Domestic life had its charms, but Christine knew her heart belonged to the stage. She could find contentment in another mode of living, but nothing would ever compare to how it felt to sing for an audience, and she was not ready to give that up over a lie and a shattered illusion. It took courage for Adele to live her life as she did, and Christine knew it would take courage for her to return to the Opera Populaire, but she also knew that a life did not become the stuff of dreams without a great deal of courage - if she wanted to live her dream, she would have to forge ahead, not run away.

She bid the little family the fondest farewell with many thanks, and set off to the opera house once more.

She walked up the stairs, her step firm, her chin lifted defiantly as she shot glances to the corners and dark hallways. Was he watching, even now? She didn't care. Let him watch. This was her home - she belonged here.

The other girls surrounded her that afternoon as she appeared on the stage to begin learning the choreography they had already been working on, each one of them full of a dozen questions about where she had been and what had happened.

"I don't think it matters very much," she told them, glancing up at the rafters. "I'm here now, aren't I? Isn't that all that matters? Now, show me that step again that comes just after the first pirouette."

She worked ceaselessly on learning the new choreography, practicing even in the dormitory when all the other girls were getting ready for bed, trying to make up for the time she had lost.

By the time Erik finally dragged himself up to Box Five a week later, she had memorized it all.

Crushing boredom and the incessant accusing voices in his head had driven him up to watch rehearsals once more, because he had to do something and hopefully hearing the singers, unskillful though they were, would help to propel him into creativity again.

From the back of the box he glanced down at the stage and his breath stuck in his throat. There was no longer an empty spot in the chorus, and in that spot was the dancer he would recognize anywhere.

He fell to his knees, crawling toward to the very edge of the box and peering over the railing. Was he hallucinating? Was it truly her? He gripped the railing until his knuckles turned white and he quietly wept in relief. Maybe, just maybe, he hadn't ruined her life after all.

She moved across the stage as though she'd never been absent from it. The ballet mistress and the show directors were pleasantly surprised. The other ballet girls were slightly jealous - the break away had seemed to renew her passion for her art. She had a determined air about her that had never been there before.

Faced with losing the dream she had held so dear ever since she was little, she had realized that there could be no other choice for her. And after much soul-searching during her week with Adele, she felt confident that her papa would have approved of her choice, too. There was no guarantee that she could find work in another opera house. But here she had the chance to continue to improve and work her way up as time went on - when she had garnered a bit of a name for herself, then she would be more likely to land a job elsewhere, but that would be several years until it was a possibility. Why should she have to leave? Because she was embarrassed over how trustingly she had accepted the Voice in her dressing room? She would reconsider leaving if he became unstable or she felt unsafe because of him, but he had always been good natured with her before, and she had been back an entire week now and hadn't heard a single whisper from him. She had the feeling that perhaps it was he who had moved elsewhere - perhaps he had found another building to haunt. It was a thought that filled her with a confusing mix of relief and melancholy.

Besides, surely she had very little to be embarrassed over - Raoul was the only one who knew about the whole business with the angel. Maybe she would take him up on the offer of finding a new tutor, after all. She loved dancing in the ballet numbers and was good at it, but she wanted to aim for prima donna one day, and to do that she would still need to improve her voice.

Soon the choreography for the entire show was nearly finished, and she felt mostly confident in all of it. There were some new steps she still struggled with, but many of the other girls were having the same problem so she didn't worry herself over it too much. She left the stage, too tired to stay and gossip with Meg or anyone else after the rehearsal had officially ended. Once inside, she locked the door of her dressing room, pointedly avoiding looking at the mirror and pretending it simply didn't exist anymore. She hadn't looked directly at it ever since returning. She quickly changed behind the partition and then swiftly left the room. Her dressing room used to be one of her favorite places to linger, but not anymore.

She was on her way to go upstairs to the dormitories when someone approached her.

"Mademoiselle Daaé?"

She stopped and turned. It was that odd Persian man who often lingered backstage and wandered through the building. Christine was familiar with him, though she had never spoken him to herself - rumor had it that he had paid a small fortune to be able to wander the building freely at any time he wished, so it was not unusual to see him here or there at any given time. Despite what he had paid to buy this kind of access to the Opera Populaire and it's performers, he seldom actually spoke to anyone, and when he did on occasion approach any of the singers or dancers, she had heard he always treated them with the utmost respect.

"If I may offer my congratulations, mademoiselle, I thought you were splendid tonight," he gave a little bow.

"Thank you, Monsieur," she said cautiously. She knew the man didn't have a reputation of harassing the dancers as some of the men who hung around the building did, but in this environment it didn't hurt to be cautious when approached by strange men with compliments - a lesson she knew all too well, now.

"I hope you will forgive my presumptuousness in approaching you, but you see - I believe we have a mutual friend," he nodded knowingly.

A cold chill passed through her. She said nothing. Was he talking about one of the other performers, or was he talking about-?

