Chapter Five-

Christine sighed as she sat on the floor of her room while leaning up against the mirror while she finished patching up Meg new costume for the Ballet that opened tomorrow night. It had been three weeks since she had been given the job of Meg's personal seamstress. Christine finished the stitch she was on before holding it out to look the dress over. It was similar the the original dress that had been ruined with blood-red paint only without the sleeves. There had been no time to recreate the original dress so they had find a dress that was similar to the original.

Satisfied with her stitches, Christine stood up and walked over to the mannequin that she had stolen from the workshop the other seamstresses worked in, and carefully slipped the dress on it. She began to examine the dress on the mannequin to see if she had missed any stitches.

During her first week as Meg's personal seamstress, Christine had tried to work in the workshop with the other seamstresses, she truly had. But those other women were more interested in the gossip going around the Opera Populair than their work. The had constantly tried to get her to join them in their gossiping, but she refused. She hated gossiping, it was a waist of time. After a couple of days of that, the other seamstresses began to gossip about her. Fed up with them, Christine stole a mannequin and began to work in the safety of her room.

While checking over her work, Christine began to unconsciously rub her right hand. It had been the hand that had gotten burnt when that woman, Christine, had touched her. The burn had healed by the next day, but it was the fact that just by simply touching her, Christine had burnt her that bothered her.

Christine nodded, satisfied that her stitches would hold as long as Meg didn't do anything to purposefully rip them. She backed up so that she could flop down unlady-like on her bed. She held up her right hand and began to examine it while flexing her fingers.

When her father was still alive they would often find themselves discussing time travel. Her father would tell her that two people with the same soul could not occupy the same space. If two people with the same soul did somehow wind up in the same time and place then they should never touch. The one soul in both parties would simultaneously be drawn together while repealing each other. And, if Christine's theory was correct, than she and Christine shared the same soul.

Christine sighed and allowed her hand to drop onto the bed beside her. Ever since that day, Christine had begun to feel welcomed in her room, almost as the room had finally accepted her as it's owner. She chuckled at herself before turning her head to look at the mirror. It was more like that man from the tunnels had finally accepted her. She fought the urge to rise from the bed and find away to open the mirror to the secret passage that she knew was there.

That was his territory, and even though she felt that he had accepted her, it did not give her permission to use his tunnels. And even though she slipped up occasionally and used them, she knew that he knew she had used the tunnels for she felt his stare. Even know she felt him.

Christine forced her mind away from the mirror by remembering her meeting with Christine.

She had been bandaging her hand when she had heard the high pitched screaming of the Ballet Rats, she hadn't been able to understand a word they were screaming about. The feeling of those eyes on her had returned and looked at the mirror wondering if he had been behind it. She had just stood up and placed her hand on the mirror when her bedroom door opened and Christine barged in covered in blood-red paint.

Without a word to her, Christine rushed over to her armoire that had just recently been filled with dresses that would actually fit her. Annoyance had flooded through her. Who was this woman to thank that she had the right to come into her room and go through her stuff.

"Excuse me," She had called out to the woman, causing her to look at her, "who the hell do you think you are?" The woman gave her a scandalized look, at that time Christine had believed that it had been they way she had spoken to the woman and not the language used.

"I am Christine Daeé," she had finally met the infamous Christine Daeé that she had heard some much about, "this used to be my room." So that had given the woman the right to enter her room? It clearly wasn't the woman's room anymore.

"I don't give a damn if this had been your room, it obviously isn't your room any more. This room now belongs to me." She had snapped at the woman. Christine remembered how the woman had backed away a few steps before she glared at her. The woman had looked her up and down before tilting her chin up, the same way her mother always did. Anger had filled her.

"Do not take that tone with me, I am soon to be Victomtess de Chagny." The woman told her, her voice cold like her mother's. Christine had balled her fist up. She had wanted to physically lash out at the woman, but held back, it would not be wise to physically attack this woman.

"I don't give a flying fuck if you are the Queen of Sheba," she growled out at the woman causing the woman's mouth to drop at both Christine's tone and the language used, "I will not allow some prissy bitch to barge into my room as if they owned it. Now, would you kindly remove yourself from my room." The woman had paled before turning and running out of the room, Christine had quickly walked to the open door and slammed it shut before locking it. And even now she couldn't remember if the dark laughter she had heard had been in her mind or not.

