Christine sat on the window bench looking wistfully at the park opposite. She noticed the nannies in their prim uniforms pushing prams and walking alongside well dressed children. It reminded her of the two weeks they had spent at St. James Park in London in one of Raoul's many attempts at distancing themselves from the gossip of Parisian society. She may have been niave, but she wasn't stupid. She knew what Parisian high society had been saying about her, and she knew exactly what Raoul's elder brother Phillippe thought of her. To Parisian society she had been the "le fantôme de la pute de l'opéra", to Monsiours Fermin and André she was "a chorus girl who went and slept with the patron", and to Phillippe she should have been one of Raoul's conquests and nothing more. She closed her eyes and gentlly massaged her temples letting out a long sigh; she wasn't happy and both she and Raoul knew it. She missed music, she missed singing and she missed dancing. Raoul was trying to make her happy by taking her on trips to the various opera houses dotted across the globe, but it wasn't enough. He was trying, and she loved him for it, but she wasn't certain that alone was enough.

Raoul had been pacing around their suite for most of the morning; sometimes ranting, sometimes drinking, and sometimes pausing to look out the window in pensive thought. He had barely spoken to her since the events of the previous night, and Christine was certain he was trying his utmost to control his anger and not direct it at her. When he finally he spoke she was unsurprised by the topic: "I thought him dead". Christine responded in kind, but Raoul was far too irratated to hear her. "I thought him dead" he repeated. "He should be dead. And he was with that ballet girl - Maggie"

"Meg" Christine corrected him without turning to face him. She was distracted by the small boy she had noticed dressed in a blue sailor's suit playing with a red balloon. "Her name is Meg Giry. You met her several times. She was like a sister to me. Her mother was the ballet mistress".

"Meg then", he sneered as he turned to his wife, "her and her godforsaken mother knew more than they shared. Giry seemed to be the harbinger of those notes and she was the one who told me about the punjab lasso. As far as I am concerned they should hang or face madame guillotine alongside him"

Christine closed her eyes again and continued to massage her temples. Her husband's ramblings were starting to give her a headache. "Raoul my dear - don't you think that is a bit extreme?"

"Extreme?" he shouted - almost bellowed - causing her body to become rigid in shock - Raoul was gentle and he had never raised his voice to her in such a manner. Granted he had chastised some.ofntheir servants in that tone, but after he had done that she was filled with regret . "He abducted you, tried to kill me, killed that stage hand - '"

"Joseph Buquet" she interceded.

" - Joseph Buquet, the baritone Piangi, and tried to force you into marriage. I do not think my response is extreme. Far from it. The man is a monster. The Devil himself".

Christine turned back to the window and saw the little boy attempting to chase his balloon as the wind carried it towards a small pond. His nanny held him back with a firm grasp on his hand while she could see him cry out. She felt a twang of sadness; she knew that he would never catch it without assistance and in some ways the boy and the balloon were like her and her music, with Raoul being the nanny; she would forever be chasing after her music and never able to catch it as long as Raoul was at her side.

When Chrstine didn't respond Raoul's doubt about his wife's loyalties lay resurged. He hadn't pondered her decision to flee with him for many months. "Why do you defend him?"

She turned to face her husband wringing her hands - the only indicator of her anxiety. "I am not defending him my love. You told me that there would be no more talk of darkness and you would be my light. Talking of him is talk of darkness" and she gave Raoul a small smile, pleading him to stop.

Her reminder of the words he had spoken on the roof of the opera house, along with her small smile, struck a cord with him. He suddenly felt very selfish. His poor wife had been suffering for months thanks to that monster and now he was making her suffer again. "Of course my dear. I am so sorry. How inconsiderate of me". He felt his heart skip a beat when she smiled at him again, this time a broad and happy smile rather than a pleading one. "But this man, this monster, must face justice Lotte. Surely you understand that? I will inform the authorities - he is Le Fantôme de l'Opéra, one of the most wanted men in the whole of Paris - the whole of Fance - and I will demand they act"

"Raoul, my dear, please..." but she knew it was useless.

"No Lottë. I will summon the conceriege immediately to arrange a carriage to the police station. I am aristocracy and they will act".

Christine wasn't as certain of her husband's influence as he was, and she hoped that she was correct.

She waited by the window until she saw Raoul climb into a carriage. Once she wws certain her husband had left Christine fetched her cape and gloves. She was going to find Meg.

--xXx--

Christine sat in the large dining hall waiting. It hadn't taken the hotel conceriege long to find out that Meg regularly took luncheon with her fiancé at Delmoncio's, and it had only cost her a pair of pearl earrings for his discretion.

