Author's Note: First things first: many many many many apologies for my absence. Looking back, I realised that I only told my reviewers that I was going to be away. Sorry! I was away for a week cooking for 16 people (fun!) and then I had to recover from that before my 21st birthday party, which I am now recovering from. Sorry for the absence, but there aren't any more foreseeable ones on the horizon.

Second: thanks to WindPhoenix, Lothiel, Soignante, Rose of Night, jtbwriter, CarolROI (double thanks), montaquecat, Spectralprincess, Squealing Lit. Fan, mikabronxgirl, Lady Winifred, Busanda, mildetryth, Passed Over, Shayril, Mystery Guest, scarletghost13, angelofmusicxx, snowflake17 and jeevesandwooster for their latest reviews.

Third: I did look back to check what exactly needed going in this AN, and it turns out I owe you guys a double update. Good thing I happen to have one handy. This one should cover something I've been threatening for a while. I'll try and get back into my regular posting again. Thanks for putting up with me, and enjoy! Nedjmet.

Chapter 52

Gustave had spent half, if not most of the meal trying to pry out of Christine the identity of her 'Rosenkavalier'. Once Meg eventually caught on to the idea, she turned the subtle prodding into a full inquisition – at least until she caught the frosty glare being shot her way from her mother. Raoul's name was mentioned several times during the questioning, and talk soon turned to memories of when the girls were younger. It was difficult to avoid the conversation being bittersweet, but the sorrow was only subtle, thanks to the laughter that kept erupting.

Christine's success was praised and they relived each of the two performances thus far – accounts which were made all the more amusing by Meg's renditions of the goings on back stage and the usual madness which ensued there from. They didn't stay out too late, as the girls still had a performance to give, and Gustave had to get back to his hotel for an early departure the next day. In spite of this though, it was almost a perfect evening.

Almost.

Christine felt two absences too keenly to enjoy it completely, in spite of her efforts. Her father had only been there through their conversation, and whilst it had been lovely, there was no comparison to the real thing. And she missed her angel. Since he had begun the trip that had brought her back to her dressing room, she had been so afraid that she'd lost him. But he'd been there, had said he'd be there for her tomorrow.

My power over you grows stronger yet . . .

As they walked back home, the shiver that ran through her was not from the night air.

He had sung it with such conviction, had been unafraid to sing it directly to her. Had she really given him such a hold over her? Or had he earned it? It was definitely time for that chat with Mother Giry.

Once they had arrived at the Giry home, Antoinette insisted on escorting Christine home after sending Meg straight to bed (although she would probably only get there when she could see her mother returning). If Meg wondered why Gustave had not stayed to do that, as he usually would, she knew better than to ask – her mother was strange, even to her, and she obviously had her reasons.

The walk back to Christine's house was silent for the most part. She didn't see the shadow that followed them, but she wouldn't have been surprised anyway, for she didn't feel as anxious as she otherwise would have done. Antoinette followed her inside, shutting the door after sending a meaningful look out into the darkness.

Christine hung up their things and followed her second mother into the living room, taking a seat opposite her. They sat there in silence, both faces expressionless, both faces masked. Antoinette was anxious about what had happened, but was bound by another promise not to ask. Christine was anxious for her guardian to say something, but as usual, didn't know how to draw anything out of her.

Eventually, when the silence had grown maddening, Antoinette began in the safest way she could that would give Christine the opportunity to talk to her.

"Are you well?" The expression on her face was unmistakeable, and Christine was grateful one of them had finally come up with an icebreaker.

"You asked me that yesterday." Antoinette simply met her daughter's eyes steadily. "You knew what would happen after the performance." It wasn't a question. "You know him."

"Who?" The right question had to be asked, otherwise there was very little she could say without breaking her word.

"You know the Opera Ghost. You know my angel."

"I do." Christine let out a rather audible sigh of relief, her shoulders sagging as though a great burden had been lifted from them.

"Who is he?"

"You have already given him two names."

"But who is he?" Antoinette looked away.

"Christine, I have been keeping his secrets for many years now, more years than you have lived. I gave my word that I would go on keeping those secrets, just as I gave my word to your mother and father that I would look after you. There are some things you can only learn as he wills it." She heard all that was unspoken in that sentence. Mother Giry would never break her word, so there was little she could relate – but that didn't mean she wouldn't try.

