As Christine had expected, the sound of the backdrop falling to the floor had echoed throughout the building, drawing just about everyone who lived and/or worked in the Opera House into the theatre to find out what had happened. At least, that was how it seemed to her when she and Raoul emerged from one of the side-entrances to the stage. The size of the crowd could've easily filled at least half the seats on the first floor. Among the sea of faces, she surprisingly easily spotted not just Debienne and Poligny but Firmin and André as well. Just afterward, Christine heard another familiar voice calling her name, and she turned to see Meg rushing toward her.

Her heart throbbing with relief, Christine left Raoul's side to eagerly embrace her best friend. "Oh Meg!" she exclaimed. "Thank goodness!" They then let each other go, and Christine asked, "You are all right, are you?"

"Oh, of course!" Meg nodded enthusiastically, letting out a chuckle. "After you took off for Raoul, Maman saw me, and gave me a lecture about eavesdropping before escorting me back to the ballet room."

Christine let out a slight gasp as she realized she hadn't noticed Meg's absence after she and Raoul had started getting re-acquainted. She felt a slight stab of guilt, until Meg spoke further. "And you're all right too, I hope?" Before Christine could reply, Meg answered her own question. "Well, of course, otherwise you probably wouldn't be standing in front of me right now!"

The fair-haired girl and then the brunette both started laughing in relief, until Christine replied, "I do still have a bit of ringing in my ears, but other than that I'm perfectly fine."

"What about Carlotta?" Meg asked, her blue eyes eager to know. "I heard she got pinned underneath the backdrop?"

"Only her train," Christine replied, "which I was more or less kind enough to drop when I saw the backdrop was about to fall."

Despite the air of seriousness about the situation, Meg couldn't stop herself from bursting out laughing. "Is that what happened?!" she asked, trying to pull herself together. "I mean, I wouldn't really wish anything like that to actually happen to her, but… Oh I wish I could've been there to see it!"

"And have your sense of hearing subjected to that explosive sound, may I remind you!" Christine said, trying to sound scolding in an attempt to keep herself from joining Meg's laughter again.

At that moment however, the attention of both girls was directed elsewhere when they heard Monsieur Debienne attempting to speak above the cacophony of alarmed and concerned voices. "Everyone! Everyone, may I have your attention, please?!" But of course, no one else seemed to hear him.

Except, perhaps, for Madame Giry, for Christine and Meg then heard the older woman loudly tap her cane against the wooden floor of the stage. As was often the case when she wished to call the danseuses to attention, so she succeeded in causing everyone in the large theatre to go silent. "Merci, Madame," Debienne the smiled gratefully. Everyone turned toward him finally, and he proceeded to speak as steadily as possible. "Now, ladies and gentlemen, I am well aware of how we have all been given a great fright by what's happened just now. And I think we can all be thankful that it seems that no one has suffered any injury. But, rest assured, every endeavor will be made to pinpoint the root cause of this accident."

"If it was an accident, that is," Raoul suddenly spoke up, loudly enough for everyone to hear and turn briefly toward him. Christine felt new concern when she saw the angry suspicion that now darkened his face. "And if it was not? What then?"

"Ah!" Monsieur Poligny startled everyone by suddenly raising his voice, as though calling out to a misbehaving dog. "Buquet!" All gazes quickly fell on a balding, bearded man nearing middle-age looking as though he was trying to sneak away, but had now frozen where he stood now that he knew he'd been found out. It took Christine a moment of searching through her mind before she recalled his name: Joseph Buquet.

While Christine knew the man only through his occasional flirtations with the danseuses, in all the times she remembered personally coming across him – few though they were – he seemed a decent enough fellow. But of course, the less she knew, the more cautious she should probably be. Still, she listened to Poligny as he spoke further, using a tone that was not quite accusatory but still somewhat suspicious. "Buquet, you are often charged with keeping post in the rafters at this hour. Surely, you must know something."

Buquet shook his head, though Christine was near enough to see the nervous look in his eyes. "I'm afraid not, Monsieur," he admitted.

Poligny's eyebrows shot up not in surprise but in indignation. "Do you mean to tell me you've abandoned your post?" he demanded.

The stagehand stiffened and didn't reply immediately, as though trying to be careful of what he said, before he finally did say, "All right, all right! I admit it, I did leave! But only briefly! And I returned at least five minutes before the backdrop fell. It's gotta take longer 'an that to cut large and 'eavy ropes like those."

