She was glad that she had taken some money with her, and she ran to the nearest bus stop, her chest heaving. She knew it—it beat through her with a resounding firmness. She knew.

As she rode the empty bus, she stared out of the darkened window and into the empty streets. No one was out—no one cared that her father had been found. No one was celebrating that Gustave Daae had come back to her. And she didn't care. She didn't care that no one else cared. Gustave was her Pappa. He would always mean everything to her, and that was enough. As long as she cared, it mattered.

The bus dropped her off two blocks away from the hospital, and she ran the entire way, feeling a stitch tearing at her side. Her breath ripped in and out of her lungs in short, panicked bursts, and she felt herself begin to perspire under her coat. The cold wind whipped into her, and the sidewalk was firm and unyielding under her pounding feet. She could be seeing her father in five minutes…The thought spurred her on.

Finally, she pushed through the heavy hospital doors and into the front waiting room, gasping in for air. She looked around wildly, as if expecting to see Gustave standing right in front of her.

"Miss?"

Christine whirled around and saw a confused and concerned-looking nurse standing behind the front desk. "Miss, are you okay?"

Christine hurried up to her. "My father's here," she panted, clutching at her aching, racing heart. "Please, he's here. I need to see him!"

"Okay, calm down now," the nurse said, sitting down and pulling a file toward her. "Visiting hours are over—he's probably resting. Maybe if you come back tomorrow…"

"No!" Christine cried loudly. "No! He's been missing for weeks! He's here! I know he's here! I need to see him! Right now! Let me see him!"

The nurse looked baffled, and she cleared her throat a little. "Um…okay. What's his name?"

"Gustave Daae," Christine chanted hurriedly. "Please, tell me what room he's in."

Christine watched anxiously as the nurse ran her finger down a complicated-looking chart. The nurse looked back up at her.

"I'm sorry, Miss. No one by that name is registered here."

It felt as if her heart literally dropped in her chest. She stared at the nurse. "No, he's here!" she insisted shrilly. "I know he's here! He just got here—he's been missing!"

The nurse stood and held out her hands in a placating manner. "All right, Miss. Let me check for you." She picked up a phone, dialed a number, and turned around, murmuring things into the phone that Christine couldn't quite make out. After a brief conversation, the nurse turned back, put the phone down, and said,

"Follow me, please."

Christine obeyed, her arms wrapped around herself. She felt her phone buzz angrily in her pocket, and she ignored it, knowing it was Raoul. He wanted to know where she was—but she couldn't talk to him just yet. Let him get drunk and enjoy his New Years, she thought somewhat coldly. Then she felt guilty. It wasn't as if it was Raoul's fault. Still, she knew that if she had tried to talk to him about the hospital, he probably never would have believed her.

They walked through long hallways, past more desks and offices, past dozens of rooms, and Christine looked around, expecting to catch sight of her father any moment. They went through wide double doors and into another waiting area, which was full of several dozen people, and Christine felt her throat catch. It was the emergency room, and many of the people looked very badly hurt. She looked away quickly, not wanting to see something that would make her sick.

The nurse went and spoke to the other nurses at the desk. They all looked back at Christine for a few moments, and then one of them nodded and walked over to her.

"Please come with me."

Again, Christine followed the new nurse, going out of the waiting room and down into a narrower hallway. The nurse stopped and looked at Christine, holding a clipboard.

"You said your father's name is Gustave Day-ee," the nurse said.

"Daae," Christine corrected. "And yes. Please, where is he?"

The nurse scribbled something down onto her clipboard. Then she looked back up and said softly, "Miss, a man was brought in thirty minutes ago without any identification whatsoever. He's being treated right now—he's in pretty bad shape—and if you could give us some identification, we might be able to see if he's your father…"

Christine shakily dug out her small wallet and pulled out an I.D. card, shoving it out for the nurse to examine. She was feeling like she might pass out.

"What do you mean, he's in pretty bad shape?" Christine asked hoarsely. "What—what's happened to him? What's wrong with him?"

The nurse shook her head. "As soon as he's identified, we'll be at liberty to tell you. Now if you could just wait right in here for a little while…"

Christine gratefully sat down in one of the indicated chairs, knowing that her knees might have given way had she stood up for much longer. She leaned back and pressed her hands over her face, trying not to let her mind run. Pretty bad shape…pretty bad shape…bad shape…

Her poor Pappa! What was wrong with him? If they would just let her look at him, she would show them the resemblance. She had his hair and cheekbones and ears…

Her phone buzzed again, and she pulled it out and turned it off before pushing it back into her pocket. She didn't want to talk to Raoul right now—she didn't want him to berate her for leaving the party without telling him, for worrying him and scaring him. This was too much already without feeling guilty about leaving Raoul without a word.

She sat in the hard plastic chair for what felt like hours. Some nearby machines beeped occasionally, and sometimes nurses hurried past, but she was left alone. She tapped her feet and twirled her hair and drummed her fingers, staring at the cheap plastic clock nailed to the opposite wall. It ticked in an infuriating rhythm. It was after one in the morning. Happy New Year.

