A/N: Hello readers!! Big thanks to my many reviewers: The Maiden Amorisa, neo-lover72, af881, loverly16, Cloud in Crimson, tactics, Blue Eyes at Night, Senna Wales, Butterfly of Lothlorien, MenacerPhan, annecordelia and Elisabetta611.

If this chapter seems draggy, I'm sorry. I needed to get a lot in before Christine goes back home and I didn't want to have too many chapters before we get to the REAL action! lol

Anyways, you know the drill. Please review and thanks for reading!

Disclaimer: I still don't own Phantom of the Opera. Dang it.

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Beth-

I could not believe it was finally the day of our departure to Paris. Mother was to accompany me there, see that I was settled in before she returned home without me.

When I awoke the morning we were to leave, the first thing I saw was Sasha, curled up on the foot of my bed. In the excitement of going to the Opera, I had not realised the reality of it all. I was leaving everything I knew behind. My family, my dog, my life. It was a daunting thought. But my desire to perform on the same stage as my mother far outweighed my fear of the unknown, and even the sadness I felt about leaving my family.

Papa and I had barely spoken since my birthday. I went out of my way to avoid him. I was certain that if we were to talk he would only try to placate me with excuses, and I would have none of it. I did not understand why he would not come to Paris to see me perform. I understood that he had a difficult time with crowds, with strangers, but was his love for me not strong enough for him to go, despite his dislike of people? Apparently it was not, and I was so confused, my thoughts running from thinking he was ashamed of me to thinking that he would be disappointed in me, in my performance.

I sighed as I got out of bed. I dressed quickly in a lightweight travelling dress. With one last glance at my room I went downstairs.

Mother, Papa and Stephan were in the kitchen. Mother was quietly fixing breakfast while Stephan sat on a chair, fiddling with his pocket watch, the one that Papa had given him.

We ate in silence, lost as we were in our own thoughts. I was at once excited to leave, and dreading it.

Papa and Stephan brought my trunks and Mother's suitcases down and set them on the front porch. I sat on the couch, playing with the hem of my dress, while my heart raced in anticipation….and fear.

Stephan, peering out the front window suddenly exclaimed that the carriage was coming down the drive. I leapt to my feet as Stephan ran outside. Papa came to stand before me and when I looked up into his eyes, I saw sadness there, sadness and regret.

"I love you, my child," he said quietly. "You are so talented, Bethie. You will be magnificent."

I looked at Papa and realised I did not know the next time I would see him. Suddenly my anger disappeared and I was filled with a rush of love for my father, remembering Mother's words of how difficult his life had been. I threw myself into his arms.

We said our goodbyes and Papa gave me a pouch of money. He told me if I needed anything, to send word to them, and I promised I would. Then Stephen came in and announced that the carriage was loaded.

I went outside with Stephan, giving Mother time to say her goodbyes to Papa.

"I really am going to miss you, Bethie," Stephan said suddenly.

I turned to face my little brother. He had grown so much, he was much taller than I. Tall and lithe, so much like Papa. He even had Papa's gracefulness, an attribute that I envied.

"I am happy you are going to Paris. I know that it is what you want, but I will miss our talks," Stephan continued.

"And I will miss you, Stephan. You will take care of Sasha, right?" I asked anxiously. I had already said my goodbyes to the little dog, who was shut in the house.

"Of course," Stephan said. Then he shuffled his feet and pulled something out of his pocket and handed it to me.

My eyes widened when I saw the pocketwatch.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"I want you to take it," he said. "To remember me by."

"Oh, Stephan," I said. "I cannot take your watch."

"Yes, I want you to. Please?" he said, looking at me with his eyes wide.

I smiled and tucked the watch into my pocket. "Thank you, Stephan," I said. I knew how much the watch meant to him, and it meant a lot to me that he wanted me to take it.

Mother and Papa came out of the house then. Before I knew it we were loaded into the carriage. The driver slapped the reins over the horses backs and the carriage rolled forward, taking me away from the only home, the only life that I had ever known, and taking me to my new life…in Paris.

Xxx

I awoke with a start as the carriage hit a rut. I glanced out the window and saw that we were approaching a very large city.

"Paris," Mother whispered from her seat across the carriage.

