Thanks to everyone who reviewed, especially KyrieofAccender and Mominator who reviewed Chapter 10- with this chapter, I'm hoping to receive 50 reviews for "All Through The Night" Please, please please don't disappoint me!
Warmest Regards

K.S.

While the Moon Her Watch is Keeping

December 31st - At the masquerade ball

Christine:

It was beautiful, like some child's belief in fairy tales come to life. It was wondrous, but I really wish that I had been able to choose my own dress. Not that this pink confection isn't lovely… but I'm not certain I wanted to be a fairy princess tonight.
Too much like what my life has been of late. I wanted to be something exotic, or even something dangerous- Carlotta is supposed to be Cleopatra, I suppose; and Madame Giry looks like some mysterious Eastern lady. And my Meg is a swan…. Or an angel, I can't decide. But I am a fairy princess, and Raoul is my knight in shining armor. And I am utterly and completely miserable. Oh how I hate being decked out in pink rosebuds and yards of pink tulle!

I had thought up the most outrageous costume… black, enveloping me from head to toe, save for a bronze mask covering my face and the top of my head… and what do you ask would this face be? None other than Medusa, with snakes for her hair! That would have sent a message to a certain someone. But no one comes to the Bal Masque with the idea of a grotesque costume in mind- no we come to see and be seen, and underneath all the gaiety there is a knife-edge of worry. I am sick with it. Will he come? Will I even know him? Will Raoul leave me alone long enough for me to steal a moment with my teacher?

Raoul picked up on my apprehension, and the person behind it, if not the cause, "Don't fear, dearest. This Phantom won't come to the party. And if he does have the temerity, I'll make certain he does not get near to you."

It was all I could do just to nod, and not to flee to the chapel, or someplace where no one else would follow me, question me. Raoul doesn't even notice my nervous habit of twisting my skirt fabric in my hands, at least he doesn't notice till the satin is rumpled and wrinkled. And my teacher, my poor teacher… I wonder what he has done all these months. Because, despite what happened in the dormitories just before the disaster of Il Muto- I couldn't bring myself to go to him. I couldn't! He'd killed a man, and all I could think of was how that man had deserved it.

I may seem vague and inclined to daydream, but I'm not so naïve as to not know what Buquet was capable of. And no matter how terrible it is of me, I cannot find it in my heart to be sorry that he's dead.

Have I mentioned yet that I hate pink? That I hate not being able to make a single decision- not being allowed to? It's a relief and a burden… and I wish- oh how I wish! That I was able to tell Raoul 'no'.

He's here! What shall I do, he's here! Dressed as Red Death of all things. Oh God… how he frightens me… oh God, how I want him! But I don't have the words for it… And now Raoul's abandoned me- for who knows what reason and I am alone, and the Phantom draws me like a lodestone.
"Christine," He said it so softly, the words almost mouthed rather than spoken. The crowd in white and black and gold faded away, and there was only the two of us on the Grande Escalier. I ascending and he descending… what a reversal of characters.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, looking into his eyes. Oh, his eyes! From behind that horrid mask, his eyes blazed like the sea in September. They moved over my face, as if trying to memorize each feature… then they swept down and caught the flash of diamonds.

The air of longing barely suppressed distorted, twisted into a grimace of fury- he grasped the ring and with a sharp tug, snapped the filigreed chain. I gasped, not from physical pain, but from the look of utter anguish that had crossed his face. He knew exactly what that ring symbolized, and who had given it to me.

"Your chains are still mine. You belong to me." He hissed, like an enraged lion. Then he raced back up the stairs and disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

"Wait! Please… Wait!" I had just enough time to call out when I heard Raoul race by me and follow the Phantom before the strange trap-door closed. And then all hell seemed to break loose. I knew I could not follow, and Madame Giry had disappeared. I grabbed Meg by the wrist and hurried as fast as that blasted dress would allow me away from that scene of confusion.

"Christine, what on earth is going on? Was that… him? He looked so… handsome! How could he be the Phantom if he's handsome?" Meg gasped as we made our way as far from the Grande Escalier as possible. To the chapel, where we sank onto the ledge of the angel window. "Please, you can tell me! Why is everyone being so mysterious? If that man was the Phantom… then why…" she trailed off at the look on my face.

"Oh, Meg, I'm such a fool! I really thought- I don't know what I thought…" I wiped angry tears from my face. "I won't ever be free of him, Meg. What he said, it was true… I belong to him… just as he belongs to me. Somehow, our souls are intertwined- like briars- twisted together with thorns and with roses. I won't ever be free of him, and Meg, the terrible thing is- I'm not certain I want to be."

"Christine- what about the Vicomte? I daresay he will disagree with you on that count."
I laughed, bitterly, "Poor, dear, sweet Raoul. He'll be furious, no doubt. I need to get away, Meg. I need to have someplace to think where I'm not troubled by either of them. There has to be some way of averting a tragedy."

"You think this will end in tragedy?"

"If we're not careful, it will. It almost has a set, stony quality to it. As if we're all a part of a story- or an opera! And we must all act our parts. How on earth did I end as the tragic heroine- it should be you!" I impulsively hugged the sister of my soul.

