A/N: Haha, I finally finished…Just a quick note to say that I shall be on holiday for a few weeks, and will hopefully post the next chapter when I get back.And I love all of my reviewers. Seriously, I may start a fan club dedicated to reviews in general, I love them so much. Although debatably all they do is build my already overlarge ego. But I still love them. And I must specifically thank PhantomsHeart for tapering my problem down to a tee, and tell Amanda17 that this story is also over on Aria, and they tell you how many times it's been viewed.

Disclaimer: Wow, amazingly, I still don't own anything to do with Phantom. Guy is mine, but I will willingly trade him for Erik if I can get ahold of the requested documents.

To an outsider, the atmosphere of the famed Opera Populaire could only be described as odd. Or at least that was what Guy Belamy got from it as he hurried up the ornate golden steps into the building. As a trusted manservant to an auspicious nobleman, Guy occasionally made his way to the Opera to purchase tickets for his employer, like today. But today was slightly different.

Instead of practicing, the ballet rats were fluttering around the hallways nervously, sticking so close to one another that it would appear they were afraid of getting lost. There was no laughter amongst them when Guy casually began to flirt with a few - not even a nervous giggle from the bold ones. They retreated back to their dormitories as awkwardly as a ballerina could, clutching the rags they wore for day to day use close for comfort.

Guy shook his head sadly, and walked on. It was not in Guy's nature to be curious about his surroundings, but as he'd said, today was different. Guy had, of course, heard of the scandal that occurred two nights ago, when the famed singer Christine Daae had been kidnapped. That was the very reason Guy was here today - his employer had asked him to purchase tickets in advance, to make sure he got a good gossip opportunity.

This was indeed very odd. With no known practice going on, stage hands and performers alike filled the hallways leading to the manager's office, and they gawked suspiciously as Guy passed. One even had the nerve to glare when Guy knocked loudly on the door.

There was no answer, and Guy was about the knock again when the same stagehand who'd glowered at him earlier stopped him, motioning Guy to be silent. Guy was perplexed at first, but when shouting started to be heard from the manager's office it was soon dissolved. A whiny, searing voice Guy knew to be one of the managers mingled with the deep tenor of a stranger's richly cultured one.

"Please Monsieur, we have done all we can…" The unknown manager spoke, and was cut off, by the stranger.

"All you can? My God, Richard! You have done nothing! Christine has been down there for almost a day! God knows what is happening to her!" His speech ended in choking sobs, and Guy could distinctly hear a small thud, as if the man had fallen into a chair. "Christine.."

A faint scuffling ensued, which seemed to end in one of the men crawling from his chair.

"Please Monsieur, we have done something." The previously hushed tone of the third person, whom Guy presumed to be Moncharmin, spoke only to be met with silence from the other two. The stranger, after a long pause seemed only to get across a few lines.

"And what, pray tell me, would that be?"

"We received a note." The reply to this was very hushed, almost melodramatic in nature.

"A note, Monsieur's? You call a note helpful?" The same tone was employed by Moncharmin once more, only almost silent, so that neither Guy nor the other ones listening could tell what was being said. The reaction, though, was viewed by all as the door swung open revealing a tall blonde man with an expression of utmost fury on his face.

He was handsome, albeit a bit feminine looking, and looked thoroughly disheveled, with unkempt locks and red, bloodshot eyes. He was also recognized immediately by all the members of the darkened hallway. Raoul deChagney, patron, regular attendee of L'Opera Populaire, and most notable of late, Fiancée to the infamous Christine Daae.

The tormented Viscount needed only a second to survey the room before his infrequent rage became prominent once more. With a cry of subdued fury, the Viscount ordered all in he room out, and all complied. Hurriedly. Guy himself hesitated only slightly - his employer's wrath was something to rival the Viscount's should he not receive his tickets - but a single terrifying scowl from the present aristocrat hurried him out the door, just in time to see the Viscount deChagney fall to his knees in anguish.

An anguish that seemed endless, and no matter how hard Raoul tried, inescapable. Everything had been so perfect, so right! He and Christine would escape that monster, and start a new life together, away from Paris, away from the Opera, and most importantly, away from its Phantom.

But fate seemed to have other plans in mind that night, when Raoul had failed Christine, and delivered her into the hands of the very evil he'd sworn to protect her from. Raoul had been so confident, so utterly stupid and confident, that his plan would work, that the police would be able to find the Phantom, this Erik Christine had so often spoke of, and make sure he could never so much as speak to Christine, let alone bewitch her like he had before.

Raoul had failed. That night, after Christine had - No, Raoul reminded himself. He would not speak of that, of a Christine who was so obviously not in her right mind. Christine had made it clear to Erik that she would stay with him in exchange for Raoul's life. She had sacrificed herself for Raoul. And he had done nothing.

Erik had wasted no time after they were out of Christine's sight before knocking Raoul out cold. Raoul still didn't know by what miracle Erik had spared his life that night, but he did remember waking up outside of the Opera Populaire, ignored and inconspicuous to the stampeding herd attempting to flee the building, or the other one trying to make its way in. There was still a slight cloud of haze around him, but he was conscious enough to realize what had happened, and to make an attempt at stumbling along with the rest of the crowd.

There was pure hysteria in the air, if not from what had taken place onstage, then from the crash of the chandelier, which had so nearly destroyed the Opera House. By the time Raoul had managed to get anywhere near the door, the place was crawling with people, who were joined by ones who were actually doing something constructive, namely the police, firefighters, and a variety of doctors and nurses who were from the local hospital.

It was one of the nurses who found Raoul. Half drowned, he must've looked like something from a nightmare. The nameless caretaker forcefully dragged Raoul to an ambulance - he wasn't willing to leave Christine without a fight. Someone had alerted his brother, Philip, of his condition, and he'd been transferred back to his estate the next day.

Philip hadn't been thrilled that morning when Raoul had stubbornly insisted on trudging back to the Opera House to find Christine. In Philip's mind, Raoul was as good as insane, and the girl, well, Philip had not cared about Christine to begin with. Especially when she'd seemingly set her eye on Raoul, Philip had tried to intervene, filling Raoul's mind with the possibility of a scandal should he marry a mere singer.

Raoul had paid little concern to his brother's wishes then, and he certainly wasn't going to stop now. He had raced to the Opera House, only to pick up where he'd left off.

The manager's had done nothing, and Christine was engaged to a madman.