I looked over at her. She was staring out the window, smiling and looking like a young girl as she pointed out various things to me as the carriage drove along the busy streets.

It was not long before the carriage came to a stop in front of a very large building.

"This is it, Bethie! This is the Paris Opera House!" Mother said excitedly. She was smiling, but I could sense nervousness along with the excitement.

The driver helped us out of the carriage and I stood, staring up at the magnificent building, at the sculptures that graced the rooftop, at the wide stairs that led to the front doors.

Suddenly aware that I was gawking like a child, I straightened and tried to look calm, collected.

M. D'Aubigne came hurrying down the stairs to greet us. He fussed about, directing several young men where to take my trunks as Mother paid the driver.

"Come, come, I will show you around. You will find, Madame de Nuit, that not much has changed inside the Opera since you graced its stage," M D'Aubigne said as he took Mothers arm and led us up the stairs to the wide front doors.

My first glimpse of the interior of the Opera House proved that the books that I had read had not exaggerated.

It was magnificent! The Grand Staircase was everything I had imagined. People bustled about. Several women were on their knees, polishing the marble floor.

M D'Aubigne led us up the grand staircase and into the theatre. It was beautiful. A massive chandelier hung in the middle of the ceiling, which had carved mouldings. The theatre seats were covered in red velvet. The box seats had heavy velvet draperies. It was all so exquisite.

I glanced over at Mother and was surprised to see that her face was pale as she glanced around. Her excitement had disappeared and she looked fearful. Her eyes were wide as M. D'Aubigne led us along a back corridor that led to the stage. I felt a rush of excitement as I stood in the centre of the massive stage, looking out to the empty seats, imagining the thrill of performing on the stage, before a full house.

M D'Aubigne, unaware that anything was wrong, continued his commentary, telling us the details of the Opera House, when it was built, listing some of the many famous performers that had graced its stage.

"And you, Madame de Nuit. Mlle Frank said you performed here. Beg your pardon, but what name did you use when you performed?"

Mother stared at the manager as if she had not heard a word he said. "I am sorry, what did you ask?"

But before she could answer a tall young man came up to us.

"M D'Aubigne. Mlle de Nuit's things have been taken to her room," the man said.

"Oh, wonderful, wonderful. Shall I show you where you will be staying? You can freshen up and we can meet later to talk some more?"

"Yes, that would be wonderful," I said, when Mother did not answer. I looked at her curiously. Suddenly my mother no longer seemed like the strong, confident woman that I had always known.

From the moment we had walked into the Opera House, it was as if my Mother had suddenly become my age, a nervous, awkward teenager. She looked scared, glancing over her shoulder.

Suddenly my suspicions came flooding back to me.

There was something going on, something to do with this Opera House and my parents.

Now that we were here, perhaps I could finally get some answers, I thought.

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Christine-

Heart pounding in anticipation, I walked through the tall doors that led to the foyer of the Paris Opera House. M D'Aubigne followed us inside, chattering about renovations done to the theatre in recent years.

I stood at the foot of the Grand Staircase and a million memories flooded over me. Erik, walking down the stairs, dressed as the Masque of the Red Death. Erik, demanding the company to perform his Opera, Don Juan Triumphant.

M. D'Aubigne continued the tour, up the staircase and into the theatre.

It was as if I had been swept back in time. The chandelier, unlit of course, hung majestically from the ceiling. The plush red velvet seats, the gilt trim, I remembered it all. I glanced up at Box Five and I almost expected to see a swish of cloak, to hear Erik's voice reverberating through the theatre. I felt my face pale as we followed M. D'Aubigne through a corridor that led to the stage.

I stepped onto the stage, feeling surrounded by the ghosts of the past as I looked up at the catwalks, as I looked out into the empty theatre.

"And you, Madame de Nuit. Mlle Frank said you performed here. Beg your pardon, but what name did you use when you performed?"

I glanced up, startled, when I realised that the manager was speaking to me. "I am sorry, what did you ask?" I said, flushing. But before I could answer a tall young man, most likely a dancer, came up to us.

"M D'Aubigne. Mlle de Nuit's things have been taken to her room," the man said.

