Priorities

A/N: Well, I apologise for not having this up sooner, but my computer decided it didn't want to work for a couple of days, and I'm leaving for a month on Tuesday. BUT! I am taking my computer with me, and I will have internet access it about a week, and if I don't...Don't ask what I'll do.

Disclaimer: For a special disclaimer today, is everyone's beloved phantom, Erik! And his beloved kitty (other than me, of course!) Ayesha!

Erik: I own Ayesha. Kinda. Though she is a cat, so technically, she owns me.

Ayesha: Meooow. (Translation: Damn straight!)

Erik: And Kitty owns nothing but the plot and Sebille and the other original characters. And my entire stash of chocolate ice cream. -pouts-

Me: -waves a bowl of chocolate ice cream under Erik's nose- But I share! And Erik owns my heart. He just forgot that. -glarepout-

Erik: Meep.

Me: And! There is a Kay reference in here. Surprise to those who find it! At least I'm pretty sure it's a Kay reference...If it's not, uh...I'm sorry? -sheepish grin-

Christine

I looked with alarm to Sebille. Her face had suddenly gone very pale, and she seemed frozen in place. Meg noticed it, as well. I laid my hand on Sebille's arm gently, looking her in the eye. Meg looked at her with a worried expression.

"Sebille, dear, what's wrong? You've gone white!" Meg exclaimed, putting a hand to Sebille's cheek. A bit of color came back to her face, and Sebille looked around, visibly shaken.

"I..I think we're going to my mother's shop..." she whispered, barely audible. I frowned, straining to hear her comment.

"Your mother's shop? How can you be so certain? There are several seamstress shops in Paris. How are you so sure that the one we're going to is the one your mother works in?" I asked. I secretly hoped that it was Sebille's mother's shop. I wanted to meet the woman who threw her daughter out and blamed her for her husband's death. She looked at me, tears welling in her eyes, ready to fall at a moment's notice.

"Our shop was only a few blocks from the Mémoire Park. I'm almost certain that there aren't any other seamstress shops in the area. But, I wonder, if Maman knew that we were from the Opera Populaire, why would she agree to the job, knowing I would be along? Unless she didn't honestly think I would make it in." She breathed deeply. A bit more color showed in her face, and she took both Meg's and my hands in each of her tiny ones. "Well, let's not dwell on that until we're forced to! Let's continue, Meg needs to get back to the dormitory to inform the other dancers. Let us go!" And she led us off, trying desperately to mask her worry.

As we walked, seemingly carefree, down the halls of the Opera Populaire to the ballet dormitory, I felt a strong feeling of anxiety and a sense of being watched grow in my chest. Suddenly, a dark shape appeared in the corridor in front of us. We gasped loudly and stopped dead in our tracks. We were about to scream and run off, when the figure stepped into the circle of light from the gas lamp nearby. It was the mysterious Persian.

"What are you girls doing down here alone? Little Giry, shouldn't you be helping your mother?" He inquired in his foreign accent. We gaped, still thoroughly surprised at the sudden appearance. As though sensing that we were very startled, and in no mood at the moment to reply, he simply nodded and walked past. The three of us stood where he had left us, gaping silently. I gulped and looked over to my two companions. Meg had gone a touch pale, but Sebille looked almost amused. I shook my head slightly, and squeezed Sebille's hand.

"Come along, girls. Meg needs to sort out the mess she made." And we hurried off, not wanting to have anymore unexpected encounters.

Sebille

As the three of us hurried along down the dimly lit corridor, I tried to keep up the pretense of being happy and carefree. Inside my mind was being thrown from side to another as I imagined what would happen the next day when I walked into the shop and met eyes with my mother who I had all but forgotten. Many different scenes played in my mind, each more unpleasant than the last. But, what would be worse, being humiliated in front of the girls I had become friends with by the woman who threw me out, or being disclaimed once more by the mother I had tried so desperately to love since I was a small child? And what if she turned the theater away simply because I was part of it? The first performance of Hannibal was in a month; we couldn't afford to have to find a different seamstress before then. The lead parts and their understudies had their own seamstresses, so it would be no problem for them, but there was nearly thirty girls and young men in the chorus. If we got turned away, it would be most certainly my fault.

