Christine woke up early the next morning and realized that she'd fallen asleep at the piano while composing. She yawned, stretched, and glanced at her pocketwatch, seeing that it was shortly after seven o'clock. Soon everyone would be arriving at the Opera, if they weren't there already, and she'd have to go answer to François for Cameron's disappearance, which would be discovered very quickly.

Sighing and rubbing her face somewhat tiredly, she rose from the piano bench and walked over to the closed door of Cameron's room. Then she quietly opened the door to check if he was still there.

There he was, breathing the deep, even breaths of sleep, causing her to smile to herself. He looked so peaceful when he was sleeping.

After looking at him for another moment, she shut the door again as quietly as possible.

She walked over to where her cloak was hanging, grabbed her cloak, and put it on, stepping onto the gondola. Then she grabbed the nearby rowing rod and started rowing away. She had to come back quickly before Cameron woke up and realized he was alone, which she was sure would terrify him. With this thought, she rowed a little quicker.

When she reached the upper levels of the Opera, she made her way up to where the flies were, and where she expected François to be waiting for her, tapping one foot impatiently and looking cross. It therefore didn't surprise her when that was exactly what she found.

"Cameron Luc!" exclaimed François when I approached him early this morning, using that ominous and rather demanding tone that somehow has the power to make me nervous. "Cameron Luc, Christine!"

Damn! How is it that he always finds things out so quickly?

For a moment, I bit my lip until I tasted blood, trying to figure out how to go about this. I couldn't play that much of a fool; he would never buy it. It seemed that I would have to act like Cameron didn't really matter to me.

I shrugged. "What about him?"

"You kidnapped him - you kidnapped him!" he cried out rather accusingly. "Didn't you? How could you, Christine?"

I tossed my head haughtily. "I'll have you know that he snapped out of his trance almost immediately and then came with me of his own free will!"

There was a moment of silence between us, and then I realized that I'd just given myself away, which didn't surprise me that much, although it rather irritated me. I can never keep things a secret from François for long. "Oh."

He looked slightly amused by my carelessness momentarily, then grew serious again.

"Let him go, Christine," he said quietly. "He's a shallow, frivolous young man who's entirely unworthy of someone as intelligent and worldly as you are. You two have nothing in common!"

"I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about!" I replied, turning away from him and feeling my face flush slightly because I knew exactly what he was talking about.

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't think that I don't see what's going on here, Christine. I'm not as clueless as you'd like to think. So let him go... let him be with the girl that he's in love with."

"And who, François, do you think he might be in love with?" I demanded, although I was fully aware of what his answer would be.

"Why, Emilie Chastain, of course. Don't you see the way he looks at her? It's obvious that he likes her, at the very least."

Upon hearing the name that I'd come to despise, I spun around and grabbed his arm so tightly that I saw him wince.

"That is not true!" I snapped, aware that I was lying mostly to make myself feel better. "Who dares to say such cruel things about him? I'd like to know!"

Sighing, he pulled my hand off of his arm with some difficulty. "Why are you keeping him with you, anyway?" he asked.

I folded my arms beneath my cloak and glared at him. "You may not like hearing this, but I am allowed to have visitors other than you, François," I said coldly. "Although I find it quite touching that you think yourself my only company, my only friend."

He sighed at this as I checked my pocketwatch before continuing, "Now, if you'll excuse me, my guest should be waking at any moment, and if he doesn't find me there, he's sure to die of fright."

Then, without another word, I turned and made my way down back home.

Why is it that Francois thinks that I'm making a mistake by being in love with Cameron and having him down in my home with me? I don't make mistakes! I'm a genius! Geniuses don't make mistakes! Ha - genius's mistake... falling in love! Hysterically funny!

Wait a moment.

Genius's Mistake?

That sounds like a rather good name for an opera, I think...