"Then you are saying you saw no one, no one at all, anywhere in the rafters?" Poligny again demanded, looking as though he was dangerously close to losing his patience.

"With all due respect, Monsieur, don't you think I would've said so as soon as I did?" Buquet retorted in self-defense. "But I said nothin', so I saw nothin'." He then smirked slightly before adding, "If you want my word on it, if there is anyone up there, then far as I'm concerned it may well be a ghost!"

Gasps and shouts from both genders gathered in the theatre – as well as a few high-pitched screams from among the danseuses – erupted immediately. The scene might very well have descended into chaos were it not for Madame Giry loudly tapping her cane twice more. "Enough of this!" her voice shot up, causing all of the unintelligible chatter to cease and all faces to look up at the woman – as well as a small squeak to come up from Meg, though no one heard. Madame Giry's gaze, however, was firmly locked on Buquet like a spotlight, her expression much resembling that of a giantess that had been rudely awakened.

"Joseph Buquet," she spoke, her voice low yet loud enough for everyone to hear, "I strongly suggest that you bite your tongue, lest you want to make yourself scarce, if not completely absent." Keeping her gaze on Buquet yet then sounding as though speaking to all who were currently gathered, she added, "We have had more than enough unnecessary excitement for today, and I will have no one adding further to it. Understood?"

Buquet only nodded, followed by everyone else, when Debienne cleared his throat and spoke again. "Yes, thank you, Madame Giry," he said, trying not to sound exasperated. "Truly, your timing is impeccable. But, now, without any further ado, if I may…" He then walked over to stand beside the younger pair of men still nearby.

"While we may have a rather important matter on our hands, let this be a moment to help lighten the load." It seemed his words had the desired effect, for everyone was already turning toward the new men they all had yet to meet.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Debienne went on, "allow me to introduce the new managers of the Théâtre National de l'Opéra, Monsieurs Richard Firmin and Gilles André. With Monsieur Poligny's retirement as well as my own fast approaching, I trust that things here at the Opera will run smoothly under these two fine gentlemen." He paused for a moment, as if to let that sink in with everybody, before adding, "That said, it truly has been my pleasure and Monsieur Poligny's to serve all of you here at the Paris Opera for all these years. I trust we are leaving you in the most capable of hands."

A murmur of approval started to rise up among the crowd of staff. But while they began to come forward to converse with Debienne, Poligny, Firmin, and André, Christine and Meg remained where they stood.

"Those two are the new owners then?" Meg asked Christine. Christine only nodded, and Meg took that as an opportunity to comment further. "They seem decent enough to me. Although, I of all people should know appearances can be deceiving." She shivered slightly at having just watched her otherwise unremarkable mother take on the most intimidating persona Meg had seen in quite awhile.

Christine, however, simply kept her eyes on the two new men that seemed to intrigue her in more ways than one. "Hmm," she sighed, "I don't know." Meg gave her a questioning look, prompting her to add, "I'm not certain why, but ever since Raoul and I personally met them earlier, I've had this odd feeling about them."

"Perhaps it's because they're new and unfamiliar to you, when you're so used to knowing everyone here?" Meg suggested. Christine nodded in consideration. But still, she had her reservations. And while she knew curiosity did have its socially acceptable limits, she felt as though she might want to keep an eye on these two.

Just then though, an extravagantly dressed creature burst into the theatre from one of the side-doors to the stage, forcing all eyes to look upon her. "YOU!" Carlotta growled as she pointed to Debienne and Poligny, making Christine flinch. "You complete and utterly incompetent fools!"

While Meg bit her lip at the quickly rising tension, Christine felt an embarrassed blush rise to her cheeks, given she'd been assigned to attend the peacock lady. But when she truly saw how askew her appearance was – with her carefully arranged hair at risk of falling down, and her hat tipping a bit too far toward one side – Christine coughed as she tried to hide her chuckling. She then bit her lip too though when Signorina Giudicelli truly started making a scene.

"I demand compensation for everything I have had to suffer on my first day here!" she shouted in her shrill voice that caused the ringing in Christine's ears to increase for a second. "And if does not meet my standards, you can find another prima donna stupid enough to take an offer here!"