We arrived in the ballet dormitories, breathless and still shocked from the surprise meeting with the mysterious Persian on the way. Looking around the room, Meg seemed relieved to see that most of the ballet girls were in the dormitories, mostly getting ready for dinner. I sighed and moved over to my bed, collapsing happily, and buried my head in my pillow. Christine sat lightly at the foot of my bed, listening to Meg as she informed the other ladies of the fittings tomorrow. A few chattered excitedly about the prospects of getting out of the opera house, and a few of the older girls made lewd remarks about Meg having informing them on such short notice. Like they really had any other plans, I thought idly.

I laid there for about ten more minutes, listening to Meg and Christine converse quietly, now over at Christine's bed, and to the other girls as they made their ways out to get something to eat. Eventually I sat up and stretched. My two friends glanced over at me quickly, but soon went back to their conversation when they saw that I was looking at them. It made no difference, however; I had seen the worry and pity in those hastened glances. I didn't really want their pity, but at least I knew that there was someone who cared about me. At the moment that was all I needed to know.

Christine, Meg, and I stayed in the dormitories for about twenty minutes before deciding to go into the theater to listen in on the rehearsals. The ballet and chorus weren't supposed to have a rehearsal until the next day after we got back from the seamstress.

Erik

I sat back in the shadows of the fifth box, sighing. I had nothing to do, as Christine did not have a lesson today. The time between the lessons were meaningless, and empty. I tried to preoccupy my mind with music of my own creation, but without her voice to sing to its melancholy melody, it sounded flat and hollow. And that damn girl kept pushing her way into my mind. Christine was spending more and more time with the young wench. I needed to get her focus back on her music and away from that intruder.

Someone below in the orchestra pit struck a chord and the introduction to the Opera Populaire's new production started. I realized what was coming and I flinched and turned to leave as the Spanish prima donna, la Carlotta, started screeching out her lines. But I stopped suddenly as I drew close to my passage which was near to the door, I heard giggling and the sounds of at least two footfalls in the hallway. I frowned, realizing that they were coming towards the door of Box Five. Curious to know who would be coming, I slipped into a very dark corner of the box, and listened. I frowned more when I heard Little Giry's voice, and then that damn girl, Sebille.

"Come on, let's watch the rehearsal from the Ghost's box!" Giry's voice was heard saying.

"But won't the ghost be upset? And what if he's in there?" Damn girl. She was too smart, even if she didn't know it.

"Oh, he'll never know! And besides, I doubt he's in there. He's supposedly a musical genius, and no one who knows one note from another wants to listen to Signora Carlotta caterwaul!" Giry laughed at her joke. If no one wanted to listen, why was she there? I froze as I heard a hand turn the handle on the door to the box. Suddenly, a third voice spoke up.

"Come on girls! Let's just use the box next door and not take any chances. Come on, Meg!" It was Christine. My heart leapt, and then sank again as I remembered that she was with her friends. I did not know if I was ever going to be able to spend time with her when she was natural, and conscious, not influenced by my voice or the night. I envied the girls who were her companions. I heard the three of them walk into the box next to mine, the seventh box. The musical massacre continued down on the stage, and I heard the three girls giggling and some joke unheard by me. I moved closer to the wall separating the two boxes so I was able to listen to the girls' chatter.

"So, Christine, have you seen your Angel lately? Perhaps he's having tea on Sunday with Mr.. Opera Ghost on Sunday.." Damn Giry and that Sebille...They could not leave Christine alone!

Sebille

I laughed quietly as Meg jested with Christine, watching Christine's cheeks flush at the mention of her 'Angel'. I sighed, and turned to the edge of the box, leaning against it and watching the movement down on the stage. Other than the fact that Carlotta was a terrible woman, the opera was coming along nicely. The chorus and ballet were near to perfection already, and the leads had learned their parts, and were just getting used to the choreography. The scenes were more than half way done, and all that remained was the costumes. I sighed, almost guiltily. What if my mother turned us down? It would ultimately be my fault, though I'm sure some one would try and make up an excuse for it.

Christine had been talking to me, but I had been off in space. "Pardon me?"

Christine started to speak again, but as soon as she opened her mouth, I heard another voice in my ear, as though the speaker were sitting upon my shoulder.

"I know your secrets. Stay away from her. Leave her be, and she need not know what I know." And the voice was gone. I paled and looked around the box, searching for the speaker.

Christine laid a hand on my shoulder, looking at me, worry glowing in her eyes. "Sebille? What is wrong? You look near to fainting!" I shook my head slowly.

