With the dawning of a new day, there came a change in the wind, and those residing within the opera house awoke to a distinct feeling in the air as they set about their daily duties. No one could quite tell what had happened seemingly overnight, but were content in the fact that their work seemed to go on without disruption. Workers were still on their toes regarding aspects of their work, but were both shocked and rather overjoyed to find that there was no interruption from the eyes that they feared. The inevitable passing of time came and went rather quickly, and soon more were noticing a lack of a certain presence in the walls of the opera house.

Workers could not recall the last time they had heard a whisper from the Opera Ghost. At first, during the first few days of his supposed absence, they were skeptical; simply believing him to be biding his time before he made another unwanted appearance. But none ever came, and soon, the tension and expectation in the air seemed to ease, and they began and ended work daily with a smile. For the first time in many years, the Opera Populaire could go about its business and run completely unaffected.

The same could not be said for Rose.

The once bright and lively young girl had become more withdrawn and quiet, causing some of her closest companions to worry for her. It had not been long since Luc's passing, so they simply expected it to be a delayed bout of grief, knowing it was bound to happen sooner or later. They were not aware that the young girl had lost two of the people she cared about most in quick succession, and just how broken her young heart seemed to be. Day by day, she moved about in a daze, monotonously going about her daily routine. Her sister and Nicholas tried their hardest to pull her out of her slump, tempting her with days out and some of her favourite things to keep her mind on track, but they were never quite able to bring back the Rose they knew and adored.

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months, and the Opera Populaire flourished as the seasons passed without the watchful gaze of the Opera Ghost. Whispers were rampant about what happened to the being that had haunted their halls and caused fear to strike in even the bravest of men. Some say he died, had he been alive at all; others say he grew bored with toying with their lives and simply went away, while few still held the stagnant belief that he never existed at all. And the one who knew the truth, she simply remained quiet, choosing not to take part in whatever gossip they created about a man none of them knew at all.

Regardless of the reason, the inhabitants of the Opera Populaire returned to work without a care in the world. No longer were they watching their every move, eyes cast over their shoulders in constant trepidation. The Phantom of the Opera was simply nothing more than a ghost story of old.

It was during this time that Antoinette Giry wandered through the hallowed halls with another stray in tow. For the past several months she had been in correspondence with Gustav Daaé, a Swedish Violinist who travelled around, performing his music with his only child, a daughter named Christine. However, an illness had befallen the man and he learned that he was not long for the world, and wished to secure a home and education for his young child. It had come to an arrangement that Antoinette would take Christine into her care and enroll her to train with the ballet corps. When word came that Gustav Daaé was on his deathbed, Antoinette made the journey to collect the girl and bring her back to Paris.

Christine Daaé was a small, yet pretty child at the age of seven, with a sweet nature that was often overshadowed by her shyness. The day of her arrival was spent hidden behind Antoinette's skirts, peeking out occasionally before rushing back. It wasn't until Meg Giry introduced herself, declaring it her mission for Christine to feel at home in the Opera house. Before too long, the two were completely inseparable.

A short time after her arrival at the Opera House, Rose had noticed that while it was clear Christine was slowly coming out of her shell, slowly but surely, there were bouts when she would often curl up in her bunk and not wish to talk to anyone, even Meg. One night, when all the other ballet girls were sound asleep, Rose woke up to the soft sounds of crying. She looked across the room, to find the small girl huddled in her bed, clutching a small doll and sobbing into her pillow. Rose frowned to herself, and slipped out from under the covers, quietly making her way over to her bed.

"Christine." She whispered, perching on the edge of the bed. For a moment, the little girl simply hid further under her covers. "What's wrong, little one?"

There was silence for a long time, though sure enough, the sobs grew quieter and quieter, though they did not disappear completely. Not a few moments later, a small head of brown curls popped out from deep within the blanket.

"I...I miss my Papa." She murmured brokenly, fussing to wipe her eyes, in slight fear of being told off. Rose looked at the girl with soft eyes, understanding immediately. She smiled softly and reached out to brush a curl from the little girl's eyes.

"Come with me." She said quietly, getting off the bed and reaching for Christine's robe.

"Where are we going?" The girl asked in confusion, but took the garment and got out of bed none the less. Rose merely smiled and held a finger to her lips. She lit a candle from the table beside her and struck a match, pocketing the rest and motioning for the girl to follow her.

The two slipped from the room, heading out into the darkened halls of the opera house. Christine clutched Rose's hand as though her life depended on it, keeping safely by her side, feeling as though she would surely bump into something in the darkness. She was pleasantly surprised, however, to find them moving through the halls seamlessly, almost like a ghost.

"How do you know where you're going?" Christine asked in a timid voice.

"This place has been my home for as long as I can remember." Rose smiled. "I know these halls in the light and dark better than anything else."

They were silent for the rest of their journey, passing through the stage where the single Ghost Light was standing dutifully, serving its purpose in protecting the theatre and all within it. Carefully and as silently as they could, the two worked their way down uninhabited halls until they reached a room.