"I had noticed that you were absent for a week, mademoiselle, and I just wanted to check with you to ensure that you..." he trailed off, unsure of how to pose his question. "That you were in good - safe - company?"

She blinked.

"What- what do you mean?"

He shifted nervously.

"You were not, perhaps, with our ghostly acquaintance during your absence?"

She paled. So it was about him.

"I was with a family friend."

He nodded, relief washing over his features. He only hoped the girl was telling the truth - because really, wouldn't it be just like Erik to kidnap the poor thing and hold her hostage after she had scorned him?

"I am quite relieved to hear that. Should you ever have any sort of... difficulty in regards to him, please do not hesitate to seek my help."

"I thought you said you were his friend," she cut in.

"Well, in a sense, yes - but I know quite well what he can be like," he raised an eyebrow. "My main priority is the safety of those around him, however."

"Oh?" her hands trembled a little so she squeezed them into fists. "Do you think he's... unsafe, then?"

The Persian paused.

"I think," he said carefully. "That sometimes he doesn't fully think through his course of action, and that he can make rash decisions at times. He and I have discussed your, ah, situation and he expressed a great deal of regret over what he'd done - I don't think you're any danger. I only meant to say that should anything ever happen in the future - if, perhaps he attempts to contact you and wish him to not do so, I would be a most willing ally in your cause. Has he, since you've been back? Try to contact you, I mean."

Che shook her head.

"I thought maybe he left," she said softly.

"No, I'm quite certain he's still here. He - and I, as well - thought it best if he gave you space after what transpired. I highly doubt you'll be hearing from again."

"I see."

"That brings me to my second reason for speaking to you today - I wanted to ensure you were well, but I also wanted to apologize on behalf of him. He himself asked me to tell you that he was sorry for 'everything', I believe he said. But I also felt the need to apologize as well."

He was silent a moment, gathering his thoughts.

"I don't tell you this in the hopes that you'll forgive him - indeed, I don't expect or encourage you to forgive him - but he's not like most other people, you know. He wasn't raised like you or me, his life has been very abnormal and because of that he sometimes does things that aren't what one would expect of someone. That's not to excuse what he did, however, it was still an abominable thing of him to do, but... But I know he meant no harm from it. He simply didn't see it as anyone else would see it."

She nodded a little, trying to blink away the prickle of tears in her eyes. At least he was being kind about it, not treating her like she was stupid to have believed the angel in the first place.

"He truly thought he was doing something good, and he was quite upset over how it ended."

"Oh?" she tried as best she could to hide the waver in her voice. "I'm sure he was quite upset, when after his years of flattery he was unable to turn my head after I found out he was a man."

The Persian frowned.

"That did not seem his intent when I spoke him, though I will defer to you as I was never there to know the nature of your conversations during your lessons. But he expressed regret for hurting you. He had no ill will or nefarious intentions from what I could gather, though again, you would know best from your interactions with him. He is simply... very incompetent when it comes to dealing with other people. When it comes to music he's a genius, as I'm sure you know, but human interaction, human relationships, having friends -"

The Persian gave a helpless little shrug.

"He simply isn't used to it, doesn't understand it. He has trouble with the nuances of it all, but I can say with certainty - as far as I can tell - he never meant to hurt you or upset you, though obviously he ending up doing so anyway. His lack of social skill in that regard is an unfortunate side effect of- well, you know."

He here made a vague motion of his hand towards the side of his face, and Christine's brow furrowed, uncertain of what exactly he meant.

"If not for that, he might have had a chance to live normally and learn to behave like anyone else. But it is what it is, and he did what he did, and no amount of apologies or explanations of why he did it can ever truly make it right for you, I'm afraid. He's sorry, and I'm sorry about him and his actions as well, and I do hope you can find some sort of peace after all this."

"Thank you, Monsieur," Christine hesitated. His words were a lot to take in. "I appreciate it, truly."

"It was a pleasure to meet you, mademoiselle Daaé, I only wish it had been under better circumstances," he bowed once more as he bid her farewell.

Christine rolled his words over in her mind all night long. So her former tutor wasn't laughing at her, then? He wasn't mocking her naivety behind her back, or trying to take advantage of her?

And it was true that he hadn't tried to contact her, beyond perhaps sending the Persian man to apologize to her. There was that strange feeling back again, the one she couldn't put her finger on. Was it disappointment? Was it peace? Did she actually want to see him again?

She still didn't understand some of what the Persian had said. What had he meant by saying he didn't understand human interaction because of how he was raised? How was his life so abnormal? It didn't make sense to her - he had talked as though there was something he thought that she knew already, but clearly she didn't since she had no context for what he had said. It baffled her, but her mind turned mostly to the parts she did understand.

He truly hadn't meant to hurt her, and she desperately wanted to believe that was the case. It was with that in mind that she snuck out of bed after all the other girls were asleep, and that justification was what she repeated to herself as she scribbled out the words of the note on the scrap of paper before quietly sneaking into the hallway that would lead to the box seats in the auditorium.