Note: Crickey, I guess you are really mad at me! I feel like I murdered someone myself:( Hehehe, never mind, I'm sure you've all got over it by now…no? Oh damn, well, keep reading xxx oh, reminder to Haunts: Don't read my morbid stories ;)

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The Opera Populaire seemed to agree with the emotions of its old ballet mistress. Its sorrowful exterior was only a small window to the devastated heart. The winds that past through the hollow entrance were Madame Giry stood whispered memories to her. She could almost hear the buzz of the gala night, full of merriment and laugher. On the staircase, she could see a little dancer giggling and twirling at the top, then as she descended, grew into a graceful ballerina, just the way she had watched them after all those years.

The old Opera house was lonely, grieving the warmth of the hundreds of people who she nurtured and brought to life on her stage. The man who had stripped her of her former glory had gone, but it did little for comfort. Erik had left his mental scars on her beauty, the same way his scars had destroyed his.

Madame Giry sighed, running a hand over the broken statues that had once sat proudly at the base of the staircase. This was, and always would be her home. Even if she could no longer live there, her heart remained.

"Jusqu' à ma visite prochaine, ma copain." Her voice echoed softly as she bid a brief farewell, and her footsteps followed suit, becoming more and more distant, leaving the Opera alone once more. Now she would know how her former masked captive felt.

--

A few sunny and dull days had gone by, each as mundane and empty as the last. Nothing could have filled the deep void of silence in those days in the small house were the Giry family lived. No words of comfort would have been of any significance any more, and so no one scarcely said a thing. Leaving the house was the only way to relieving the stress that had mounted up, but it hardly healed any scars.

Madame Giry had found a comfort in her old home, and would always pass through on her way to somewhere, or make it a special trip. Sometimes she would find an ex ballet dancer or a musician coming to pay their respects. This time however, she had been alone.

She had been passing through; the visit was not her priority. It had been a detour from a more important journey that day. A letter had come through their door a few days earlier, detailing how Madame Giry's name had come up during a search for a new Ballet Mistress at an Opera House in England. It had been a formal invite to a public meeting, so she had decided to go and find out more.

She arrived at a very smart restaurant in one of Paris's most distinguished areas, where the waiter asked for her name and bowed her entrance into its lavish interior. She removed her hat on entering, and she was shown to a far table, where a man and a woman sat expectantly.

The stood up to greet her, shaking hands politely and speaking in French. They invited Madame Giry to sit while ordering her a drink.

"We're so glad you came, Ms. Giry, it's an honour to be sure." The lady spoke. She had introduced herself as Ms. Henley. She was around Madame Giry's age, with dark hair pulled back from a rounded face, with streaks of grey gracing her maturity. She spoke pleasantly, and Madame Giry warmed to her.

"We witnessed many of the Opera Populaire's great triumphs, and we were grieved to hear of the tragedy."

"A tragedy to be sure, yes." Said the very tall man, who's accent was strange against his French, certainly not English. His shock of dark red hair made it clear, and his name, Master McAllen, that the man was of Scottish origin. "Our deepest sympathy, Madame."

"Thank you. But we must move on in life, these thing's do happen." Madame Giry tried to lighten the mood, which instantly brightened the 2 people into their proposition.

"Well Madame, as you know, we are from the Royal Opera House in London, I as manager," The man placed a hand to his chest, then to the plump Ms. Henley. ", and Ms. Henley, our Head of Voice and Opera."

"We have been in search for the past month for a new Ballet Mistress as our old Mistress Kingsley sadly past away. We have been in discussion and your name constantly keeps coming up. We had hoped you might consider a position at our Opera House."

The two looked on hopefully at Madame Giry, who as always, gave nothing away by expression. She nodded thoughtfully, and began to ask a whole string of questions about their Opera House. She had been numerous amounts of times, and had even known the late ballet mistress. The Manager explained her financial questions and her living quarters, which of course would be in the Opera House, and there would be exceptions for Meg and Christine, if they chose to come. The Head of Opera explained all the practical side, like how big a group she would be in charge of, how many people live at the Opera and so on.

