantom turned away, and made his way to his home. He did not worry about the letter not finding its way to the addressee. Madame Giry has never failed him.


Christine de Chagny stood beside the open window of the grand Chagny mansion in a French province, looking out on the early spring countryside, illuminated by the warm sunlight.

"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye... " she sang under her breath, idly fiddling with the hem of her sleeve, brooding on past times.

She couldn't forget the Phantom. Almost every day of those five years, she wondered how would it be if she stayed and lived with him, and had she made the right choice. But whenever she saw Raoul's - her husband's - kind, loving face, she scorned herself for thinking about these things, because Raoul's love was so deep, so understanding and gentle, and she couldn't bare to leave and hurt him.

"Remember me, once in a while; please, promise me you'll try... "

She couldn't help reflecting on why the Phantom had let them go on that fateful night five years ago. Had he loved her too much to see her suffer, to make her love him? If that, why did he then torment her in the first place? Was he still alive? She heard that the Opera Populaire had been rebuilt, but she and Raoul haven't visited it yet. Raoul was frightened of the unwanted memories that would surface if they came back there once again. He was frightened of his own memories, for Christine had never considered the Phantom a memory: every detail of him was still as vivid as if she had left him only yesterday. She wanted, in fact, to go back to Paris and see the Opera Populaire once again. Meg and her were still in contact by letters: they were, after all, best friends - but she hadn't seen Meg in over three years, and her last letter came a month ago. She hadn't received any word from her ever since.

There was a knock at the door, and a small boy entered, carrying something in his hand, concealing it from her. Christine looked at him and smiled fondly. Christine and Raoul's son had inherited his blue eyes from his father, and his brown curly hair from his mother.

"What have you got there, Erik?" she asked him.

"Mama, you got a letter," the child said, handing her what he was carrying: it was an envelope marked with the wax seal of the Opera Populaire, addressed to "c/o Christine de Chagny".

"Thank you, darling," she said to the boy and kissed him on the tiny forehead. "Now run along and play."

"Yes, Mama." The boy hugged Christine and left the room.

Christine de Chagny sat in an armchair and broke the seal. She pulled out a short note, written in a familiar handwriting, although she couldn't identify the person who wrote it, and read:

"Dear Madame de Chagny,

I am pleased to invite you to Opera Populaire's opening night of the new season. The opera which will be played is Gluck's "Orpheus and Euridice", a genius libretto I will be conducting. Your friend, Meg Giry, will be singing the lead role. You would make me an unparalleled delight if you would come, along with your husband the Vicomte, of course. I am happy to inform you that your tickets have been paid for so you need not worry about the price. It would do me a great honour, Madame, if you were to attend on the performance.

Fondest greetings,

Luc Reyer."

Out fell two tickets to the Opera. Christine carefully folded the letter and replaced it in the envelope. Luc Reyer... the name sounded familiar... yes, he was the new conductor, wasn't he? He replaced old Monsieur Reyer who had conducted in the days she was still singing in the Opera. Meg wrote to her about him, and according to her words, the new conductor was a kind man, very skilled in his work. But she couldn't help thinking about the handwriting... there was something strangely familiar about it, although she couldn't quite put her finger on it. She took out the letter again and reread it, but still couldn't remember where she had seen the handwriting before. She shrug away her suspicions, remembering how Raoul told her not to worry her mind on trivialities.

Just then, the curtains fluttered in the wind, the sky darkened, and she heard someone calling her name.

"Christine, Christine," the voice said, and then, in a sensual whisper, seemingly just beside her ear, whispered in song: "Christine... " She shivered, remembering how he used to call her name in her dreams... And the windows rattled from the wind before the storm. The door sprang open and Christine gasped.

"Raoul!" Her husband, the one who opened the door, crossed the room and closed the window. He laughed.

"Of course it's me, Christine," he said, his eyes smiling. "Who did you think it would be?"

"I..." she started, and then said: "No-one." Raoul took her in his arms and kissed her.

"Erik told me that we've got a letter," he said.

"Oh, yes," Christine said and showed him Reyer's letter. Raoul read it, and she saw that he was worried.

"You don't want to go," she said.

"Christine, you have to understand me," Raoul said. "I don't want you to suffer again. I don't want anyone to hurt you. Christine, I love you..."

"I know, Raoul," she said and kissed him. "But it has been five years. He won't come back. Don't worry. Please, please, let's go to the opera. It has been so long... I want to see Meg again."

"Very well," Raoul sighed. "If it makes you happy, little Lotte, we will go."


Author's Note: Right... I know Raoul looks dreadful in here, but I just ... hate hate hate hate him. Please don't hold it against me...! Though, seriously, how many of us "phans" (aka Phantom fans) actually wanted Christine to wind up with Raoul in the end? I know the book is completely different from the movie in this part - it makes the Phantom look like a twisted and evil sadist and brain-washes you to actually take Raoul's side - however, since my phangirlism line went like this: heard the soundtrack - saw the movie - read the book, I believe you'll understand me when I say that it's WRONG from Christine to be with Raoul. Will I change this in my story? Hehehe... patience, friends, patience. Although, as my friend put it, it would be really morbid if she stayed with the Phantom. And yes, I will continue calling Erik "the Phantom", because the name Erik just doesn't suit his character. Ooops... have I blurted out? Because we have another Erik here... have you spotted him? Pardon me while I grin evilly. Bwahahaha! ;)