It was simple, stone walls with a beautiful stained glass window, depicting a saint, letting in a stream of pale moonlight, reflecting on the floor below. Rose let go of Christine's hand and moved to light the candles resting on prickets in the corner of the room. Christine let out a soft breath of relief as the room filled with a soft light.

"Where are we?" she asked, glancing around the room. There wasn't much to it, other than a few candles and the window. She moved a little closer, and noticed a small station adorned with pictures. Rose smiled and took her hand as she made her way over. Glancing at the pictures, she smiled softly when her eyes fell upon a familiar face.

"That man there. That's my father, Luc Giry." She said, pointing the sweet face she saw in her dreams every night. Christine looked at the image with a soft wonder.

"Your father?" she asked. Rose smiled softly and nodded.

"Each of these miniatures is of someone that we have lost or who is no longer with us. We put them here so that we can keep them close, and come and light a candle for them to pay our respects." She explained.

"Like you're visiting them?" Christine asked.

"Just like we're visiting them. I was thinking that perhaps we could add your father here too, if you'd like?" Rose offered gently. Christine looked up at the elder girl in a mixture of surprise and perhaps even joy.

"Really? You'd let me have my papa here to visit?" She asked, clasping her tiny hands together in hopeful prayer. Rose smiled and nodded.

"Of course. That way, he's here with you always." She said, letting out a soft sigh as she reached out, brushing her fingers lightly over the small portrait of her father's smiling face. "Like a guardian angel."

Christine was quiet for a moment, seemingly alone with her thoughts as she got used to the idea.

"I have a guardian angel. Well, my father told me that I did." She said quietly. Rose turned to look at her, brow raised in interest as she smiled warmly at the girl.

"Really?" she wondered, kneeling down on the stone floor beside the girl. Christine nodded her head, though her focus was still on the flickering candlelight before them.

"When I was really little, my father would tell me stories about the Angel of Music, and how when he was sleeping, he would send him to come find me and watch over me." She explained, shrugging slightly after a moment. "I don't think he's found me yet, though."

Rose smiled and rested her hand on Christine's shoulder, pulling her a little closer as they sat.

"I have no doubt that he will."

oOoOoOoOoOo

Seasons changed and time followed its course, and while Rose grew up, the memories of her lost companion were never too far from her mind. He had been one of her earliest memories, the person she felt closest to, despite his initial grudge. But that didn't seem to matter much, at least not as much as it did to her. As the years passed, so did her hope of him ever returning to her, and it seemed to drift and fade more and more with each passing day. Eventually, even Rose had learned to get by without him.

She had spent days lamenting the loss of the only other person she held dear, only to wake one morning feeling rather foolish. Her sadness was not going to bring Erik back; he chose to leave, and she knew she had no right in asking him to stay, no matter how much she wanted him to. It was from that point on that she made up her mind, deciding that she would no longer let it consume her thoughts. Instead, Rose threw herself into her determination to reach the one goal she had wanted her entire life; to be the Prima Ballerina.

During the light hours, she trained with the other girls under the strict eye of her mother, where her concentration strengthened with each passing hour, as did her body strength and ability. When night fell and the others had turned in for the evening, Rose would sneak out of the dorm and practice until the early hours, her only source of light was the ghost light on stage. More often than not, she was found by Nicholas, who proved to be more a voice of reason than Rose would care for. Through badgering and coercion, he would eventually convince her to go back to the dorms to sleep, reminding her that there was no chance of her playing the lead if she fell asleep during a performance on stage.

There was a time, over a few years in fact, that it seemed as though all the pain and hard work Rose was putting herself though seemed to be for nothing. She was putting herself though literal hell some days and it as though it was getting her nowhere. She would dance until her feet could take it no more, which gave her the skills in the art of bandaging and supporting newly formed broken toes and bleeding soles, all the while being forced to stand in the crowd and watch as another girl ascended the ranks to become the Prima Ballerina. Though on the outside, her face would smile and applaud, hugging and congratulate the lucky girl, each time another name was selected, a little piece of her heart would break away and turn to dust.

By the age of sixteen, Rose had all but given up hope in her dream. While Nicholas and Meg assured her that there was no reason to give up, she found herself putting less of herself into each rehearsal, feeling as though she could not afford to lose anymore of herself than she already had. Her demanding night practices ceased after Nicholas found her collapsed on stage, crying silently to herself, finally almost reaching breaking point. She had done nothing but work towards her dream since she could walk and talk, and with every day that passed, her dream seemed to be getting further and further out of reach. Though her friend assured her the best he could, his words not quite having the intended effect, there were only two people that Rose longed to hear comforting words from, and neither of them could provide their wisdom, and were nothing but foggy sounds in her memory.