Christine was brought back to the present when someone knocked on her door, she sighed knowing that she would have to get up and let the person in. She had begun to lock the door after her interaction with Christine. With a small groan, Christine got off the bed and over to the door, she opened it to reveal an annoyed looking Meg.

"I've been called in for a dress rehearsal. You better have finished the dress." Meg told her and Christine nodded. The two stared at each other for a good long minute. "Well?" Christine raised an eyebrow before slamming the door shut and smirked at Meg's undignified cry. She walked over to the mannequin and gently removed the dress before walking back to door and opened it, handing Meg her costume. Meg sniffed before spinning and walking back down the hall without taking her dress. Christine stepped out into the hall and threw the dress at Meg, hitting her with it.

"Carry your own shit." Christine told her before walking back into her room to grab her seamstress bag, she would be needed at the rehearsal encase something happened to the dress. With one last look at the mirror, she left the room and made her way backstage.

\ '~' /

Raoul sat in Box Three, his and Christine's personal box. Christine had absolutely refused to sit in Box Five and so, to appease her, he settled for Box Three. Tonight was the opening night for the Ballet and, if he was honest with himself, he had no idea what was happening for he was too absorbed in his own thoughts to pay attention. He had needed to speak with Meg's seamstress after the Ballet, she had disrespected his Christine with her foul language and he would see to it that she apologized.

He still remembered the way Christine had looked after his meeting with the Managers a few days ago. Pale as ghost, tears running down her face, and her beautiful dress ruined with blood-red paint.

"Christine! What happened?" He had asked her as he took her in his arms.

"There was an accident back stage, someone accidentally knocked over a paint can." Christine had informed him, but the way she had said it alerted him that it may not have been as accidental as she was telling him.

"Are you all right? Are you hurt?" Raoul asked.

"I'm not hurt." Christine told him, eye refusing to meet him. She had been hurt. Had she been physically hurt or emotionally? Perhaps both? He still had yet to figure that part out.

"Then, if I may ask, why are you crying?" Raoul asked. Christine had looked shocked and touched her tear stained cheeks. She had not realized that she had been crying.

"I-I had an awful encounter with this young woman in my old room. She was so rude to me, Raoul. Demanding that I leave the room. I was nothing but kind to her, only wishing to change my dress, and she forced me from the room. I hadn't known that room was hers. I had been informed months prior that some of my dresses had been saved and put in the armoire should I ever find that I need a change of clothes. I tried to explain that to her but she would have none of it and-and-" Christine had paused in speaking, as if unsure if she should continue, her eyes flying everywhere along the hall.

She had been searching for that monster. Was he still around? No, it was unlikely. That monster knew what would happen if he did return. Was she reliving her time there? Was he still there in her mind?

"What did she do, Christine?" Raoul had encouraged.

"The language she used with me was so unlady-like and so-so vulgar." Christine finally told him. Anger had swallowed him then. How dare someone treat his Christine that way! He remembered taking hold of Christine's hand then.

"Show me where this woman was, I shall speak to her about her attitude and the proper way to treat someone of your status." Raoul told her. Christine had paled even more and fear had over taken her whole body.

"No! Raoul! Please! Let us just leave this place! Please! I do not wish to go back there!" Christine had cried. Something else had happened in that room that Christine was afraid to speak of. Had the woman attacked her? Had she threatened her? He was going to get to the bottom of this. And if he found out that this woman had harmed his Christine in any way, he would have her thrown in prison.

It hadn't taken long with to find out who the woman was. The woman shared her name with his Christine and was only 16 years of age. She had been found unconscious outside the Opera Populair, assumed abandoned or even orphaned, and was now in the care of Madame Giry. Madame Giry had made the young woman Meg's personal seamstress.

Raoul was pulled out of his thoughts by clapping, looking back at the stage to see the curtain call, he noticed that the Ballet was over. Standing up, he held out his hand to Christine. "Come, we have important matters to attend to." Confusion flew through Christine's beautiful, honey brown eyes as she accepted his hand and allowed him to help her up. He led her backstage that was bustling with excited movement.

