Author's notes: Mwahahahahahahaha….

mrs. malfoy – I like Tom Felton… though I think they portrayed Draco wrongly in HP3 the movie, he wasn't supposed to be such a crybaby… anyway, to my knowledge, Enrinye likes Draco as a character, but doesn't like TF. Lucius Malfoy is more like it (Jason Isaacs, naturally).

Unseen-Presence – poor, poor you. Anyway, I hope this makes it up to you a bit… next chapter!

onelastchance – well, more cliffhangers here! Read on!

Phantom'sJediBandieGirl – a plotbunny is a plotline idea. Yes, I must. Writers do that. as a reader, I hate cliffhangers, so I share your sentiments. As a writer, though…

Nota Lone – ah, good. Now, read on to see what happens!

Willyrka – thank you very much, here's some more!

lady kathrin – here! Another chapter! Whoo-hoo!

raoulisafop – thanks! No, Christine doesn't mess up at all!

Enrinye – heheh, you know my style, Z. … here's more!

X X X

Chapter 10 – "Sleeping Beauty" style doesn't pay off

X X X X

Christine didn't shriek, of scream, of let out any high-pitched sound a more squeamish female wouldn't have been able to hold back. Only a small gasp caught in her throat, perhaps because she subconsciously knew it would seem very strange if she wouldn't react in any way. Truthfully, she had expected nothing less than what she saw… but compared to the (in the phan community) legendary Sunburn of Doom, this was far more book-like.

To be brief, the now unmasked half of his face looked far more like a skull, almost fleshless, covered with only thin, pale and sallow skin that didn't quit hide the veins. Deep scar-like gashes showed places where skin almost disappeared… had she not seen enough horror movies, Christine might have been slightly panicky about that.

Overall, however, she could bear the sight quite easily, being a 21st century girl. It was… unique, true, but she had seen people who looked far worse. In fact, had she uncovered the Sunburn of Doom, she might have been more uncomfortable with it.

"You aren't screaming, Christine." Erik noted, almost as if commenting the weather. But Christine could see that now, he wasn't as passive as before. Eyes spoke leagues for him – she could see a clearly noticeable amount of anxiety, surprise and… fear.

Even if she would have tried to smile, it would have come out as a grimace. Instead, grasping the mask in her right hand, she reached out with her left, with just the right amount of shakiness and softly traced one of the gashes, her expression showing pity despite her attempt not to.

"It isn't frightening. It is… tragic." Christine noted, after a moment's search for a suitable word. Finally, she managed a sad half-smile. "But…" Line, line! "This haunted face holds no horror for me now." Amend the second part. "Your soul is what is to be feared."

One gloved hand grasped her wrist gently and lowered it as Erik grimaced and turned away from her. "There are few who share your views on my visage, Christine… you cannot begin to imagine what it's like to live your life shunned, feared, as an outcast of society. It is why remaining a ghost is much more comfortable. Ghosts can be invisible if they want to."

Christine remained silent for a moment, unable to say anything. She actually understood quite well – Regina had never been an overly social person, quite the contrary, she often preferred solitude and her own little world of creativity around her.

"So I am a means of getting all that unseen talent into the light?" she asked finally, but her voice wasn't accusing. It was a simple query. "People ask me who my great tutor is, you know… and they can't seem to accept the answer that it's the Angel of Music without believing it to be a jest."

He laughed mockingly. "I am no angel, Christine. You knew that before, and this only confirms it. But yes, you are the only performer I have ever deemed gifted enough to sing my music."

Christine nodded to herself, gazing at the snow again.

"Christine…" she looked up sharply – Erik had turned to her again. "You must know that I would never hurt you. I would…"

"…rather die?" she finished, smiling weakly, "I don't know if I should trust you to that extent… but you have revealed the one secret you would have surely refused to introduce me to under other circumstances… so I will trust you and take your word for it."

A small feeling of incoming victory entered her mind when she saw, even from afar, that his eyes seemed to light up. Then, as if remembering for the first time that there was a performance on hiatus several floors beneath them, Erik said: "You should go… they will wonder where you are. The show cannot go on without the Prima Donna."

Christine simply hoped that she wouldn't have to wear that gigantic wig, because she didn't fancy brain damage. Come to think of it, that might be what made Carlotta so demented, Christine decided. Too many wigs… repeated brain damage… yes, it was more than possible. She was tempted to start some variation of AIAOY, but the rational part of her decided that it would be far too eager.

Instead, she smiled brilliantly at Erik, rushed towards him one last time, carefully gave him back the mask and, before he could react, quickly kissed him on the cheek, ran back to the door, beaming at him one last time before she shut the door (inwardly laughing merrily that he looked so stupefied as if he was about to faint).

Rushing downstairs, she still wore a big smile as she descended to her dressing room, despite all the damage around her. Changing quickly into Carlotta's pink costume (which, unsurprisingly, looked as stupendous on her as it had been horrid on Carlotta), tied her hair back with a black ribbon she had removed from the newest rose, and (after discovering a way to get out of the room despite the wide crinoline), she returned to the stage, taking over the part of Countess.

Contrary to the other performers, she was now relaxed, smiling and laughing far more easily when she was supposed to. Even the singing turned out far easier than she expected it to. Then again, Il Muto was mostly comedic dialogue and not difficult arias, compared to, say, Hannibal, and Carlotta had already sung some of the harder parts.

