DISCLAIMER: Though it pains me to say this, nothing has changed as far as ownership is concerned

Dreams are not an appropriate place for a young girl to waste her years. Gabrielle woke up from her dream of her mother with an odd sense of melancholy. As she got dressed, she decided that if she was to continue in the Opera Populaire, there were some things that she would have to do.

She walked slowly down the stairs into the foyer, where Madame Giry was beginning to gather her ballerinas for their first lesson of the day. The older woman looked up as Gabrielle approached.

"Tell Monsieur Erik that I've gone somewhere important." she said shortly. Then, she ran off outside before Giry had the opportunity to protest. The autumn air pleasantly stung her warmly flushed cheeks, and she took a moment to inhale the rare freshness and peace, sans the street's usually hustle.

At the other end of the quartier was a small chapel, where her parents were both buried. She stepped through the gate to the tiny cemetery, which only went as high as her waist. It was a humble place, and not too well tended to, but it was a sacred place nonetheless. How many children had come here and cried out for their mothers and father, staring at a slab of cold stone? How many brothers looked upon other brothers being lowered into the ground? How many lives had been swallowed up by the sanctified earth?

The last time she had come here was for her father's funeral, where he was buried next to her mother. In the middle of the service, as the priest was praying a blessing over her father's casket, Gabrielle let her attention drift towards the Opera Populaire, which stood in the distance, hardly lit and on the verge of decay. That sight had brought her to tears more than anything. More than the loss of her father, seeing the loss of their shared dream drove a stake through her already wounded heart.

She knelt down in between her mother's and father's flat tombstones, humble and dust-worn as they were, and placed a hand on each of them. "Mama, Papa,.." she said quietly. She half expected one of them to reply to her, but felt oddly relieved to have heard nothing. At least now, she didn't have to worry about their voices questioning her.

"I hope you're not disappointed in me," she said quietly. "I was supposed to be a doctor, or a writer. I was supposed to travel the world, and bring back stories of things you never had the chance to see. Instead, I've stayed here. I could have amounted to more than what I am, and I apologize for that." She paused, and breathed deeply. She could imagine them looking at her, staring at her and willing her to explain herself. Her body quivered slightly as she felt the tears begin welling up behind her eyes.

"But this is where my heart lies. This is where I stay. I belong here, even if it is just a tiny corner of Paris that the world may never know," she said in a choked voice. "I don't even know why, but this is where I want to be. Please, be happy for me…don't haunt me anymore." She clenched her eyes shut and stood up, staring down at the tombstones. She couldn't walk away yet, not without singing to her father one last time.

"Wishing you were somehow here again, knowing we must say goodbye…

Try to forgive, teach me to live. Give me the strength to try…

No more memories, no more silent tears. No more gazing across the wasted years…"

"You need to leave me now," she said quietly. "No more coming to me in dreams, and no more illusions. It's time for me to grow up."

"Help me say goodbye…"

Before she lost the will to just lay down where she stood for the rest of her life, Gabrielle tore her gaze away and ran out through the rows of headstones, not looking back.

She paused after she had gotten a fair amount of distance between her and the chapel, panting heavily after she had run the entire way. She could feel her chest tightening and trying desperately to regain its breath. She steadied herself, regardless of the fact that she was beginning to shake horribly. The autumn air no longer seemed pleasant, but cold and painful. For a moment, she nearly felt as though she needed to sit down, at the risk of fainting.

Once she had returned her breathing to normal, she walked briskly back to the Opera Populaire. She could not bring herself to run anymore, as she still felt faint from her earlier spell. Perhaps the visit to her parents had accosted her too harshly.

She placed her hands upon the ornate double doors and pushed them open with both hands as she had always had to. She walked through the empty foyer and into the theatre, where Erik immediately leapt to her.

"You're late." he spat angrily. Gabrielle looked at him placidly and shrugged. At this disregarding gesture, anger immediately crept into Erik's eyes as he repeated himself. "You are late."

"I told Madame Giry I wouldn't be here on time," she said blankly. "It's hardly my fault if she neglected to tell you." Erik narrowed his eyes.

"I see," he growled. 'And where, may I ask, is our Passarino?"

"I don't know. Here, I suppose?" Gabrielle replied, looking up in confusion. But to Erik, he felt that his suspicions were confirmed as Anton, too, walked in late. Gabrielle looked at the younger man as though he had just sentenced her to death. She whirled back around and place her hand on Erik's forearm, "I wasn't with—"

"Get dressed." he spat vehemently, tearing his arm away and storming out, bringing Madame Giry with him. "It appears that our stars have taken their roles to hear," he said once they were out in the foyer. Giry looked at him, puzzled. 'Don't be a fool," Erik continued, brandishing a copy of the script and opening it to the appropriate page

Giry found the line to which he was referring and began reading aloud. "Don Juan finds Aminta and his man, Passarino…"

"Engaged in a passionate embrace," Erik recited, knowing the line from memory. "And in his rage and jealousy…"

"Kills them both..." Giry finished. "I assure you," she leased, "It means nothing!"