Debienne, Poligny, Firmin, and André all stood completely still, their eyes the widest Christine had seen them thus far, only relaxing slightly when Carlotta's ranting and raving seemed to cease momentarily. But even then, only Debienne dared to speak. "O-oh d-dear," he stammered, trying to find his voice. "I-I'm afraid we may have forgotten to make such an important introduction."

For a moment, Christine wondered if that was the truth or simply an excuse. "Please," Debienne went on, "do forgive our bad manners, Mademoiselle–"

"Signorina!" Carlotta interrupted, much as she'd done Christine when they were first introduced. "Must I remind everyone in this God-forsaken hovel that I am not French?! And must I flee this place to preserve my person, let alone my life?!"

Christine couldn't help but admit that Carlotta did have somewhat of a right to complain, given she'd almost been crushed when the backdrop fell. But then, Christine made the realization that the woman never bothered to thank her for saving her life.

"M–" Debienne stopped to correct himself. "Signorina Giudicelli, we are dreadfully sorry that you've had a truly life-threatening first day. But, I can assure you, an investigation will be–"

"What you need to do is to stop hiring such dimwitted staff!" Carlotta interrupted him again. "And until you do…" She then pointed to Firmin and André before continuing, "Or until these hopefully less idiotic gentlemen correct you mistake…" She then got directly in Debienne's face, and spoke every following word slowly, building to a climactic finish. "I can assure you that I will NOT be singing!" Those last three words practically exploded out of her mouth. With even more dramatic flair, she took her skirt in her hands and huffed as she flounced away toward the proper exit of the theatre, causing yet another loud echo to fill the air in the theatre.

It seemed everyone had been holding their breath, for the moment she left, everyone let out a collective sigh of relief. Christine's wandering eyes then locked with Raoul's, his expression just as stunned as hers. But Debienne's and Poligny's suddenly urgent voices brought her attention back to them.

"Well, gentlemen," Debienne spoke first, "I am afraid my old friend and I must be off toward our pre-planned engagements."

Poligny added immediately after, "Yes, we are pleased to leave everything and everyone here in your charge."

Clearly they were eager to lay the increasing amount of problems on the new managers. For a moment, Christine pitied Firmin and André, even though they couldn't have necessarily foreseen such an outlandish introduction to the Opera House when it had been traded over to them.

Before either of them could stop their predecessors however, the two older men were already hastening away toward the exit, much as Carlotta had done only moments ago. "I will be in Frankfurt!" Debienne raised his hand in farewell.

"And I will be in Hamburg!" Poligny mimicked Debienne's gesture. The door was then quickly shut behind them, the echo slightly more pronounced than when Carlotta had left.

For a brief second, only silence followed, no one knowing how to react to what had just occurred. After which, concerned, alarmed, and intrigued murmurings between the members of the crowd gradually arose. Christine and Meg on the other hand could only exchange their mutually confounded expressions. Right after, Christine once again caught Raoul's gaze, though this time he looked exasperated rather than astonished. She couldn't blame him, given everything he'd told her. This good friend of hers was already trying to address a considerable amount of drama in his life.

Raoul then looked away, and Christine did likewise. When she did so though, her gaze once again landed on Firmin and André, and her curiosity once again emerged when she saw that their backs were turned to her, and they seemed to be speaking with each other in hushed tones. While she obviously couldn't hear what they were saying, Christine had to wonder how different things were going to be with this new pair of managers, and already she was having misgivings.

A few hours later, when dusk was fast approaching, Christine and Raoul were once again where they had first met each other that day, in front of the grand staircase. Raoul tried to smile as he took Christine's hands in his. But even then she could see the regret in his eyes, and heard it even more so in his voice. "I truly am sorry our first meeting after such a long while had to happen under…such circumstances."

Pitying the Viscount, Christine smiled softly at him. "Think nothing of that," she assured him. "I'm simply happy to have met you at all today."

"As I'm happy that you managed to miss the backdrop when it fell," Raoul added, his smile starting to falter. It fell rapidly when he then asked, "Forgive me but, you're certain you're all right?"

"I've told you twice already," Christine replied, not a hint of annoyance in her tone. "And if it will put you at ease, I've spoken with Madame Giry, and she's given me leave for the remainder of the day."

Raoul smiled warmly, enough to make Christine briefly look away. "It seems she is the house's matron after all," he remarked, causing both of them to chuckle.