She had all but hung up her ballet shoes for the last time. She was relatively skilled in other areas of the opera, knowing that her life was here, and she could hardly go in search of work anywhere else. There were certain things that she could just not part with. Two weeks after her seventeenth birthday, the Opera Popular announced its upcoming season, and along with it the news that their current Prima Ballerina would be stepping down and leaving the country. The news had sparked whisperers throughout the company; some wishing to know the reason why their lead was leaving so suddenly. There was talk of all sort of scandal, but for Rose, it meant one thing only.

This could be her chance.

It was as though one woman's ill decision making skills had reignited the fire within her once again. Rose felt a reason to train, her passion ablaze once more for the dance and to prove that she was just as capable of being the star, just as her heart desired. Not for the fame or the fortune, but for the sheer love of the art.

Once more Nicholas and Meg, now a young dancer in her own right, watched from the wings; observing as the sister and friend they knew had returned to them, with a more fierce determination that they had ever seen. Though they never said a word, while they both knew that Rose deserved it more than anyone, neither of them wanted to imagine what would happen if she didn't succeed.

With her newly reinstated passion to achieve her goal, Rose gained the support and encouragement of the entire company, barring a few exceptions of course. One such exception was Guilietta Sorelli. A skilled and talented dancer in her own right, she came to Paris from Italy as a young girl, like so many others, hoping to make a name for herself as a ballerina. A superstitious woman, she felt unease at the prospect of performing in a venue that had until only a few years prior, been haunted by the likes of the Opera Ghost. It wasn't until the assurance of Antoinette that there was no ghost haunting the halls that Sorelli finally took to the stage. While she was beautiful and held the grace of a dancer, Sorelli seemed to lack the patience to stand the length of time it often took to reach one's desires, particularly in the world of the Opera Populaire, though her talent could not be denied by anyone, least of all Rose.

After weeks of rehearsing, late night practice and striving to prove that they were good enough for the role, it came time for the announcement. The company gathered on stage, waiting with baited breath. The two front running competitors each stood either side of Lefèvre; Rose with Nicholas and Meg, surrounded by close company members, and Sorelli with her small group of devoted followers. The tension was thick in the air, almost stifling as the Manager babbled though the appropriate ceremony and circumstance before the reveal.

Rose was so focused on keeping a strong resolve, making sure that she didn't faint from the nerves that were threatening to consume her that she almost missed it. Almost. But then her sister was hugging her, and others were cheering and sounding their congratulations. Her entire body was shaking as she soon realized that she had finally done it, she had been cast as the lead ballerina. All she could do was smile, silently praying for the tears to remain at bay until she was away from the masses. Sorelli approached her with a small but kind smile and a word of congratulations before disappearing through the crowd, no longer in the mood for celebration. Amidst all the chaos, Rose found her mother standing by the wings; stern and tall, but a small smile gracing her lips as she nodded in approval. Rose barely had a chance to return the gesture before she was lifted off the ground, letting out a yelp of surprise as Nicholas spun her around happily. She grinned and let out a laugh of pure joy, clutching the necklace around her neck and only imagining how proud her father would be right now. She felt free, as though years of hard work had instantly been relieved from her mind. Though the joy played heavily on her mind, deep inside Rose could not ignore the aching feeling of wanting to share the news with someone else.

That evening a small group of their company, mainly comprised those who had known Rose since she was a child, held a small celebration in the wings of the theatre. It wasn't usually customary, and Rose felt rather foolish being the centre of attention and celebrated by those she considered her family above all else. But they had ignored her pleas and insisted. After all, they had known how hard she had worked to get to where she was.

After a few hours celebrating, Pierre, one of the original crew that worked with Luc got up on a table, gaining everyone's attention; tapping against his wine bottle with an orchestral baton he had pilfered from Monsieur Reyer years ago.

"Tonight we celebrate one of our own," He began, addressing the crowd with an almost humorous dramatic flair. Honestly it was a wonder he didn't perform on the stage instead of building it. "Our dear little Rosie. After so many years of hard work and dedication, finally clawing her way up the ranks of the ballet corps and realizing her dream."

A chorus of cheers filled the room, saluting their glasses at their girl. Rose was standing by, leaning against Nicholas, his arms around her. She rolled her eyes with a smile, dismissing the lot of them, but they didn't relent. Pierre let out a chuckle at her obvious embarrassment and ushered them to hush once more.

"As much as I know we would love to embarrass you, Petite Fleur, I will simply say this. We are thrilled and overjoyed for you, Rose. You've worked so hard and soon everyone will know of just how special you are. And, I know for certain that your Papa would be so proud of you. There is no doubt that he's smiling down on you now. Voici à ceux qui rêvent .To Rosie!"

"To Rosie!"

Rose looked away for a moment to wipe the tears from her eyes as everyone clapped and cheered around them. She smiled and curtsied jokingly as Pierre stepped down off the table and wandered over to her. Handing her glass to Nicholas, she rushed over to him and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight hug, which he happily returned. She had never been more grateful to have such an incredible band of misfits and loving people as her family. With the sappier side of things down and out of the way, the group celebrated well into the night, a skill that they took pride in after perfecting it over the years.

