Disclaimer: All things tied to the musical/book Phantom of the Opera are (regretfully) not mine.

AN: Thanks everyone for their flattering and wonderful reviews! I'd love to see this story reach 100 reviews, but I'm just being greedy. (winks) Anyway, enjoy this chapter, and please review! Thanks!

Chapter 16: Preparations for Disaster:

Returning to her room, Marie was swept into several tight embraces from loved ones and friends. Christine was in tears, Meg was pale as a sheet and wringing her hands in fear, and Madame Giry looked ready to kill Raoul, who looked extremely ashamed of himself for leaving her behind. All of them began to demand answers of whether she was alright, how she returned to the Opera House, and if the Ghost had harmed her.

Trying not to loose what was left of her small grip on her temper, Marie took a deep calming breath before speaking. Waving her hands for silence, she received it, immensely relieved at the quiet. Once she was sure she had everyone's undivided attention, Marie began to speak in a calm, soothing voice that she normally reserved for the littlest ballerinas.

"I'm alright," she said, trying to appear relaxed despite a pounding headache. "I heard the exchange between Christine, the Phantom, and Raoul. Once I saw that everyone had left, and the Phantom soon gone afterwards in a manner I don't know, I returned to the carriage and unharnessed the horse, making it so I could ride back here to the Populaire."

"Why did you not drive the carriage back?" demanded her foster mother.

Marie gave her a thin smile. "You know perfectly well that I cannot drive a carriage, Madame," she replied. "I've ridden the Populaire's horses before, but have never driven a carriage, and I refuse to put people's lives in danger because I wanted to try a foolish stunt such as that."

Madame nodded in agreement, but looked a bit doubtful. The others, though, appeared to believe her story, and were relieved that she was safe and unharmed. Christine wrapped her in a tight hug, tears still streaming down her cheeks as she babbled on about how happy she was to see her older sister alive and well. Meg fetched a tea tray for her after pressing Marie to sit down on a chair, and Raoul merely stood to Marie's right, slipping into a self-appointed role as her protector.

Once things had settled down and everyone was assured that Marie was relaxed, warm, and content, Madame Giry, Meg, and Raoul left for their rooms for the night. Meanwhile, Christine remained behind to spend the remainder of the day, as well as the night, with her sister. As evening approached, the girls quickly slipped into their nightgowns and sat together, drinking tea near the fire.

"Weren't you frightened, Marie?" Christine asked, looked at her sister with a mixture of awe and curiosity. "You were all alone with the Phantom of the Opera in the cemetery with no one to protect you! Weren't you terrified?"

Marie quietly sipped her tea for a moment before replying. How could she tell her innocent, naïve sister that she, Marie Daae, was in love with the Phantom that everyone feared? How could she explain that people merely feared Erik because they did not know or understand him as she did? Christine would never understand that there was a man with a heartbreaking story behind the frightening white mask; she was too knowledgeable of the tales that had been spread around the Populaire for the past two decades.

So, she decided to bend the truth a little bit, if only for the sake of her sister.

"I really have nothing to fear from the Phantom, Christine," Marie said. "After all, I highly doubt that he'd notice a little costume assistant, right?"

"But if the Phantom is after me, and you are my sister, that means that you are in as much danger as I am!" Christine said, tears running down her face. "And now we must perform his horrid, indecent opera! Oh, Marie, what are we going to do?"

Unfortunately, Marie had no answer for that. Instead, she ushered her sister into bed before joining her in the darkness of sleep without dreams.


The next morning, the girls raced around the Populaire, doing whatever it was that they were scheduled to do. Christine ran off to rehearsal as Marie was practically dragged to help with the costumes that the mistress hadn't even started on yet. This was because, a week into the Don Juan preparations, Madame Rose had left to help her daughter with her newest baby. Now the costume mistress was back, and the work was piling up, since Madame Rose refused to allow anyone but her design the costumes. Fortunately, the Ghost had left instructions on the making of the outfits, and Marie was able to see what Madame Rose had crafted…and was aghast at what she saw.