"Oh, wonderful, wonderful. Shall I show you where you will be staying? You can freshen up and we can meet later to talk some more?"

"Yes, that would be wonderful," Bethie said when I did not answer. I felt strangely light-headed and hoped that I was not going to faint, right there on the stage.

We followed M. D'Aubigne downstairs to the dormitories. I had lived there briefly when I had first been in the chorus. But then my salary had been increased enough that I could afford a flat away from the Opera House. Meg Giry, daughter of Madame Giry, the ballet mistress when I had been in the chorus, had lived in the dormitories from the time she was a small child, and I had spent a lot of time there with her.

M. D'Aubigne showed Bethie to her room, which she would be sharing with two other girls, Therese Marchand, daughter of the current ballet mistress, and Astrid Levesque, who was another girl in the chorus.

Beth looked around her new space, clearly thrilled. Her trunks had been stacked by the bed that was to be hers. M. D'Aubigne left us to get Beth settled, asking us to meet him for tea in the Manager's office. He would introduce M Deniaud, the chorus master.

"I wish that you could meet out ballet mistress before you had to leave, Madame de Nuit. She was called away on family business, however, and will not return until after you have left."

I smiled. "I will meet her when I return to see Bethie's first performance," I said.

"Indeed," M. D'Aubigne replied. "Madame Marchand is quite a talented dancer, as is her daughter, Therese. You will meet Therese in a few days, when she and her mother return," he said to Beth.

"How old is Therese?" Bethie asked hopefully.

"She is your age," M. D'Aubigne replied. "She is a few months older than you. Well, I will leave you to your business. Please, come for tea as soon as you are finished."

We agreed, and he left.

Beth would be staying at the Opera House while I was to stay at a small hotel across the street from the Opera House. Then, the next day I was to go back home, leaving my daughter at the Opera House.

"Where are the other girls, Mother?" Beth asked as she hung her dresses in the wardrobe.

"I do not know, Beth," I replied. "Perhaps they are on holiday before the start of the next production."

Beth nodded. She kept looking at me curiously, but she said nothing as she unpacked her trunks. Once she was done, we left to go to meet M. D'Aubigne. As we walked through the empty corridors I had the strangest feeling of worlds colliding as I was drawn into the past.

It seemed that touches of Erik were everywhere, from the hidden passageways that I knew riddled the building to the large mirrors placed strategically in every room. Those were the two-way mirrors where Erik, the Phantom, stood to keep watch over the events at the Opera House all those years ago.

As we walked the hallway that led to the Manager's office, we passed the closed door that led to my old dressing room. I felt a strong urge to go inside, but as I did not know if it was occupied, I did not. Perhaps I would ask M. D'Aubigne if I could show Beth my old dressing room…

Beth walked alongside me, chattering happily. She seemed not to notice my distraction, or if she noticed, she chose not to say anything about it. We arrived at the Manager's Office, and the door was answered at our knock by a tall, dark-haired young man. He smiled as we entered, greeting Beth with a nod, as he took my hand and kissed it.

"Madame de Nuit, I presume," he said.

"Yes," I replied.

"I am Edouard Deniaud, the chorus master," he said. "Your daughter had quite astounding talent."

"Indeed, Bethie is quite talented," I replied.

Beth blushed slightly as M. Deniaud kissed her hand as well. He showed us in to the office and offered us seats, which we took. M. D'Aubigne poured tea and talked of the upcoming production of Tristan and Isolde which was to begin in three months.

I found my mind wandering again as they talked. I stared at the large, gilt-framed mirror that took almost the entire wall across from where we sat. Again, another of Erik's mirrors. For a brief moment I almost forgot that I was a grown woman with a husband and two children. For a brief moment I felt as if I were there to perform, to once again be Prima Donna of the Paris stage.

Then I glanced over at my daughter, deep in conversation with the handsome young chorus master. It was Bethie who was going to be the next Prima Donna. Of that I had no doubt.

I only hoped that my past, Erik's past, would remain buried. My worries were beginning to fade, however. It had been over sixteen years. There was no one left from my time at the Opera House, no one to know of Erik, other than of the fabled Opera Ghost.

What were the chances of Bethie finding out the truth if there was no one left that knew the truth?

((well, what do you think? please review!!))