I feel sad. I only own Gabrielle, Dimitri (who we learn more about in this chapter), and the plotline...and I'm not getting very many reviews.

Thanks to my only reviewer for the last chapter so far, EmailyGirl. Even if only a few people actually read this story, that's enough of a reason to keep the story up. STILL, I'd appreciate it BUNCHES and BUNCHES is you recommended this story to anyone who might review...just a suggestion

xoxo

Gabrielle woke up at her own choosing for once, not worried about any rehearsals, for Madame Giry had not been feeling well since the previous day. Even more relieving, Meg hadn't come rushing in with any wild adventures for them to pursue. Leisurely, she sat up and stretched, keeping her eyes shut because of the sunlight flooding the room. She shook her head with a smile at the warmth of day hitting her face. Shielding her face with one hand, she finally opened her eyes. It was then that she noticed a piece of parchment in her lap— not the one she had read the previous night, but an unopened one, still bearing the macabre red seal. Unfolding the paper delicately, she reluctantly read the words written in the now all too familiar elegant script.

Mademoiselle,

I sincerely hope that a good night's sleep has cleared your mind sufficiently. It is, as I have already said, absolutely imperative that you cease harboring these doubts of my existence. Your better judgement will quite hopefully reveal unto you the better decision. I remain patient for the time being.

O.G.

"The most articulate ghost I've ever had the pleasure of knowing," she said sarcastically, putting the letter on the bed and stepping out of her bed. She looked down and realized that she was still dressed. She smoothed the wrinkles out of her ensemble, hoping that no one would notice that she had worn the same dress for the second day in a row. "Good," she said with a satisfied smile, looking at her reflection in the mirror after sufficient primping for the day. "Now, to investigate a bit." She stood up from her vanity table and strode over to the door. It was still fairly early, and she banked on the fact that none of her comrades were early risers. Just to be sure, she peered around and made sure no one was roaming around.

She ran as fast as her feet would carry her in her dress and slippers, back to where Meg had taken her the day before. Somehow, she didn't need to pause to remember where to turn. She merely bobbed through the winding hallways like a little child who had been playing there for her entire life. She found herself back at that tavern, and began perusing through the various things scattered on the ground. The first thing that caught her eye was a box, attached to a toy monkey. Finding it interesting enough, she picked it up. Then, fearing that she'd be caught by someone if she continued snooping for too long, she ran the entire length of the distance back to her room, locking the door behind her. Her skirt was now wet nearly up to her waist from having to wade through—she had somehow not been able to find the boat she and Meg had used the previous day. She tried to wring them out, but eventually gave up, decided to sit in the sunlight and let them dry on their own.

She sat on her bed, placing the toy in front of her. She wound up the key on it and nearly squealed out in surprise at the tinkling melody that began to play. "I know that song," she said in very vague, misty tone. In a tiny, nearly inaudible voice, she hummed along. "It's papa's favorite song," she said with a somber smile. Even more quietly, she began to sing along with the music.

"Masquerade…Paper faces on parade

Masquerade…

Hide your face so the world will never find you…"

Gabrielle jumped horribly when she heard a knock at her door, then the click of the knob turning and opening. She winced as she realized she had been careless enough not to lock it after all.

"Good afternoon, my dear," Madame Giry said, stepping inside.

"Hello, feeling better, Madame?" she replied, trying to scoot in front of the trinket she had found. But Madame Giry's shrewd eye couldn't be fooled. She walked quickly forward and picked the box up.

"Where did you find this?" she asked, looking at Gabrielle gravely.

"It was just lying around," Gabrielle shrugged, trying her best to lie, though she was horrible at the trade.

"This does not just lie around," Giry said. "I know where Meg took you yesterday. Did you go back there?"

"Only for a moment," the younger girl shrugged dismissively. But then, she noticed the look on the old woman's face. "Madame, I'm…I'm sorry. I didn't know I wasn't supposed to be there."

"You're going to get yourself killed with that curiosity," she said in a nearly mournful tone.

"Killed by who?" Gabrielle asked in alarm.

"Child, I've already told you who's hiding in this very theatre," Giry said uncomfortably, "Don't ask that I tell you again."

"The Phantom, Madame?" Gabrielle asked skeptically, the expression of disbelief breaking onto her normally pleasant features. "My uncle Raoul already told me that he isn't real."

"Yes, I assume he would," Giry said presumingly. "But don't you think there could be such thing as—"

"Magic?" Gabrielle scoffed. "I doubt it, Madame. I've gotten a bit too old."

"Then I advise that you start thinking more openly before it's too late," Madame Giry said, leaving in a hurry. Gabrielle stared after her awkwardly for a moment, even though the older woman had slammed the door behind her. Then, she stood up and pulled down the shade to the window, draping the room in total darkness. Then, she threw herself upon the bed.She buried her head in her arms, and just lay that way for a while.

