This chapter may be a bit on the dry side. This is basically set up the whereabouts of other characters who are introduced to the story. Yadda yadda yadda. Yesh, enjoy.

"She can't sing…." She mumbled silently, still wide-eyed and as pale as she was before.

"What?" Buquet whispered, starting to worry.

"She can't sing… Christine Daae can't sing!" She said in a panic, running across the scaffold to the ladder Buquet had just came up.

Buquet quickly followed behind her, grabbing her arm, "What are you doing! What's going on?"

Helena violently took her arm back from him, almost falling back. "Buquet, you can not tell anyone! Let know one know! I must go… she'll make a fool of herself!" As she finished her sentence, the only thing she could think was how the Angel would finally know.

She made her way down the ladder as things were starting to calm down, and Christine moved to the center stage to begin to sing. She quickly started fussing with a statue that was set behind Christine and near the curtains. She acted as if she was inspecting it, as if she was making sure everything was in place. She moved it a bit over so that it was directly behind Christine, and then at the slit in the curtains.

The two measures of "Think of Me" began, and she quickly made it look as if she disappeared behind the curtains, to the now empty backstage. She went unnoticed, and suddenly, the two measures had ended, and she quickly took in her deep breath. She took a pause, hearing Christine start, and how meek and quiet her voice was.

As Christine finished the fourth measure, Helena took another deep breath, knowing she would have to try even harder to project her voice out. She took the tempo from Christine, and from that, she quietly started to sing, and gradually sang louder, overpowering Christine's voice. By the time they made it to

"Think of august when the trees were green,

Don't think about the things which might have been…"

Christine and she were in perfect sync with each other. And Christine, thinking that she somehow acquired this amazing voice from her angel, suddenly became more confident, trying to sing even louder, and holding herself more proud. But, the louder Christine started to sing, the louder Helena had to become.

"Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade, they have their seasons so do we.

But promise me that sometimes you will think..."

As they came upon the Cadenza, she took in a deep breath, closing her eyes, and bracing herself for one of the hardest parts of the song which she had tripped up many times before.

As she had predicted she would do, she stumbled on the first two measures, making them sound so amateurish, but as she came upon the last three measures she regained her confidence and belted them out effortlessly. She, however, was not able to hold the whole note for its full four counts, losing air just after three counts.

There was an eerie pause of silence after she ended, grabbing at her chest and trying to breath in as much as she could. She calmed down, listening very hard for anything. Unexpectedly, a burst of claps and cheers arose and she looked from behind the statue to see the ballerinas surrounding Christine, congratulating her and making a fuss. Her eyes then panned the whole stage area, observing everyone's reaction, and she stopped as she laid eyes upon Madame Giry. In her hands, was an open note with a broken seal. She couldn't make out the emblem impression, but kept in mind that it was red wax that was used.

"Helena!" She heard Buquet's voice from the scaffold and quickly looked up to him. Buquet looked at her with an astonished, gaped mouth expression on his face.

Helena could feel her chest tightening once again. She walked back behind the curtain and to the backstage area, leaning against the wall for support. It only took her a few seconds to calm herself down this time. She looked back up to Buquet who had disappeared from her.

"Sir! Are you alright!" A young man quickly ran to her side, holding her up a bit.

She turned to see a young man, who could only be described as having a boyish charm to him. He had blonde hair, which could only be described as the color of the yellow lilacs in Carlotta's dressing room that were brought by young suitors. His mustache was tiny, plainly being that of what they usually called a fop. His skin was a pale shade, and seemed spotless, and his eyes… she could only describe them as a light blue, incomparable to anything else she had ever seen before.

"I'm fine… really…" she said, trying to walk away from him, but he was reluctant.

"Philippe, there's something wrong with this young boy!" He yelled across the backstage area, and as he did, a taller man stepped from the curtains and walked towards them.

Her heart sank once again as he approached. She didn't want this, she didn't want all this fuss. She scrambled to get away from the young blonde man, but he still would not let go.

"You were just grabbing your chest! Something could seriously be wrong!" He said, letting Philippe take a hold of her when he finally made it to them.

Philippe quickly took a hold of her, trying to stop her from struggling and calming her down. Once she stopped, he put his hand on her chest to feel her heart beat, but he raised an eyebrow… feeling something else instead.

