What would I do without you! You're keeping me alive and writing:)

vixen519: well, usually in fiction there are only two explanations for fainting: pregnancy and starvation. I think it's a bit early for the first one:) so I chose the second.:) Migraine and blood pressure would be too boring, don't you think so:) Hope your mood got better since the last chapter.
lilblondegiry: I tried to put more action into this chapter, I hope you'll like it.
the Mouse in the Opera House: you're right, she must.. and she starts acting..:) I tried to make this chapter a little longer and I managed 10 Kb of text:))) So I hope it will keep your attention and stop ants in your pants:))) for a while

Jamea: lairs certainly are exciting... mostly because of what's going on there)
moonlit-leaf: I'm glad you liked 'all the good stuff':). But maybe it's time to shake her up a bit:)

Thank all of you guys, this chapter is for you and you only:).

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Her head was aching. That was Christine's first clear thought. She lay for a while listening to the sounds around and trying to remember her whereabouts. But glass clinking and water splashing didn't combine into one picture so the girl cautiously opened her eyes.

Red velvet. Light tracery from the water dancing on the ceiling. Black open-work curtain.

'Okay, now I'm back to reality,' she muttered sitting up on the swan bed and rubbing her forehead. Surprisingly enough Christine was in rather good spirits despite the dull pain somewhere in the right temple. She pulled the curtain aside and leaning from the bed gave a curious look around.

The shattered glass was swept from the floor and the heavy velvet curtains hung where they were supposed to hang. The candelabras that had been scattered all over the floor now stood on the table and ledges in rocks and the candles filled the cave with warm yellow light. Near the hank of rope on the table there stood a tray with bread, ham and several sandwiches. The picture was oddly incongruous. The lair almost looked like somebody's home.

Madame Giry stopped wiping the organ and looked up at the astonished girl.

'I see you're awake, sleeping beauty. Hasn't anybody told you that a human needs eating and sleeping sometimes?'

'How long was I asleep?'

'Long enough to have a little rest,' the older woman answered calmly. 'I figured that you won't wish to leave this place for some time so I was up and back and brought you some food. Plus this mess definitely needed clearing.'

Christine could hardly believe her ears.

'But why have you decided that I would want to stay?'

Madame Giry gave her a strange glance.

'I know you, for a start. And then again... Let's say you're not the only one here who thinks that the Opera sadly lacks discipline.'

Christine looked absolutely stunned. Madame Giry helping her in her reckless scheme? That was definitely something worth seeing. Or maybe it was the lair's atmosphere playing jokes with somebody's mind? Not quite sure whose one she meant the girl carefully asked:

'What do you mean?'

The older woman laughed:

'You don't think I'm blind, my dear, do you? You obviously decided to scare some wits back into the Opera and though I don't think you should be the one doing it there is no sense in talking you out of this crazy attempt. So I figured you could use some help.'

'I could,' Christine acknowledged. She decided not to try her luck any more. The fate evidently had a strange sense of humour but as long as it played into her hands it would be stupid not to use it. So the singer quickly got out of the swan bed and stopped indecisively. Where now?

As if overhearing her unspoken question Madame Giry pointed to a recess in the wall hidden behind the folds of fabric. 'There. But take a sandwich first.'

Christine gave her a suspicious glance. She always thought that despite all her wisdom and strong will Madame Giry was no more than a tool in Erik's hands but now the image started to change.

'I won't be surprised,' she thought ironically, 'if he had to ask for a written permission before going for another escapade.'

Of course, she over-exaggerated but each joke has a bit of truth within. The girl briefly wondered if the omnipotent and omniscient Phantom of the Opera would have been such if not for his additional pair of eyes and ears. Or maybe even hands? Anyway, her adopted mother was obviously a worthy workmate for the ruler of the Opera.

Christine shook her head. A little more and she will persuade herself that Erik did nothing but taught her to sing and Madame Giry walked around the Opera House masked and cloaked and scared ballet girls. So she decided put this out of her head for now and taking one of the sandwiches approached the niche the other showed her. And pulled the curtain aside.