"We shall see," Erik said shortly. "We shall see." He turned back into the theatre, interrupting the dancers' practicing, just as Gabrielle returned. "Enough,. Now, we rehearse the final scene. Places!"

Immediately, Anton and Gabrielle took their places onstage. They stood behind a screen, moving as though they were kissing one another. Erik, costumed as Don Juan but still feeling as though he were himself, stormed onto the stage. He reached out and pulled Gabrielle away and threw her to the ground, just as they had rehearsed before, only now he had really thrown her. She gingerly supported her wrist, trying desperately to stay in character. Erik had made it as plain as day that he was angry, and a bad performance would do nothing but worsen his humor.

Curse You! You little lying Delilah! You little viper!

Then, he whirled upon Anton and brandished the faux sword upon him. Erik took a macabre relish in pretending to kill the two, and the glint in his eye was reminiscent to the old Opera Ghost. Gabrielle was glad to get away right when rehearsal was over. She was trying to hurry and get to her room without being spoken to, but Anton insisted upon following her.

"Gabrielle!" he called out. "Gabrielle, come back!"

"I'm tired," she called back weakly. But he had already caught up to her before she could open her door. He stepped in the way and stared at her.

"I'll kill him for doing this," Anton said, gently grasping her hurt hand. "He can't do this to you. Why won't you just stop denying that you're in trouble and let me protect you? This has to stop, Gabrielle. That cruel monster…"

"It's acting," she said, attempting to laugh. "It's part of the rehearsal, seeing how far you can go for the sake of realism."

"Don't give me that," Anton said, shaking his head. "I worry about you. It's as if you're hiding something." He tried to meet her eyes, but she just looked away, shaking her head in fervent annoyance at this boy's persistence. His continual pushing was beginning to bother her.

"Don't dote upon me," Gabrielle insisted, reaching around him and opening her door. Then, before shutting the door in his face, she added, "It's not your place."

Immediately upon shutting the door and making sure Anton walked away, she turned around, not completely surprised by who she saw, but afraid nonetheless.

"I'm cruel, am I?" Erik roared, grabbing her by the wrists and pulling her to him. She winced and looked away, though he did not notice this. "Perhaps now you have an idea of what becomes of those who betray me!" Gabrielle merely bit her lip now, her eyes still clenched shut as he made the pain in her wrist grow worse and worse. "You will look at me when I am speaking to you!" he yelled, trying to pull her closer. Only now did the see the darkening flesh of her wrists, swollen and glowing red. Immediately, he released his hold and held them gingerly, staring at them. "Who did this?" he asked.

Gabrielle looked up at him unsurely. She dared not speak the truth for fear of how he would react to being accused. But the glazed and blank look in her eyes spoke enough for Erik to know. His rash treatment of her earlier had been intentional, true enough, but he had not truly meant to hurt her. He had only meant to teach her…

"Oh, Gabrielle…" he said quietly, an apologetic look in his eyes. Now, he barely realized why he had done this, as had always happened when he did such terrible things.

"You have my apologies, master," she said, pulling her hands away from his cold grasp, "As well as my word that I will not fail to attend a rehearsal again."

"You are excused tomorrow." He said, leaving quickly.

And he was true to his word. He allotted Gabrielle a seat in Box Five to watch from, supervised by Madame Giry. The two women sat and watched as Carlotta stepped in as Gabrielle's understudy.

The performance was actually tolerable, a fact that made Gabrielle uncomfortable and self-conscious, until it came time to perform 'Point of No Return'. The chemistry, if any was present at all, was fizzling out horribly. Gabrielle had expected Erik to remain the same in the role, and had expected to be jealous upon seeing Carlotta in his arms rather than her. But he merely held Carlotta's hand as she tried over-exuberantly to sing the song.

"This is…horrible…" Gabrielle muttered disdainfully.

"Because la Carlotta is not Aminta. She is unable to capture the emotion, or to evoke it in him." Giry replied, still looking straight at the stage. "Erik knows better than to bother with her."

"Either way, she looks pleased." Gabrielle noted.

"The part was withheld from her with good reason," Giry pointed out. "You will return to the stage tomorrow."

And so she would.

Eventually, the stigma of that single day of harsh words and actions had passed, and the rehearsals continued up until the night before the performance. After having finished that final dress rehearsal and making sure that the composer was long gone, the cast convened in the foyer.

"We've been practicing for over a month, and the show is finally over tomorrow!" Gabrielle said joyously. "Can you imagine what it's going to be like?"

"After all of our hard work," Carlotta said, pouring the girl a drink from a dark green bottle, "It's finally going to pay off."

Gabrielle smiled and unknowingly took a swig of the drink, but immediately upon swallowing it, she dropped her glass and placed her hand on her throat and began coughing, a look of pain and fear corroding her earlier joy. Carlotta faked a look of worry and shrieked.

"Oh no!" she yelled, "Dio! Dio! Oh, no, she must not be able to handle the absinthe!"

"Get out of the way, you stupid woman," Giry said, moving to stand next to Gabrielle, who now was trying to regain her breath, crouched on her knees.

"This is all her fault!" she hissed in a hoarse whisper, grasping her throat. "She's trying to kill me!"

