Author's notes: Alright, just one original chapter. I wanted five, but that would drastically slow the story down, so I shortened it into one. Oh, and Raoul turned out hard to write. What can I say, writing original stuff from a POV I don't necessarily like is hard.

Enrinye – I took your advice, Z. No more Raoul POV. No, it isn't over yet…

starnat– you know it ;)

lady kathrin – thanks:)

EriksIngenue– sorry for the long wait. Too many phics out there… and I've started a third one! My God, how will I manage…

Maidenhair – merci!

X X X

Chapter 11 - The Lullaby

X X X X

The rest of the performance of Il Muto went by quietly. Almost unnaturally, you could say, considering the massive events that had happened minutes previously. Nevertheless, it was a stupendous performance, just as the production of Hannibal, once La Carlotta was off the cast list and the scene.

Christine, dressed in the same pink gown (missing only the gigantic wig her predecessor wore) was simply glamorous. There was nothing that could make it seem plainer that she was the image of perfection, in my eyes and the eyes of the rest of the audience. She gave the role of the Countess charm and appeal, but lacked the arrogance Carlotta put into it, therefore made a loveable heroine.

My smile grew warmer at the thought of the moments on the rooftop. Ever since Hannibal, I knew that I loved her. There was no question about it. When we were children, all that talk of marriage seemed so unreal, but now, I knew that there was no one in the world I would want to marry besides Christine. The fact that the love seemed to be mutual made the day probably the happiest of my life.

Who cared about some theater, if my Little Lotte cared for me? True, perhaps she was simply scared, but her feelings seemed real, especially when she asked me to wait for her and take her away from the seemingly cursed opera house. There had been far too many incidents, it was no wonder that she needed rest and time away from it. It would only do her good, being gone from the stress and the misfortune that had befallen the theater.

Once the curtain fell, the audience clapped wildly, all fear of the "Phantom" forgotten. Joseph Buquet´s corpse had long since been taken away, Carlotta was probably crying her eyes out on Piangi´s shoulder, the strange voice that threatened the crowd was gone – the Phantom, if they chose to believe in him, had retreated.

Most of all, however, they applauded the newly rising star, Christine. I don't think they even considered that the managers would be keeping Carlotta after such a fiasco – the post of Prima Donna was now free, and it seemed ideal in their minds that Christine should take it. That, however, wasn't our plan. I would have advised against it anyway, so I was happy that she chose to leave willingly.

It took her an unnaturally short time to change and collect her belongings. As an orphan, I knew she probably didn't have possessions larger than what you could put in a suitcase that even a lady could carry with ease, but she changed out of her costume and into a normal dress and cloak far too quick. No woman would manage that under normal circumstances.

Even when she emerged, she seemed nervous, like a child entering a new world, and scared, as if the gate was closing right behind her and she could never return to the old one. She smiled, however, obviously happy that I had kept my promise. It was only natural, however. I loved her and as an aristocrat, had the opportunity to arrange transportation far quicker than perhaps a regular opera guest.

Once Christine's luggage was safely in the carriage and I helped her climb into it, we left the Opera Populaire behind us. Christine didn't even look back, but seemed to relax slightly, as if she had run a mile and now was trying hard to catch her breath and prepare to wave at the crowds.

I explained to her that we would be heading for the family estate, that it wasn't far and the journey would probably be quiet. Overall, she herself was very quiet throughout the journey. Always she was looking out of the carriage windows, watching the streets, the people, the river, once it came into view… but she didn't speak at all. She remained there physically, though her mind was elsewhere.

Having left the disaster of a night behind me already, I assumed she was simply trying to calm herself down and relax. After all, seeing a fellow performer simply croak on the stage must have been very strange. Perhaps she had feared the same would happen to her… perhaps she feared that another corpse would land on the stage. Neither had happened.

Of course, whoever had written the letters addressed to the management, the ex-leading lady and myself had to be satisfied. Christine had sung the lead role, a ballet girl had taken up the part of the pageboy (Carlotta was too traumatized to even show her face to the crowd again). Box 5 remained occupied and the ridiculous salary to the "ghost" had been ignored, but one of the commands had been obeyed.

The carriage continued through the night. For a moment, I thought I heard something. Then I realized it was Christine, humming a song, probably a lullaby. I smiled to myself and paid no more attention.

X X X

Months had passed since the events in the Opera Populaire. Christine and I remained together, living in the estate. Never again was anything related to the theater mentioned. Then came a sunny day when I believed the time was right. After all, it was almost official that we had courted for quite a while, and I had no urgent desire to wait any longer.

I proposed to her. And she accepted.

Things couldn't have been better. We were getting along together perfectly, life was just like one large pleasant dream. There was nothing that could go wrong with things. Nothing at all. Not even the letter that came one day could ruin things for us.

La Ball Masque.

