Author's Note: I have added in a brand-new chapter two, and have edited some of the other chapters as well. Since I have my own copy of the movie now, and don't have to rely on a faulty memory more than a decade old, I'm making a few changes to make this more accurate to the film.


Gerard slipped silently through the trapdoor just outside the manager's office. He heard shouting from within, and frowned. It sounded like Philippe.

It was Philippe; a moment later, the door burst open and the young Comte came stalking through it, yelling back over his shoulder at Choletti. "If you don't start doing something, you're going to regret it!" Not watching his path, he bumped right into Gerard.

"What do you…" he snarled; then, seeing who it was, he shook his head. "I'm sorry, Gerard; I'm just in a foul mood today."

"So I see," remarked the other man. "Anything I can help with?" He felt he could afford to be magnanimous to the comte at the moment, since he'd just seen Christine's ardent display of affection towards Erik. He felt a tinge of satisfaction at the thought.

"I doubt it, unless you can tell me where Christine is!" The comte fumed.

"Christine? Why, can't you find her?" Gerard asked innocently.

Philippe shook his head, glowering. He shot a dark look behind him at the manager's door. "No I can't, and it's driving me insane. And they," he jerked his head toward the office, "don't have any desire to look for her, either. I demanded that Choletti at least tell Inspector Ledoux that she was missing, and all he said was 'Iffa that girl is missing, then alla I can say isa good riddance!' and Carlotta was too busy fighting off imaginary rats to even comment." He paused a moment, and then went on. "What on earth is wrong with that woman, anyway? She never used to have a rat obsession."

"I've no idea," Gerard replied blandly. "Perhaps the strain of both managing the opera and performing in all of them has finally caught up to her."

"Perhaps," Philippe conceded. He frowned. "What about Christine, though? You'd think Choletti would be more concerned about her absence than he is, because with her gone and his wife being all... the way she is, he has no diva! But where could she be? I don't even know where to look!"

"When is the last time you saw her?" Gerard asked, taking the man's elbow and guiding him further away from the trapdoor he'd come through. "I assume you've seen her since that morning after her debut?"

Philippe shook his head. "No, I haven't. Only that one time. I don't know what that masked fienddid to her, but ever since he kidnapped her she has refused to see me. She hasn't replied to any of my notes." He shook his head, bewildered and a little angry.

Something wasn't checking out, here. Gerard frowned. "If you haven't seen her in all this time, then how do you know she's missing? She could be just avoiding you."

He shook his head. "No. She didn't go home last night. I'd finally had enough of her silence, so I arranged for her to be brought to me so we could talk. The men I sent to bring her to my estate have both disappeared as well."

"You arranged to kidnap her, you mean?" Gerard asked, hiding his sudden fury.

"Kidnap her, Gerard? That's a fairly strong word to use with an old friend," Philippe warned.

"You arranged the abduction of a young woman who had already expressed her wish not to see you, in order to see her against her will. That sounds like a kidnapping to me," Gerard told him, his voice hard.

Philippe stared. "Why are you so emotional about this, Gerard? She's just an opera girl—what do you care?"

"I care, because those two thugs you hired were planning to take her to their place, rape her, and kill her," Gerard said flatly. "She made it to safety, no thanks to you, and that's where she's going to stay." Oh, Erik would be furious! Philippe would be lucky if he escaped with his life, and for once Gerard would be cheering him on.

"No, no, you're wrong. They were only going to bring her to my house, so I could talk with her." Philippe shook his head frantically, his light brown curls bouncing with the motion.

"She tells it differently," Gerard told him dryly.

"You've seen her?" Philippe asked eagerly. "Where is she?"

Gerard snorted. "You think I'm telling you? After what you've just told me, you're the last person I would trust with her safety now."

Philippe frowned, suspicious. "And so who is the first person you'd trust with her safety?" he demanded.

"Never mind that," Gerard retorted. "Just go back to your chorus and ballet girls, Philippe. This one is above you."

Philippe went pale with anger. "Why are you protecting her so? Don't tell me she's with you! Gerard, that's sick; she's young enough to be your daughter. Granddaughter, even! If this is some perverse fantasy that she's your lost love, Belladonna or whatever her name was, then you need some help."

"Philippe, leave it alone. This has nothing to do with Beladova. Go home." Christine did look and sound startlingly like the singer who had been Erik's mother, but fondly though he remembered his lover, Gerard harboured no illusions that they were the same. He was tired, and he very much wanted to either thrash Philippe or tell Erik to thrash Philippe.

Sadly, he couldn't do either one at the moment; he had to go and meet Inspector Ledoux.