DISCLAIMER – I own Gabrielle & Anton. Yup. Been months since I've updated, but nothing's changed.

I 'm so sorry for the delay! I've just had a rough summer. Verrrrry rough summer. But I'm back, bad, and ready to update more!

I am, however, going to refrain from replying to reviews for the next couple chapters, because I want to concentrate on actually putting them up.

Gabrielle woke up the next morning, her eyes still heavy and hooded. She had exerted herself terribly the previous night, forcing herself to sing, but it had been worth it. She rolled her shoulders and sat up gracefully. Only after she had run her fingers through her hair a few times did she notice a folded piece of paper in her lap, marked with a familiar red seal. She picked it up gingerly, her expression turning puzzled, and broke the seal barrier.

Chère Gabrielle,

I believe that you are very mistaken about the circumstances of our arrangement, but you will understand in time. For the moment, I would advise you to take a short stroll to the theatre foyer. Perhaps a bit of sunlight will clear your mind, ma petite. And perhaps what you find there will be acknowledgement enough for you.

Sincerely…

Gabrielle smiled discretely as she noticed that he had crossed out his usual signature of "O.G." and written "Erik" instead. Then, she jumped nimbly out of bed, threw a robe over her dressing gown and walked nervously about her chamber, looking for her slippers, which she found in a corner. Excitedly, she practically scurried away, scampering through the hallways like a dormouse until she found herself in the theatre foyer, where a crowd had already gathered. Still unnoticed, she tried to peer over their heads at what they were looking at, but to no avail. She rolled her eyes began to nudge her way through the crowd.

She jumped backwards slightly at what she saw – a large portrait, scaling the entire height of the wall, of her and Erik performing from the previous night. Written in small embossed ink in the corner, almost hidden by the ornate gold frame, were the letters "O.G."

Gabrielle turned around and faced everyone who had been looking, and, for possibly the first time ever, had nothing at all to say. Meg hurried up to her, grabbed her by the arm, and brought her into another room.

"What is all of this?" Meg asked in conspiratorial whisper, shaking Gabrielle's arm slightly.

"It's…" Gabrielle's expression was glazed and vague, her face still slightly turned back toward the foyer, "…amazing."

"What's going on?" Meg said in a more urgent tone, fervently jerking Gabrielle's arm, which seemed to bring the smaller girl's attention back to the present. Gabrielle studied Meg's face and shrugged, but Meg wouldn't accept being brushed off. "It's him, isn't it?" she said, shaking her head questioningly, "Then is this what you want?"

"Of course, I…" Gabrielle hesitated, just as Madame Giry came into the corridor as well. She looked at Gabrielle with that stern yet almost motherly expression that always perplexed her, then motioned for Meg to leave. The light-haired girl, being uncomfortable as it was, quickly obliged.

"Do nothing," Madame Giry began. "Do nothing until you've made an absolute decision. He does not take kindly to being toyed with."

"Is there really a decision to make?" Gabrielle asked, somewhat warily. "This is in Erik's hands now, not mine. Or have you forgotten who controls this entire opera house?"

"You can still get away," Giry said quietly, "if you run before this goes any further and never come back to this place again."

"Nothing good will come of running away," Gabrielle said knowingly, shaking her head. "Nothing good comes of running from things we don't understand."

"You're the only one who may ever understand that man," Giry said, "If anyone has the right to run—"

"My rights?" Gabrielle asked, her brow furrowing as though the older woman had just introduced an extremely foreign concept. "Madame, I'm tired of being doted upon and being considered a victim when it was my own hand that put me in this position in the first place. What of respect? Is that not a right as well? To everyone?"

Madame Giry took a step back and looked at Gabrielle appraisingly. "There's something more." She said cryptically. A flash of panic rose in Gabrielle's eyes and fell just as swiftly as it came, but it was all the confirmation that Giry needed. "You feel more for Erik than pity or remorse. And you feel more for him than respect."

Gabrielle flinched uncomfortably but composed herself quickly and answered, "I only wish that he would receive the fulfillment in his life that my father was deprived of."

"So," Giry nodded, "You deny that you're in love with him, then?"

"Madame," she said sternly, "You cannot love someone whom you do not even know." Gabrielle nodded her head gracefully and left to go back to her room, where Meg was sitting on her bed waiting.

"Gabrielle!" she said, her attitude now strangely contrasting what it had been earlier, "Do you realize how incredibly romantic that was?"

"Yes, it was thoughtful," Gabrielle replied uncomfortably. Meg gave a quiet, scoffing "harrumph" at Gabrielle's response.

"It means more to you than you're letting on," she observed. Gabrielle turned to face her friend, who eyed her quite shrewdly.

"Oh, Meg," she said quietly, shutting her door so no one could hear. "It means the world to me, all right?"

"I knew it did," Meg said with a slight smile. "Are you really sure you know what you're doing?"

"Know what I'm doing? Oh, heavens, no," Gabrielle said, shaking her head. "But for once, I don't mind. I'll face whatever comes my way…if I can."

Meanwhile, Anton was bent on seeing the Vicomte De Chagny, and was riding his old horse to within an inch of its life, making his way to the De Chagny home in the countryside. He found himself at the front gate, and was extremely relieved until a sentry stepped in front of him and told him he could not enter.

"No visitors," the tall uniformed man said. "Madame la Vicomtesse is resting and cannot be disturbed."

"I need to see the Vicomte!" Anton yelled feverishly, gritting his teeth.

"Your name?" The sentry asked though it was quite plain that he was merely trying to humor the man before turning him away once again.

"My name is Anton and I need to speak to the Vicomte, it's urgent!" he said loudly. He looked up at the very moment when Raoul happened to peer out of the window to see what the commotion was. Anton began to wave fervently. "Monseiur De Chagny, listen to me! It's Gabrielle—"

Raoul threw open the window and motioned for the guard to let the man pass. "Gabrielle?" he asked.

"They sent me away from the Opera House because I was standing in his way from getting to her—"

"Come inside. Tell me everything." Raoul said. The two men met inside the main hallway of the De Chagny mansion, were Anton took a deep breath before continuing his story.

"I'm in love with her," Anton said.

Raoul stared at him haughtily. "That's all well and good, boy, but unless you have anything tangible—"

"Don't you see it?" Anton retorted. "He has her wrapped up in lies! He's trying to seduce her. I tried to protect her, but he ordered me sent away."

The two men looked at each other in the eye, and suddenly reached a silent understanding. Something had to be done.