Christine felt her heart stop. She gave the driver a terrified look, and she saw his eyes widen a little with his own panic. He swiftly jumped up, and put the fire out with a bucket of sand resting by the hearth. The maid, who had been making tea in the kitchen, quickly appeared and snuffed out the lit candles. They were now in complete darkness. Christine felt the chill of the night with the absence of the fire, and felt goose bumps raise on her arms.

The sound of the horses drew near, and came to a stop not so far away from the cottage where the three sat. Horses hooves pawed at the dirt path, as the recognisable crunching of shoes onto path sounded, as the riders dismounted. Christine tried desperately to control her breathing, as she was sure it was audible to all within a mile. It was heavy with despair and fright, yet the driver made no signal for her to quieten. He stood beside her chair, looking feverishly towards the window, drawn with curtains. They heard low, muttering voices, and from listening, there must have been about 5 men in total, or even more. Christine looked up to the driver, who she saw, slowly pulling something from his waistcoat pocket. She screwed her eyes to see in the darkness what it was. He was holding it funny, rather like a…

She heard him pull back the catch of the gun.

Christine jumped up in fright and whispered loudly.

"What are you doing!" She squeaked, her voice trembling. "Their not after us, are they? It's probably just a hunting…" He once again flung his hand to her mouth.

"You want us dead, Ma'am?" He whispered angrily. "I hardly doubt there would be a hunt out this late. And hunts take place in a game field, not a village."

Christine was beginning to like this driver character less and less. She pushed his hand away from her angrily, yet remained transfixed where she was. They stood listening, jumping at every slight noise. They could still hear the pants and neighs from the horses a little far off, yet the men had seemed to move on. A few more seconds of silence. A few minutes. A good 5 minutes past before Christine's heart began to return back to its normal pace. The drivers arm began to relax, his gun no longer outstretched in his grip. Christine let out a sigh of relief.

At that point Christine and the maid screamed as a huge bang came from a few buildings down. The noise was not huge, but it terrified those who had listened to the quietest and been suspicious. It was the sound of a door being kicked in. Suddenly, the noise came again, more closely this time. And again, this time followed by screams and crashing noises, like furniture being thrown about. Christine felt the maid run toward the door, to block it with something. Yet just as she threw her arms towards it, the door was flung completely from its hinges. The moonlight framed a large hulk like figure, shadowing menacingly in the door. The maid ran back toward them, yet suddenly froze as a loud crack sounded. The maids eyes, filled with terror and sadness, looked into Christine's for a brief moment. She looked down towards her chest, where blood began to consume her clothes, where the bullet had passed through and whizzed past Christine, just missing her. The young woman crumpled to the floor and Christine screamed in horror. The driver pushed her roughly to the side as the gun fired again in their direction. He moved his arm in a fluid action and sent a bullet flying towards the intruder. He fell with a loud roar of pain, crashing into the door frame below him. Shouts from the other men could be heard, and footsteps running toward their hiding place. The driver quickly grabbed Christine's arm and pulled her towards the door. He leaped over the dead man, dragging Christine sobbing behind him. As they moved through the door, another man had arrived, and took by surprise as the two came exploding past him. The driver whacked him with his arm, sending him to the floor out cold. The other men pulled out their guns and shot freely at them. The driver was a very fast runner, and took down 2 men by firing backward even in the darkness. Yet even he could not stop a good aim from one bullet, hitting Christine in the back of her calf. She fell with a loud scream, feeling the sharp searing pain angrily ripping at her leg. She felt like it had been completely blown off. The driver quickly heaved her onto his shoulder. As she slouched uncomfortably in his quick pace, she felt her vision fading, her brain misting over, and the shouts and terrified screams of the night faded into blackness…

----

It was cold that day in Paris, when two women and two men stepped back into the street. The older lady pulled her shawl tightly around her to protect from the nipping winds. The two men sported heavy, expensive fur coats, yet their faces held no happiness. All the faces present were grim. They stood on the entrance steps of the ruins of the Opera Populaire, caused by the great fire 2 months back. Its grandeur and beauty had been ripped from the inside out. The once great building now looked dead. Even a faint moan echoed from it when the wind would pass through it, crying for better days.

"Well," Said one of the men, followed by a sigh. "That's it then."

The other man nodded in grim silence. The young girl looked to the floor, her blonde locks blowing silently around her face, hiding a tear that fell down her cheek. The older woman put a comforting hand on her daughters shoulder.

"What are you planning to do now, Monsieur Firmin? Surely all is not lost." The lady spoke.

"No no, we can get back on our feet I suppose." He frowned at the sky. "All is not lost, no…" He looked at the younger girl as he spoke. "And what of you, Madame Giry? Are your accommodations suitable enough for you, we would be glad to help, if any is required?"

"Non, Monsieur; Merci. We have had a great deal of help from the Arts fund and the National Ballet Corps. We have found schools and residence for all our students, including ourselves." Madame Giry said, still comforting Meg. "We will be fine."

"Not so fine for our Opera." Meg piped up. "Why cant the save it Maman? Why leave it to ruin?"

"You heard them, Mon petit, it's beyond repair. It was damaged to the core." The two men glanced at each other as she said this.

"Yes, yes, the core." Andre huffed. "Seems the police never found the bastard who caused all this. Pity, I would have liked to see him hang from his own noose."

Madam Giry frowned. "It is not your place to hand out death warrants."

"No of course not, Madam, yet it seems 'He' was a very good judge. He obviously had the right to hand out warrants, and even the sentence to so many people in that Opera." He added darkly. Madame Giry continued to stare blankly into his eyes, an unreadable expression she held out for him. He eventually looked away.

"Well certainly, let's hope justice will catch those who deserve it." Firmin stepped in. "And now, we must leave you Madame. "Our carriage waits."

"Alright then," Said Andre, leaning in the shake hands with Madame Giry, and moving over to shake Meg's hand, and Firmin followed suit.

"May your future serve you both kindly." Firmin shouted back, as they climbed into their carriage waiting to take them from the Opera. Madame Giry lifted a hand of farewell, as the horses began to pull the two business men away. She turned to her daughter, to see her facing upwards to the Opera. She put an arm around her and sighed.

"It looks so sad now." Meg whispered up at it. "I wish you had never met him, Maman. I wish that he had been caught. Caught and made to pay for what he did to us all."

Madame Giry dropped her arm and put two hands on Meg's arms, spinning her round to face her, none to gently either.

"Now listen, Megan. The man you speak of had tragedies in his life that you or I will never know or understand. Hate turns to madness, Meg, don't let yourself fall victim to it too." She said, with a hint of plea in her voice.

Meg let another tear fall as she nodded in response to her mother's wise words. But that man had killed everything he moved by. Her friends, her home and her life. He deserved no forgiveness, what her mother had asked for.

At this moment, a man came running up the steps of the Opera House. He was tall and lanky, and his face was twisted from pain, probably from running to much as he clutched his sides, and doubled over. Madame Giry moved to the man, helping upright, and trying to calm him.

"What is wrong, Monsieur? Do you seek us?" The man nodded breathlessly. He moved his sky blue eyes over her and Meg, lingering a while on Meg, who blushed slightly. He stood straight now, breathing heavy.

"Madame Giry? You where a teacher at the Opera Populaire, non?" She nodded. "Then you must know Mademoiselle Daae." Madame Giry stiffed, yet Meg jumped in before her mother attempted to silence her.

"Yes! Yes! We know her! What wrong? Where is she?" The man looked darkly at them.

"Something horrible, Mademoiselle. Christine Daae is in terrible danger."