'If I knew how to whistle I'd certainly give one,' Christine thought absently as she raptly surveyed the large cut-in wardrobe. 'Though on the other hand what did I expect to see? If you want to inspire awe, not disgust, you have to be dressed properly. Okay, let's see what I can make of it...'

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Swoosh!
Christine made a swift movement with her arm and a long pitch-black cape swished though the air forming a semicircle around her. One more wave, this time accompanied by quick turning around. A glance to the large mirror. Not bad, not bad at all. Okay now let's wrap my precious self up to my eyes... Fabulous.

'Fantastic,' she heard Madame Giry's sarcastic voice from behind her back. 'You're a born Phantomess.'

'I had a good teacher,' she replied and suddenly felt a lump in her throat. It's not the time now, she reminded herself. I have a lot of things to do. And she smiled bravely to Madame Giry's reflection in the mirror.

'Am I scary enough?'

'You will need the mask to hide both sides of your face,' her unexpected helper replied. 'Otherwise there's no way you will be taken for the Phantom if someone sees you closer than you expect.'

'I'm not going to let anyone see me that close!' Christine responded indignantly. 'I've promised not to go anywhere but those rafters above Box Five.'

'Things do not always turn out as we expect them to,' Antoinette Giry replied strictly. 'We have enough risk going there with your hair in a bundle.'

'Okay, okay,' Christine gave up not wanting to irritate her only guide in the underworld. She saw the sense in her words and wasn't inclined to quarrel but also she couldn't push away a certain... well, let's say a certain cautious attitude towards this new Madame Giry who felt unnervingly confident on the slippery ground they stepped onto.

The girl took a white skull mask from the stone ledge and carefully put it on. Touched the tight hair knot at the back of her head. Checked the ties of the cape. Draw herself up, breathed in deeply and after the last critical glance to the mirror she turned to Madame Giry.

'I am ready.'

The woman was watching the girl with her eyebrows raised.

'Wrong. No Phantom ever goes out with bare hands,' she pointed to the pair of black gloves. 'Have it in mind for the future, my girl.'

Following her to the passage behind one of the mirrors Christine couldn't help thinking that madness is not so terrible as it is said to be.

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'How much is it left until we get there?' Christine whispered. Though she was getting used to the long ways through the darkness the silence started to get on her nerves.

'We're almost there.'

Madame Giry suddenly stopped and turned to the girl. 'We will reach Box Five now. Listen to me attentively. We are not going to do anything rash. I'll show you the niches and passages hidden there, just in case. And then we try to let somebody see you for several seconds. That's all. No howling, no screaming, no threats. Agreed?'

Christine nodded feeling her heart pounding violently in her chest.

'Like before a premiere,' she thought ironically.

Madame Giry turned to the wall and passed her hand over the stone surface.

'Here,' she told pointing to a little lever. She pulled it upwards and the part of the wall slid aside noiselessly.

Christine found herself staring through the remaining scaffolding down to the pit and stage. She wasn't prepared for finding herself at such height and her head start spinning. Madame Giry touched her arm and the girl waved her hand showing that everything's okay. She focused on the can of paint someone has forgotten up here and gave her senses some time to adjust.

When all of a sudden she heard voices from below.

'Yes, we're planning to reopen the Opera Populaire in several weeks,' Andre's smug tenor was easily recognizable. 'And it will be a completely new page in its history. When I and Monsieur Firmin took the lead we had to deal with deplorable consequences of the previous management and this is what caused several grievous accidents. However, now after the restoration the Opera will show its true brilliance.'

Christine cautiously glanced downwards. A young lean man with long dark hair was standing near Andre holding a notebook.

'A journalist, perhaps,' she thought.'Okay, let's listen to them.'

'And what about the infamous Phantom of the Opera?' the young man asked. 'Is he still haunting its realm?'

'Some ghostly realm, maybe,' Andre replied cheerfully. 'Thank God, we got rid of this maniac long ago and unless he arose from the dead we have no one to fear.'

He shouldn't have said this. Before Madame Giry had time to stop her Christine grabbed the can with paint she was staring at and splashed it out onto Andre and the journalist. She only had time to throw the can after the paint before Antoinette pulled her back to the passage and closed the door.

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Your impressions? Am I writing a complete nonsense or there's still a grain of something in it? You know how to tell me your mind...