A/N: Oh, happy news - I'm extending the story a bit! -tosses confetti- This story was supposed to end the month after this 'month' (January), but I've decided to let it run a teeny bit longer - three 'months' after this month, and then I'm done.

Disclaimer: I don't own the song Iris by Goo Goo Dolls. I just made it that Christine was the original composer of it. Oh, yeah - and Christine came up with the modern words ''cause' and 'wanna'.

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Just as Francois had said, Christine was 'up and about before she knew it'. Within a week after the swordfight in the cemetery with Emilie, she was walking around - with some difficulty, though - and traveling all around her lair and the Opera.

"See!" Francois said triumphantly to her when he caught sight of her during her first venture out since she'd been injured. "I told you you'd be better in no time! Look at you - you're walking around like you own the Opera, just like you used to!"

"Yes... I suppose you were right," she said softly, wincing and placing a hand on her stomach for a moment. "You see, this is when I definitely need the morphine. It helps to reduce my pain. Now you can't get angry at me for using it! Yes, there is an advantage to these injuries! I knew there had to be!"

"There's no need to get sarcastic about it, dear," he sighed. "I'm just trying to be positive about the whole thing, seeing as you're already quite lucky that Mademoiselle Chastain didn't kill you. Just be happy that you can at least stand up straight by yourself."

But, despite his positive outlook, she didn't see anything good about her almost complete recovery. What good was almost complete recovery if you couldn't walk around, much less stand up straight, without feeling constant searing pain?

The only good thing she could see about her almost complete recovery was that she could see Cameron again, since she hadn't allowed him to see her while she'd been bedridden. She didn't want to make herself look weak in front of him.

When she informed Francois that she was going to bring Cameron back down to her lair, he instantly wagged his finger and said sternly, "Christine, I hope you give him a good talking to about his fiancee when you see him! That young woman is insane, and she doesn't have any business associating herself with other people when she's like that!"

She sighed, smiled, and shook her head. "Oh, Francois... I'm not angry with him. It's not his fault that Emilie is the way she is. If she's jealous of someone like me and wants to get rid of me, then that's her problem."

That conversation had been finished right then, and no more had been said about Cameron's upcoming arrival to the lair.

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A week after Christine had recovered, Cameron found a note in the dressing room with the mirror, which he'd been visiting daily since the swordfight to see if Christine was around. He picked it up and read it.

Cameron,

Meet me here after rehearsal for Genius's Mistake. Then you and I shall go down to my lair together.

Respectfully yours, Christine

He smiled and let out a sigh of relief. So Christine was all right after all... good. He'd been really worried that her injuries had led to other things - like death. But now that he'd been contacted by her, he could relax.

Placing the note in his pocket, he walked out of the dressing room to the stage to rehearse Genius's Mistake.

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After rehearsal for Genius's Mistake, Cameron hurried down to the dressing room with the mirror to meet Christine and see her, so that he would have actual physical evidence that she was alive.

He stepped inside the dressing room and quietly closed the door behind him. Then he walked over to the mirror and stood, waiting.

He didn't wait long. About five minutes later, the mirror opened, and Christine stood there, as alive as ever, on the other side, dressed and ready to go back down to where she lived.

"Christine!" he exclaimed joyously, smiling and stepping through the mirror as she closed it behind him. He was about to throw his arms around her, but then he thought better of it - after all, even if she was alive, she was probably very seriously hurt - and didn't.

She smiled back at him. "Hello, Cameron." She extended her hand to him. "Come with me now. Are you ready?"

"I've been ready all week," he said enthusiastically, taking her hand, and then they started to walk. "I've missed you, Christine... and I've really been quite worried about you, too. I was afraid that your injuries might have led to worse things."

"I've missed you, too," she replied. "Thank you for your concern... I'm quite all right. There's just those moments when I have a tiny bit of pain. But it's all right - I take my morphine for it."

