Meg Giry had developed her own theory regarding Christine Daaé. Once she had solidified her ideas, she busied herself telling everyone that it was not the management who had known of Christine's abilities, but the Opera Ghost. She would shake and cry, make a show of insisting that it was not safe to speak of the Ghost, and then proceed to do it anyway. Before the old managers had retired, the Ghost had insisted that Meg be moved to the front row as a favor to her mother. She knew, however, that if she had not been up to his standards, he never would have done so. If the he had done something to give her career a boost, then perhaps he had done the same for Christine. The Ghost's main concern, after all, was the quality of the Opera. While he sometimes stole things, took great pleasure in frightening the members of the corps de ballet, and (she strongly suspected – though most thought it a suicide) had killed poor Joseph Buquet all those months ago, he also advocated for performers whom he deemed worthy, and did his best to weed out those who were not. Through her mother, Meg knew things about the Opera Ghost, or at least, believed that she did. She possessed the correct combination of intelligence, superstition, and youthful exuberance required to have figured out any number of truths that older, wiser individuals dismissed. Still, Meg had never known enough to cause Erik any alarm - she actually believed he was a ghost - and unlike Buquet, possessed enough sense not to go exploring where she was not wanted. Even now, she did not say that the Ghost had taught Christine to sing; she only thought that the ghost must have alerted the managers to Christine's hidden talent.

She had found a rapt audience with the other ballet girls, but more sensible people just shrugged their shoulders, and returned to the theory that somehow the managers were involved. Richard and Moncharmin themselves, apparently unwilling to let anyone know that they had taken advice from the Ghost, did nothing to dispel the rumors. For the first time since they had taken over the management of the Opera, Erik's salary was paid without having to resort to theft. This had put him in such a good mood that he found himself listening to Meg's incessant chatter about him without even daydreaming of frightening her into silence. Besides, Erik had always held a sort of distant, avuncular fondness for the tiny, black-haired dancer. Her mother had proven herself invaluable, and Meg was an amusing little creature. Though he had no way of following through on the promise that she would one day be an empress, he would do what he could to promote her career. She may not have been as pretty as the other girls, but she had far more personality. It only endeared her to him further that she was clever enough to figure out what no one else had.

If only the managers had been clever enough to replace Carlotta with Christine for the remainder of La Traviata and all of her upcoming roles, Erik would have been the happiest he had ever been in his entire life. Naturally, they had not; Carlotta had a contract, and was a known name. She had returned for the next performance, and was now jealously guarding her roles, to the point where she had begun to make snide remarks to and about Christine at every given opportunity. She seemed to sincerely believe that Christine was campaigning against her, and was determined that everyone else should see it, too. Every time Carlotta spoke against Christine, he only became more determined to see her removed from her position. His first plan was to use her own spiteful tongue against her.

The next production was La Juive, with Gabrielle Krauss returning in the title role, after having been away for the past year. Carlotta would be Eudoxie. The two ladies had shared the stage in many previous productions without incident, as they were suited to different roles. However, given the way Carlotta was behaving towards poor Christine, it was not difficult to make Krauss believe that Carlotta had turned on her. Carlotta had never been the actress Gabrielle Krauss was, and though she was certainly popular, had never quite reached the same level of critical acclaim. If she would abuse an unknown who had stood in for her for one night, then it wasn't too challenging to make people believe she would do the same to a woman whose star already eclipsed her own. Everyone knew Carlotta liked to be the center of attention.

A few whispers here and there in crowded rooms, so that no one was quite sure who had said what - only that Carlotta was the instigator, and soon the entire company believed that she was spreading vicious gossip in an attempt to deliberately undermine her costar. At first, Krauss shrugged it off. One did not rise to her level of fame without enduring a bit of unpleasantness from time to time, but Erik kept up his efforts. Just when he believed nothing would come from this approach, Krauss finally confronted Carlotta after rehearsal."If you have a problem with me, or with my performance, you should tell me, and not whisper it behind my back to anyone who will listen."

"Why would I have a problem with you?" Carlotta asked, appearing genuinely puzzled.

"I don't know," Krauss replied, "But you've certainly been speaking as though you do."

"I've not said a negative word about you."

"Indeed? And I suppose you've never said anything about that Daaé girl, either?"

Carlotta blanched, and Erik had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing.

Krauss continued, "I don't know what has gotten into you lately. You never used to be quite so petty."

"But I -"

Krauss held up a hand to silence Carlotta before turning and walking away.

