XVIII

The managers worked frantically the entire afternoon and by the time the performance was set to begin it seemed as if every gendarme in Paris was inside the theatre. Christine watched them enter for a while, before being lead away to get ready for the opera.

She changed into her first costume for the night and sighed as the lacy sleeves, if they could be called that, slipped down her shoulders. She quickly adjusted them, pulling them back up and crossing her arms meekly over her chest, suddenly feeling self conscious. Several other woman tutted and worked on her hair and makeup.

"Are you ready?" meg asked as she hurried past, done up in her first costume.

"No," Christine said, "and yes…oh, Meg, your mother must hate that costume."

"It isn't so bad," Meg said, picking at it a bit, "I have to go warm up, good luck."

"You too…"

Antoinette watched as the dancers milled around her, all dressed in the horrendous garbs of whores, or in the shadowy black costumes for the dances during Point of No Return. Soldiers stood off to the sides, watching as they warmed up.

"Meg," she said once her daughter appeared, "hurry and get warmed up, where have you been?"

"I just wanted to see Christine before I came," she explained, staring at all of the gendarmes, "what will happen tonight?"

"I do not know. Please, hurry and get ready."

Mg hurried off and Antoinette leaned against the wall. All of the soldiers made her nervous, after all, even she had no idea what would happen that night. The young man was already in Box Five, so where would Erik watch from.

"Madame Giry!" Monsieur Reyer called.

"Oui?"

"This is going to be some performance, no?"

"Yes, it will indeed," she sighed, "but I do not know whether it will be for good or bad."

"Bad," he replied with certainty, "I can still hardly stand the music. I think I may put cotton in my ears."

"Hmm, I doubt that will help."

"No," he sighed, "and I have none. Good luck, Madame Giry."

"You as well."

Heleft then and Christine walked into the backstage. She looked nervous, no, terrified would be a better word for it. Antoinette watched her, carrying the basket of red roses, and peering at the police with a strange mix of fear and pity.

"My dear!" she called, "come here."

She did as she was told," What is it?"

"You look nervous, my dear. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she replied, "I just…I'm fine. Is it to begin soon?"

"yes, five minutes."

"Oh," she said, watching as the others took their places on stage. Carlotta was squawking angrily, but everyone knew that when the curtain rose she would perform, "I should take my place."

Antoinette grabbed her hand, "Be careful."

Christine just nodded her head and moved away to watch. Everyone was now seated and the orchestra was warming up.

The first dissonant notes of the opera were played and the cacophony of sound caused the audience to murmur and turn to each other in their seats. Whispering as they tried to figure out what exactly was going on. Several tried to get up and leave, but all of the doors were locked and guarded, so they returned to their seats as the set is first revealed.

The opera began and Carlotta quickly took the centre stage, trying to milk as much out of her small part as possible. The audience whispered to each other and coughed, fidgeting with programs and gloves. Christine watched from the side, listening to the familiar music.

"…Here's my hat, my cloak and sword. Conquest is assured, if I do not forget myself and laugh…" Piangi sang, hurrying off the stage, laughing as he went.

Erik waited, hidden behind a dark curtain for Piangi to come of, and when he did he struck, snagging him with the lasso and breaking his neck before he could scream. He then pushed the body aside and peeked out through the curtains, it was a full house.

Christine took a deep breath to calm herself and stepped out onto the stage. The wood felt cool beneath her bare feet, and her heart seemed to thunder in her chest. But she adopted a look of calm and moved to the centre of the stage.

"No thoughts within her head, but thoughts of joy! No dreams within her heart, but dreams of love!" she sang, allowing the note to fill the auditorium before kneeling on the stage and fiddling with one of the roses in her basket.

"Master," Passarino sang, signalling the impending duet.

"Passarino," he replied, and her blood seemed to freeze in her veins.

A/N: Okay, I know, really short chapter, but it was kind of neccesary (and I did give you another one today), since otherwise it would have been terribly, terribly long. Its time! Don Juan Triumphant. Drop me a review if you are reading and tell me what you think so far.