"Raoul, what are we going back here?" Christine asked, gripping his hand tighter. She was afraid. He did not answer her, for her question would be answered once he found Meg and her seamstress. It took him a minute, but he eventually found Meg. She was standing near the backdoor with her seamstress knelt in front of her and her mother beside her. He made his way to them.

"Meg, chére, do calm down. Christine will fix your costume." Madame Giry informed her daughter. And, even though he knew that Madame Giry was not talking about his Christine, it still took him a moment to remind himself that she was speaking about Meg's seamstress.

"It would not need to be fix had she done it right the first time!" Meg cried as Raoul and Christine finally made it to them. The woman had moved so that she was now kneeling behind Meg, her face hidden by the young woman's leg. "OW!" Meg yelped and went to glare at the young woman, but was stopped by the young woman's hands gripping Meg's hips and forced her to stay put.

"Stop moving unless you want another prick!" The young woman hissed out. Raoul could not believe what he had just heard, that young woman had sounded exactly like his Christine. He positioned his body so that he could look around Meg and at the woman and his heart nearly stopped beating. He glanced back at his Christine to make sure she was still there, before looking back at the young woman before blinking. This could not be possible, this young woman looked just like his Christine. She not only shared his Christine's name, but her voice and likeness as well? What sort of trickery was this?

"Vicomte de Chagny, what may I do for you?" Madame Giry asked.

"I have something I wish to discuss with this young woman." Raoul said motioning to the young woman still pinning Meg's costume. He watched as she moved so that she could look around Meg's leg. Part of him expected her to smile up at him the second she saw him, like his Christine always did, however that is not what happened. Her shockingly blue eyes looked at him before falling towards Christine behind him, before, once again, looking at him before she returned to what she was doing.

"As you can see at the moment, I am busy, but if you take a number I shall get back with you." The young woman told him causing everyone within hearing distance around them to pause. Within moments everyone backstage had stopped what they were doing to stare at them. The young woman did not appear to be phased by this.

"Excuse me. Do you not know who I am? I am Vicomte de Chagny, the patron of the Opera Populair." Raoul informed her and waited for her to begin apologizing. However, all the young woman did was glance at him before continuing her work.

"Is that suppose to impress me?" The young woman asked, her tone bored and uninterested. Raoul snapped. He roughly grabbed her by her arm, not caring when she pricked her finger causing it to bleed as he yanked her to her feet.

"Now listen here! I am Vicomte de Chagny, you will give me the respect that I and my fiancé deserve! You will apologize for not only the way you treated her but also for the vulgar language you used with her." Raoul demanded. The woman glared at him before ripping her arm from his grasp.

"No, you listen here you son-of-a bitch," She hissed at him, shocking him, "respect is earned, not given! I gave your fiancé the same amount of respect that she gave me when she barged into my room without even a knock! And as for you, you arrogant bastard, I am giving you the respect you deserve! As for my 'vulgar language' I will speak however the fuck I want to and there is not a god damn thing you can do about it. Now, if you wish for me to not only show you some respect but also speak to you with respect you better start fucking earning my respect!" With that said, the young woman knelt back down, re-positioned Meg, and continued to work.

It took Raoul's mind a few minutes to get over the shock it had gone in. No one had ever dared to talk to him that way before. Just who did this woman think she was? 'Respect was earned?' What a load of crap. Money and power was what got you respect! And he had both of those!

Raoul made to grab the young woman once more when something fell from the flies and nearly hit him. It landed on the ground with a loud THUD causing everyone to jump and a few people to scream, his Christine one of them. Raoul looked at what had fallen to see a sand bag beside him. He looked up, confused. They were nowhere near the back drops. A letter floated down from the flies towards him. He caught it and noticed that it was addressed towards him and opened it.

My dear friend,

You have already won the battle for your Christine's heart. If I may suggest that you leave this Christine alone. For if you do not, than this Dark Angel shall pull you down from the throne you have crafted and drag you down to hell where we have been forced to reside. This Angel is not one for the light, she longs for the Dark.

And should you harm her again, you will be met with a fate far worse than death.

You have been warned.

Your obedient servant,

O.G.

Raoul paled at the seeing the signature before anger consumed him. That monster was back and appeared to not have learned from the last time. Well, if he wished for another fight, then so be it. Raoul had won the last time, and he would win again.

Edited: 6/4/2020