The sketch she had been given was for Christine's character, and it had to be the most revealing piece in the entire show! A corset with little lace straps the width of three fingers hung off the shoulders as "sleeves," and the skirt was to be made of a gold, filmy material that was just thick enough for no one to see through it! Honestly, it was worst than the dancing costumes for Hannibal!

'You cannot be serious, Erik!' Marie thought to herself. 'You actually want my little sister to flaunt about a stage in this? Are you mad?'

But the truth was, she didn't know if he was or wasn't in his right mind anymore. So much had changed in so little time, and the man she had once considered a caring friend had turned into something much more horrible; he was a masked specter of fear and obsession, a Ghost who remembered nothing of the love Marie had once given to him as a friend, and a denouncer of the love she had for him now as a woman.

"But then, you never told him of your love for him, did you?" Marie scolded herself as she began cutting cloth in her own private sewing room. "Erik will never know how much you care for him, and he will never, ever care for you in that way. Stupid girl." With that, she began stitching the costume.


From a perch high above the stage, beyond the sight of others, the Opera Ghost watched as his opera was brought to life. The costumes were still being stitched together, which was why there was an air of something missing as "Don Juan" sang to everyone about his lust for the lovely, lonely, gypsy flower girl, Aminta.

'Still, the boy is good,' he thought as he watched his creation. 'For a beginner.'

The new singer, Pierre Desmond, had great potential for one so young. However, since he could be viewed rather as a novice, a new, untrained singer to the scene of the Populaire, he would have to be taught in order to reach the fullness of that potential. But his voice was progressing well for one so new to performing, and with his black hair and sparkling blue eyes, the new lead tenor had looks to go along with his talent. At first glance, Monsieur Desmond's face made him look younger than he really was (at age 20), but a longer look spoke volumes of the young man's dedication to the music that he performed, and his determination at doing his absolute best. He would do very well indeed in his new position here, far better than Piangi had.

The Phantom snorted quietly to himself. 'At least Piangi no longer has the satisfaction of touching Christine the way an oily slug would,' he thought.

This thought greatly raised the young man in Erik's eyes. Most would think that the misshapen Opera Ghost would be fitfully jealous of the Populaire's new recruit, given Pierre's combination of good looks and talents. Many men would have preferred short, pudgy, thickly-accented Piangi touching the beautiful soprano instead of the tall, attractive Pierre; from any point of view in the audience, the pairing of the young singers created the chemistry that was needed between couples as they performed together onstage.

However, the Phantom could not feel too jealous or angry. He allowed the budding talents of Monsieur Desmond to remain at the Populaire as a way of pleasing both Daae sisters; this way, Christine would not have to suffer onstage with an incompetent, groping costar, and Marie would not have to watch an intolerable man manhandle her sister in front of an audience. This arrangement worked out for the best of everyone's interests, especially those of the managers, the Ghost, and the two sisters.

'Not to mention for both Madame Giry and her little Meg,' Erik thought with a smirk as he headed towards the secret corridors.

Indeed, the blonde ballerina had been quite taken with the new tenor, and Madame was practically beaming at the thought of her daughter finally settling down with a nice young man. Both Meg and Pierre were constantly exchanging shy glances and sweet smiles, as well as kisses in every dark corner they could find. Madame Giry attempted to scold them whenever she discovered them together, but most knew it was merely a show to make the couple nervous, possibly in the hopes of scaring Pierre into asking Meg to marry him in a hurry to spare him from Madame's wrath.

'How amusing…an opera behind an opera!'

Erik couldn't help but laugh as he descended into the depths of the Opera House, heading towards his house on the lake.


Marie couldn't help but snicker when she spotted Raoul watching the rehearsals with a deep frown on his face. Apparently the young Vicompt did not like seeing his betrothed being intimately touched onstage by a handsome costar.

"If you glare any harder, his head will catch fire," she whispered as she leaned over, a hand over her mouth so that the words traveled directly into his ear.

Raoul's frown twitched, almost as if he were trying hard not to smile. "I'm beginning to wish it would," he replied in an equally quiet voice. "That Desmond fellow is really beginning to vex me."