"These secrets that you keep, do they include what lies beneath the mask?" Madame looked at the young girl sharply; ready to give a rebuke until she saw her face. It was filled with a look of knowing.

"He showed you?" Christine lowered her eyes and shook her head. Antoinette's mouth fell open as she stared in disbelief. She moved to her daughter's side and wrapped an arm around her.

"Did he hurt you?" Christine looked at her in shock. Was that what had been bothering her?

"No. He was angry, he was so angry. And then he . . . I hurt him, Mother. I hurt him so cruelly. He offered me the most wonderful music and I crushed him."

"He frightened you?" She nodded.

"Christine, I do know his face. I know it looks-"

"Don't." Antoinette stopped talking. She had not seen her second daughter look so fierce for a long time – and if it was the look Carlotta had been met with, no wonder it had taken the girl until the next day to lodge her complaint.

"Do you really think you have to tell me that it's only skin deep? That there's more to him than that? I've seen worse. But only Mama could rival his temper." Antoinette smiled, remembering the fire in Catherine's nature. Her daughter had inherited it as well, but thankfully along with a good helping of her father's gentleness. Though Katie had only been a red-head on stage, she had certainly had the flaring temper of one off it. She longed to tell Christine all that she knew, all that she was a part of, but instead did as she had been bound to do all these years: wait.

"I was so afraid, Mother. I thought I'd lost him. He says he's forgiven me, but he's so . . . sometimes it seems the easiest thing in the world to please him, and others all I can do is make him angry. His anger doesn't burn like Mama's; it's so cold. It's frightening how distant he can be."

"Was his anger cold last night?" She met her mother's eyes again, a look of horror fleeting across her face.

"No." She whispered brokenly.

"You feared he would harm you." Antoinette stated disappointedly.

"No!" Christine answered hastily. "He told me he would always be watching over me . . . he promised he would always keep me safe. My angel would never harm me." She uttered with quiet conviction.

"Child, you know he is not an angel." Madame Giry said carefully, concerned over the title Christine had given him twice now.

"I know he's a man. I know he pretends to be the Opera Ghost and he did those things to Carlotta. I know this is his house, that he uses it to help keep his promise. But I know that he's never invaded my privacy. I know he gave me my voice back. And he gave me Music. I know he's a man, but I know he's my angel."

Antoinette embraced the daughter of her heart, but not before Christine had seen the sheen of tears glistening in her eyes. Long had she feared that his inexperience with others would ruin all their hopes. But it would seem he still possessed the same magic that had won her old friend's devotion, just as it appeared he had now won her daughter's.

"Does he know about tomorrow?" She asked at length.

"He knows I can't stay. I said I'd be there the day after, though."

"He asked that of you?"

"No. I offered." The two exchanged a silent conversation: Christine's side being of guileless curiosity at her second mother's line of thought; Antoinette's side being filled with thoughts of what Gustave had revealed to her. True, Christine was unmistakeable devoted to her 'angel', but if it was not what they thought . . . he had suffered betrayal and disappointment enough; were Christine to give him false hope . . .

"If he says he has forgiven you, then you are forgiven, Christine. He never says anything he doesn't mean. But be careful: he doesn't forgive easily, and he doesn't forget easily. To have managed one is well done, but remember the other."

Christine received the careful warning gratefully. Her tutor often seemed mercurial in his behaviour, and no doubt she would have to tread carefully, given what she'd done – but she was expecting as much, seeing as she had been 'unmasked' herself before and remembered what it felt like all too well. She was grateful the doors had been opened at least somewhat; grateful that she now had someone she could talk with who at least knew what was going on – whether Mother Giry understood it fully or not.

As she left her second daughter to rest, and returned home under the watchful escort of a familiar shadow – not that he would ever admit to such behaviour – Antoinette resolved to keep a firmer watch over the pair. The whole situation could go so terribly wrong so very easily and though they both knew how to endure and survive, they were still too fragile to face the inevitable and tremendous disappointment, should the worst happen.

She paused outside her own door, offering a silent thanks to the shape in the shadows. It soon melted away into the surrounding darkness as though it had never been there. She didn't doubt that he was heading back to the house to check on Christine. He had made a promise, after all. So had she.

And she would go on watching over both the charges that had been entrusted to her care.

She could do no less for the children of Katie O'Neill.