This meant that the Phantom had carried through his part of the bargain. Her father had been found and returned to her. The Phantom had done as he had said, but she realized, with a sickening jolt, that she still had nearly three months with him to train for her audition. And still…he had said that he would train her until he deemed her responsible enough. What did that even mean? She groaned and pressed her fingertips into her eyes. She was exhausted in every way, but her mind would not stop racing.

At two in the morning, a nurse came to her, and Christine followed the nurse through more hallways. They stopped outside of a closed set of double doors, and the nurse said softly,

"The man is just through here. He's stable right now, but he's still very weak, and he's been put under some sedatives right now, so he's not conscious. We're just going to ask you to not get overexcited, okay?"

Christine nodded quickly, her lips pressed together, and the nurse led the way through. As soon as she saw the hospital bed, Christine began to cry. It was her father. Her heart was pounding, threatening to burst out of her chest, and she pressed her hands over her mouth and wept.

The nurse stood by her and put a hand on her shoulder. "If you could give us some identification of his, something to help us register him, we'd really appreciate it. And we'll need your insurance information as well, if you have it."

Christine nodded distractedly, only half-listening. She wanted to reach out and touch the gaunt man before her, but she was afraid that she would break him.

"We're going to move him to a patient room now," the nurse said. "So if you'll come with me, we can get some information from you…"

For the next twenty minutes, Christine answered questions, wrote things down, signed her name a couple of times, all while crying. She was trying not to think too much right now—she tried to force herself to only realize what a joyous occasion it was. Her father was returned to her, and everything was right in the world at this point.

Then she was allowed to go into the patient room her father was kept in. The screen was drawn across the middle of the room, meaning someone was on the other side. The nurses had given her a cup of water, and she set it down on the small table before sitting in one of the large chairs by his bed. She curled up and stared at him, wiping away her tears with her fingers.

He was so painfully thin…She could see it, even under the hospital gown they had put him in. His hands were resting by his side, and his fingers looked brittle. His fingernails were broken and split, and she wanted to take his hands and kiss away all the pain. All of the skin that was exposed was covered in small scratches and numerous purple bruises. His hair had been shaved off, and she saw a bandage around the back of his head. There were several others on his neck and face, and she wanted to reach out and touch any part of him. But there was the chance that it would wake him, and she knew that he needed rest. His chest rose in and out weakly, shallowly, and there were numerous tubes and IVs stuck into his arms. He had an oxygen tube as well. The machines around him hummed and beeped softly.

The night passed, and Christine dozed a few times, always jerking awake when her head fell. The chair was uncomfortable, and the fabric was faded and nearly threadbare. She continued to watch Gustave, praying that he would wake. She had stopped crying, but her face was sticky and her nose was running. She used nearby tissues and cleaned herself up as best she could.

Sunlight eventually came into the room, creeping in through the plastic slats in the blinds, and the digital clock on the wall was counting away the time to her. She was beginning to grow very hungry, but she still couldn't leave—not with her father right beside her at last. Nurses came in and out every so often, checking numbers and figures on the machines, asking Christine soft, gentle questions, and writing things down on the clipboard that was hanging from the edge of Gustave's hospital bed. Once Christine had looked at it while no nurses were there, but she hadn't been able to understand a word.

Oftentimes the nurses disappeared behind the curtain, and she heard them speaking to the patient. It sounded like it was a man as well, and he spoke in a wheezy whisper. Christine wondered if he, too, was someone's father, hurt and confused. After the hours of debating, she at last reached out and put a shaking hand on Gustave's arm, careful not to press or move it at all. His skin felt dry and cold, and she would have been willing to spend her entire life nursing him back to health.

Around nine in the morning, there was a gentle knock on the open door, and she turned around to see Raoul standing there, looking tired and concerned. He was still wearing his clothes from the night before, and there were dark shadows under his eyes.

"Hey, Christine," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "You okay?"

She nodded and looked back to her father. Raoul took the chair next to hers, looking at Gustave as well. He reached out and put a hand on hers.

"Emily told me that you said you needed to go to the hospital. I was so worried about you, I thought…and then you didn't answer your phone…But I couldn't believe it when the nurses said that your dad was here."

"I didn't mean to ruin your New Year's Eve," she said quietly. "I'm sorry."

"You're worried about my New Year's Eve?" he said, almost incredulously. "Christine…I couldn't care less about that. I just wish you had told me that you knew your dad was here. I would have taken you here in a second if you had—and…well, how did you know?"

She shrugged a little, opting for complete honesty, because she couldn't imagine a good lie. "I just…knew. I just felt that he was here. I knew it. I knew it. Is that crazy?"

He smiled softly. "Maybe a little. But it's a good thing."