The Opera Populaire was going to have a masquerade, reopening months after the last sighting of the "Phantom". From what I knew, they had started a new production after Il Muto, and nothing went wrong. Months of peace, of no disturbing, no notes, no Phantom. Perhaps God had decided to award the world with happiness. I didn't know how else to explain the rush of luck that had flooded us.

Christine was thrilled when I told her of the invitation. She had even gone so far as to begin selecting a costume. Now she was far happier than she had been when she had arrived, all horror of the past forgotten. Nothing in the world could ruin things.

It was the night before the masquerade that I went to check upon her before going to bed myself. She had told me she wished to read a bit before turning off the lights, and I allowed her. But her room was empty, with no sight that anyone had come there. For the first minutes, I was very frightened that something had happened to her. But then some of the servants had told me they had seen her going outside.

I frowned. A walk? At this time? I knew Prima Donnas had their unusual habits, but this seemed strange.

I ran out of the house, literally, and went to search for her. She wasn't that far away. There was a small park near the estate, there was even a small lake in the middle, but Christine had chosen to sit on the very edge of the grounds, looking down on the city of Paris, or rather, so it seemed at first glance. She was in her nightgown, with a robe and a cloak over it. Curled on the bench, she was looking up at the stars, smiling.

"Christine!" She flinched at the sound of her name, startled, and her eyes rested on me. visibly, she relaxed.

"You scared me there, Raoul, sneaking up on me like that."

"Sneaking out of the house after dark isn't a good idea, Christine." I counseled her, "Especially when you want to go to the park, at least tell me. I don't want anything happening to you. I want to guard you and guide you, remember?"

With a slight sigh, she nodded, but then resumed her staring at the sky. "I simply wanted some fresh air and to see the stars. They are beautiful… it is a beautiful night." It was almost as if she were in a trance, as if it wasn't really her speaking.

"I seem to remember you being afraid of the dark, Little Lotte." I noted jokingly.

"The night doesn't mean the dark, Raoul." she noted seriously. Another sigh, a heavy one, this time. "Sometimes the darkness can be alluring… and even those afraid of it have to wonder what it would be like, to be part of it."

"Don't say such things, Christine." I said, slightly surprised she would speak that way, "Thoughts like that make me worry for you. I don't want you to think you're alone, even in the darkness."

"I am never alone." She whispered, then looked at me. It was almost as if she wasn't going to say what she added a moment later. "You are always with me. You promised that you would be."

"And I will be."

I sat down next to her, embracing her tightly. She didn't struggle, but she didn't return the embrace. She simply seemed to accept it as something she couldn't really change and remained sitting there. Then, out of the blue, she asked: "Do you like the night, Raoul?"

"You said it was a beautiful night – I agree."

"No, I mean night in general."

I almost frowned. The night? Like it? I always viewed the night as the most dangerous part of the day. It was a time when the worst of the worst emerged from their hiding places, and I certainly wasn't in favor of such habits. The night had always symbolized darkness, loneliness, at least to me.

Many people look differently at night. Most associate it with mythical creatures of evil, such as vampires, werewolves, ghosts… indeed, those were hardly symbols of good. Then there were those who adored the moon and stars. Lovers, for reasons romantic, scientists, for reasons scientific, and many others, who found no comfort in daylight. Stars were the symbol of eternity, of unending time and space. In a sense, a starlit night was beautiful… but night without stars, night meaning the utter night…

"I prefer the daytime." I said solemnly. "The dark doesn't scare me, but I always feel more secure when I can see the light. Night is often associated with darkness, Christine, and not only darkness as the absence of light. It's better to think of it as something you can't avoid and can survive. Humans are not nocturnal – at least, most are not. They are naturally drawn to the sun. So no, I suppose I don't like the night, in general."

Christine, from what I could see of her, had an almost blank expression on her face. She was studying me carefully, as if judging me, but seemed a bit sad. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled, but I didn't see that the expression wasn't reflected in her eyes, which remained pitying, almost regretting.

"I see. I can understand that."

Afterwards, she said nothing, but continued gazing at the sky with a daydream glint in her eyes. Absent mindedly, she smiled occasionally, but it disappeared before I could even notice the hint of it.

I had no idea what she was thinking of that night.

Had I known more of what had happened inside the depths of her mind in the moment when she questioned me about the night and its effect on me, perhaps I would have been more careful. Perhaps, had I not been so excited about our future together, I would have remembered that she had once said that she had entered a world of unending night, a world where the daylight dissolved into darkness until no more was left…

I knew nothing of that.

Smiling at her, almost teasingly, I nudged her gently. "Come on, Little Lotte, bedtime. It's late to be up."

"Five minutes and I'll go back to my room." She promised.

Nodding, I stood up and left her there. I didn't glance back the whole time, but as I saw the house return into view, I thought I heard the hint of a melody reach my ears. It was so faint, I could hardly hear it, but then I realized it was Christine singing. Once more she sung the song I had heard in the carriage. Beautiful and alluring, it seemed to be unworldly, ethereal, each word consisting of the starry sky.

Nighttime sharpens…