The following day, despite feeling the effects of too much wine consumed the night before, Nicholas treated Rose to a picnic along the river, a sort of moment of relaxation outside the walls of the opera house before the madness of her new life began. He had invited Madame Giry, who politely declined, and Meg who was eager to join the two, and happily brought Christine. She was proving to be a sweet girl, but still very shy, hardly ever leaving Meg's side acting as her shadow. Rose could only suppose that it was still a shock moving there, considering her circumstances, and with time she would surely come out of her shell. The troupe spent the afternoon in the sunshine, lazing by the riverside and enjoying what little time off away from the Populaire that they could manage, all knowing that things were likely to never be quite the same again.

From that moment on, life seemed to change once more for Rose. She was quickly ushered into rehearsals, that of which she was used to but her new position demanded much more than it did as a background chorus dancer. In the midst of it all, Rose was shifted from the dormitories where she had spent so many years with the other girls, and put into her very own suite. At first, she didn't understand why it was necessary; she was, after all still the same person as she was before. But Monsieur Lefèvre insisted, stating that with her new standing, she would need to ensure her beauty rest among other concerns.

This new elevated status also came with other luxuries that Rose had not considered in her wildest dreams. She soon discovered that her plain and practical dresses would not suit the Prima Ballerina she was to become, not when she was representing the Populaire and its standing and she would require new dresses along with her costumes. The concept was strange and foreign to the girl, unaccustomed to grandeur other than living within the Opera House itself. She was the child of a stage hand and a ballet mistress, nothing more than that. The costumers, on the other hand, decided to take it upon themselves to make sure that her wardrobe was fitted with something that would satisfy both Rose and the Manager, and no extra charge to either party, other than out of the love in their hearts they had for the young star to be.

It was one evening when Rose was sitting alone in her new rooms, surrounded by beautiful objects, and dressed in the finest wears she had ever touched by hand. It was in that moment that she fully began to understand just how her life was changing, and quickly at that. With a sigh, she touched the necklace around her neck, her fingers brushing against the moon and the star, seeking the guidance of her guardian angel.

"I just hope I'm ready for this, Papa." She murmured to the air.

Rose had never felt anything quite like she did when she was dancing. The swell of the music, dancing under the lights in perfect synchrony; the feeling was indescribable. She felt a jolt of adrenaline when she leapt across the stage with the utmost concentration and finesse. There was, however, a brief moment when she could have sworn that she had seen a flicker of white from the side stage, but she knew she had only been imagining things. Later that night, when she was standing centre stage, a bouquet of roses laying in the crook of her arm as she bowed, the audience clapping and cheering for their new Prima Ballerina at her debut, Rose looked up high above the stage, and in her mind's eye, she could see her father in the rafters, beaming down at her with absolute pride.

oOoOoOoOoOo

1864

There are many things in life that one must do for the benefit of others, thus resulting in pride in one's self and the possible chance of adulation from others. Often, these tasks were done without desire for credit, and merely out of the goodness of one's heart, because that was what a friend did. Nicholas often prided himself on being a good friend. He would gladly offer his services whenever needed without expecting anything in return, particularly if there was a redheaded Prima Ballerina doing the asking.

However, there were times where he did wonder why he put himself in these situations. Sitting in the orchestra pit, practically twiddling his thumbs while said ballerina practiced relentlessly on stage was one of those times. There was no confusion about it; he enjoyed watching her practice or any means to support her. But there was only so much he could take in one particularly long day. He had to wonder how she was able to work so hard for so long without even appearing as though she was growing tired, though knowing Rose, she would never admit it if she was.

"Surely you're feeling tired by now." He wondered, his legs drumming against the edge of the orchestra's wall. Rose threw a light laugh over her shoulder as she spun around once more.

"Not at all. But you're not being forced to watch me, you do realize that don't you?" she wondered, lifting herself en pointe with the simplest of ease.

"Well, what kind of gentleman would I be if I weren't supportive?" he questioned, shrugging his shoulders with a playful grin. Rose rolled her eyes, but grinned as she continued to balance herself, making sure her breaths were even paced and calculated. After a moment of watching her, Nicholas sighed and pulled himself up onto the stage.

"What are you doing?" Rose wondered, looking at him with an almost quizzical look matched with slight trepidation. In all their years of friendship, she had learned when it came to Nicholas, to not take a little warning. Too often he would remind her just how playful he could be.

"What does it look like? I'm helping you." He told her, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. Rose looked at him as though he had miraculously grown another head. She paused, waiting for the punch line, but it never came.

"How do you expect to do that? You don't dance." She reminded him pointedly, crossing her arms across her chest. She knew she had to be serious, but this was far too funny. Nicholas rolled his eyes as he dusted himself off and moved towards her.

"You can show me." He insisted, much to her incredulousness. "Oh, come on, Rose. It can't be that hard."