"No, I'm fine. But, it is late already. We should retire for the night. Let us go." And I stood up, and, not seeing if my friends were following, started for the door and turned into the hallways and down into the dormitory. Reaching my destination, I changed into some nightclothes quickly and curled up on my bed on top of the covers. I put my face into the pillow and cried. I fell asleep before Christine and Meg came into the room.

Shortly after eight o'clock, Madame Giry bustled into the room, shaking sleeping ballet brats to wakefulness. There was much grumbling and feeble attempts to snatch the bed clothes back. Antoinette Giry hesitated when she got to the sleeping form of Sebille Harvey. She saw the girl's tear stained face. She felt guilty at having hired the girl's mother to be the seamstress, but she was the only one desperate enough for money to agree to making near on fifty costumes. She wondered idly as she woke Sebille how her mother was going to react.

Sebille sat up and stretched groggily. She reached down to the trunk at the end of the bed and pulled out a simple gown and corset. She waited until Meg had woken up and had shaken off the sleep to get dressed as she could not do up the corset herself. She gasped as Meg pulled the top lace very tight. Meg blushed and mumbled an apology.

Within about a half hour the ballet corps was ready to go across Paris to get fitted for their new costumes. Since there were so many of them, and many of the girls did not have much money, they were walking. It wasn't too far; they should get there around eleven. Sebille took several deep breaths to reassure herself. Meg and Christine kept hugging her and murmuring words of consolation to her. With a stern word from Madame Giry, the girls left the Opera Populaire. It was fated to be an outing that would change both Christine and Sebille's lives.

A few hours later, with few mishaps and large amounts of flirting, gossiping, and laughing, the entire corps de ballet stood outside of a seamstress shop that was all to familiar to Sebille. She paled, and her vision swam for a moment, but she shook her head softly and carried on, following Meg into the shop, gripping Christine's hand so hard her knuckles were white.

Two women were already inside, and Sebille smiled widely, recognizing the taller one as her long time friend, Faye. She must have come in to check on Sebille's mother and the shop. As Sebille turned to Meg and Christine to point out her old companion, Madame Giry went to speak with Sebille's mother. Pulling Christine and Meg behind her, Sebille suddenly launched herself onto the unsuspecting Faye.

"Oh, Faye! It's so good to see you again! I've missed you ever so much! Look! I made it in! These are my friends, Meg Giry and Christine Daae. Girls, this is my longtime friend and former dance instructor, Faye Beaumier." Sebille flushed with happiness. Faye laughed and said a few words of greeting to Meg and Christine before launching into a conversation with Sebille. Christine watched Sebille talk animatedly to Faye. Christine hadn't seen Sebille so happy before. She smiled at the younger girl's excited behavior. Suddenly, Sebille looked past Faye and her eyes hardened. She had caught the eye of her mother, and some girls who were standing between the two Harvey women almost felt the chill in the air.

A/N: I guess I should put this in. I'm mixing in the movie, Leroux, and Kay, plus tweaking it a bit myself. Like, supposedly Christine's lessons were daily and in the morning, but I find that it suits my needs better that they're weekly and in the afternoon. Yup. And, in case any of you were wondering, my Erik is Gerry! Yet again, because that suits my purposes better than Leroux or Kay's Erik. And he's a whole lot sexier.

Erik: -blush- Thanks...

Me: -rolls eyes- It's not like you haven't heard it a thousand other times before from random people across the globe.

Erik: Shhhh! They don't know that! Anyway, allow me to answer the review. Since there's just one, you know.

Me: Stop rubbing it in.

Erik: little lotte angel: Kitty expresses her heartfelt thanks to you, since you were the only one to review. Here's the next chapter, and she apologizes for it's lateness. I assure you, she had absolutely no control over the situation. And, since you were the only one to review, here's a lovely gif-

Me: Wait! You can't give that gift to her! I just gave her a huge jar of chocolate baked goods and a puppy! She doesn't need any more!

Erik: But, technically, that was to Gabrielle, not to LLA. (sorry, I abbreviated your name)

Me: -thinks- Dammit. Fine. Take it. -holds out a luverly pair of leather gloves that previously belonged to Erik himself.- Now, the rest of you, review!

..I suppose I should answer Jordan's review...Thanks...I can't believe you remembered that nickname! -blush- I love your penname! The Anti-Fop! Yeah!

So, I'll see you all in about a week or so. If not, blame my family.