Christine threaded her fingers through Raoul's, watching as some of the sunlight spilled across Gustave's hospital bed. How had she known? It had been a feeling, and that was it. Was she crazy? Was she so connected with her father that she could sense his return? Or maybe God gave her that feeling, telling her that her Pappa was back at last. She muffled a slight yawn. Whatever it was, she was thankful.

They were silent for a long while. Gustave's breathing remained slow and weak, and he was very still. A nurse came in and smiled at the pair of them before beginning to go through the checking routine.

"Nurse," Raoul said. "Can you tell us exactly what's happening to Mr. Daae?"

"He's just deprived of a lot of things," the nurse said softly, adjusting one of the tubes. "Water, food, sleep…He has a few broken ribs and a broken foot, and he needed some stitches in some places. That's what I can tell you right now."

Christine was horrified. Just what had happened to her Pappa? Who had done this to him? Why would anyone hurt him? He was the kindest man in the world. He had never hurt anybody—he had no enemies in the world! People had taken him and then hurt him like this? Why?

Raoul reached over and put his arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort her. The nurse finished her routine and left silently. Raoul got up from his chair and awkwardly pulled Christine into his arms. She buried her face in his chest, not wanting anyone with her but grateful that Raoul was trying.

After a few silent minutes, Raoul shifted a little and said quietly, "I'll go get you some clean clothes and something to eat, okay? I'll only be gone for a little bit, and then I'll come right back."

Christine nodded wordlessly, and Raoul left after hugging her tightly. She curled up in her chair once again. Gustave moved his head a little to the left, and her heart leapt, but he continued to sleep. He looked so strange without his dark, curly hair. He would probably laugh at himself when he woke up.

The thought cheered her up slightly, but then she grew melancholy almost immediately afterward. She dozed again a few more times, but Raoul came back soon after just like he had promised, and she thanked him tiredly for the food and clothes. They ate in silence, and then he left the room so she could change out of her old, rumpled clothes.

She finally fell asleep around five o' clock that evening, allowing herself to drop off on Raoul's shoulder, confident in his promises that he would wake her if Gustave woke. She slept shallowly but peacefully, dreaming absurd things that changed quickly. When she began to dream about the Phantom, her sleep grew restless, and she dreamed that he entered the hospital room and killed her father in front of her. She jerked herself awake with a little cry, snapping her eyes open to ensure that such a thing hadn't happened. When she looked around, she realized that it was the opposite.

Gustave was awake, looking tired, but he was smiling faintly at her. His lips were dry and cracked, and there was dark, clotted blood on his lower lip. However, she had never felt happier while looking at him.

"Pappa!" she whispered, and she leaned over and kissed him over and over, beginning to cry again. Gustave raised a shaking, weak hand to put on her curls, and when she pulled away, his smile was still on his thin lips.

"Hej, ängel," he managed to rasp.

Christine took his hand and pressed it to her lips, trying not to heave on sobs. She felt unending relief and all-consuming joy fill her, and she never wanted to be parted from Gustave ever again.

A nurse entered then, exclaiming in delight and surprise when she saw that Gustave was awake, and she busied herself about, adjusting things on the machines and asking Gustave several quick questions. Gustave looked at her in confusion, and then he turned his gaze to Christine for help, who was only too willing to translate for him.

Then a doctor entered, and Raoul spoke to him quietly in the corner while Christine continued to hold Gustave's hand, smiling weakly at him and feeling occasional tears of happiness slip down her cheek.

"You should…not be crying," Gustave said in soft, tired Swedish. "My…prinsessa should…never cry."

"I'm just so happy I've found you," Christine whispered in reply. "Pappa…I've missed you more than you can imagine."

The doctor approached, and Raoul led Christine out of the room after quietly telling her that the doctor thought it would be best if she wasn't there for a few minutes.

"The doctor's just going to check a few of your dad's…more serious injuries," Raoul said to her consolingly. She bounced on her feet anxiously in the hallway, resisting the urge to peek inside the room. Then Raoul took her hand and said, "Do you want to sleep at my place tonight? It's a lot closer to the hospital than your apartment."

Christine shook her head instantly. "I'm staying here tonight."

He pressed her for a few more minutes, trying to get her to understand that it would be best overall if she slept in an actual bed and had sufficient food, but Christine would not budge this time. Raoul finally conceded to a defeat and rubbed the back of his neck.

"All right," he said. "Whatever you want, Christine. I need to go home soon, though. I have to go to work tomorrow—there's a meeting that I can't miss. Are you going to be okay here alone?"

"Of course I am," she said shortly.

"Okay. I'll be back tomorrow night as soon as I get off work. See you then." Instead of kissing her, he hugged her again as a farewell and left. When the doctor reemerged, he allowed Christine to hurry back inside. Gustave's eyelids were drooping with tiredness, and Christine reached out and held his hand tightly. She kissed his knuckles again.

"Pappa," she said in soft Swedish. "Things are going to get so much better. I promise."