"People train their whole lives to do this." She reminded him, waving him off as nothing but a folly. "I've trained my whole life, remember?"

"And I've watched you do it. Surely I've picked up a few steps along the way?" Nicholas wondered, a charming grin on his lips. Playing his cards right, he knew she would have to give in eventually. He fixed his posture, moving to stand in one of the positions he had seen her rehearse. Rose let out a laugh at the sight of it.

"I don't think I've ever seen you look quite so foolish. Shall I fetch a costume for you?" she laughed, shaking her head.

"Come on, I'll catch you." He said, holding his arms out expectantly. Rose let out a nervous laugh, shaking her head vehemently.

"No you will not, you'll drop me!" she insisted.

"What makes you think I'd drop you?"

"Because I know you well enough." She sneered, only partially joking. Nicholas gasped dramatically, sending her a wounded look as he clutched his hand to his heart.

"You cut me to the quick, mademoiselle. Do you really have such little faith in me?" he wondered, giving her his best doe-eyed expression. But Rose wasn't having any of it.

"Yes." She replied simply, crossing her arms across her chest. She appreciated a good joke every now and then, but there was a time and a place for such things.

"Hey!" Nicholas cried, acting as though she had just belittled his honour in the most horrendous way possible. Rose eventually sighed, rolling her eyes. She knew he would pout and complain until she gave in, as he often did.

"If I agree to let you catch me once will you top this?" She wondered, conceding. As though like magic, the pout was gone; replaced with a triumphant grin as Nicholas clapped his hands together excitedly, nodding his head and standing ready in position. Rose shook her head at his ridiculousness, but straightened nonetheless.

"Alright, we'll do something easy. I'll count down from three, and then I'll run. You better catch me or I swear I will make your life hell." She threatened, though a grin was pulling at her lips. Though he was smiling, there was no doubt that Nicholas knew her threats were true should she put her mind to it. He nodded, and held his arms out ready for her. Rose took a deep breath, still not quite believing that she was about to go through with this. She closed her eyes for a moment, collecting herself before she started off in a run towards the other side of the stage. She knew the layout better than anything else; how many steps it took to get to the other side at whatever pace. She felt less afraid with her eyes closed, knowing he would be less likely to miss catching her if he knew there was more pressure on him. With the distance between them growing shorter, Rose braced herself for what she was convinced to be inevitable impact. At the last second, she gave in and opened her eyes, just as she spotted Nicholas grinning at her. On the last step, he opened his arms, and Rose jumped, thankful to feel his hands supporting her under her legs and supporting her back as he spun her around. Rose let out a giggle as she held her legs pointed in position, holding onto him tight around the neck as he continued to spin her.

"You're going to make me dizzy!" she said, resting her head on his shoulder as he started slowing down, coming to a complete stop, with Rose still in his arms.

"I told you I could do it." He said proudly, beaming triumphantly at her. Rose scoffed and slapped his chest, though it didn't deter his joy.

"Do I even want to ask what's going on here?" a curious voice asked from side stage. The two turned around and found Meg watching them, arms crossed over her chest with a rather sceptical and amused look on her face.

"I was just proving to your sister that I can, in fact, dance." Nicholas said, all too proudly. Meg raised her brow at him, turning to her sister, who looked rather fed up with his ridiculousness. Rose rolled her eyes, slapping him again.

"You proved nothing. Also, you can put me down now, you know." She reminded him. Sighing dramatically, Nicholas lowered her to her feet, not letting go of her until she was on the ground.

"Well, Mademoiselle. Does this mean that your faith in me is restored just a little?" he wondered. Rose folded her arms across her chest and looked away, but not before Nicholas had a chance to catch the smile playing at her lips. The younger Giry merely shook her head at the scene before her, knowing that it was frightfully all too common when it came to the pair of them.

"You both are ridiculous." She murmured, shaking her head. Rose and Nicholas merely shared a grin as the younger of the two walked over with a grin, with a small spring in her step.

"Ah, but it keeps our days interesting, does it not Little Sister?" Rose asked, moving to the other end of the stage. She untied her shoes and slipped out of them, letting out a soft sigh of relief. As much as she loved dancing, her feet did thank her when she slipped out of her shoes for the evening. Meg watched her sister for a moment, coming to stand beside her, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"So, when are you two planning on announcing your engagement?" she asked, a wry smile playing at her lips. Rose's head shot up so fast it was a miracle she didn't snap her neck. She looked at her sister with an incredulous look, the young blonde merely grinning as she awaited an answer.

"Bite your tongue, Marguerite." She snapped, putting emphasis on her sister's full name and glancing over at Nicholas, who was presently slipping her jacket on. The very idea itself was ridiculous; she and Nicholas had been friends since they were children, that was all.

"But you two are so well matched together. Don't you find him handsome?" Meg pressed. Rose sighed and shook her head. Nicholas was handsome, yes. But she couldn't bear to think of him as anyone but her friend. There were no romantic feelings there whatsoever. If she did ever marry, she wanted a love as pure as the one her father had with Madame.