But, little did he know, she was lying about how much pain she felt from her wounds at times. The pain was really almost inbearable, and sometimes she'd even started crying because she hurt so badly. But, she had decided, there was no need for him to know that. There was no need to have him be worried about her.

"Well, I'm glad you're all right," he said, interrupting her thoughts. "I was so angry with Emilie... you have no idea."

"I probably have a good idea," she said dryly. "But it's no matter. As I said, I'm feeling all right. There's no need to get into a row with her about the issue. And speaking of row, let's get on the gondola now." She stepped onto the gondola and grabbed the rowing rod. When he stepped on and sat, she rowed away.

Due to her pain, she now rowed the gondola more slowly than usual - noticeably more slowly. "Is there a reason why we're going to slow?" he asked impatiently; he was eager to get to the lair.

"No," she lied, shrugging. "I was just going at a more leisurely pace... I always go somewhere at a fast pace, you see, so I thought I'd try something different today. Do you need me to go faster?"

"Oh, no; I was just asking."

"Okay," she said, but then started rowing faster anyway, wincing in pain every so often. Then they arrived at the lair about five minutes later.

She stepped off of the gondola, pulled off her cloak, hung it up, and put down the rowing rod. Then she walked over to the gondola and helped him off. "All right. Would you like to eat? Sleep? Talk? Have tea?"

"I'd like to have some tea, please," he said, smiling and sitting down on the sofa.

"Tea it is," she said, nodding, then vanished into the kitchen and prepared Russian tea with lemon. A few minutes later, she came back with tea and teacups on a tray. She poured some tea into a cup and handed it to him. "There."

He took it from her and started drinking his tea. When he was finished, he placed his teacup down and asked, "So when are we going to reopen the Opera and perform Genius's Mistake for the public?"

"March... three more months." She put down her teacup and rose, wincing the tiniest bit so that he didn't notice. "Shall I play something for you?" she inquired.

"Yes, please," he said, smiling. "What are you going to play?"

She sat down at the piano and considered for a moment. Then she played the intro to one of the songs that she'd written and started singing.

And I'd give up forever to touch you,

'Cause I know that you feel me somehow...

You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be,

And I don't wanna go home right now...

And all I can taste is this moment...

And all I can breathe is your life...

When, sooner or later, it's over -

I just don't wanna miss you tonight...

And I don't want the world to see me,

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand...

When everything's made to be broken,

I just want you to know who I am...

Then she stopped.

He smiled and applauded. "Lovely. That wasn't the entire song... why don't you ever play your own compositions in their entirety?"

She shrugged. "I just don't, that's all. Are you done with tea?"

"Yes, please."

She rose and put the teacups on the tray. Then she picked up the tray and walked into the kitchen. She washed the dishes and then walked back out into the main part of the lair.

As she was about to sit down on the piano bench, searing pain went through her stomach and lower chest. She let out a little gasp, placed a hand on her stomach, panted a little, placed a hand on the piano to steady herself, and closed her eyes, silently willing the pain to go away.

"Are you all right?"

She opened her eyes and looked over in his direction. He was glancing up at her concernedly from where he sat, and she could tell that he was worried that she was in a lot of pain - which she was.

She nodded. "Yes, I'm fine. It's just this silly corset that I'm wearing... I put it on too tightly this morning when I dressed," she lied, forcing herself to smile in spite of the pain that she still felt. "It's nothing."

He nodded as though he believed her and understood, and she looked away from him, letting out a small sigh. But he knew that she was lying. "Did she hurt you badly?" he asked quietly.

Sighing again, she walked over to the piano bench and sat down. "Well," she said slowly, "she could have done much worse... she could have killed me. But I'm all right; the pain isn't too terrible. You needn't worry, mon ami. I'm fine."

"I'm sorry," he said hurriedly. "I didn't know that she was going to do that... I told her that you were going to the cemetery, and she told me that she had a plan. She asked me if I wanted to make you happy, and I said yes... so she told me to drive you to the cemetery and then to beat you to your father's grave and to pretend to be your father by singing for you. I knew it would be wicked deception, but I just wanted to see you smile... and then she came and started fighting you... I had no idea..." Tears started to fill his eyes.