A great opportunity and, maybe, a brand new start for all of them. Meg could continue her training at the London Ballet corps, were as so could Christine, or, if fate allowed it, her singing. Madame Giry was going to consider this very deeply. On walking back home from meeting the two, she had pondered it a great deal, and had really made up her mind before entering her temporary home. All she would need was the consent of her two daughters.

When she entered through the door, she set her outdoor coat on the rail and her hat. She walked through the hall and into the living quarters where her daughter Meg sat sketching. She looked up and gave her mother a weary smile, and kissed her as Madame Giry bent her head.

"Good day, mother?" She chirruped.

"Oui, very interesting actually." She sat down in her favourite chair next to the window. "I met up with two very important members of the Royal Opera House in England this afternoon, it seems they are looking for a new ballet mistress."

Meg put her pad down and sat up, her eyes wide with excitement. She looked over at her mother, waiting for a continuation. Madame Giry smiled slightly. She knew her daughter would be intrigued, and would have loved to live in England.

"Well, they appear to have heard of my reputation from our own Opera House, and would like me to join the Opera House in London!"

At this point, Meg squealed in delight and cupped a hand over her mouth; scared just in case this was false hoping. Maybe her mother had turned the offer down?

"I have not given them an answer, but I said I was greatly interested. I wanted your consent before I said…"

"YES! Oh my goodness, yes! Would I have a place there?"

"It would seem so, yes, ma petite ange."

"Oh my! This will be wonderful! You have to accept, Mamon, it's an amazing opportunity. The Royal Opera in London! It's so brilliant!"

Madame Giry had to contain her laugher at her daughter's excitement. She knew her daughter would approve. She wasn't the one she was hoping for consent from…

Madame Giry stood up to get the mail from the table were Meg had left it.

"Maybe you should go and talk to Christine about it." Madame Giry said in a more sombre tone. Meg nodded, her face saddening slightly. Christine had become non existent in her presence, and talking to her would have meant nothing. She had come out over the last two days, which was progress, but she kept her talking to a minimum. Her weight was beginning to come back though, which they had all been terribly relieved about.

As Meg had left the room, Madame Giry opened the mail. There had been one from Nasih, thanking Madame Giry in aiding him with his expenses for his work and sending him off home. Madame Giry smiled slightly. She was glad the man was now rightfully with his family. He had also enclosed a letter for Christine, which Madame Giry had left un-open, as it was Christine's personal letter. There was little else of importance, except the newspaper, which Madame Giry had avoided reading the past weeks, unwilling to be reminded of that horrific day.

She took the letter through to Christine, who was sitting up in her bed, drinking a hot mug of tea, while Meg sat on her bed, talking rapidly and high pitched about all the things they could do in London. Madame Giry even thought she saw a smile twitching in the corners of the young woman's mouth.

"Christine, a letter for you from Nasih."

Christine took the letter while Meg carried on talking excitedly, and began to open it. Madame Giry retired back to the living area, picking up the newspaper and settling down in her chair.

She straightened up the creases dutifully, and spread the front page on her lap.

Even before ending the large bold heading, her heart had frozen.

There had been a large crash and a horrified scream from the room she had just left, and she sat upright, her heart pounding in her mouth. She gripped the newspaper once again before bolting to the other room, skimming over the summary of the article quickly, just to make sure she hadn't been making things up in her own mind.

Quickly discarding it, she ran into the other room, where Meg was desperately trying to wipe the boiling hot tea from Christine's lap. Christine however, was oblivious to the hot water seeping through her clothes and onto her bare skin.

She bore holes into the letter, which she was holding with a trembling hand. Her eyes were wide with fright and confusion, and her eyes scanned the page religiously, just like Madame Giry had done with the newspaper. Christine began to whimper, and her breaths became high pitch and audible.

Whatever Christine had read in the letter, had had the same effect on Madame Giry, who was gasping for breath, with tears forming in her eyes as she took the letter from Christine to read for herself.