"Off with you, cheeky thing." Rose said, affectionately swatting her sister away with her shawl. The younger Giry merely grinned and dodged the garment, shrugging her shoulders and taking her leave, slipping back behind the curtain. Rose sighed and shook her head. She loved her sister more than anything, but she was as trying as she was forward.

"Where are you heading?" Nicholas wondered, making his way over as Rose got to her feet, wrapping her shawl around her shoulders, preparing to leave.

"I think I'm going to retire for the evening. I haven't been sleeping too well lately." Rose said, picking up her ballet shoes.

"Why don't you come to a party?" Nicholas suggested, all too excitedly. Rose sighed softly. Once upon a time she would have loved to have gone to a party, especially if it was thrown by her family. But these days, with her spending so much time in rehearsal and practice, she wasn't sure whether she had the strength. But the look on her friend's face told her that he wasn't going to let it go without a fight. It would be easier to just agree and take an hour or so out of her night to go with him.

"...What kind of party?"

"Nothing extravagant. It's just the crew having a little shindig under the theatre. " he shrugged, an impish grin still on his cheeks. Rose looked at him for a moment; judging by the look on his face, she knew there was no real chance of her getting out of it. Could she deny that of him, when he had done so much lately to help her, usually putting himself second? She wasn't entirely sure that she could deny the fact that a rather large part of her wanted to go; it had been too long since she had spent some time with her friends, letting loose and not worrying about much at all.

Glancing at Nicholas once more, Rose rolled her eyes and sighed dramatically, nodding her head in mock reluctance. The grin that he gave her was truly the definition of triumphant. Nicholas all but ran to her side, collecting her shoes from her hand and offering her the crook of his arm.

"You won't regret it, Rosie. You know I'm right." He teased, leading their journey backstage.

"I suppose I'm right that you won't let me go change first?" She wondered, a knowing smile on her lips. Nicholas merely glanced at he, beaming as they continued on their way, weaving in and out from behind large set pieces, and heading down into the lower halls of the opera house.

The closer they got, the louder the music and the joyous laughter grew; filling the hallowed halls, echoing around them. The crew of the Opera Populaire were a hard working lot, that fact could never be denied. They lived for their art and most of them could be counted on to put their heart and soul into their craft. But for their hard work, they often required a chance to relax and recuperate, and managed to do so in incredible fashion.

The party seemed to already be in full swing before they had even arrived. Glorious melodies were being played by and an array of the house musicians, set up in the centre of the room. The sounds of laughter filled the space as their friends and colleagues took a well deserved rest, throwing themselves into conversation and merriment, and of course a good drink, while others danced on tables and a makeshift dance floor surrounding the musicians.

Nicholas swiped a bottle from a table as they pass, a grin on his face as he takes a drink, offering it to Rose, who initially shakes her head refusing it. Looking around the room, even she couldn't deny that she already felt the stress and pressures of her daily rituals melting away as the music flowed through her.

"Aha! The star returns." Georges, a fellow stage hand announced, throwing his hands in the air exuberantly. Hearing the call, roughly a dozen turned their heads, cheering at their arrival and the fact that Nicholas had managed to bring her along. Rose rolled her eyes, dismissing their cheers as she finally gave in, accepting the wine bottle from Nicholas as he nudged her side.

"This one, a star? Don't be ridiculous. Deep down she's still the little rosy-haired runt who used to run up and down these halls like no tomorrow." Pierre smirked, clapping Georges on the back. Rose took a large drink and stuck her tongue out at him, like the lady she was.

"I'd be offended if that weren't true." she said with a grin, shrugging her shoulders helplessly. Even if she didn't believe it, she would be heavily outnumbered in her belief. Georges grinned, rubbing his stubbled chin wickedly as he glanced at her, still dressed in her rehearsal skirts and boots.

"Well, I think little Rosie needs to prove that she's still one of us." He declared, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, playing up the sport as others started gathering around. A good-natured man, he always was one for making a show to prove a point. "I want to see if you still know how to dance."

A few light chuckles were heard over the music, a few head shakes of disbelief as the majority of the crew continued with their merriment. Nicholas raised an incredulous brow, his glance shifting between the man and Rose.

"You are aware that they didn't make her Prima Ballerina for nothing, aren't you?" He wondered, hardly able to keep the snicker from his voice, draping his arm around her shoulders lazily.

"We know she can do ballet. I want to know if she can really dance. The way she was brought up." Georges challenged, crossing his arms across his broad chest, waiting for the young girl's response. A few onlookers ceased their conversations, sensing that a challenge could very well be underway between two fiery spirits.

Rose stood her ground, raising her brow and pursed her lips, but found herself unable to really hide the look of amusement on her face. There was no denying what he was playfully getting at; he wanted her to prove that she was still one of them. Perhaps it was the alcohol consumed, or it being her inability to refuse a challenge, especially when the odds were in her favour, but Rose was not going to concede defeat easily.

