A/N: OMG! -gasp- A quick update! Just like old times… lol… Please note that I was extremely sick while writing this chapter; last night, when I wrote the bulk of it, I had a fever of 101, and today, when I wrote the last bit, I was thankfully down to 101.3. However, I got to take the day off of school and actually WRITE (my mom will KILL me if she finds out that I wasn't sleeping…) a lengthy chapter (almost as long as "Notes!"). Please forgive spelling errors and the like… I do apologize beforehand.

OH! Yes, and before I jump into this loverly little chapter (oh, don't be a smart alec; I spelled that wrong on purpose! LOL), I wanted to mention that I have ABSOLUTELY no life, and spend far too much of it on AIM. If you guys just happen to be on and want to chat up a storm about PotO, the weather, how much you loathe my phanphic (or not!), how FREAKING HOT Gerard Butler is… feel free! I'd love to hear from you! My screen name's nadenaberrie. Original, huh? ;)

Disclaimer: -whines- They're not MINE, okay? Stupid Gaston… stupid Andy… (yes, we're on a first-name basis. LOL!)

The chorus girls dashed single-file down the winding iron staircase, whispering excitedly amongst themselves as their wide eyes sparkled in anticipation. At the bottom of the stairs each girl quickly dusted her pointe shoes before dashing off to join Madame Giry along the warm-up bar. I hid in the shadows directly behind the stairs, my eyes flickering expectantly from one chorus girl to another. Finally, little Meg Giry galloped breathlessly down the stairs, turning her flushed face upwards to watch as Christine followed a few steps behind in a deliberately slower pace.

"Come on, Christine! Maman will murder us if we're late again!"

Christine halted, pursing her lips. "Oh! Silly me; I forgot part of my costume in my dressing room." Her voice was elevated just a bit more than usual, and her large brown eyes scanned the shadows subtly; she sensed my presence. "Go on, Meg. Tell your mother I will be there in a moment."

Little Meg uttered a dramatic sigh, grasping the metal rail as she slapped the toes of her shoes in the chalky substance. "It'll be your head, then, Chris; don't blame me!" With a quick roll of her eyes she scurried off after the rest of her peers. Christine watched her friend go, remaining perfectly still. Slowly, I ducked out from my hiding place and whispered her name.

"I hear you, angel," she breathed, her eyes darting across the room. "Where are you?"

I reached up a hand to brush her ankle, and she jumped a little in surprise, her hand flying to her heart. I beckoned her down to me, and she complied with a shuddering sigh of relief. She followed me into the shadows, and I offered her a comforting smile as she came to stand in front of me.

"Do not be nervous, Christine," I soothed, giving her shoulder a gentle squeeze. "You are not the diva that should be concerned tonight. Be ready to take up the role of countess on a moment's notice. You have been well prepared for tonight's performance. I know you will exceed even my own expectations."

She nodded her head, drawing in a deep, trembling breath. "But you will not harm Carlotta," she repeated without meeting my eyes. "You promised…"

"I will not harm her," I assured her. "She will live to see another day, if not another performance." I tilted her chin up gently with my finger and looked deeply into her eyes. "Your voice rivals the angels in heaven, child. Sing as you did this afternoon, and soon all of Paris will know it as I do."

She smiled gratefully, her tense features visibly relaxing. "Thank you, mon ange."

"Meg! What happened to Miss Daaé?" Madame Giry's slightly panicked voice demanded from across the room, breaking the tender moment.

Christine and I exchanged terse nods, and she darted out from our hiding place while I slipped through a hidden door in the wall behind us. "Right here, Madame…"

I did not stay to listen to Giry rebuke my beloved student; somehow it irked me to no end to hear others criticize Christine, though I found no discomfort in doing so myself. I took sole responsibility for her performances, good or bad (though there were very few of the latter), and took extreme offense when others, even my oldest friend, attempted to take charge of her progress. Hence, as I heard Madame Giry's voice elevate in a scornful tone, I slipped away from the scene, trying to focus on my task ahead.

I wound through the hidden tunnels briskly, my purpose set. As I reached a well-concealed fire escape at the end of a little-used rafter, my hand moved habitually to the smooth ivory that concealed the right side of my face. Once sure that my mask was properly in place, I lifted the hood of my cloak over my head, slinking back into the folds of the black fabric. With a deep, calming breath, I opened the heavy wooden door and stepped silently onto the small iron grate just outside. The brisk autumn air was both refreshing and a bit shocking to my unconditioned lungs; I did not often venture outside of the Opera House, except on business of utmost importance.