Right then though, Christine felt his hold on her hands tighten just enough for her to notice, and she noticed his eyes take on an expression she couldn't identify. "In all manner of seriousness, however," Raoul spoke with an oddly matching tone, "let me remind you that Madame Giry is not the only one who has promised take care of you, when your father passed away, that is."

Feeling the need to lighten the increasingly awkward moment, Christine smirked. "Then she will not have to carry my load in its entirety."

Raoul chuckled again, though only briefly, before once more taking on that odd expression and saying in that equally odd tone of voice, "I bid you good day, Christine." He then proceeded to raise her hands to his lips, startling her slightly, though he didn't seem to notice. Looking back at her, he added, "Until we meet again."

Christine stared at him for a moment, before remembering her manners. "Until we meet again," she mimicked him. "Good evening, Raoul."

A footman then arrived and handed the young man his hat, which Raoul tipped to the somewhat flustered girl once he put it on. "Good evening, Christine." She nodded back, and then watched as Raoul made his way toward the front entrance of the Opera House, beyond which she could see that the late August sun had already begun its daily descent.

Once he left her sight, Christine turned back toward the staircase, and began musing over what had just happened between her and Raoul, her thoughts increasing with every step she made up the stairs and then through the rest of the building.

Certainly the day's extraordinary events alone gave Christine much to think about already – especially the instance when she'd just barely avoided certain death from the backdrop. Truly the unknown reason behind the ropes snapping – and the unknown person who'd caused it even more so – were more than deserving of her focus; that she knew. And yet, Christine's mind – and perhaps the new strange feelings she was experiencing but could not name – found it easy to push all of that aside, in favor of the odd yet intriguing exchange she and Raoul shared. If she'd ever felt such feelings before, she couldn't recall when. And even when she went over possible words to describe them, she didn't find "lovestruck" to be immediately applicable. Then again, she had never had a lover before, as she'd never been inclined to dwell on such things. Or at least, not as much as some of Meg's fellow danseuses.

Whether or not it was coincidence though, once Christine's thoughts had turned toward that, she spotted the girls being led down a hall in front of her – likely by Madame Giry, though Christine didn't see her – going in the direction of the ballet rooms, perhaps for one half hour or so of practice. And at the end of the line trailed Meg, who nodded Christine over with her head once she saw her. Christine then hastened quietly – so as not to let the ballet mistress hear – over to her side.

"So Raoul has left then?" Meg asked, keeping her voice low – though the chatter of the other girls certainly helped to hide it. When Christine nodded, she went on to say, "I must say, he's become quite the gentleman, if you know what I mean."

Despite the feelings in her becoming more prevalent, Christine chuckled as she replied, "I suppose he has. But…I've honestly had quite enough of excitement for one day. Perhaps we can discuss this further tomorrow?"

"Oh of course," Meg replied sympathetically. The two girls then stopped and proceeded to embrace each other, though quickly. "Get your rest, Christine," Meg smiled. "And, in any event…" She lowered her voice even further, as though she was already beginning to laugh at what she was going to say. "At least Signorina prima donna has gone!" Both girls immediately attempted to snuff out their giggles, until Meg remembered where she was supposed to be. "I'll see you tomorrow then?"

"Of course," Christine replied. "Good evening, Meg." As if not to increase the already heightened risk of being caught by her mother, Meg merely nodded before hurrying quietly back toward the line of girls in their signature white danseuse costumes. Christine watched until her best friend and the others turned the corridor, after which she turned the other way and returned to walking solitarily down the opposite hallway.

Christine rubbed her eyes as she sat down on her bed, having changed into her nightdress. While not a fragile and delicate damsel, she was still a bit shaken from having been nearly crushed and having her sense of hearing assaulted by the sound of the backdrop hitting the floor. So she'd decided to go to bed early.

Only now had she managed to direct her thoughts elsewhere, away from the strange feelings she still couldn't put a name to. But there was another she was quickly able to identify: the sense of loss. In times such as these – rare though they were – Christine wished her mother were still alive. While she had been only six years old at the time of her mother's death – and while Christine didn't recall too much of the woman who gave birth to her beyond memories of a soft-faced, if somewhat frail, Swedish immigrant – she wished she could've at least had more time to get to truly know her.