"Oh, Papa," she said tearfully. "I doubt even know what to believe anymore. You always told me to never believe what I can't see…"

"Then what do you still question?" a voice replied, which she recognized as her father's. It echoed rather ominously, but she somehow knew that it was the man who had protected her for so long, and that it would do no harm to reply. She hadn't been aware that she had fallen asleep, but was relieved to hear her father's voice. "Why do you want to believe in fairy tales?"

"I've never seen my heart beating, but I never question that it does, purely because I can feel it," she said weakly. "I've never seen God, but I still pray, and you never chided me for that. You can't see…" her voice trailed off, punctuated by a frail whimper.

"Can't see what?" Dimitri asked.

"You can't see a melody. You can only hear it," Gabrielle said sadly. "…and feel it. Your eyes can deceive you, it's not hard to lie to the mind. But there are other things that can't be fooled so easily."

"Songbird, you've learned an indisposable lesson," Dimitri's voice said somberly, "And now, you've finally learned enough for me to leave you."

"Papa, no—"

"Part of life is to let go," he said lovingly. "Think of what you've told me. Yes, you'll not be able to see me, but life is not about what you see. It's about what you feel."

"I don't want you to go," she said through sobs. She felt like a child again, clinging desperately to her father as though she didn't want him to leave on a long trip.

"I need to leave," he replied. "Understand that you cannot have everything that you want in this life."

"I love you, Papa," she said, trying to steady her breathing, beginning to accept what was happening. "I love you."

"And I only ask that you bless another with that same love one day," he said. "Au revoir, ma petite oiseau."

"Goodbye," she whispered. Suddenly, she was aware that her eyes were open. She looked around the pitch black darkness of her room. She felt an odd peace, until a voice boomed through the silence of her room.

Skeptical child, you dare to doubt me

When I am here before you

Refusing the urge to scream, she bit down on her lip and clenched her eyes shut. That voice confirmed her worst fear—that there were things in the world that she couldn't explain. But in these short few days, she had come to accept it. She hadn't come to like it, but it was true. After all of the time she had spent trying to believe that she had complete over her whole future, in that split second she decided that she had no control at all. Then, she opened her mouth and gave her reply.

Angel, no longer do I question

That you are there, hiding…

Blind me no longer, let me see you

Distant and strange specter…

"Sing for me." The voice spoke with such finality that Gabrielle nearly gave no resistance.

"What?" she asked, mentally berating herself for nearly betraying her vow that she had eliminated music from her life. "I sing for no one."

"You will come to sing for me, make no mistake of it." he said with such finality that Gabrielle shuddered involuntarily in grim acceptance of his statement. Then, a gust of hot, nearly unbearable wind swept through the room, making the shades fly open. Gabrielle was nearly blinded by the sudden onslaught of brightness, but, once her eyes adjusted, she realized that no one was in the room. She must have still been dreaming. Of course, she thought, I really must stop having these dreams.

Still uncomfortable with the fact that she was alone, she rushed outside, where she promptly ran into Meg Giry, who was staring out into the main lobby from the stairway, where her mother was talking to two older men.

"Who are they?" Gabrielle asked, her curiosity once again overpowering her fear.

"The managers, Andre and Firmin," Meg said quietly. "They haven't shown their faces in so long, I thought they'd forgotten they even own this place. Gabrielle, do you know what this means?"

"That they remember that they owned the theatre?" she suggested.

"No, silly," Meg laughed. "It means we're going to have a real show again. Or at least we're going to try."

"Really," Gabrielle said, feigning disinterest.

"Oh, but all of our leads are gone," Meg groaned, continuing her tirade, "I they don't call for Signora Carlotta to come back."

"Perhaps you should try for a lead," Gabrielle suggested.

"Heavens, no!" Meg laughed. "I'm a dancer, remember? But you could try, you know."

"Heavens, no! I'm a choirgirl, remember?" she mimicked.

"Who's to say that you couldn't?" Meg supplied.

"Who's to say that I can?" she countered. "I don't sing." She shrugged and went back to her room, forgetting her earlier distress. She sat down on her bed and looked up at the ceiling, wondering why her father had chosen this particular day to stop providing her with counsel. "Why can't you just be here?" she said dismally. "For a moment, I thought you'd come back…just for me. But you never will. I used to love singing, but I can't anymore. You left me. You took my voice with you."

"Then ask for it back," a voice replied as a flurry of wind shut the door. Gabrielle whirled around, and for the first time, had a physical being to attach to the voice. She stared up, unable to move. Her shoulders shook uncontrollably, and she began to realize what price she might have to pay for her curiosity.

Standing before her was a figure clad in black, a white mask covering half of his face. Gabrielle tried to open her mouth and speak, but initially couldn't find her voice. After all the trouble she had taken to keep herself from believing…All for naught.

"If you come here without warning again I may be scared enough to scream," she said matter-of-factly, pulling back her shoulders in order to steady herself. The man just smirked at her, cocking his head backwards.

"You know better." he said simply.

"Do I?" she asked. But before she received an answer, he somehow disappeared from right in front of her.

Gabrielle sat down on her bed. Now she'd seen him. She couldn't say that she was merely hearing things. He was real, and he could not be avoided.