A/N Concerning the Chapter Title- The title refers to the 3 men in Christine's life at the time of the story; Erik Destler, Richard Colville and the Phantom. It's important because the chapter includes their conflicts with one another.

Chapter Fourteen – And Then There Were Three

The Paris Opera – July 2005

"To my dear managers; it is a pity that you do not heed my commands. Did I not clearly state that Mademoiselle Landry would be Christine under all circumstances? Did I not say that in no case would Mademoiselle Granville replace her? It is with a heavy heart that I was forced to take one of your own. Please take it as a token of my displeasure, not of hatred.

Your servant,

O. G."

André folds up the note and throws it across the floor. "Despicable." The cast of the opera sits silently in the theatre, Christine crying on Richard's shoulder, Missy's hand on her arm, gently soothing her. These are her friends, and yet she hasn't told them about her night with Erik. Nobody knows. Nobody has to.

"Well," says Webber, "we might as well get on with the day's rehearsal, then." Christine stands and goes through with her rehearsal as she would otherwise, but she fights to get her words out, her songs, like there is some invisible barrier blocking them.

As the orchestra music fades from the final scene of the show, the cast applauds for their first complete run. Christine does not, picking up her things quietly and exiting the opera house. She still has many family members to call about Elle's funeral.

She opens the door of Missy's house with the spare key they've lent her, and she sees their littlest daughter, eight-year-old Delia, listening to her iPod at the kitchen table. She waves to Christine as she heads across the hall into the room they're lending her. Looking at the list of family members on her desk, she sits down and reaches for the phone. Then it rings.

With shaking fingers, Christine reaches for it and pulls it off of the receiver. "Hello?"

"Hello, mon ange. It is lovely to speak to you again." Her heart freezes over, her body racked with a sudden cold. It is him.

"Wh-wh-where are you calling from?"

"Nowhere of consequence."

Christine manages to find words in her mouth. "Y-y-you killed my grandmother!"

"She was a necessary loss, Christine. Necessary to your success, I mean." His voice is steeped with slime and power, two things Christine is not eager on.

"She was the only parent I ever knew and you took her away from me!"

"She was holding you back." Christine's voice is choked and she can barely make any sound at all.

"Stay away from me." Immediately, she slams the phone down on the receiver, breathing heavily, shaking uncontrollably. How did he find her? Christine throws her funeral list aside and pulls out a phonebook, searching hurriedly then dialing the number. A woman's voice responds.

"Hello, Destler Mansion, how may I help you?"

"Is Erik there?" Her voice is shaking, and she wonders if the maid thinks she's not a stalker.

"No, I'm sorry. Can I leave a message?"

"It's okay," Christine replies solemnly, putting the phone down again. She runs to her bed, throwing herself upon it and sobbing heavily. Christine lies there for minutes, hoping something will come to her to take her mind off of what has happened, but nothing comes. She resorts to calling more family members, but it does not make her afternoon better.

The morning of the funeral dawns and Christine and Missy help each other get dressed. "So," she says to Christine as she fishes through her dresser drawer for a black shirt, "is Richard coming?" Right, she's the one who knows about us. Or what was us.

"I hope so," Christine lies. She doesn't hope he'll be there. He'll be worrying about how he can impress her by finding and killing the Phantom.

When they reach the cemetery, Christine walks silently over to the gravesite. André is there with Carla and Webber, Missy and Madame Garnier come up behind her and hold each other, and many of her family members stand in silence, passing glances in her direction. She feels hands on her hips after a minute, hands she recognizes. "Christine," Erik whispers, burying his face in her hair. "Christine, I'm so sorry."

Christine turns to face him, looking into his dark eyes, throwing her arms around his neck, not caring who is watching. "Erik," she whimpers childishly. "Oh, Erik." Erik leans down and presses a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"You know you can always come to me?" She nods wearily, her body hot and sticky from the humidity, her eyes drooping from lack of sleep. Erik pulls her small body against his. "I love you and nothing is going to happen to you. We'll find the man who did this." Christine buries her face in his shoulder, crying helplessly for minutes on end.

"Christine!" She nearly falls over at the sound of Richard's voice as he pulls on her arm, taking her away form Erik. "What is this?"

"My grandmother's dead, Richard, and you expect people to merely pass a glance? He was trying to help me, Rich. That's not something to get angry over." Somewhere in her response, Erik had left, and she finds herself alone with a very angry Richard. He sighs sadly and puts his arms around her.

"I'm sorry, Christine. I didn't mean to get so worked up. Just stay away from him, please. I don't trust him." Why don't you trust him?

The service commences and when the last bit of dirt is put atop the grave, Christine has left a large damp mark on Richard's shirt. Erik, she sees, is standing solemnly by his father looking more like a statue than anything. Many family members and friends give her their well-wishes as they depart, and soon she is alone with Richard. "I'll drive you back to Madame's. Let me just run and get the car."

Christine feels vulnerable, standing alone in a cemetery. Knowing that it'll take Rich some time to get the car, she begins to walk through the pathways between the tombstones, seeing familiar family names. Slowly, unsurely, she rounds a bend in one of the paths and sees the two tombstones standing together. The white marble glistens in the heat.

The one on her right reads in plain print, Jacqueline Marguerite Giry Landry, Beloved Mother, Wife, and Daughter. The other reads, Franco Oliver Landry, Loved Father, Husband, and Son. Christine walks to the tombstones and kneels beside them. She presses her heated lips against each stone, hoping for some divine intervention from her parents.

"Christine…" She knows that voice, though she has no idea as to where it is from. "Christine, sing for your parents. Let them hear how much you've learned." She knows she shouldn't sing, not here and now, but she does anyway. A Phantom song seems fitting.

"Wishing you were somehow here again, wishing you were somehow near. Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed somehow you would be here! Wishing I could hear your voice again, knowing that I never would. Dreaming of you won't help me to do all that you…" There is the sound of twigs snapping behind her; Richard has returned.

"Who were you singing to?" He takes her in his arms and looks at her severely.

"My parents."

"But they're dead!" Christine decides not to tell him about the voice.

"I don't know. I just hoped that maybe they'd like to hear a song once and a while. I know I'm a silly little girl."

"Silly, no. Talented, yes," says a familiar voice from behind her. Christine turns and sees the Phantom, dressed in full-length attire and a cape though it is the middle of the summer. "Lovely singing, mon ange. I applaud you."

Richard puts his arms around Christine and backs away from the other man with her. "Get away from her! I'm warning you!"

"Warning me?" He smirks at Richard and Christine as he pulls a smalls shotgun from inside his cape. "I think you're a little unarmed to be saying such things, Colville." Christine feels Richard's body shake and she tightens her grip on his arm.

"Don't hurt him, please!" The Phantom turns his face and his eyes settle on Christine, weak and trembling in Richard's arms. "I beg of you!" With painfully slow footsteps, the Phantom advances on the couple, eyes alight with wicked desire. "Please."

"As you wish," he replies, bowing slightly to her. "But I'm warning you!" he shouts, pointing at Richard, his finger not even an inch from his nose. "If you try anything you will surely feel the wrath of an angered Angel. Or a Hellion, whichever title suits your fancy." With that, he is gone, and Christine collapses into Richard's arms, wishing it all over. Erik, I need you now.

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