A kind of "fun" update here, but it will serve a purpose. Please keep reviewing, and, as always, if I owned them, I'd be in a much different station than I am at present. :-)

Carlotta sat gazing at her own reflection in her dressing room mirror, and a laugh escaped her lips. Seeing Christine at the opera had given her a turn, but it was quite clear that it had given Christine a greater one. The wretched thing had fairly flown from the opera, and though she returned later, it was clear she had been shaken.

Grudgingly, though she would never tell anyone, Carlotta had to admit Christine had a powerful voice. Worse, though, was the fact that Christine held a larger role than she in this production.

But I'm sure that will remedy itself in time, she assured herself. Without a vicomte to put her in favor of the management, it will soon be clear who the real star is! What she refused to admit was the fact that this theater had been the only one to accept her applications for an audition. Without a doting manager, it had been a tough road, but she was in Italy, and it wouldn't be long, she was certain, before triumph would be hers.

Combing out her hair, she gave a shudder at the memory of Christine. The stupid girl had looked happy, there was no haunted look like she wore in Paris, no fearful glances into the wings…and, at the memory of the fear all of them had felt, she shuddered again. Nothing would be able to convince her that the opera ghost had been anything but real, and, even when word was out that whatever deformed creature that had occupied the cellars was nothing more than a corpse at last, she knew something was haunting that opera house.

"Let's see her triumph now, without her lover and some demented specter winning over the management," she muttered, closing the door to her dressing room and starting out down the hall.

From his position behind a pillar, Erik smiled to himself. Making his voice barely a whisper, he called,

"La Carlotta…"

The sound was barely audible, but she heard it.

The diva stopped, turned, and, seeing nothing, shook her head and continued down the corridor.

When a small series of sparks shot past her, just to the left of her sightline, she ran.

Chuckling silently to himself, Erik reflected on the crude wire device in his palm before soundlessly pocketing it.

Simple devices for simple minds, he thought, smiling at the reaction that he had provoked. He could hear people loudly demanding Carlotta tell them what was wrong, and her valiant attempts to tell them everything was fine, she had just startled herself, really, it was fine…

So you're not willing to play all your cards then, he mused. I suppose the rumors haven't reached this little theatre yet…but if you keep bothering my wife, this house will have its own stories to tell. Without another second wasted on the former diva, Erik turned and left the opera house. It wouldn't do to have Christine reach their home before he did…

Erik's horse was faster than Christine's carriage, and he was able to reach the front gate, unlock the house, seat himself at the piano and be well at work on the piece that had eluded his attentions the day before by the time he heard Christine enter the house.

"My darling," he said, rising to greet his wife, "how did rehearsal go?"

"Fine," she said.

"No problems with Carlotta, then?"

"Well…" Christine paused. "I was certain she was in a foul mood this morning, because she couldn't stop dropping little comments here and there whenever the management was present." Seeing Erik's perplexed face, she continued. "Oh, not enough to give away any part of the story that would concern her. It appears she had a rather nasty falling-out in Paris, and I don't think she knows the management is aware of it. They don't seem to know anything about my situation-"

"Well, no," Erik admitted, "they wouldn't…"

"Whatever do you mean? I believe that little disaster is what is keeping me out of Paris!"

No, Erik thought, that boy is, but to Christine, he clarified.

"The disaster made the papers, but little was said about you and even less about me, as most of the eyewitnesses were less than credible, I daresay. For certain that boy was not about to sully his reputation by talking about the events downstairs, and really…well, anyway. Your showing up was a stroke of luck, as far as the management here was concerned. But Carlotta-" and here he rolled his eyes, "for reasons I'll never be able to grasp, the woman has had quite a hold on the world, and a world-famous diva showing up and anything less than La Scala is going to make people wonder why. No doubt M. Romano did a little checking."

"But a world-famous diva will still sell seats," Christine said.

"Precisely. But anyway, you said she was a right terror today?"

"During rehearsal, yes. And then afterwards, I was standing alone with some of the girls and I was certain she would cause trouble. But she just ignored me, didn't even look at me, and she had the most demented expression on her face." Catching Erik's amused expression, her tone hardened. "Why?"

"My dear," Erik said smoothly, "can't a man be concerned about his wife?"

"He can, but where you are concerned, a man like you concerned about his wife tends to go beyond a simple question at the end of the day."

Feigning innocence, Erik smiled.

"I don't know what you mean," he said, gathering her in his arms, "As I've never before had a wife about whom to be concerned."

Christine took the opportunity to practice the perfectly-executed eye-rolling she had picked up from Erik and returned his embrace.

"I hope you're not coming up with any new schemes," she murmured.

"As if I would need to," Erik said with a laugh. Sometimes, it's best to play on tradition.

Raoul was playing on his own particular traditions as he waited for Isabel to take her seat in the opera house before seating himself. Sarah was starting a new role that evening, and Isabel had insisted they attend, Isabel now making permanent plans to find her own apartment house.

A new role for Sarah, Raoul reflected, reaching for his opera glasses, and possibly, a new start for me. Pushing all memories of other nights and other operas from his mind, he turned to face Isabel and presented her with a rather large diamond.

"If you're going to stay in Paris," he said, his smile growing as her eyes widened, "I would like you to consider staying with me."