She straightened up, nudging Nicholas' arm from her shoulders much to his surprise. His grin only widened when she took a large swig form the wine bottle and handed that and her shawl over to him, sending Georges a pointed look as she pushed her way past. Cheers filled the room as Rose made her way over to a table, hiking her skirts a little and taking the Pierre's hand as he helped her up onto the table before jumping up beside her. The music swelled again as he took her hand and spun her around, the pair quite literally kicking up their heels and dancing in time to the music. Rose laughed, picking up her skirts and kicking a bottle off the table, sending it into an awaiting Hand's arms. The rowed cheered as the two danced, quick and paced in time with the music. Rose knew if her mother could see her now, the Prima Ballerina dancing as she was, she wouldn't be at all impressed. But there was that little voice that was never too far away, and Rose could swear she could hear her father's laughter melded in with the crowd's.

Nicholas watched with a beaming grin, clapping along with the rest of the crowd, as Georges shook his head and laughed along with them.

"It's good to see that some things never change." The elder man said.

"Did you really think they would?" Nicholas wondered. Georges chuckled, clapping the younger hand n the back as they watched.

"Not Rosie. I scratch my head ev'ry day wondering what we did to deserve her." He said, eyeing Nicholas knowingly. The boy pretended not to notice the pointed gaze, instead keeping his eyes trained on the redheaded beauty dancing before him, seemingly without a single care in the world. Quickly draining the last of the wine, he handed the bottle over and rushed off across the room, hoisting himself up onto the table and took Rose's hand, spinning her into him. The redhead laughed a he pulled her close as the music played on.

oOoOoOoOoOo

The music played, the wine flowed and the people danced well into the night, with no hints of slowing down. It was likely that the celebrations and festivities could and very well would go on until sunrise, without a care at all. Some of the younger partygoers however, knew that there was no way they could last quite that long. After a few more hours, barely stopping to rest their weary feet and have another drink, Rose and Nicholas slipped away quietly, leaving the others to party on.

The two stumbled down the hall, Rose attempting rather futilely to keep her friend quiet as he struggled to remain standing. There had come a point where neither one of them could remember just how much wine had been consumed, yet it was clear that Rose was the more sober of the two, considering the difficulties he was having, remaining steady on his feet.

Unable to watch where he was going, Nicholas bumped into the corner of a wall, almost tripping and nearly sending the two of them to the ground. Rose managed to pull him up as he let out a rather undignified snort of laughter. Rose was quick to move, pressing her hand to his lips to silence him, though her own smile betrayed her.

"Are you mad, do you want to wake my mother right now?" She asked in a hushed whisper. Nicholas sighed, waving away her concerns with a roll of the eyes.

"Madame would be fast asleep by now." He assured her, his words slurring as they continued to pass the doors. He straightened up a little, determined to stand on his own feet, despite knowing it was likely to end badly. "Besides, we are grown ups. We can have a little fun every now and then."

Rolling her eyes, Rose could only shake her head and smile at him. No matter what she said or did, it wouldn't stop her friend from being himself and determined to have a good time. They worked hard; she knew that, so they did deserve a little break every now and then. With her arm securely around his waist to steady him, they continued on their way.

Nicholas sighed happily, moving his own arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "You know, I don't believe that I've had that much fun since...well, I'm not entirely sure when."

"That's rather grim, don't you think?" Rose wondered dryly. After a moment's silence, his head shot up, a grin on his face.

"Since that dad at the river." He said, proud of himself. Rose's eyes widened as she held back a laugh, shaking her head at the memory.

"One of my shining moments. I still get chills thinking about it though." Rose laughed, feeling rather proud herself.

"You jumped into the Seine. I'd think you a fool if you didn't." He pointed out dryly. Rose sighed softly, shaking her head as her mind drifted back to that day. A picnic on the riverside somehow ended with her jumping into the water. Even now she could still feel the chills of the water on her skin, as well as the lecture her mother gave her about being so reckless. But Rose couldn't bring herself to regret a single moment of it.

"It made me feel... alive." She shrugged, a smile still playing at her lips.

"You're lucky you didn't catch your death."

"I'd do it again, you know?" she said, her lip catching between her teeth as she smiled. Nicholas looked at her and sighed, shaking his head.

"You're mad. Without a single doubt in my mind." He murmured. Rose only grinned, shrugging her shoulder in reply. Why bother arguing with him when he had a valid point?

The finally turned the corner, coming up to Rose's room down the hall. Pressing a finger to her lips, she motioned for him to follow her. Nodding his head obediently, Nicholas followed, his arm slipping from her shoulders to rest around her waist, holding her together, and subsequently falling against her as they reached the door. Rose fell back against her door with a light thud, a soft laugh escaping her lips as she brushed her hair from her face.