Marie giggled softly. "Honestly, Raoul, who would you rather have touching Christine: Pierre or Piangi?"

The Vicompt rolled his eyes. "If I could give my ideal choice, it would be neither," he said, reaching up to run his fingers through his brown-blond hair. "But I supposed watching Pierre is better than watching Piangi try and…uh…"

"Grope?" Marie suggested with a disgusted look on her face. "Yes, grope would be the right word," she said, cutting off Raoul's response. "Honestly, I would much rather see a nice young man like Pierre onstage with Christine than to watch that slimy pig Piangi touch my sister. At least I know that, unlike Piangi, Pierre has no interest and takes no joy in touching Christine, for his own personal sake. Piangi merely wanted the opportunity of fondling Christine every chance he got, 'to make the opera more believable,' as he said. I knew he just loved touching a young, beautiful girl, though."

"True." Raoul watched as Don Juan and Aminta sang to one another with a deeper scowl of disapproval. "Perhaps I just dislike the fact that we must put on the Phantom's opera or face terrible consequences for disobeying him."

"I don't like it either," Marie replied, but for an entirely different reason than the Vicompt's. "But unless we want something terrible to happen, we must do as he asks."

Her future brother-in-law turned to her. "Then help me stop him," he said, staring into her brown eyes. "Help me protect Christine, protect you, and protect the entire Opera House and its people."

Marie looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "How?"

Raoul looked around the theater. "I'll tell you and Christine later."

Puzzled, Marie returned her attention back to the rehearsal.


That evening, Marie and Christine joined Raoul for supper at an expensive café. They were shown to a private dining room, where a vast variety of foods were paraded before them and they were allowed to pick and choose from the displayed dishes. When their stomachs were full and dessert had been finished off, the three sat for a few moments, enjoying their after-dinner wine and coffee. Finally, Raoul broke the silence.

"Marie, Christine, a few days ago, Monsieur Firmin, Monsieur Andre and I formed a plan to be sure that we either capture him or completely destroy any sort of twisted plot that he may have for the opening night of Don Juan," the Vicompt stated, looking both young women in the eyes.

"What, exactly, have you come up with?" Marie asked, fear gripping her heart in icy fingers.

"We will have armed guards at every doorway, every entrance, and any other way out of the Opera House," Raoul said, taking a sip of wine before continuing. "The doors will be barred so that no one can leave or enter after the opera starts. If the Phantom appears, we will be able to capture him before he is able to harm anyone and escape. Thereby, we will be able to save the Populaire and possibly many lives before it is too late."

"What must we do?" Christine whispered, her voice timid and full of uncertainty.

"Marie will sit with me in Box 5," he said firmly. "That way I can assure her safety. Meanwhile, Christine will do her best to appear normal while onstage during the performance. Should the Phantom attempt to take you or show his face at any point, you must be able to keep his focus on you or on the performance so that we can capture him."

Marie looked over at her sister and saw her lower lip trembling. "Christine, what's wrong?" she asked, fearful that Raoul had upset her.

"I'm frightened," the younger girl replied, looking down at her lap. "Please don't make me do this. I know he'll take me and won't let me go." Tears began running down Christine's cheeks. "He'll take me and I'll never see either one of you again."

Raoul gave her a comforting smile as he reached over and took her hand in his. "You said he was nothing more than a man," he said, "but we both know that he will likely hunt us both down until the day we die, either by his own hand or otherwise."

Another tear ran down Christine's face. "What other answer can I give? I must put my life at stake in order to live freely, but how can I endanger the man who gave me my voice?" She looked towards her older sister for guidance.

Marie sighed, knowing she had to say something or else come under suspicion. "We have no choice," she softly answered her sister.

"I know I can't refuse," the soprano whispered. "And yet, I wish I could. But what awaits me in performing the Phantom's opera?"

"Christine," Raoul whispered to her as he stroked her hand with his thumb. "Don't think for one moment that I do not consider your life and safety, but our every hope rests on you now."

The two sisters could only look at one another and sigh, a deep sadness and depression filling their hearts at what would happen in a few weeks' time.


