Disclaimer: If I owned it, I would be rich. I'm broke. What does that tell you?

Thank you for all the great reviews. This isn't the update you've all been hoping for, I write at night and that night I hadn't come up with what I was supposed to do about Erik yet.

MouetteHeartsErik : Thank you, I liked her devious plot rather much myself. Raoul is a monster, thank you for that! I mean, I can sympathize with him, but its so much more fun to make him evil.

PhantomLover2005: yes, of course I'm torturing my readers, what else do expect my twisted mind to do? Actually I wasn't sure how much people would like it, so I have to keep them reading somehow! Ha ha. Actually I'm torturing myself, because I know what I want to do, I just don't know how to do it!

sardine nightclub, intoxicated by eriks music, and anyone else who reviewed this way: He's not dead yet! Put all your lassos away. I know exactly what I am doing, but I can't tell you why. I don't know why. For conflict's sake, lets say that, shall we?

I pledge not to kill Erik. Now read on!

Diva's Return

In the dancers' dormitories, Meg looked at her mother worriedly. "Raoul has been down there an awfully long time, Mother, if he was just going down to get Christine. Are you sure we shouldn't go after him?"

Madame Giry sighed as she listened to her daughter. "Three things, Marguerite Giry.

"The first; you ought never go below the second cellar. Remember what happened to poor old Joseph Buquet in the third? No, Cheri, you must not go down there.

"The second; Erik does not take kindly to uninvited guests. The lower cellars are his domain only, and no one must ever descend so deep without his permission.

"And thirdly, Meg, is that Raoul did not simply go to rescue Christine, but to put an end to the Phantom as well. If you were to go down there, you would surely see a sight that innocent eyes such as yours should never see. As I said, Erik does not like intruders, especially those who mean to take from him what he loves. I could not let you be scarred so, Meg."

Her mind spinning and her eyes the size of saucers, Meg stared at her mother. "No---no! Surely you do not mean Raoul--I mean, the Vicomte de Chagny--"she blushed. "You cannot mean he is dying a horrific death even as we speak! Oh, please Mother, say it isn't so!"

Now this was unexpected. When had her child become so attached to a man who was only the Patron of the Opera? "My dear, calm yourself," Madame Giry said soothingly as Meg began to get hysterical. "Raoul can defend himself, provided he does as I advised him." He would have to be mad not too, she thought. "Meg, have you become attached to Raoul? Is that why you are so concerned?"

Blushing to the color of a lobster, Meg stammered out, "He--he's so handsome, Mother, and so considerate. Do you see how he always makes sure the people around him are comfortable, and how he tries hard not to be overly aristocratic? Why, when he was announced at Hannibal's rehearsal, he even apologized for an interruption entirely not his fault! He's so dear, Mother, how could I not have fallen in love with him?"

XXXXX

After the horrid incident with the safety pin, the Commissary, and the Vicomte, Monsieurs Richard and Moncharmin were undeniably perturbed. Informed of the state of the audience, the managers rushed into the auditorium more harried than ever, and hoping for nothing more at the moment than to wake up and find this all a ridiculous nightmare. However, upon their entrance, they were swarmed and bombarded with more questions than any two people could hope to answer in a lifetime.

"What is the meaning of this, monsieurs?"

"Does the Opera Ghost not provide enough publicity?"

"Is this some sort of mean-spirited joke?"

"Where has the Diva gone off to?"

"Is it true that she ran away with the Comte de Chagny?"

"How will the show go on?"

"This will be refunded, I presume?"

"SILENCE!" bellowed the Commissary. "Kindly allow the managers passage to the stage immediately!"

Certain authorities have more clout than others, and with the commissary's aide the path to the stage was much clearer than before. As they and the word that they would give reasonable explanations for the events passed, the crowd quieted to a near whisper, with only a few gossips sharing all the details of what they were certain had happened.

"Ladies and gentlemen, do indulge us a few moments' time to collaborate with the director as to what we are to do. Mademoiselle Daae has, in fact, disappeared, and we do not know as of yet what has become of her. Many of the rumors you have heard, if not all of them, are false. We are not trying to jip you, nor is this a publicity stunt. We can only say that, if the performance is not capable of being continued, you will have a full refund." As Monsieur Richard finished his address, the opera-goers once again erupted in loud discussion.

"And please stay seated! Some of you may have to testify as to what you did or did not witness," shouted the Commissary above all the hubbub.

XXXXX

Discussing the current situation with Monsieur Reyer, however, turned out to be more difficult than expected. The poor man was distressed enough already with the disappearance of the Prima Donna, but seeing Monsieur Moncharmin with the majority of his mustache pulled out disturbed him even further. After all, who wouldn't be upset by such a sight?

"Maestro, will you please stop pacing? This incessant motion is making me nauseous," complained Moncharmin. He stood and took Reyer by the shoulders. "Relax, man!"

"Relax? You wish me to relax, my good managers? My star is missing, the audience is in an uproar, all my cast is badgering me with questions, and now you two as well!"

Richard tried to employ a soothing tone, a feat none too easy with his temper. "Monsieur, simply tell us if the performance can continue or not. That is all we need to know."

"Oh, well, of course it can! We could pull in the egotistical Spanish diva; she would sing it most willingly!" Reyer was becoming sarcastic, something that only happened when he was frustrated or Carlotta was involved, both of which occurred quite frequently together.

The managers flinched at the thought of putting Carlotta onstage again; they couldn't bear the thought of her screeching in triumph.

"Yais, yais, I would most gladly sing-a for mah managers, HAD THEY NOT-A REPLACED MEH WEETH ZAT LEETLE INGÉNUE! You want-a meh to sing-a, you come gait-a me in Spain where Ah am wanted!" With that interjection, Signora Carlotta Guidicelli, her "doggeh," and her entourage stalked out of the Opera Populaire, creating quite a stir as they went, mostly due to Carlotta shoving the ballet rats out of her way.

"Well. At least that matter is resolved," stated a very relieved Richard, as the managers turned to go inform the audience they could leave and expect a full refund.

I know, I know, I didn't tell you what happened 5 cellars down. This is the end of my pre-written chapters, so the next update might take a little bit longer. But don't Punjab me in the meantime or else you won't get a resolution at all!