Erik had hoped for more of a reaction, something dramatic. He'd wanted Gabrielle Krauss to refuse to work with Carlotta. If she did, he was sure the management would take her side. After all, they knew Christine could replace Carlotta at a moment's notice. If he kept it up, perhaps in time, things would go his way, but he was not a patient man. As much as it was frustrating him, he had to admit he admired Krauss's cool professionalism, and his efforts were not completely in vain, even if the results were not precisely what he had wanted. Krauss had begun going out of her way to speak to Christine. Of course, she would glare pointedly at Carlotta while she was doing it, but it could only be good for Christine's career to have someone of Krauss's stature paying attention to her. Still, he wanted Carlotta gone, and he did not want to wait longer than absolutely necessary. He had penned several notes addressed to her; they were just waiting to be delivered. She would be gone by opening night, or at least, the following performance. Erik did not make idle threats.

Christine appeared to be taking Carlotta's behavior towards herself in stride, but she was puzzled by Carlotta's behavior towards Krauss. "I understand why Carlotta does not like me," she confided to him, "But I do not understand what she has against Gabrielle Krauss. She could not sing her roles any more than I could; why is she saying these things? It doesn't make sense."

"You are wrong on both counts," Erik corrected her, "It makes perfect sense that Carlotta is jealous of her after having been the sole leading lady while she was out of the country. Carlotta does not like sharing the spotlight. And with hard work, and a few years of development, you may well be able to sing anything Gabrielle Krauss can."

"I don't know about that..." She looked down at her feet and blushed prettily. "I know I could develop my lower register, but I doubt my voice would ever have that sort of power, or resonance."

"You might in time... you are young and your voice is still growing."

"She is very kind to me, you know. I think it is mostly because of the things Carlotta has been saying, but she is." Christine continued to examine the floor and blush. "May I ask you something?"

"You may ask me anything, dearest; surely you know that by now," he answered, wondering what she could be thinking of asking that had her flustered. He knew of course, that whatever her question, it would be benign, and he wished it was not. Just once, he wanted to make her blush, not as the Angel, but as Erik.

"How many people in a generation do you visit? I know you never visited my father, though he was the best violinist I've heard, except for you... Why do you visit some people and not others? Are some people so naturally talented they just don't need you, or is it something else?"

Erik felt slightly dizzy. He should have foreseen that she would ask something like this eventually, but he had not prepared an answer for her. The only way to answer, was to not answer. "Christine, time runs differently for me, so I cannot say how many people in a generation I have visited, and I cannot tell you who I have visited and who I have not. It is not allowed. I can tell you that I only visit those who are deserving of me, and that the number is very few."

She furrowed her brow. "Why is it not allowed?"

"Because it is not," he answered in his most authoritative voice.

She nodded without saying anything, and from the cast of her eyes, he thought he might have hurt her with his tone.

In a gentler voice, he comforted, "I know you have told your Mamma about me, and that is fine, but you must not tell other musicians about me... It will only make them more jealous of you."

"I understand," she said.

Erik wondered how much longer he could keep up the Angel charade. As trusting as she was, as much as the idea of the Angel seemed to fulfill some gap in her life, she would eventually figure out that something wasn't right. He did not want to lose her. Surely, she would forgive him for lying after all that he had done for her; she must.

Erik had followed Christine home on any number of occasions, but that night was the first he had let himself inside the flat she shared with her guardian. Once all was quiet and dark, it was only too easy for him to slip inside. With his all black attire, ability to move silently, and her poor eyesight, as long as he stayed still, he knew he could watch her sleep and be safe from discovery. She looked even more innocent than usual. Her every twitch, every little sigh, was completely adorable to him. She slept restlessly, alternating between cocooning herself in her covers and kicking them off. He fought the urge to move closer to the bed, to say, or do something to try to soothe her. When her eyes fluttered open, and she began to grope beneath her pillow for something, he was all the more glad that he had stayed so perfectly still. She pulled out the object for which she had been searching – an envelope – and he knew at once what it was. She pressed it to her breast, and then to her lips before slipping it back beneath her pillow. He wanted to tear it from her hands and rip into shreds. He wanted to lay his head over her heart, to feel her lips on his face. She settled down on her side, and soon fell back to sleep. It was torture not to move closer to the bed, not to smooth a few of her escaped locks back into her braid, not to lay his head on the pillow beside her, not to put her little fingers, which were curled so sweetly by her face, into his mouth. There was something dangerously intimate about not having the barrier of wall and mirror to restrain him. If he only had something to keep her in a sound a sleep, or to numb her into compliance – some anesthetic, or something to slip into a drink, it would be so easy to pick her up and carry her away. She couldn't weigh much. He reminded himself that must not do it without good reason, but how very simple it would be.

Note: Thanks again for reading and reviewing. I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get out. I'm hoping things will calm down for me by the end of August.

I'm playing a bit with timelines here again, both fictional and real. I wanted to throw Gabrielle Krauss in there, and for my purposes, she needed to have been away for a bit.

It would be remiss of me not to acknowledge that end of this chapter is a nod to Neil Gaiman's short story, "Feminine Endings." There's one other reference, thrown in for my husband's amusement; it's a silly one, and if anyone picks up on it, I'll be impressed.