And Christine's rise to stardom fell easily under that category.

I slipped quietly down the cold iron ladder with the proficiency and speed of a practiced acrobat, my gloved hands and leather-booted feet landing soundlessly on the metal rungs. Upon reaching the bottom of the fire escape I dropped a few meters to the ground, landing in a slight crouch to lessen the impact of the fall. Pulling my cloak tightly around myself, I stooped into the lengthening evening shadows, my eyes dashing anxiously across the vacant alley. My footsteps were light on the slick cobblestones; I burst into a hurried jog, becoming more eager by the moment to leave the bitterly cold world beyond the Opera House and return to the familiar warmth of Christine's arms…

I shook my head. I could not return until my task was complete. Christine was counting on me to put her back in her rightful leading role, and I fully intended to keep my promise.

My speed doubled at the thought of her brilliant smile as the audience called enthusiastically for an encore. Tonight's performance would surely mirror her success in Hannibal; I would see to it personally.

Although I had only visited the apothecary once or twice in my life, my feet seemed to recall the way, and I followed them blindly around one darkened corner after another. After what seemed like hours of running through the biting cold, I came to a panting halt outside of a small, run-down hut in the slums of Paris. I eyed the place questioningly for a moment; the dark brick had crumbled over the small entrance, the windows were cracked in several places, and the larger apartment next door was obviously a brothel of some sort. I hesitated; I had promised Christine that I would refrain from killing Carlotta, and I couldn't be sure that any potion from this sordid hut wouldn't do just that. Suddenly, a dreadfully bitter gust of wind blew fiercely through the foreboding alleyway, causing me to shiver violently even with the protection of my cloak. At that same moment, the mistress of the brothel next door stumbled drunkenly out of the front entrance, eyeing me warily before bellowing, "Aye, you look like a man who could use a little escape from the cold! Come on inside; plenty of girls to choose from… satisfaction guaranteed, monsieur!"

I glared at her in a combination of terror and disgust, then ducked quickly into the apothecary's shop, finally convinced that it could not possibly be worse inside than out.

I was wrong.

Inside, the shop was only a few degrees warmer than in the alley, and the entire place reeked of rancid meat and virulent poisons and blood and stale urine. I choked a bit, my hand flying to my nose as a stooped old man with a wild, tangled white mane hobbled out from the back room. He looked me up and down once, his hairy nostrils flaring, before nodding decisively.

"What's your pleasure, messieur? Poison, I suspect, or perhaps a narcotic of sorts… Got it all, messiuer, for the right price…" He wheezed heavily, his beady black eyes radiating a kind of maniacal pleasure as he offered the deadly potions. I swallowed the urge to threaten him for his hasty, crude judgment, deciding to pity him instead for his obvious lack of intelligence.

I crossed my arms over my chest, stretching my spine upwards in a menacing stance. "Neither. I'm looking for something very specific, and you will refrain from uttering any more of your petty comments henceforward, or you shall lose both a customer and your life. Understood?"

The man's wide nostrils flared once again as he nodded.

"Good. I'm looking for a vocal deterrent. Not a poison, mind you… I do not wish to terminate the victim's life, only ruin it."

The pharmacist's eyes narrowed slightly, and he bit his lower lip. "A 'vocal deterrent,' you say, messieur? Temporary or permanent?"

I waved my hand dismissively. "Whichever you are in immediate possession of. I'm in something of a hurry, monsieur."

The apothecary stroked his stubbled chin thoughtfully for a moment, then snapped his fingers. "Ah! I believe I might have just the thing, messieur… wait here, and I'll get it for yeh…"

I nodded coldly, standing perfectly still as the man ducked into the next room. I listened intently as he shuffled through several clanking jars and bottles, all the while mumbling under his breath about the indecencies of some customers. I sighed impatiently, choosing to ignore these select comments merely because I was in desperate need of that potion. Finally, the old man reappeared, clutching a small vial of clear liquid in one hand.

"This, messieur," he said in a diabolical whisper, "Should do the trick. Dump this in yer enemy's drink, and they'll start croakin like a bullfrog in matin' season." I reached a hand out greedily for the bottle, but the apothecary snapped it away quickly. "Ah ah ah!" he clucked. "Money first, then the potion."