As Marie made her way back to her room that night, many thoughts filled her mind. She desperately wanted to save Erik, but she knew that his obsession with Christine would be dangerous not only for her sister, but also for her own health. He was becoming less and less the man she had known, and had instead turned into the Phantom.

'I don't even know if Erik exists anymore,' she thought, ducking behind her changing screen with her nightgown over her arm. 'All I see now is the Phantom or the Ghost trying everything to get what he wants…whatever that is.'

In the back of her mind, where the most adult and logical-thinking part of her lay, Marie felt that something was very strange about this whole situation involving Christine. She didn't know what, but something just felt wrong with all of the situations that she had seen between the Phantom/Erik and Christine. Marie couldn't quite put her finger on it, but the thought still lingered.

'It's almost like he's trying to do or say one thing, but it means something completely different,' she thought as she slid out of her dress and petticoats and into her blue, silk nightgown. 'I just wish I knew what it was.'

She smiled as she stroked the dark blue fabric covering her body. Erik had given the garment to her when she had told him how much she loved working with silk, but had nothing fine of her own in that material. He had known her favorite color was blue, and had surprised her with the gift for her 21st birthday. She had hugged and kissed him for it, surprising him so much he had literally frozen in his seat for several minutes in shock.

Sighing, Marie hung her dress over the side of the dressing screen so that it she could take it to Madame for laundry day, and stepped out into the room. She bumped right into a tall male form dressed very finely in the outfit of a man going out to the opera.

"Erik!" she squeaked as his arms slid around her waist to keep her from falling. And he was Erik now, not the Phantom; his posture was calm, and he looked…softer than before.

"Good evening, petite," he said, his voice as flowing and smooth as the silk she currently wore. "I see you are wearing the nightgown I gave you."

"Yes," was her only reply, her cheeks turning a bright red from being held so close to him. She nervously swallowed and cleared her throat. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you," he said, slowly pulling away.

Marie could not help but feel disappointed when Erik removed his arms from around her waist, instead taking her gently by the arm and guiding her to a chair so that they could, apparently, talk. She quickly sat down and adjusted the silk garment as he took a seat across from her.

"What did you want to speak to me about?" she asked, not daring to make eye contact. If she managed to look into his wonderful green eyes, Marie knew that she would likely burst into tears.

"I was hoping that you would be able to tell me your opinion of Don Juan," Erik replied, leaning back in his chair, his cloak falling to the floor all around him as he crossed his legs. One arm lay on an armrest while the other was bent, his forefinger resting against his lower lip.

"Oh." Marie swallowed hard when she began to remember how wonderful his lips had always looked to her. "Do you mean the opera, the character, or the performer playing Don Juan?" Her heart skipped a beat as he laughed.

"That is what I love about you, petite," Erik said, a smile on his lips as he watched her blush. "You can see all the different ways that one of my questions can be answered. But it's the opera I ask about."

Marie nodded. "It's…well, it is unusual," she carefully replied. "It is a very passionate, seductive opera, likely because it includes the infamous Don Juan and his incredible abilities with women." Erik nodded. "It might be a bit too much by society's standards of music, but once you look past that, it is an amazing work, Erik."

He nodded in satisfaction. "So you think people will be focused on it while it is being performed?"

Marie gave him a tiny smirk. "I don't see how they could not pay attention to the performance."

Erik grinned as he stood up. "Good." And with that, he slipped through a hidden door and was gone.

It was only after he left that Marie realized that she had forgotten to warn Erik about Raoul's plot to capture him. But surely he would be able to escape any sort of capture; after all, he was the Phantom! Besides, she had no way of warning him; she had not been to his home in months, and Erik tended to switch his traps around every few weeks, so there was the risk of her getting hurt while trying to get to him. Still, she owed the man she loved a warning, even if he did not love her in return.

"Well, not in the way I want him to," she said, blowing out the candles and slipping into bed. "He loves things about me, but nothing more…though I very much wish he would." A tear slid down her cheek to splash onto her pillow as she fell asleep, not knowing she was being watched.


AN: Aw, poor Marie! There are only a few more chapters left, so please review! Thanks!