Christine had been waiting - hoping - to see Meg for the last two hours, and although her money was keeping the staff at arms length, but her continued presence was starting to look suspicious. She knew she was anxious about seeing Meg again, well partially, she was more anxious about seeing who Meg's fiancé was. She was anxious because she suspected that was it Erik. It was a logical assumption to make afterall, her former friend had been on Erik's arm the previous night. That was why she had fainted: the shock of seeing Meg on Erik's arm.

She was getting ready to give up on her endeavour when she noticed Meg walk into the room smiling. She looked more radiant than she had done the previous night; her goldern hair was pinned neatly behind her ears while it still cascaded down past her shoulders. The deep green dress stood out amongst the pale pastels worn by others in the room. Meg was by no means an outstanding beauty, but her current appearance would certainly turn heads.

Christine waited with baited breath to see the identity of Meg's companion. She could see that Meg was happy from her mannerisms; years of rooming in the opera house and spending most their waking moments together had meant the pair had become acutely accustomed to eachother's behaviour.

As soon as Christine saw his towering form and attire she knew. Her heart sank as she said his name under her breath "Erik". She could feeling the burning pain of held back tears in her eyes - her best friend was engaged to her Angel of Music - it felt like the ultimate betrayal. The pain in her heart only deepened when she saw Anionette Giry, the Persian and an unknown gentleman follow her former mentor and friend to their table. Across the room were four people who had, in one way or another, had a monumental impact on her life and seeing their faces together made her long for a simpler time. She saw how Erik gestured towards the waiting staff to stand aside as he pulled out Madam Giry's chair, a simple gesture of both familarity and respect that Raoul had servants do.

"I am flattered that you invited me to luncheon Mr Destler" Oliver Gregory, Meg's fiancé, gushed as he pulled out a chair for Meg and Erik did the same for Antionette, "to have been welcomed into your private box at the premiere of your newest sympathy, and then to accompany my fianceé to luncheon with you - well I cannot thank you enough".

Antionette and Nadir both raised their eyebrows in response to the young man's admiration of Erik, and both let out an amused huffed and slight shake of head when they caught each other's eyes. They both would freely acknowledge that Erik was a genius and a very interesting man, but it was unusal to see a gentleman express his admiration for him.

"It is I who should thank you Mr. Gregory, afterall, you are the one who allowed me to be in the company of your lovely fianceé unchaperoned. Thank you for your trust monsiour"

"No thanks is necessary, Meg does not need my permission to be in the company of such an esteemed and talented gentleman. And please, do call me Oliver". He waited for Erik to respond in kind, but little did he would be waiting a long time. Unbeknowst to Oliver, Erik did not allow people to use his forname freely as it gave them the impression of familarity, and it would take many months - years even - for him to allow Meg's gentleman into his inner circle.

The luncheon itself had been organised to feed Oliver the 'correct' account of the events of the previous night and how the Girys came to be aquanited with Nadir and Erik. With Oliver's clear admiration of Erik and adoration of Meg, he didn't question their account once. He freely accepted that Erik had left Meg's side at her own insistance, stating that she knew the Victomtess from their time at the Opera Populaire and it would be ungentlemanly for him to remain while the lady was unconscious. Soon Oliver directed the conversation back to Erik.

"You really are a man of many talents Mr Destler. A musician, composer and architect. It is France's loss that youve decided to come to make the Statesyour home and share your amazing talents with us", before turning to Meg "have you every danced to Mr Destler's music?"

Meg, Erik, Antionette and Nadir all tensed. She had danced in Don Juan and they all knew that had not ended well.

"Meg has never danced for me" Erik interjected. It was not an untruth, and by saying it Meg needn't have lied to her fiancé. She had never danced soley for him, although he wondered if she would.

"Meg, I cannot believe that you have been aquanited with Mr Destler for so many years and yet you have never danced to his music. It is tantamount to sacrilege! I am sure his music intertwinned with your interpretation would be exquisite"

Meg had never wondered why Erik had never asked her to dance for him. She felt slightly sad that he hadn't and hoped that if she would glance and meet his eyes, that maybe - just maybe - he would ask her. Instead, when she did glance in his direction she saw him looking at her mother with a slightly morose expression that she was unable to interpret.