"Nonsense!" Carlotta huffed, "You should have told me you couldn't handle the drink!"

"Enough," Giry said, "Gabrielle, save your voice, and Signora Guidicelli, save your breath. Gabrielle, you will be unable to sing. This is why we do not allow our singers to drink, because they cannot handle it. Some of our stars are of better upbringing than to perform while they are inebriated." She shot a pointed look towards Carlotta, who merely turned her nose up into the air. "Carlotta will be singing the role of Aminta tomorrow evening." She helped Gabrielle up and began walking her to her room.

"But Madame Giry, you can't let Carlotta sing my part!" she said, her voice now louder but no less hoarse. "I have to sing it! Don't let her, it's going to be horrible!" she pleaded, "Please, Madame—"

"Sit on the bed and rest," she said firmly. Gabrielle did as she was told, looking down at her feet as Madame Giry left the room. When the older woman had left, Gabrielle opened her mouth and tried to sing, only to find that a hoarse crackling sound was the best she could make. Tears started to form behind her eyes as Madame Giry came back into the room, holding a pot of tea. She poured Gabrielle a cup and looked at the younger girl sympathetically.

"Mint tea," she explained, handing her the cup gently. "Drink it, it will help."

Gabrielle nodded mutely and took the cup, drinking it slowly as Giry watched her. "Do you think…" she began. She shook her head and back down at her slippers.

"What is it, dear?' Giry asked.

"Do you think if I drink enough of it, I'll be able to sing by tomorrow?" she asked hopefully, but all hope was shattered by Giry's saddened expression. At that, Gabrielle immediately broke down in tears, tossing the cup aside, though luckily it landed on her pillow.

"There will be other performances," Giry said soothingly.

"But I wanted this one," Gabrielle choked out. "And Erik! Oh god, what is he going to say? He'll hurt me, I know he will, and it's all my fault—"

"You are not responsible for this," Giry said, running a hand over Gabrielle's hair. "But I do think that he will wish to speak to you. I must leave you." Gabrielle nodded, still sobbing inconsolably, and Giry left, closing the door behind her.

Gabrielle continued crying for nearly half an hour until she heard a sound, identifying that someone had entered the room by some way other than the door. She rubbed her eyes and sat up.

"Is it true, then?" Erik asked. Gabrielle merely looked away without answering, but this confirmed the rumors he had overheard more than anything/ "Very well," he said in a blank tone. "Tomorrow evening, the audience will settle for a mediocre opera…with that talentless peacock as the centerpiece. Lord knows they've done it before." He gave off a cold chuckle, with made Gabrielle smile weakly. He walked over to her and placed his gloved fingertips on her throat, which made her move backwards slightly. "Prima Donna, your song shall never fade…" he sang with a snide smirk which was, oddly enough, comforting.

"That thieving gamine," Gabrielle snapped in her hoarse voice, the sound of which made Erik flinch. "She'll get hers eventually." He nodded, and disappeared in his usual fashion, leaving the younger girl to sit and marinate in the thoughts that had now entered her head.

Raoul and Christine were riding in their personal carriage on the way to Paris, ready to see his niece in a real lead role, though the role itself slightly disturbed them. When she had first written to him, informing him of being cast in the same role that Christine had once played in Don Juan Triumphant, he had the mind to barge into the opera house and take her away. But now, they had other things on their mind besides the show.

"Oh, Raoul, wait until we tell her," Christine said happily, running a hand over her abdomen and smiling fondly. Her eyes were slightly glazed in amazement and glee.

"She'll be thrilled for us, of course," Raoul said with a smile of his own, placing his own hand over that of his wife. "Absolutely thrilled."

"Of course she will," Christine laughed, her eyes glazed in amazement. "She's going to have a cousin now." She looked up at her husband. Now finding that he was staring at her worriedly.

"They'll be obsessed with you," he said simply. "When you step foot inside the Opera Populaire again, they'll hound you with questions."

"I'll hardly mind," Christine smiled nostalgically. "I do believe that I rather miss the limelight."

A/N's and Review Replies:

Angeloftheoperahouse, I was wondering when you were going to review again! Glad to have you back!

Diana-Lupin, well, the unmasking is inevitable, so it's coming eventually, but I hope my way is original, rather than the generic way that everyone else seems to do it.

Kk13, sorry if you had the impression that Christine was dead. She's just living with Raoul now...and with child now, nonetheless. On her way back to the Opera House. Yikes, not a good forecast, is it?

Ophira Holmes, glad you like the way I'm telling the story. I really do try to keep it realistic, and I'm so happy you appreciate it.

An Anti-Sheep Cheese Muffin, yup, and mother knows best. Of course, someone always comes along to complicate things, right?

Also, thanks to KensDragonet (whose reviews keep my ideas coming most of all!), elvinscarf, and Marianne Brandon

Next chapter...the performance of Don Juan, Gabrielle still having lost her voice, and our darling Erik lays eyes on Christine Daae once more.

Also, still debating on whether or not my story warrants a sequel, once it's over. Trust me, even with the ending I have planned, there's room for one.