I sighed, digging in my pocket for my bag of coins. "How much, then?"

The old man thought for a moment. "Ten thousand francs."

My eyes snapped wildly to his. "You, monsieur, are a criminal! I'll pay five."

"Seven."

I glared at him for a moment, then tossed the coins at him in disgust, snatching the vial from his hands.

"Excellent doin' business with yeh, messieur!" the smiling lunatic raved with a short salute. I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes, turning my back to him with a sweep of my cloak. I ducked quickly into the protective hood of my cloak as I made my way back towards the Opera house, tucking the precious vial deep into my breast pocket.

As I jogged quickly toward the sanctuary of the only home I'd ever known, a satisfied smile crept its way onto my face, and stayed there even as I climbed stealthily through another hidden entrance on the south side of the Opera Populaire. I let out a deep sigh of relief at the sudden warmth that enveloped me upon entering; with any luck, there would be no further need to venture outside the Opera for quite awhile. My eyes adjusted slowly to the change in light as I worked my way by memory through the dim tunnels. Soon enough, I found myself crouched over the same trap door Christine and I had dropped through…

Could it had only have been that morning?

I shook my head. It's true what they say: time flies when you're having fun.

With a quick peek through the trap door to make sure no one occupied the short hallway, I dropped lightly to the floor and crept quickly over to Carlotta's dressing room door. I pressed my ear up against the wood; no one moved about inside, so I slipped into the dressing room quietly. In the far corner of the room sat her large vanity, and atop it were Carlotta's spare bottles of pink throat spray. I smiled diabolically as I tiptoed over to the vanity and snatched one of the bottles, tucking it into my cloak. As I turned to leave, however, the door handle jiggled. My eyes scanned the dark room for a place to hide, and I quickly settled on Carlotta's dresser, praying silently that she had already changed for the performance.

I watched through the crack between the swinging doors as Carlotta's plump, rosy-cheeked assistant, Hannah, waddled into the room, a large dimpled smile etched into her chubby face. She walked right past me, snatching up another of Carlotta's spray bottles before turning on her heel to walk back out the door.

I let out a deep sigh of relief, and after a few moments began to trail her. Luckily, the maid was much too stupid to notice another set of footsteps behind her, and almost all of the occupants of the Opera Populaire were already onstage preparing for the performance. Out of habit, I tried to stick to the shadows and corners as I followed her, but did not worry too much about being caught. Soon everyone in the Opera would be sure to notice my presence, anyway.

By the time Hannah reached the third right wing of the stage, where Carlotta waited impatiently, she was horribly out of breath, but still smiling like the idiot she was. The orchestra had already begun to play the introduction to the first act, and the Italian diva was almost beside herself. I ducked behind one of the large props, watching as she began to reprimand the poor jolly fool.

"My God! When vill I learn to send faster person to get my stuff, eh? You move like snail, 'annah. Come on; spray, spray! Ve don't have all day…" She opened her mouth, and Hannah obligingly sprayed the pink liquid into the back of Carlotta's throat. The diva crinkled her nose and dismissed her maid with a wave of her hand as the first three actors filed onto the stage, accompanied soon after by little Meg Giry.

They say that this youth has set my Lady's heart aflame!

His Lordship sure would die of shock!

His Lordship is a laughing-stock!

Should he suspect her, God protect her,

Shame! Shame! Shame!

This faithless Lady's bound for Hades,

Shame! Shame! Shame!

Right on cue, Carlotta strutted out onto the stage, at the same moment as Christine stepped out from the wing opposite us. My eyes locked immediately onto my beautiful student; she was clad in a ridiculous, frilly maid's costume which would have made her look the part of one of Carlotta's poodles had her face not radiated with an insuppressible elegance. My heart surged with pride; she was meant for the stage. Even in her silent role, she acted beautifully, filling her role dutifully until I fulfilled my promise to her.

Which reminded me…

I tore my eyes from Christine to search the surrounding area for Madame Giry. She appeared from behind a curtain a moment later, as if possessing the uncanny ability to read my mind. She tapped Hannah on the shoulder, and whispered something urgently into her ear. The maid looked up at her, surprised, before nodding vigorously and scurrying off towards the opposite side of the stage. Madame Giry waited until she was well out of earshot before clasping her hands loosely in front of her and addressing me directly through the side of her mouth.