"Please do not worry", Oliver continued seemly oblivious to the fact that only Nadir had been giving him his full attention, "I shan't pay any head to gossip of a rendezvous between yourselfs, and will ensure that all who speak of the events know that Meg was there at my bequest"

Christine's eyes remained transfixed on the five people at the table on the otherside of the room. She felt a longing when she saw them all laughing; since becoming the Victomtess de Chagny she had found that she hadn't any friends of her own, instead she was subjected to endless society and charity dinners organised by Raoul's mother and her friends in a façade of happiness and propriety designed to distance Christine from the unfair reputation she had gained thanks to the rumour and gossip mills of all echelons of Parisian society.

Christine had waited for what felt like an eternity to see an opportunity ti get Meg alone, and she was delighted when she saw Meg excuse herself from the table and head towards the ladies room. She waited until she was certain that it was only herself and Meg in the room before making her presence known. "Meg Giry? Meg Giry is that you?"

"Christine?", the blonde girl looked at her in wide-eyed horror which Christine misread as shock.

"Of course" Christine flung her arms around Meg and pulled her into an inappropriate hug. Meg on the otherhand remained stoic and kept her arms at her side. The ballet dancer could feel the dread rising in her stomach: Christine was here at the resturant, Erik was also at the resturant, did she know he was here? Surely not. She fainted upon seeing him last night, so surely she wouldn't be walking about freely if she knew he was here.

Sensing Meg's reluctance Christine decided her best option was to continue, "I thought I saw you last night, and then I was certain it was you having luncheon. Oh, my dear friend, how I have missed you. How have you been? You look so well" she said with a large grin.

"I am very well thank you", Meg paused - she was annoyed, if Christine had missed her then she would've replied to her letters or telegram, instead she hd embraced her life as a Victomtess and had washed her hands of their friendship, "tell me Christine, if you missed me so, why didn't you write?"

"I needed a clean break", she spoke with a furrowed brow and crossed her arms defensively. "Surely you can understand that?",

"A clean break from our friendship?"

"No, don't be ridiculous! I needed a clean break from the Populaire. From everything that happened. I was in turmoil, conflicted and confused. I needed time to think". Her hands were outstretched, pleading for her former friend to take them.

"So you decided the best way to move forward was to pretend we weren't friends. You decided to turn your back on me, music and dancing"

"No, well not exactly..." her words tailed off before she handed Meg a small slip of paper, "here is where I am staying. Please forgive me. I beg you to come and visit".

Meg looked at the piece of paper and crumpled it into a ball, but chose not to dispose of it. "I shan't degrade you with my presence. Isn't that what your husband will think? Afterall is he not the real reason we ceased being friends? A ballet rat like me is not good enough to be in the presence of the Victomte de Chagny".

"Do not speak of my husband in such as manner. You know nothing of him and You have no right!".

Her protest enraged Meg further - she had given Christine an excuse for her behaviour, but instead of embracing the truth she had raised her voice. "Then I have nothing more to say" she huffed, "now if you excuse me, I must be getting back to my friends and fiancé. They care for me, as friends should, and will wonder what has become of me if I do not return soon".

Christine understood Meg's annoyance, and she desperately wanted a glimpse - a slither - of what they once shared. As Meg walked past she spoke softly, "I don't hate you"

"Excuse me?",

"I don't hate you Meg. I don't hate you for for being with Erik".

Meg's hand hovered over the doorknob. She could've corrected her, but instead she turned the knob and left.

--xXx--

When Raoul arrived at the police station, known as a precent in the USA, he was less then impressed. Both the exterior and interior were run down with paint flaking off the walls and an overwhelming stench of cheap tobacco. In Paris his main dealings with the guards had been in the lead up to Christine's performance of that awful opera written by the Opera Ghost and the immediate fall out. He had sat with Christine as she sobbed hysterically for hours, unconsoliable and incomprehensible, while the authorities had acceptaccepted his account without returning to question her further. He was less than satisfied with the welcome he recieved from authorities in the USA.

When he approached the front desk he was less than impressed with the welcome he had recieved and was even more unimpressed by their response to his enquiry and request

"Look 'ere Mr" the officer began,

"Vicomte. I am the Vicomte de Chaney", he iterjected

"Vic-cant. French authorties have no power 'ere. You say this man is a ghost, well, I'm all for spiritualism and all that - that is when they aren't swindling the poor, but an opera ghost. What does 'e do aye? Scare people by singing? Force 'em to sing?". Te officer and his colleague burst into laughter unaware of how close to reality they were.

"Good sirs, I will be more than happy to furnish you with the intricate details once you investigate Mr Destler. I assure you, he is a wanted man, a criminal mastermind, a murderer. "

"Look sir, as I 'ave already told you, you French have no jurisdiction here."

Raoul knew that there was only one thing that would get them to change their minds, and luckily he had it in abundance: money.