"Oh, no, not me. I laugh too much. Tragic heroines only laugh maniacally. Think of Anna Bolena. She went to her execution laughing."

"How can you remember such things?" I asked her, laughing myself. Which was undoubtedly her aim.

"It's a gift. But if you want to get away… where to? At least, where to that neither will follow you?"

"I don't know, Meg. Perhaps the only place I'd be able to escape the pair of them is the moon." I sighed. "I'm just so tired, Meg. I thought… I really thought that I wouldn't have to choose between them. I wanted so much for things to go on as they have. Is that so terrible?"

"Not terrible, but foolish, perhaps. Let's just sit in here a while. I doubt anyone will come to bother us here for a good long while yet." Meg said, settling herself as comfortably as possible. "There's one good thing about these newfangled bustle pillows- we don't have to search about for cushions!" We laughed merrily, as only two girls on the threshold of being grown-up can. How I had missed just being able to laugh! And there we sat, Meg doing her utmost to cheer me up, for half the night, till Madame Giry came looking for the pair of us.

Erik:

I couldn't help but show up to the party. I must be going mad- I brought them Don Juan Triumphant. I know it was foolish, but how else could I have it performed? Especially with Christine as my Aminta- the perfect heroine. She will leave, I know it… she will run away with her Vicomte and never spare me another thought.

She was there with him, tonight. Dressed in a frothy pink confection, she looked like a candied flower. I never really thought about Christine wearing pink- it seems too insipid a shade for her. I wonder if she chose the dress: she seems too self-conscious in it to have chosen it herself. I let my eyes range over her every curve. If the dress does one thing, it accentuates her curves, and whittles her waist down to a point where I could span it with my hands. Oh God, how I want her.
She was supposed to be my Angel- in saving her from despair, I was saving myself. Because I had someone to care for, someone to love. And I… I can't let her go. I tried to memorize each feature, treasuring every expression that crossed her face. And then I saw it. An engagement ring! She wore the flashing circle of diamonds on a chain that hung just over her breasts. Engaged! She's engaged to the Vicomte! I snapped the chain from her neck and took the ring, before hissing at her, "Your chains are still mine, you belong to me!" And then, I couldn't bear it anymore, I turned from her and made my spectacular exit. The Vicomte followed me into the mirrored chamber that lies hidden beneath the Grande Escalier. I built it for… I don't know if I did it for fun or for the hell of it… but that boy nearly lost his life for his arrogance. And he would have, had not Madame Giry pulled him out at the last moment.

It's not fair!
Why must I always end alone and unwanted? Why must I be the monster, the dragon, from whom the princess must be rescued? She told him! Antoinette Giry told him of how she found me- of my shameful captivity- of how I had to kill to free myself. As if that noble clod could understand what it is to be starved, beaten, exhibited like an animal till all you can do is build castles in the air- what you would do if you were free. I could not bear to listen to any more of her betrayal of my darkest secrets; I fled to the one place that had not been ruined for me- the chapel.

But Christine was already there, with Meg Giry. They were talking about me… It seemed that everyone was talking about me tonight! She was crying. I'd made her cry, again! But she has made me cry more than anyone else since my mother. So, I suppose in that, we're even.

"I won't ever be free of him, Meg. What he said, it was true… I belong to him… just as he belongs to me. Somehow, our souls are intertwined- like briars- twisted together with thorns and with roses. I won't ever be free of him, and Meg, the terrible thing is- I'm not certain I want to be." She said to her friend, who comforted her, and told her that everything would be all right. I hope desperately that everything will turn out all right in the end. Because, without Christine, I am just the monster they think me. I never had any reason to be anything other than the Phantom of the Opera, nothing except Christine. And she is everything. I waited with them, keeping a watchful eye over my Angel and her friend, envying Meg Giry in her closeness with Christine, and in her ability to laugh at the strangest things. Anna Bolena indeed. But I heard them whispering of the cemetery where both their fathers are buried. Christine said that she hadn't been there in a year
"Well, you should go to his grave. I've not been to my own Papa's grave in the longest time. Do you want me to come with you?" Meg was asking Christine. My ears trembled for her answer. Perhaps… just perhaps, this would be my opportunity to talk to her… Just to talk to her, without any more pretense between us, or the Vicomte hovering over her like a miasma. But only if Meg Giry did not accompany her.

"No, Meg. I need to do this by myself. Maybe I'll be able to think straight outside the Opera." Christine replied, a sad smile on her face. "We've all been acting enough like characters in an opera as it is. What's one more little eccentricity in a performer?" She asked, mockingly imitating Carlotta.

Yes. Now all I had to do was figure out how I was going to talk to her, alone… in the cemetery. Maybe… There are still some roses left- I shall leave my calling card before she leaves.

A/N: Yes, I know… but the story is winding down, and I think it a rather amusing thought that Christine wouldn't want to wear pink. And I am aware that I repeated certain phrases, but they are more to anchor certain times together in the plot- signposts as it were.

Please review,
Warmest regards,

K.S.