Her head was swimming with a light haze of alcohol, the first time she had really allowed her to let go and relax in what seemed like years. She supposed Nicholas was right, she had to take a break every once in a while.

"Thank you for allowing me to walk you to your door. Mademoiselle." He said with a grin. His speech slurring as he dipped into a half bow. Rose, despite the ridiculousness of the situation, could only laugh.

"I think I did most of the walking." She said, raising her brow. Nicholas furrowed his brow for a spilt second before shrugging.

"Regardless, thank you." He said. Rose smiled and shook her head, pausing a moment to collect her thought before she spoke again.

"I should be thanking you. I didn't quite realize just how uptight I was being about everything." She said quietly, biting her lip as she glanced down at the floor. "Thank you for reminding me I need to take a break."

Nicholas smiled softly, shrugging his shoulder like it was no big deal. He just wanted what was before for her, which apparently meant getting drunk and acing like an idiot. But it seemed to do the job regardless. He let out a sigh reaching out slowly to tilt her head so she was looking at him, albeit a little confused. He took a moment, just looking into her eyes, his fingers moving to brush a loose curl or two away from her face and behind her ear. Nicholas felt his eyes grow heavier as he slowly leaned in, closing the distance between them.

Noticing an unfamiliar look in his eye, Rose was quick to move. Before he got too close, she put her hand against his chest, stopping him before he had a chance to close the distance between them completely. Nicholas opened his eyes, looking down at her in a mild state of confusion.

"...Goodnight Nicholas." She murmured, her hand reaching for the door. She gave him a soft half-smile before she turned, disappearing behind her door and closing it before he had a chance to respond. Rose leaned against the back of her door, listening intently to the other side. After a moment, she heard footsteps, slowly growing faint in the distance until their disappeared completely. When she knew she was alone, she let out a breath. She knew it had to be the alcohol to blame. What other reason would he have for trying to be so forward with her?

The thought alone wasn't helping the already baffled state of her mind. Rose shook her head, not wanting to deal with thoughts like that, at least not now. Pushing herself off the door, she headed further into the room. It had been a long day, and she hadn't realized until now, but her feet were starting to ache. She moved to her dresser, pulling her shawl from her shoulders and lit the lantern, allowing a small amount of light to fill the room. Heading to her bed, she took a seat and gathered her skirts enough to pull her foot over her knee, untying her shoes, letting out a thankful sigh as her feet were free at last.

Rose stretched out a little on her bed, glancing around the room, trying to sum up what little energy she had to change and ready for bed, starting with her hair. Glancing over at her vanity mirror, she only just realized just how far from the bed it was. Why was everything so far away when she was exhausted?

She sighed and after a moment's hesitation, she pulled herself to her feet, letting out a slight wince as they hit the cold floor. Rose was about to move to change when she saw something out of the corner of her eye that she hadn't noticed before.

Laying on her dresser, with her ribbons and her trinkets, lay a purple rose. Her eyes widened as she quickly moved to the dresser with new found energy, picking up the flower with the most delicate touch. It was stunning; with deep purple petals that Rose was quite sure she had never seen anything like it in her life. She lifted her fingers to the petals, tracing over them lightly, feeling the velvet like touch along her skin. How had she not noticed it there before? Where had it come from?

As soon as the thought had left her mind, there was a feeling bubbling away, waking her up instantly. Something she had not felt for longer than she could remember. She felt hope. Rose knew that there was only one way that a rose as beautiful as this would be laying here waiting for her. There was only one person who was kind enough to bring it to her. One person who, if Rose knew well enough, hadn't simply left it, but was still present in the room with her.

Biting her lip, she put the rose back on the dresser, her eyes lifting to the mirror, scanning the darkness for any hint that he was there. She paused, searching for that feeling that she hadn't felt in many years. Surely this wasn't a trick. After a moment, she smiled and turned around facing the darkness, watching and waiting expectantly.

After a moment of silence, she could hear the light breath in the far corner of the room, hidden away in the shadows. She felt her heartbeat quicken as she waited patiently. Silence...shortly followed by the light creak of the floorboard as a figure stepped out from the darkness into the barely lit room.

Rose felt her heart stop, yet the thudding was undeniable. Far too many nights she had spend wishing and hoping for him to walk out from the shadows and come back to her, and every time she had been left disappointed. Year after year passing and it seemed less likely that Erik was ever going to return. Part of her didn't quite believe that it was real. It seemed as though that was clear on her face, for she noticed the slightest smirk pull at his lips, and a flash of white as the light from her lantern reflected on his mask.

Rose didn't think twice. Before she knew it she was rushing to the other side of the room, into his arms. Despite being one for not being touched, Erik seemed to have anticipated her move and had prepared himself, holding her so she didn't fall as he felt arms move and wrap around his neck holding him close, tighter than she ever had before. Whether he agreed to it or not, he wouldn't say a word; simply allowing her to hug him.

For the first time in his life, Erik didn't seem to mind.