He quickly took his hand away, and then swiftly grabbed a hold of her cap, pulling it off. He saw the bun of hair sitting on top of her head, most of it falling out of the bun. He raised an eyebrow, "I… I could at least understand you being a young boy…but a woman! I do hope you're just acting a part in this Opera." He looked at her with a bit of disgust as Raoul looked on, still a bit confused.

She felt her heart drop. She didn't usually care what people thought, but then again, no one who dressed and carried himself in such a dignified manner had ever taken noticed to her.

"Ah, miss Helena! I've been looking all over for you!" Madame Giry quickly took Helena's arm. "Now I told you that the lights are in some of my girls eyes." She grabbed Helena by the ear, "Now go and fix it!" She demanded, guiding her towards the ladder to the scaffold and then watching her hurriedly climb up. She turned back to Raoul and Phillip, smiling. "You must excuse her, gentlemen. It's hard to walk around the scaffolds and to run around the stage in a dress." She gave her head a little nod, out of respect of the two and then lead them towards the side of the stage where the managers stood.

Helena made it to the scaffold where she was met with less than warm feelings from Buquet.

"What the Hell's going on? First the curtain, and I could have sworn I saw… what I saw!" He hissed.

She tried to remain calm, not quite sure of what exactly he did see, and not wanting to give anything away. She swallowed hard as she began to speak, "The curtain was not my fault… I would I let it fall onto Carlotta. I enjoy her singing!"

He crossed his arms, glaring at her. "I want to know why it looked like you were singing when Miss. Daae was. Helena, I'm not an idiot, so don't think of me as one. I demand to know what's going on right now!" he started to grow a bit louder, but tried to tone it down.

She shushed him, "Buquet, you can not tell a living soul. Though I hardly think they'd believe you. I sang… I was singing. It was me…." She whispered, putting her head down and staring at the boards of the scaffold.

Buquet shook his head, biting his lip a bit. He honestly did not know whether he should scold her, or be pleased. "Did you even think at all before you reacted?" his voice was cold, and he spoke with his teeth clenched.

She glanced up at him, taking in a deep breath. "I… I didn't know what to do… I didn't want her to make a full out of herself."

"And what do you think you're going to do now? Damn it, Helena… what are you going to do when the opera begins. You'll have to run around and try to… to…" He couldn't even finish he was so angry. He grabbed her by her arm, pulling her up closer to him so she might understand how severe the situation was. "Do you have any idea what you've done? You let Christine believe that she has a wonderful voice… and now you've let the whole opera believe it. What's going to happen when they find out? You can't be at every rehearsal, every lesson, every show. What are you going to do then?"

She could feel the tears swelling up in her eyes. She wiped her nose on her sleeve before she spoke, "I… I wasn't thinking! Alright John? Is that what you wanted to hear? I wasn't thinking about it. I was thinking about how she would look like such a fool standing there, singing off key… with such a tiny… horrendous voice! I was thinking about how the opera needs it! About how the opera needs someone new since Carlotta has left! I was thinking… I was… thinking…" Her fast pace soon slowed down, "I was thinking what point would it be for me to go down there and start singing as I am. I'm plain, not beautiful like she is. I dress in boys clothing and work the rigging. I'm known as Hamlet… I can't dance graceful… I can hardly walk a straight line. I can't make men's heads turn when I walk the halls. The public wants something pretty to look at, and that's just the way it is."

"People come to an opera to hear singing…" he protested.

She shook her head, looking back to the ground, "It's human nature that when something is pleasing to the eye… no other sense matters. Who would you rather see on stage? The un-kept, sweaty, plain girl in mens clothing or the pristine, sweet, beautiful girl? It's not a hard choice."

He raised an eyebrow, "You are not plain…" he mumbled a bit, glancing around.

She glanced up at him, seeing his eyes wonder around the other scaffolds. She tilted her head, "Well, I'm not beautiful."

A smirk form over his mouth, "You are unlike anyone that I've ever met. You are kind-hearted, you always put others before yourself… you're just such a selfless person. And yet… you worry so much about little things. In all honesty… you are the most beautiful young lady I've ever met." A smile formed across his face, and he looked at her in a somewhat proud manner.

She smiled a bit, and then shook her head, "And yet, still… what do any of these things have to do with physical beauty?"

He let out a sigh, desperately wanting to change the subject, "How do we go about this? This whole… singing thing…."