Philippe had never heard anyone sing quite like Christine Daaé just had. How had she learned to do that? He had seen her perform smaller roles countless times, but her voice had only been a shadow of the one she revealed that night. He wondered if Raoul knew what she'd been hiding from the world. If he did, Philippe thought it might explain some of his extreme attachment to the girl. There must be something about her beyond a pretty face and a nice figure to inspire such dogged devotion; plenty of girls possessed those attributes, but his brother had only made a fool of himself over this one. If Raoul did not know about her voice, there had to be a reason for that, as well. Why would she hide such a thing from him, unless she had other things to hide? He knew Raoul's overly romantic disposition well, and knew that any notions of marriage were likely just as much his as hers, but he knew nothing about her beyond his brother's endless lovesick ramblings. Contrary to what Raoul thought, Philippe would never have had the idea of separating the two of them if it weren't for all the marriage talk. Though he could admit it was perhaps a bit unfair to the girl, Philippe could not help but be suspicious of her because of it. If there were some unpleasant truth to be discovered, he would rather be the one discover it, so that he could shield Raoul from the blow.

After the doctor had sent the accumulated crowd away, Philippe watched as the girl slowly opened her eyes. She was clearly startled to see him. Still, she told the doctor that it was fine to leave her with him. He noticed that the maid seemed shocked that Christine would be left alone in a closed room with him, which was a point in her favor. Unless the maid belonged on the stage herself, there was no faking that reaction. That she indicated the maid should stay also spoke to Raoul's account of her character. Of course, Philippe could not rule out that she was perhaps clever enough to have everyone fooled.

Once he began to question her, it became obvious that she was lying to him. Philippe was no expert, but he knew she had to be studying with someone. She did not look or sound like a liar; on the contrary, she looked positively angelic. He prided himself on his ability to read people, and he did not see a dishonest person in front of him. Yet, her story made no sense. Unless the girl was some sort of late blooming savant, there had to be a teacher somewhere. A voice like that did not come from solitary practice and a bit of effort, and certainly not in a few short months. Philippe could only think of two reasons she would not divulge that information to him - she was either doing something she should not be, or for some reason, she had been told to stay silent. To his mind, the first scenario was far more likely, but at the barest hint of it, she seemed highly offended. It was not chagrin at having been found out; no, the cast of her eyes, and the look on her face spoke of indignation at being wrongfully accused. Perhaps the second scenario was the correct one? Who in the world would not wish to receive some of the credit for her performance that night? Something unusual was happening with Christine Daaé. Perhaps it was nothing, but for Raoul's sake, he wanted to know the truth. He knew he would not get anywhere tonight; she was obviously exhausted, and would not suddenly change her mind and start talking.

La Sorelli stroked Philippe's hair while he lay in her arms. He could easily have drifted off to sleep like this, if he weren't so preoccupied. He had hoped that an evening with his favorite dancer would take his mind off the girl his brother loved; for a while, it had, but now he was back to where he had started. He shifted slightly in his mistress's embrace.

"Do you know anything about Christine Daaé's sudden improvement?" he asked drowsily.

The soothing hand in his hair immediately stopped. "You really shouldn't ask me about other women when we're in bed together. How would you like it if I started asking questions about some male acquaintance of yours right now?"

He sighed. Damn his tired brain. He should have known better; of course she would take it personally.

"You wouldn't like it," she said testily. He lifted his head from her breast to look at her face; her lovely eyes were narrowed in irritation.

"Rita... I'm not asking for myself. You must know that," he explained, placing a kiss on her clavicle. She could be so ridiculous at times - carrying that dagger everywhere, trying to convince him of the Opera Ghost's existence, expressing jealousy over every little thing. He often wondered what had happened in her life to make her so paranoid, but he also knew there was no way of asking without upsetting her. He pushed himself off her entirely, so that he was sitting up, looking her in the eye. If he did not say just the right thing, she would start pouting, and then he'd never find out anything from her. If he really upset her, she would refuse to see him until he apologized with an expensive gift. He never had a problem finding other company when she did such things, yet he preferred her to any other woman, and she knew it. "I would never have any interest in her, if it weren't for my brother's sake."

"Really? Even after the other night? You aren't even a little intrigued for yourself? It seems like everyone else is..."

"No, I am not." Christine was far too associated with Raoul in his mind for him to ever consider her as a prospect for himself. Even had that not been the case, pretty and talented as she was, she seemed far too innocent, too sedate, and too blonde for his tastes.

She nodded with pursed lips, her irritation written on plainly on all her features. "Is this the only reason you came to see me tonight? To ask me questions about Christine Daaé? You didn't want to see me at all, did you?"

"No, no," he soothed, picking up one of her hands and kissing her knuckles. "I always want to see you."

"Do you really?" She was either on the verge of tears, or she was about to start castigating him. Possibly both.

"Yes," he replied, "Always." He kissed her hand again. "You must know that." Her face softened and flung herself at him, pushing him onto his back. In a moment, she was straddling him, her delicate hands grasping his wrists and pinning them over his his head. At times Philippe wondered why he put up with her volatility. There were plenty of beautiful woman who would have jumped at the chance to fill her place in his life, and they would not have been nearly as difficult. They probably wouldn't have been as much fun, either.

Philippe waited in the foyer, holding Rita's gaiters. When she finished her performance, she darted up to him with a pleased smile. A thin sheen of sweat shone on her heavily made up face.

As was usual, between admirers and various members of the corps de ballet, the hallway outside her dressing room was a crowded place. On this particular occasion, several of the girls insisted on invading her dressing room to tell her some tale about the Opera Ghost. Philippe ignored their prattling as he usually did when such things happened, though he did notice that the littlest dancer, the plain one with the lively dark eyes, was particularly animated. Rita put on a brave face in front of the girls, but he knew that was all it was.

Once they were finally alone, she indicated that he should sit, and she positioned herself on his lap. She trembled slightly. Whatever had been said about the Ghost, she knew better than to discuss it with him, unless she wanted to be reminded of how silly he considered the entire thing. Still, since she was upset by whatever had been said, so he stroked her back in big circles, trying to calm her.

"I... I could not find out anything useful about Christine Daaé," she said, making an obvious effort to sound collected. "She is, as always, friendly to everyone without actually being friends with anyone. No one has seen her with anyone, and though everyone agrees she must be studying with someone, no one knows who it might be... And when asked, she says she is not studying with anyone. Considering that somehow the managers knew she could sing the role, some people are saying they are involved."

Why hadn't he considered that before? Maybe Richard himself had been working with her. Did he ever do that sort of thing? Even if he did not, he may have recognized something in her voice, and found a teacher for her, all on the condition of silence. It certainly made more sense than the other scenarios that had been playing out in his mind. Philippe was left where he had started with the conundrum of his brother and Christine, but at least it was no worse than before. He would try to confirm his new suspicion at a later date. Right now, Rita was looking at him expectantly.

"Thank you." He gave her a fond smile, which she returned with a kiss.

"You are a very good brother," she said before kissing him again. He owed her something nice for putting his mind at ease.

Note: Philippe needed his own chapter after that last one. He'll check in again every once in a while. Thanks again for reading and reviewing.