She smiled and patted his arm reaussringly. "It's all right. I'm alive... you don't need to apologize or be upset. It's in the past."

He nodded and wiped his eyes. "Okay."

"All right. Now, I think it's time we went to bed - it's quite late. Oh, wait... we didn't eat... are you hungry?"

"No."

She sighed. "All right. Then let's go to sleep now."

He nodded and walked into his room. "Good night, Christine."

"Good night, Cameron."

Then he closed the door behind him.

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"It's time for you to go back," Christine said to Cameron a week later. "You need to go back up and rehearse for Genius's Mistake... or else it won't get done and be ready by March."

"All right," he said, rising from the sofa and stepping onto the gondola. When he was sitting, she put on her cloak, stepped on, grabbed the rowing rod, and rowed away.

When they arrived at the mirror about fifteen minutes later, she said, "All right. I'll see you sometime next week, I suppose."

"A week?" he replied, disappointed. "Why a week? Can't I come back sooner?"

"I regret that that is not possible."

"But... what if I need you? What if I run back down before a week?"

She shrugged. "Then you may stay overnight and go back up the following morning. But that's the only exception... so I'll see you in a week, as long as you don't run down to me, crying."

He smiled and stepped through the mirror to the dressing room as she opened it. "All right. I'll see you soon."

She nodded and slowly started closing the mirror. But then she had another pain attack. She let out a cry of pain when the mirror was halfway shut and placed a hand on the wall, steadying herself, wincing, and closing her eyes.

"Are you all right?" he gasped, starting to open the mirror again.

"Yes," she breathed, sighing and wincing as she stopped him from opening the mirror any further. "Yes, I'm fine... now go. I'll see you soon."

After looking at her hesitantly for a moment, then walked out of the dressing room.

When her attack had passed, she closed the mirror and made her way back down to her lair.

After I left the dressing room with the mirror earlier today, I made my way to the stage, fuming. Emilie had hurt Christine... and I wasn't going to allow it any more! She was going to be punished!

When I found Emilie, she was on stage, practicing with the other female choristers for Genius's Mistake. Without speaking to her, I grabbed her arm roughly and steered her off of the stage and into one of the smaller private dressing rooms backstage.

It was only after I'd slammed the door shut behind us that I finally allowed either of us to speak. She was first, saying, counfused, "Cameron, mon amour, what's going -"

I interrupted her by giving her a resounding slap across the cheek. "How dare you!" I shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her roughly. "How dare you do this! Trying to kill an innocent, harmless teenager... you must be mad."

She gazed at me confusedly, placing a hand on her now red cheek. "What innocent, harmless teenager?" she asked. "You mean Christine? That teenager?"

"Yes, Emilie, Christine!" I spat, my fury rising. "You almost killed her in that ridiculous fight in the cemetery that you started... you almost killed her! Well, when you were unarmed, she could have killed you then and there, did you know that? But she didn't! You ought to see her now... she can't even stand without wincing in pain! And - what may be worse than that, but I doubt it - you lied to me about the entire thing! 'Make her happy and pretend to be her dead father by singing for her'... had I known your true plans, I would have never agreed!"

"But she was coming between us, Cameron," she said beseehcingly, placing a hand on my arm. "She was separating us; don't you see? I want to get married, Cameron... I'm tired of being engaged! But she was getting in the way. I only want to get married."

"Well, you're not going to get married now - not to me, anyway!" I snapped angrily. "Our wedding is off, Emilie... our engagement is off! We're through, do you hear me? Through!

Her eyes widened as her face went pale. "You - you can't do that!" she gasped. "You can't break off our engagement - our wedding! We're so close... you can't stop everything now!"

"I can and I will!" I shouted. "You have no right to do anything like what you did... no right! I won't tolerate any more of this - so we're done! You and I are no more!"

Then, without waiting for a reply, I stormed out of the dressing room, leaving her there with her shock.