A/N: Yes, it is. It really is an update! I know it's short, but inspiration has been sadly lacking lately and I wanted to get at least something out so everyone doesn't give up on me!

Big thanks To: my many many reviewers. I love you guys! Blue Eyes at Night, Cloud in Crimson, aries-chica56, Lover of Balto, Senna Wales, erik'sangel527, Padfootz-luvr, Blue Beauty, annecordelia, GoldenLyre, babymene17, the copper araibian, gecko girl, Letthedreamdescend, Mini Nicka, Night Demoness, No One Mourns the Wicked, Lucia Sasaki.

On to Chapter 13. I hope you enjoy:)

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The moment I laid eyes on Elizabeth de Nuit, I had known who she was. It was like seeing a ghost. The girl looked just like her mother. The same curly dark hair and perfect, delicate features. The only difference, which I noticed the instant our eyes met, was that rather than Christine's emerald green eyes, Elizabeth had deep blue eyes. A deep blue I had only seen before, in the shadows of the Paris Opera House.

How could I forget? It happened in the weeks after Christine had left with Raoul, after the night of the disastrous performance of Il Muto and the death of Josef Buquet. During the repair of the theatre rehearsals were halted, so I was left with much free time.

When I was a young girl, perhaps six years old, my father had left my mother. The former manager of the Opera House had allowed us to live at there, at the Opera House, as we had nowhere else to go. My mother had her own chambers, while I lived in the dormitories.

I had never had many friends, I had always been somewhat of an outsider, until the day Christine Daae arrived at the Opera. I had watched her performance when she tried out for the chorus, hiding backstage. She had a lucklaster performance, her voice was quite beautiful, but it was weak, lacking any emotion. I had been sure she would not be hired, but to my surprise, as well as everyone else's, they had not only hired the meek looking girl, but they had also given her the largest dressing room. When I had spoken to my mother of my surprise, she alone had not seemed surprised. She had merely said, "It is what the manager wishes."

Christine and I had become fast friends. I was an outsider as well, being the youngest girl in the chorus, as well as being the daughter of the ballet mistress. I had been the first to befriend her when the other chorus girls had teased her.

Over time I had seen a change in Christine. Her singing became polished, professional, even as she became more withdrawn. She was jumpy, nervous, but her voice! It was magnificent. Her voice had taken on an ethereal quality, and it had not been long before she was given the lead. She had performed to rave reviews and the Opera's patrons had been quite impressed with Christine Daae, until the scandal when she disappeared the night of her performance.

I often wondered how things might have been different had I told anyone of Christine's crazy talk of the Angel of Music. But foolishly I had merely thought she was eccentric, and said nothing, even after her disappearance.

Things spiralled out of control after that. There were deaths, rumours, the Angel of Music and the Opera Ghost. I often thought that my mother knew more than she let on, but when I asked her she simply told me it was none of my concern.

I sighed and looked up. I was sitting in my room at the dressing table. I glanced at the mirror and looked at my reflection. Seeing Elizabeth de Nuit had brought back so many memories. I half expected to see the round-faced innocent child that I had been back then reflected in the mirrors smooth surface.

But it was not, of course. Years and life had given me streaks of grey in my curly blonde hair and aged my face. I had married young and given birth to Therese within a year of my marriage. Once she was old enough she had wanted to be a performer and she had taken ballet and voice, though, like me, she lacked the voice to become a Prima Donna, but she was graceful and a marvellous dancer.

Once my mother had become too old to be ballet mistress, I had taken over her position. There were no more incidents with the "Opera Ghost" and everything that had happened became just another legend.Christine had never been seen again, though I had always wondered what had become of her.

But now, having seen her daughter, pieces of the puzzle seemed to be falling into place. It was her eyes. Those haunting blue eyes, a colour that I had seen only one other time, in the shadows of the stage during the theatre's repairs after the chandelier had 'fallen'.

I was backstage wandering around and wondering how Christine was doing. She had left the country with the Vicomte, la Carlotta and Signor Piangi had gone back to Italy and the fate of the Opera House was uncertain, all because of the Opera Ghost.

I was standing on the stage, staring out at the workmen, who were busy repairing the damage from the fire that had started when the gas lit chandelier had fallen onto the seats. Out of the corner of my eye I caught the slightest of movements. I glanced over and saw movement, deep in the shadows. I almost thought I had imagined it, when one of the shadows moved and I saw a glimpse of white, the outline of what looked like a mask. Then the light caught his eyes and I froze, staring into a pair of deep, hypnotizing blue eyes. I had gasped and stepped back, but the eyes still watched me until I turned and ran from the stage, down to the dormitories where I stayed.

The image of those haunting blue eyes had stayed with me, until the fateful night of Don Juan Triumphant when Christine had unmasked the Opera Ghost in front of everyone. Then I had seen those eyes again, burning with rage as he took Christine and disappeared, just before Signor Piangi's body had been found.

Hours later when I had arrived in the Phantom's lair with everyone else, Christine was gone, as was the Phantom. Christine had left with the Vicomte, the Phantom was never seen, nor heard from again.

I had heard through my mother that Christine had left the Vicomte and disappeared. There was a rumour that a carriage had brought a dishevelled woman in a wedding dress to the Opera House days later, but nothing else was ever heard. When the Opera House managers, along with the Police, went back below to the Phantom's lair later, there was no trace of either him, nor Christine.

And so the story of the Phantom of the Opera remained a mystery. There were not many people left that would even know Christine's name, and her part in the story had become that of a nameless young singer, seduced by the Phantom.

I had always thought of Christine, wondered what had become of her. But I had not thought of her in years until M Deniaud had introduced me to Elizabeth de Nuit, who was so obviously Christine's daughter. And judging by the girl's blue eyes, it seemed that her father…

I shook my head. It was not up to me to fill in the blanks of this story. Somehow I would have to find out the whole story. But I could not help but wonder what, if anything, Elizabeth knew of her mother's past…

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