Author's notes: I know, I know, this was not up yesterday, as I promised. So sue me! It's up now, so what are you complaining about? Anyway, I hope you like it, and please, don't forget to REVIEW!

Disclaimer: I have taken the liberty to, once again, use lyriclines in my story, this time from "All I ask of you". Unnescessary to say, and sadly, they don't belong to me. They belong to Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice, and I, once again, hope they don't mind.

Part II

Raoul had been lost in his thoughts of the past, and was pulled back to the present by a clock striking. Half past nine. He was to be in a meeting with Messieurs André and Firmin at the Opera at ten o'clock, and here he was sitting, still in bed.

He quickly got dressed and ran down to the kitchen, almost knocking the maid over in the stairs. The cook was standing by the stove, making his breakfast.

"Good morning, Madame DuPont. Is my breakfast ready? I am in a hurry."

"Of course, Monsieur le Vicomte. You can go out and sit in the dining room, sir, and I will be right out."

Raoul sat down at the table, and when the cook delivered his breakfast, he asked her to tell the driver to roll out his carriage. He then hastely ate his breakfast, hardly noticing how exquisite it was, put on his hat and cloak and ran out the front door.

"The Opera, please, quickly," he said to the driver who held the door for him, and merely seconds later, they were on their way.

The fire that had made so much damage in the auditorium had not harmed its façade. It still looked like it had when Raoul got here not many months ago. To watch Christine sing...

He impatiently waved the memories away and quickly walked up the stairs and in through the doors. The foyer hadn't been hurt by the fire either, and looked as marvelous as ever. He was met in the stairs by the two operamanagers, Messieurs André and Firmin.

"Gentlemen, I am terribly sorry to be late. I hope I have not kept you waiting?"

"Certainly not, my dear Vicomte," Monsieur André said with a smile. "We have keepen ourselfs busy."

"Good," Raoul said and continued climbing the stairs, leading the wayto their offices. "Then let us get down to business."

Well inside Monsieur Firmin's office, Raoul took off his hat and cloak and sat down in a chair. Monsieur Firmin sat down behind his desk, and Monsieur André in a chair beside Raoul.

"We are very relieved that you and your parents still want to finance our Opera, Monsieur," André began. "After that terrible incident two weeks ago, we feared we would be ruined, but as it looks now, we will be able to solve this mess. And it will not be too expensive either," he finished with a content smile.

Monsieur Firmin lent forward, resting his arms on his desk. "And now, sir, we of course wonder how much you are willing to pay for the reapirs." He looked much more worried than his colleague.

"We are prepared to give you as much money as you will need, Messieurs. But I would very much like to know what they will be used for, and what other plans you have for the Opera's future."

The two managers looked very relieved at these news, and immediately began telling their plans for the Opera-house.

Two hours later, Raoul left the office, very pleased with how the meeting had turned out. The managers had wanted to basically just throw out the old auditorium and replace it with a new one, but Raoul had managed to convince them that there were cheaper alternatives. Those might take longer to implement, but that would give the managers more time to decide on which opera they would perform next, and to hire a new staff. The latter should not be a problem though, because there were many unemployed singers and dancers among the streets of Paris. With any luck, we will have a new performance up in a month, Raoul thought, content.

While he made his way through the Opera's corridors towards the foyer, his thoughts went back to his days here with Christine. He remembered how they had walked these corridors in the afternoons, holding hands, talking about the night's performance. How he sometimes had pulled her into a dark corner and kissed her breathless, how she'd trembled in his arms, begging him both to stop and continue.

Raoul suddenly felt a terrible urge to slam his head against the wall, and he stopped walking and lent against it. Why was he torturing himself with these thoughts, when they were nothing but memories? Why wouldn't his mind listen to him and forget?

On his left, Raoul saw a door. Not wanting to go back to his house with nothing but the maid for company, he opened the door and walked into the empty remains of the auditorium.

As he looked around the damaged room, he remembered a night, not so very long ago, when this room had been filled with people, who had given Christine standing ovations as she'd sung Think of me. Raoul had been the one applauding the most, then he'd run down the corridors to be able to congratulate her.

Without noticing it, he'd sat down in a seat, and was staring at the spot where Christine had been standing. But as he slowly came back to reality, the scene from Hannibal disappeared, and instead was the one of Don Juan Triumphant. No-one had removed the set, and it still stood there, just as it had done when The Phantom had brought Christine, and Raoul, down into "Hell".

Suddenly Raoul rose from the chair and ran down the aisle, the dust whirling behind him. He ran up on the stage, out in the backstage area, up the stairs. He ran from the memories, ran from the sounds of the past. Out on the roof and over to the edge. There he stopped, panting, looking out over Paris' rooftops. The music that had haunted him in the auditorium had disappeared, and the images too, but in their places was another song, whose lyric Raoul knew very well. He started singing to the music in his heart.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me with you here, beside you." His voice turned into a whisper. "Say you love me..." Tears had began rolling down his cheeks, and he slid down to the ground and buried his face in his hands. "Anywhere you go, let me go too...love me, that's all I ask of you."

As Raoul sat on the ground, he heared the door open behind him. He heared the rustle of skirts and felt a light hand on his shoulder.

"Monsieur le Vicomte? Are you all right, sir?"

Raoul turned his head and saw Meg Giry stand behind him. Her eyes were worried, and they widened a little at the sight of Raoul's tears. He quickly turned his head away, embarrassed. He felt her hesitantly lift her hand off his shoulder and turn around to leave, but suddenly he didn't want to be left alone.

"Mademoiselle Giry, please, stay with me," he said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I would rather not be alone right now."

He heared her turn around again and slowly sit down beside him. And then she, too his surprise, hesitantly put her hand in his and squeezed it gently. He returned the gesture as he unseeingly gazed out over the city.

"I remember once, not long after I got here," he said, just as much to himself as to Meg. "It was in the middle of the performing of Hannibal. The show of that evening was about to start, and Christine was nowhere to be found. Everybody was searching for her, some thought she had been taken by the Opera Ghost again. But it was I who found her. She was standing up here, singing lullabies to herself. She did not have any idea of what time it was, and when I asked her what she was doing, she simply said: 'Watching the stars, and thanking my father for sending me my Angel of Music'." He fell silent, not knowing what he'd ment by telling Meg this story, thinking he'd made a fool out of himself.

But Meg didn't say anything. She just held his hand and looked out over Paris.

They sat there in friendly silence for quite some time, untill the cold of the February-day reached them. Raoul picked up his hat and helped Meg to her feet.

"How come you came up, Mademoiselle?" he asked.

"I was wandering the backstage area when I heared someone running in the stairs. No-one was supposed to be back there, so I wanted to know who it was. I promise, Monsieur, it was not my intention to follow you personally." She smiled and crossed the roof to the door. Raoul quickly followed and held it for her. They descended the stairs in silence, and walked through the backstage area towards the dormitory of the corps the ballet.

"Monsieur, if I may ask...what were you doing up on the roof?" Meg hesitantly asked .

"Running from my memories," Raoul said after a while. "I have not remembered anything at all from that night untill this morning, when I remembered everything. And to add to that, returning to the Opera...it just became to much..."

They'd reached the door to Meg's room, and she hesitated with her hand on the doorknob.

"Monsieur...I am probably not in the position to say this, but...if you ever need to talk, about anything, you can come to me. You know where to find me."

Raoul watched in silence as she entered the room and closed the door behind her. Yes, he knew where to find her. But the one he wanted to find was Christine.