Author's notes: No review responses… I apologise for that. The rules have changed. Anyway, thank you all for the support thus far!

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Chapter 4 – Strategy Session

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Christine hurried off away from the crowd. She wasn't interested in their awed stares and congratulations. This was a carefully planned operation and it required her being present in the chapel as soon as possible. She knew Meg would also hurry up and get there quickly, but not before she would hear the few words of approval she was expecting from her "angel".

Actually, this was her first way of figuring out what kind of Phantom she was dealing with. Everything around her was movie-style, yes, but she was still rather jumpy. If she would get a Leroux version, with a full face helmet, she wouldn't be so certain about things. It would mean that something was twisted. Of course, she was kind of hoping that even O.G. would remain movie-style… but Kay Erik wouldn't be rejected in a million years, if she would have that kind of luck.

The long dress annoyed her. Sissi-style, corseted, and the sleeves were weird. Plus, she wondered how on earth people learned to sing when their waist was about twenty inches. And, naturally, tripping was easy. She didn't like the chapel, either. It was small, far away from the rest of the rooms… it looked like she was walking into a dungeon. She found the candle she was looking for, lit it quickly, and began to stare at the ceiling.

Any minute now… any minute… she frowned. He certainly was taking his sweet time, wasn't he? Then she remembered – she was getting over-eager and did things too quickly. Damn. Taking a deep breath, she relaxed and stopped counting the seconds. Way better.

Brava, brava, bravissima…

Christine fought the urge to grin maniacally, much like Amanda would in this situation. Yep, the voice was movie-style… but maybe she had persuaded herself that. She would need physical proof. Now she grinned. She would get it, in about less than fifteen minutes.

Meg almost sprinted down the stairs, causing a whole lot of unnecessary racket that must have scared any eavesdroppers away, landed ballet-style near her friend and nodded frantically. "Good show. The Sissi dress sucks, but otherwise, you rocked."

Christine's grin widened. "Good. I felt like an idiot most of the time, standing there and trying hard not to start screaming the words Carlotta-style, if they like it so much."

"Primaaaaa Donnaaa…" Meg began to mock the song that was soon to be sung by the managers. She shuddered and stuck out her tongue, disgusted. "Stupid song. Wait, scratch that. Stupid managers. Stupid Carlotta. AND her stupid poodles." Meg loved cats.

Christine clapped her hands in a business-like gesture. "Down to business. I don't have much time. So, what's the plan? We have several scenes ahead of us, some really good, some disturbing."

"Yeah, Fopman." Meg smiled evilly. "Oh, he won't know what hit him. Alright, plan. So, Lotte." Christine shuddered and glared at her. She hated the stupid nickname. It sounded like Lotto. "Sweet talk with Rowly. We need to force O.G. out of hiding. If he won't be jealous, in the batcave he remains. Apologise with gusto, act like you're stoned, don't forget to faint AFTER he shows you the voodoo doll, and UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES de-mask him. Got that, Siss?"

"What happened to the good old Angel of Music lyrics?" Christine muttered, but nodded. "Fine, I gotta go. Let's hope "Rowly" will be in a hurry to get out of my dressing room."

She got up, waved at Meg, who gave her the thumbs up and a rock gesture of coolness, and then hurried off to her dressing room.

Meg also got up, seconds later, and thoroughly searched the chapel for any ways out and secret super ninja trapdoors. She found none, but then again, she searched for only about ten seconds, because she had to go oversee the events of the night. Still in her tutu, she played I Spy Rowly for a while, until he got into the dressing room. She remained hidden, but judging by the look on his face when he left a minute later, Christine had forced herself into being nice and then went through the scene as it should be played.

Then, she began gripping the wall behind her. She was well-hidden, fortunately, and knew that she mustn't make the slightest sound. It was dark, but she saw her "beloved mother" clearly, playing Pimp of the Night and I Spy O.G. And then, he came. Meg had to stick a fist into her mouth to stop an excited phangirl squeal from emerging from her mouth. It was definitely him. She knew only one person who could do such things with a cape without even trying.