"If you're going to fulfill that so-called 'disaster beyond everyone's imagination,'" she whispered mockingly, "Now seems like the perfect opportunity, Monsieur Opera Ghost." Her eyes leapt up to Box Five, which, as I had predicted, was occupied by that damned Vicomte de Chagny. "You may leave my chocolates and salary in the morning." And with a curt dip of her head, she strode slowly in the opposite direction.

Unable to stifle a smile, I merely shook my head. The woman was impossible. But, in this situation, she was also correct. I took advantage of the promised vacancy of the third right wing to produce both the apothecary's vial and Carlotta's throat spray, and dumped the first into the latter. Then, in one quick, deft movement, I swapped the bottle which Hannah had abandoned on a small stool and replaced it with the tainted bottle. The potion bubbled and hissed for a moment before going flat; fortunately, once it settled there appeared to be no difference between the content of the two bottles.

Smiling widely at my clever trick (and truly, this was one of my better ones), I slipped back behind a curtain, up through a trap door, and down the stone passage which created a horseshoe shape around the exterior of the opera. I listened to the Opera with half an ear, rushing through the dark hallway in my impatience to once again lay eyes on my breathtaking Christine.

My love, I am called to England on affairs of State,

And must leave you with your new maid.

"Though I would happily take the maid with me."

I cringed at Piangi's horribly off-key voice; he'd been drinking again, no doubt. I quickened my pace down the narrow hall, listening in disgust as the audience burst into laughter. Of course— give the elite swine one little morsel of sexual innuendo, and they were bound to find it humorous, no matter how horrible the presenters. And certainly, it did not get any worse than Carlotta and Piangi.

I finally made my way around to the back of the auditorium, and slipped soundlessly through a door that had been seamlessly fashioned into the wall.

Carlotta held her hand up to speak directly to the audience in that notoriously exaggerated style. "The old fool is leaving!" The audience yet again burst into laughter, and I came very close to vomiting down onto their elaborately styled heads. However, Carlotta turned to Christine, and upon looking at her myself, some of my disgust evaporated momentarily.

Serafimo, away with this pretense!

You cannot speak, but kiss me in my husband's absence!

Christine leaned in obligingly behind Carlotta's fan, and I could sense, if not see, their eyes locking in mutual hatred before they ducked back out into the open gaze of the audience.

I waited patiently for the opportune moment to interrupt, biding my time. Carlotta broke away from Christine, taking center-stage once more as my beloved student fell back into the scenery and out of the audience's focus. A few more moments… just a few more moments…

Poor fool, he makes me laugh,

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha! (and many more 'ha's to follow in an increasingly higher pitch)

Time I tried to get a better better-half!

Poor fool, he doesn't know,

Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho! (yet again, more obnoxiously shrill 'ho's)

If he knew the truth, he'd never, ever go!

Now, my moment had come. "Did I not instruct," I boomed menacingly, my gaze locked on the vicomte, "that Box Five was to be kept empty?" The audience gasped in unison, and some of the chorus girls peeked out from behind the wings to gape at either me or the aforementioned box. To my ceaseless joy, de Chagny's face went deathly pale at the unwanted attention and apparent recollection of that morning's threats.

"He's here," I heard little Meg's voice insist over the excited whispers of the audience. "The Phantom of the Opera!" I stood a little straighter at the title, attempting to look more threatening. Word spread like wildfire throughout the theater, and soon either "Opera Ghost" or "the Phantom of the Opera" was on the tongue of everyone in attendance.

My eyes fixated on Christine. She met my gaze almost fearfully; she did not yet know what my plans to rid the stage of Carlotta consisted of, yet her features held an unmistakable trust in my promise. She knew that it was almost her moment to shine; I saw it register slowly in her eyes.

"It's him," she affirmed in a whisper, her eyes never leaving mine.

Carlotta, searching for someone to take her frustration out on for being interrupted, snapped irritably, "Your part is silent, little toad!" Christine's gaze flickered from Carlotta back to me, at first offended and then frightened. Her eyes pleaded with me to refrain from killing Carlotta despite the little outburst, and I inclined my head slightly to assure her that I intended to keep my promise.