With that thought, Christine took up one of the knives she kept under her bed. And as she merely stared at the blade in her hands, her sense of mourning increased greatly once she much more easily recalled her father. Although she'd had five years to move on from his death, she still occasionally grieved it, if only briefly. After all, he was the one who'd chiefly raised her, had taught her how to throw a knife, and, of course, had played so many songs on his violin, songs that he and Christine had sung together, most of which she still remembered the words to.

But even as she thought for a moment that she could hear her father's violin, and his voice as well as her own – which she had not heard in ten years – Christine knew that those days were long gone, in the past. However much it may have pained her, she knew there was no point in dwelling on what could not be changed – especially after she gave into the urge to yawn.

Once she put her knife back in its hiding place, Christine got up and walked toward the small table that stood in one corner of the room. After blowing the candle out and casting the whole room into darkness, she returned to her bed, nestled under the blankets, and rested her head against the pillow. Little did she know, however, where her thoughts would go once she closed her eyes and drifted off to sleep.

"Papa!" a young girl's voice screamed in the distance. "Papa!" Christine wondered at first where the voice was coming from, until she felt as though she was being surrounded by an intense heat that seemed to spring up out of nowhere. With it came the loud sound of crackling wood, as though she was in a sort of wooden structure about to fall. The heat increased greatly until it felt like she was inside a furnace. After which, she thought she was seeing bright warm colors of brilliant red, radiant orange, and bright yellow dancing wildly before her eyes. And it was only in that moment that Christine realized she was trapped inside a building that was being licked away by fire. But even more frightening was that there appeared to be no way out. No way to escape the torrent of raging flames that threatened to consume her.

"Papa!" the girl's terrified voice called out again, before being drowned out by a fit of coughing and the crackling of the fire against the wood. "Papa!" Christine then gasped as she realized she recognized that voice and who it belonged to. Although it sounded as though it echoed from a far off place, she knew with an ironic chill whose voice it was: her own.

But that was impossible. The voice sounded far too young to be hers. And yet Christine recognized the inflections, the tone…and the desperation. And that was when she realized what she was seeing, what she was remembering, both what she saw and felt on that most frightful day of her life.

Her fear shot through her all the more fearsomely as she found she'd been literally backed into a corner, the wicked flames coming closer every second, threatening to overwhelm her. Sobbing for someone to hear her, Christine cried, "Someone, help me!"

Immediately afterward, it seemed as though her prayer had been answered. She thought she heard a voice calling her name, a male voice, though too young sounding to be her father's. Someone was looking for her, but who? Moreover, even if the person did get to her, how were they going to get her out? If she didn't burn to death she could very well die by choking from the smoke.

All these thoughts and fears flooded her much as it seemed the fire was about to do. Her pounding heart and aching lungs felt as though they would give out. With what Christine believed in that moment could have been her last breath, she screamed…

…The heat. The fire. Were her senses deceiving her, or were those two starting to slowly disappear? Though it seemed so, Christine felt as though she wanted to weep nonetheless. But then…only then did she realize…she was hearing a new voice…one that was singing…

"Child, don't fret…
Your cries have been heard…
Mercy has come for you…"

Christine was awestruck. Never could she recall having heard such a voice before. It was like none she'd ever heard in her life, yet no voice had she ever heard sounded so beautiful. Not even had her father ever sounded like this. She continued to listen in the darkness.

"Come now and let
Me sing a kind word…
One that will see you through…"

It was a masculine voice, Christine knew that much. Other than that however, she knew nothing of the actual person singing. All she could focus on was how deeply the voice seemed to affect her. It sounded powerful, yet gentle. Solid yet silvery. And it seemed to come from far away yet close by at the same time. But whatever the case, Christine could feel the fear leaving her like mist on a summer's day. She decided it would be better not to speak or move, but simply listen to whoever was singing to her.

"Even when you trip and fall
You won't be left alone at all…
And if you should hear a call
Will you answer me…?"

"Even should you drift and stray
Someone will help you find your way…
Through the night and through the day
Will you stand by me…?"

As the voice continued to sing, Christine didn't think she'd felt more comforted in such a long time, if ever. She wanted to seek out this person. Yet no matter where she looked, the darkness never lifted. Even so, that did nothing to her growing captivation with the singing that seemed to surround her. Then again, perhaps it was better that she didn't know who this person was. After all, she started thinking as she descended back into the pleasure of deep sleep, what human being could possess such an otherworldly-sounding voice?

Reviews would be appreciated.