After the performance, she wanted to seek out Meg immediately and tell her what happened – but this time, luck hadn't been with her. The first person to reach her was Raoul, who still looked slightly jumpy after what had happened.

"Christine!" his hand grabbed her wrist before she could shut the dressing room door in his face, unfortunately. "Where have you been? I've searched high and low for you! you scared me there…"

"I'm quite alright, Raoul." Christine noted, a bit of her cheerfulness evaporating. "I just needed a bit of time alone… everything's alright." Jesus Christ Superstar was the first thing that came into her mind after she said that, so she almost laughed. She felt like singing it. Try not to get worried…

Raoul visibly relaxed. "Thank God. I feared you might have got lost or had an accident yourself… you were brilliant, as usual, Little Lotte."

"Thank you." she said quickly, glancing at the mirror with an apologetic expression, just in case.

After a moment of staring at it, she realized she hadn't listened to a word Raoul had said. "…it would really be better, I think. Christine, are you even listening to me?"

Christine shook her head. "I'm sorry, Raoul, I have a lot on my mind. Could you repeat that? But be brief, please. I promised Meg I'd meet her after the show."

"I said that after this kind of shock, it might be better if you take some time off. You could stay at the family mansion, my brother wouldn't mind, I'm certain."

"Raoul, that is nice of you, but I shall have to refuse."

"At least until the managers sort things out, Christine. This will be dreadful for business, a renown theater like this and a suicide…"

Now Christine was angry. She had expected this… "NO!" she bellowed, not taking any chances. "I wish to stay, Raoul."

"You are in shock, Christine, I understand, but I cannot allow you to stay here if such things are happening…"

"You have no right to allow or not allow me anything!" Christine snapped, "I am my own person and I wish to stay." She almost literally threw him out of the dressing room and shut the door tightly. Since she had no intention of going into her bedroom – therefore she would probably be sleeping here, Christine changed back into her day clothes.

"You did very well, Christine…" she heard a voice resonate from the mirror. Quickly raising her head from the vanity table on where she had laid it to rest, Christine smiled brightly. The soft sounds of music reached her, and she rested her head on the vanity again, her arms folded underneath it. In a matter of minutes, she was asleep.

X X X

Meg was hurrying from the ballet dormitories to Christine's dressing room. After successfully having set up a date with a hot guy and survived the mass panic, she had much to tell her friend. Likewise, she imagined that Christine had been through a lot herself – she had seen Le Fop chasing her somewhere.

The ballet girl only hoped that Christine didn't mess up this crucial part of the story, since it was mostly about her decisions now… and whether three or six months of no plotline were to follow, she wanted them to run smoothly. Hopefully, by the end of La Ball Masque, she would be best friends with Madame Opera Ghost.

At the sound of footsteps, Meg dived behind the nearest object. It was Raoul, she discovered, once again knocking on Christine's door. Meg thought her friend wouldn't want to open – she would have locked the door, anyway, but when Le Fop entered with no problems after receiving no reply, she guessed something was amiss. Moments later, the door opened again, and the Vicomte walked out with a clearly sleeping Christine in his arms.

For a few seconds, Meg was just too stunned to move. This was not supposed to happen! She... she had to stop this! Meg followed him, in an attempt to stop this, whatever was happening. What was she to do? Pretend she was the Phantom? No, too cheesy. Stopping him the normal way could work! He wouldn´t think her insane then!

"Monsieur le Vicomte!" Meg called quickly, running after him. She saw Christine stir in his arms, but the diva didn´t wake. Meg remembered then that while it took Christine a long time to fall asleep, she was a very heavy sleeper. Cursing silently, she chased after him. "Monsieur le Vicomte!"

Raoul stopped, seemed to have heard his name shouted and turned to her.Meg let out a sigh of relief. Finally, she would somehow subtly wake Christine and then Christine would be the one screaming her lungs off with a very loud: "Just what the hell do you think you are doing!" Meg wanted to scream that herself. She could think of quite a few things she should scream out at him, naturally, but at the very same moment...

"Marguerite Giry!" a voice hissed at her and she found herself pulled away by her mother. Meg looked at her angrily. "Where have you been! I was worried sick about you!" Madame Giry hissed and forced her "daughter" look at her. "You could have gotten seriously injured, do you know what a mess the opera house is right now?"

Meg didn´t care. She glanced at Raoul... or rather, at the spot where Raoul had stood a moment ago. Meg felt as if she had been slapped. The idiot left without speaking to her! And she cursed Christine and her heavy sleeping. Even if she would wake up, Christine herself told her she didn´t remember things when she was half-asleep! Dammit! Meg thought.

"Marguerite, I am talking to you!" Madame Giry said threateningly. But Meg rushed to the nearest window. She would shout, she would stop them... but she was too late. The carriage was already at least a two hundred meters away and disappearing fast.She cursed out loud. Naturally Christine wouldn't have anticipated this – even she wouldn't have guessed that Raoul would take Christine away against her will. This was bad… and it would look bad… no idea what good ol´ O.G. would think about this…

"Such behavior!" Madame Giry´s voice brought Meg back to reality, "An hour of extra training for you tomorrow, petite madame! Now go to the dorms!" And she was off.Meg gulped as she returned to the dorms. Somewhere, she knew, a pair of unseen beautiful eyes was narrowing dangerously.

This was going to be a long three months.