Carlotta laughed in a vain attempt to break the disquiet that had settled over the audience. She pranced offstage to the right wing, where Hannah waited, my bottle in hand, to give her what she assumed to be a soothing relief to her dry throat. I barely suppressed a smile as Hannah missed the first few times, succeeding in drenching all of Carlotta's mouth and chin in the contaminated pink liquid before getting it on the diva's tonsils.

"A toad, Madame?" I repeated quietly. "Perhaps it is you who are the toad."

"Maestro, da capo, per favore," Carlotta said too-sweetly to Reyer as she re-entered the stage, a superficial smile plastered on her face. Christine stepped forward hesitantly, eyeing me with a confused frown. I drew in a deep breath, praying silently that the wretched apothecary had not taken me for a fool…

Serafino, away with this pretense!

You cannot speak, but kiss me in my- CROAK!

Carlotta's eyes bugged in her head as the inhuman sound came from her own mouth. The audience seemed equally surprised, staring in shock for a moment before breaking into uproarious laughter. Christine's lips twitched lightly, and she dared not meet my eyes for fear of bursting into giggles. She was, after all, an actress. Even from my spot high above her, I could see her entire body relax now that she understood my plan.

Reyer stared blankly at the diva, his cheeks flushing, before starting up the orchestra again. Carlotta opened her mouth to sing accordingly, her voice trembling in fear.

Poor fool, he makes me laugh,

Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!

She then let out a glorious series of belching croaks, her face going as pale as the vicomte's had earlier that evening. Still croaking, as the apothecary had promised, "like a bullfrog in matin' season," Carlotta ran from the stage, calling some unidentifiable name between her well-deserved croaking episodes.

The audience members were beside themselves with laughter. The curtain came crashing shut at the same moment in which I ducked back through the door in the wall, feeling very proud of myself, indeed. I listened intently as Andre and Firmin stumbled all over themselves, finally announcing to the audience that the opera would continue in ten minutes' time, with none other than Christine Daaé in the role of Countess.

I let out a long, heavy sigh of relief at this news. Finally, those two blockheads had taken a hint!

I arrived breathlessly backstage once more, and caught Madame Giry by the shoulder, pulling her briefly back into the wing. "I hate to say I told you so," I whispered.

She threw her hands up, rolling her eyes to the ceiling. "I know absolutely nothing!" she insisted. I laughed under my breath, releasing her and climbing the nearest rope up into the rafters.

I wasn't until the ballet started below me that I realized I was being followed.

(To the tune of "Far too many notes for my taste…")

What a way to write a phanphic!

Spare me these unending trials!

Give 'em laughs, give 'em tears,

And the crowd still cheers!

Re-view please!

Tell me if you love it,

If you hate it,

Just don't fake it;

Tell the truth!

-beams, very proud of little tune-

Alright, okay, on to the responses.

ChrisPgirl: Another new reviewer! -waves ecstatically- I'm very glad you like it! I must be doing something right if you think Erik's characterization is good. –winks- Thank you!

Hriviel: Thank you, my dear! Madame Giry is one of my favorite characters, and I love Erik angst. Very happy you do too; more to come, I promise!

WaterGlyph: -counts- WOW! Eight 'please's! Fear not; I couldn't abandon this story now; it's just getting good! –gasps- So… many… new… reviewers! –fever comes back- lol

StrangeGirl: Hey, I'm a strange girl too! YEAH! –high five- I LOVE new readers, if that wasn't clear… -happy sigh- And new readers who add me to their favorites are even BETTER! Here, you get a special membership offer! –offers plate of hot, gooey cookies-

Countess Alana: Hi again:) I loved the giggle fits too. –sad sigh- Unfortunately, I don't think there will be many more to come… You know what comes next in the story…

Sakume: Yes, school is a royal pain in the derriere. If only I could write phanphics for my English class instead of pointless essays on the underlying themes of Beowulf… -sigh- I think we both need cookies! –stuffs one into mouth, offers one to you- Thanks for taking the time to review, dear, as always! IM me sometime! –hugs-

Milkywaypnay37: Thank you! I plan on it:)

The Lady Quotes: LOL! Yes, Andre and Firmin are MAJOR twits! Ooh! –adds "twits" to list of nouns to use in this phanphic- I won't wear out the "new reviewer" happiness line, but seriously! –squeals excitedly-

I LOVE you guys! –hugs- I think I'll be staying home tomorrow too, so who knows? You just might get another update tomorrow!