She didn't see much of him, though, definitely not in detail – from her hiding place, she saw mostly his tall dark form and a gleam of white where his face should have been. Narrowly avoiding swooning or tackling him and screaming "MINE!" from the top of her lungs, she gritted her teeth when he retreated. And, despite being overwhelmed by the fact they were in the same room, she noticed him lock the door safely. Now it was all up to Christine. Meg just hoped she would have better self-control when being far closer to him.

Inside the dressing room, Christine had changed into the nightgown. She was completely certain that she wouldn't be sleeping tonight, but the outfit had other purposes. Not that she was a fan of parading herself around in a thin fabric that was low-cut and the stockings that would soon disappear (or not? No phan had ever solved that mystery.), but it would be suspicious if she wouldn't attempt to change.

She could almost hear the drum music come to a crescendo when she placed a hand on the doorknob and a familiar voice resonated through the room, angrily. Fighting the urge to smile, she put on a frightened face. She had been fighting the urge to vomit from the sweet romantic babble with Raoul, but this was far harder.

Insolent boy

This slave of fashion

Basking in your glory!

Ignorant fool

This brave young suitor

Sharing in my triumph!

Now came the dilemma – sing or speak? The first was strange… but if she wouldn't sing when she was supposed to, it would be weird. Downright weird. She decided to sing, and tried extremely hard to look anywhere BUT at the mirror that was right in front of her. You are an ingénue, she reminded herself. The one-way mirror used by psychiatrists hasn't been invented yet. Wait… spooky thought. You are NOT a psychopath. You are merely chatting up the Phantom of the Opera. She frowned inwardly. Completely normal in this nuthouse of an Opera House.

Angel, I hear you!

Speak, I listen

Stay by my side, guide me

Angel, my soul was weak

Forgive me

Enter at last

Master…

She almost bit her lip, waiting for the response. If things would go wrong and he wouldn't comply and come out…­ well, that hairbrush there looked pretty heavy. Bound to be able to break glass when thrown right. Anyway, that would count as a Prima Donna tantrum. It might knock him out if she aimed too high and too hard, but then again… so what? He would deserve it for not obeying the plotline.

And anyway, then she and Meg would be able to de-mask him and he wouldn't waste precious minutes screaming his head off and calling her all sorts of antique insults. And he wouldn't kick her out of the lair, either. Chances are, he wouldn't even remember she had done it. After all, sweet, innocent Christine probably didn't throw brushes at mirrors.

Her nervousness faded a second later, when she heard the reply.

Flattering child

You shall know me

See why in shadow I hide

Good! He would comply. Again, it took immense willpower not to look at the mirror.

Look at your face in the mirror

I am there inside!

She had known that for the past year, truly, but now she could finally look there. And two impulses collided into each other. Impulse one was to sigh in relief. He was standing in shadow, yes, but it was clear that she hadn't had the misfortune of getting a corpse-like Phantom. Impulse two was the phnagirl squeal, though her rational mind viewed it as childish. So she settled for a dropped jaw and amazed eyes. Of course, for different reasons than he probably thought.

Angel of Music

Guide and guardian

Grant to me your glory!

Angel of Music

Hide no longer

Come to me, strange Angel!

It worked. Though her pace was extremely slow – she wanted to savour the moment – it worked.

I am your Angel…

Come to me, Angel of Music…

She noticed the mirror slide open and vaguely thought someone was shouting her name from outside the dressing room. But honestly, who cared?

I am your Angel of Music…

Come to me, Angel of Music…

Her goal was not to appear over-eager, in which she mostly succeeded. Once the mirror slammed shut, Meg was gleefully watching Raoul storm off. She then waited for a few moments, entered the dressing room, and smiled gleefully when she saw golden light emerging from the almost closed mirror trap door.