A/N and Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Phantom or the original characters from it. Wish I did, but I don't! Also, thanks to poetzproblem for informing me about the new rules…I can't respond publicly to reviews anymore, and I don't want to get this story banned, so if you would like a response, and you are an anonymous reviewer, leave your email. Thanks to everyone! –hugs-

Chapter Twenty-Five

Christine stepped from the carriage and motioned to the driver to wait. Stepping up to the storefront, she took a deep breath and walked inside.

"May I help you?" an older woman smiled slightly at her from behind a large table, covered with long scraps of fabric.

"Y-yes, my name is…Christine. I am a friend of Madame Giry. D-do you know her?"

"Of course, she and I have been acquainted for many years. You say that your name is Christine? Surely not the Christine that she raised all these years?" the woman lifted her eyebrows curiously, studying Christine's face.

"Yes, Madame. I am Christine…Christine Daae. I…I am looking for employment."

"Employment, eh? The last I heard, you were a prima donna of sorts. What happened to that, Mademoiselle?" she eyed her with some suspicion.

Christine was slightly annoyed. "Madame, I am sure that you have heard about the fire at the Populaire recently. I…I have no place to live…nowhere to go, and I obviously do not have a place to work, as it is currently in ruins."

"Hmmm." The seamstress looked her up and down. "Can you even sew?"

"Of course I can! Why would I be here otherwise?" Christine was indignant. "I have assisted with many costumes from the Opera. But I'm afraid I do not have any references, other than the costume designer there, Madame."

"Well…" the older woman paused, placing her hands on her hips. "Seeing as how I have had quite a bit more business as of late…I suppose I could use an extra pair of hands around here."

"Really?" Christine nearly bounced with excitement. Thank you, Lord! "I…I mean…when would you like me to start?"

"You can start today. I also happen to have a room upstairs that you can use until you earn your first paycheck, Mademoiselle. It is very small, but it does have a bed. It should suit your needs for now, I would think. What do you say?"

"Yes, thank you, Madame! I accept! And I am grateful to you for this chance. But…I'm sorry…I don't believe that I know your name." She looked puzzled, as if trying to recall the information.

"Annette Dubois. Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mademoiselle Daae," she mock curtsied to Christine, and Christine had to giggle at her.

"Pleased to meet you, Madame Dubois," she curtsied in return. "Shall I have my things brought inside?"

"You have them with you already?" the woman asked her, shocked.

"Yes, as I said…I had nowhere else to go."

"Very well, then, bring your belongings inside. You can have lunch before you start to work. I have a few meats and cheeses in the back room."

Christine stepped outside and told the carriage driver that she would be staying. He was kind enough to help her bring her luggage inside the storefront, and she thanked him, watching the de Chagny carriage drive away. What has become of me? she wondered. What is to become of my life now? I don't even know who I am anymore! With a mixture of sadness and anticipation, she walked determinedly back inside the seamstress's shop and closed the door behind her.

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Erik had tried all morning to focus intently on his work. Monsieur Giroux had sent him several more projects and he had a deadline to meet. Once again, however, his thoughts turned elsewhere. Frustrated, he stood up from the kitchen table abruptly, nearly knocking over his chair. Staring out the kitchen window, he ran a hand through the fuller side of his hair. He had not yet put on his wig or mask...he saw no need, as he planned to be alone, and visitors were unlikely.

In his mind's eye, he imagined Christine sleeping happily at the de Chagny estate, waking to her handsome young Viscomte and his perfect face, with his perfect manners and his perfect fortune. "God forgive me, I cannot stand that insolent boy!" he roared, pounding his fist on the window glass, causing it to fracture slightly. He winced when he saw the result, and bowed his head. Here I stand, hiding from the world again, and that boy has everything that I do not! He has had everything handed to him his whole life, and what have I received? He thought for a moment and was ashamed of himself. I have received much as of late, he thought. I have somehow been…made whole, in my heart…even without Christine. "God, I love her, You know that. But if I never see her again, then…I must trust Your judgment. I trust You, because I have no other choice. I have been alone for so long. I ask that You would find a way, Lord…make a way for me to have love in my life. Someone who will accept me for who I am…and for the man that You are helping me to become." He turned from the window and sat down at the table again, feeling a bit more at peace. He stared at his designs for a few moments before a new idea came to him, as he picked up his pencil and continued sketching.

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Christine was receiving the "grand tour" of the seamstress shop. "In there's the kitchen, and upstairs on the right is your room. Come down after you've put your things away and you can eat. Then I'll put you to work," Madame Dubois said somewhat gruffly, motioning with her arm.

