Part 4

She felt herself collapsing before she had even fully registered the information. The letter she had been reading only moments before fell to the floor soundlessly.

It's not possible. This has got to be some kind of mistake.

No mistake. The address read clearly the Opera Populaire, and the signature of the managers was the same as always.

But…that's his opera…his, they wouldn't put it on. I'm sure of it. And besides that, why me, why call on me to play the lead…unless…maybe…

No. She shook the thought from her mind. It couldn't be his request, she was sure of it. He wouldn't want her to play the lead, but…why else would they want her?

Unless he's just familiar with my voice, and doesn't trust someone unknown to him to perform it.

That was it, it made perfect sense. He only wanted her because he would find it worrisome to have to work with someone else. Even so, every fiber of her being was calling to her to accept the request, rush off without a thought, and run to his side.

How pathetic can you get, did you forget what he thinks of you.

No further purpose.

The old scar tore wide open at the thought. He had said that. He had meant it. And yet here she was, wanting for nothing else then to see him.

A battle of heart and mind ensued.

Maybe he missed me.

You're kidding right, you actually believe there's even a minimal chance that he missed you.

Well, maybe he did. There's a chance that he could have begun to truly miss me, and then demand I be given the part so that we could meet again.

Her mind gave a mental snort. I can't believe how naïve you're being. Do you honestly believe that?

…..No.

Yet, she found herself packing her bags, rushing to get everything done for her departure. She was set to leave the next morning.

If he hadn't walked by that very moment, he wouldn't have seen her leaving.

As it was, Raoul found himself racing in the direction of the carriage, calling out desperately for her to stop.

"Where….where are... you… going". He was considerably out of breath.

She looked at him, a tangible aura of weariness surrounding her. She didn't want to explain.

The words came in a rush, "The Opera Populair contacted me, they're putting on a performance and they want me as the lead".

Raoul shook his head confused. "But you're here now, they have no pull over you".

She looked at him hard. "Apparently, they do".

He retuned the look "It's him isn't it"?

He wanted to laugh, he had once thought that he'd never have to speak those words.

Since Erik's appearance in Christine's life, Raoul's ego had been on the chopping block quite frequently.

Christine said nothing.

"So it's true….I never really thought that there was someone, but there is, isn't there?"

Her gaze fluttered to the ground, her heart clenching gently. She had never meant to hurt him.

"Who is it?"

Yet more silence.

"Christine"! "I at least have the right to know who it is".

The words once again came out rushed. She told him of Erik, of his teaching her, and of his opera. Needless to say, Raoul was not pleased.

"This is ridiculous; as far as I can tell, this Erik has absolutely no redeeming qualities except that of being able to seduce impressionable young women"!

She slapped him…hard.

"You have no idea what he's like!"

And with that she climbed into the coach, leaving him dumfounded, holding his cheek gently.

It seemed to Christine that the journey took an eternity, and by the time she had reached the opera house she had gone over 12,000 scenarios of what was to come. Yet, every time her optimism would present itself with this and that scenario, she'd rebuke herself harshly, trying desperately to destroy all traces of hope from her mind--Hope brought disappointment. This was something she knew very well.

All preparations for opening night had already finished by the time Christine arrived; all sets completed, all costumes sewn and fitted to perfection, as well as every rehearsal already played out. This was met in Christine's mind by surprise, but at the same time expectancy. Firstly, She and Erik had performed his opera for her singing lessons, the last lesson she had had been the last scene in the opera and she knew every word to every line…mostly because she had memorized each line diligently so that she would be worthy of his work….and he'd smile that rare smile at her. Secondly, she had been told, rather ordered, to be there on that night expressly, and somehow she had a feeling that this was the reason. However, she still wasn't exactly happy about being tossed, utterly ill-equipped, into a production for which she hadn't even rehearsed for. But, she would rise the occasion, of that she was sure.

This one was a bit rushed; I really want to get to the ending, I can't wait to write the ending. I'm really excited about it . Yet sadly, I still had to set the ending up, and thus was the point of this chapter. Once again thanks to my reviewers, I'll have the final part up soon.