"Thank you, Madame. I'll be down in a moment," Christine sighed and trudged up the stairs, carrying a few bags with her. She had several more trips to make up the steep staircase. When she stepped inside the room, she wondered where on earth she was going to put herself, let alone her bags. I can't wait until I get my paycheck, she thought. Then perhaps I could afford a room that I can breathe in!

After she had carried every last piece of luggage into her room, Christine had only about two feet of space in which to dress, move, or stand. She had stacked the luggage up on itself against the wall, and it was about three layers deep. She began to wonder if this was meant to be a room at all…it was more like a closet. She changed into something less formal and walked down the stairs and into the kitchen. Madame Dubois had set out a plate and there was a sandwich in the center, with a glass of milk next to it. Christine was grateful, as she had eaten nothing yet that day, and she ate the food, gulping the milk down in a very unladylike manner.

"Finished?" Madame Dubois had been standing at the doorway for a few moments. Christine had been oblivious to her presence.

"Y-yes, Madame. Thank you for the sandwich," she said shyly.

"It wasn't for you. That was my lunch," she huffed.

Christine was mortified. "I…I'm so sorry, Madame, I just assumed…"

Madame Dubois chuckled. "Don't look so serious, young lady! I was teasing you."

Christine breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh." She laughed softly. "I can't tell when you're being serious and when you are teasing, Madame."

"Years of practice, dearie, years of practice," she cackled. "Now, come on in here and let me show you what I want you to do."

Christine dutifully followed her into the large storefront room and looked at all of the scraps of cloth lining the large table. "These are panels for drapes," Madame Dubois pointed out. "You need to take them to the machine now and put a hem in them," she motioned with her arm to the left side of the room, where a large contraption sat. Christine nodded, "Yes, Madame." She got to work right away, and Madame Dubois did not give her a rest until she had worked for several hours straight. The day seemed to fly by.

"Five o'clock, dearie, time to close up shop," Madame Dubois announced.

Christine looked up from the sewing machine. Her eyes were somewhat bloodshot from attempting to focus for so long, and her fingers felt dry. She was more than ready to stop for the day. "Yes, Madame. Where would you like these panels?" She placed them in the spot indicated to her and tried unsuccessfully to smooth the wrinkles from her dress.

Madame Dubois locked the storefront and retreated to the kitchen. She began to gather up several items when Christine walked in. "Madame? What are you doing?"

"Going home, of course. Did you think that I lived here?" she chuckled at Christine's naivety.

Christine blushed. "Well…yes, I suppose I did. I didn't really think…"

"No, you didn't, did you?" Madame Dubois laughed. "I have a husband who'd like his supper on the table soon. Help yourself to the food that I have in the kitchen here, if that suits you. Should be plenty for a thin girl like you."

Christine frowned but recovered quickly. "Thank you, Madame. I appreciate your…hospitality." She watched as Madame Dubois walked out the back door and locked it behind her. At least it unlocks from the inside, Christine thought. She had certainly never enjoyed being locked in rooms…unless there was another way out. She thought back to her old dressing room at the Populaire. There was another way out of that room, she recalled, and it led to a completely strange, new world. She sighed. "Oh Erik, I miss you, but…perhaps I need to prove some things to myself," she spoke aloud. With a heavy heart and a weary body, she walked upstairs and flopped down onto the creaky bed. "What am I doing here?" she spoke to the ceiling. "Have I ever really known who Christine Daae is?" She prayed silently for a while, making sure to mention both Raoul and Erik, as well as others she had met the week prior. Finally, she stood, feeling quite lonely, though she knew she was never truly alone. "Lord, I feel like I don't have a friend in this whole world," she mourned, wiping away the few tears that fell from her eyes. Suddenly, she had an idea. It isn't far, she thought. I could easily walk the distance to get there! Wrapping her shawl around her, she walked down the stairs and out the back door, making sure to leave it unlocked so that she could get back in for the night.

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A/N: Another note, in case you were wondering: I actually have several chapters past this one already written, though I am still doing minor tweaking and editing to them. The major plot lines are in place, and though I understand that many authors ask for input on their plot lines...for this particular story, I already had one in mind. A few of you have suggested different ideas for the plot, and I appreciate them all (and perhaps if I should write another fic in the future, I could make use of those ideas), but it would be very difficult for me to change the plot line at this point. I hope that you aren't too upset if some of the events in this story don't go quite the way you think they should. And let me encourage you...if you have great ideas for a plot, WRITE! My friend convinced ME to do it, so why not you? Just go for it...and I'll likely be reading your awesome story! -Blessings to you all!-