A/N: Long absence. My bad. Don't hurt me.

Maggie

When I awoke, Jacques was gone. It was as if he were never there. Moving at a sluggish pace, I dressed for no real purpose other than to gain the feeling that I had accomplished something, small as it was. Then, I just sat. I sat on my brother's bed, in my brother's room, mentally racking through images of the past time we'd spent together. How quickly the memories seem to fade when you actually take the time to look back on them.

While in the process of—sitting, there was a quiet knock on the door and when I didn't answer, Jacques gingerly poked his head in.

"I come bearing a great feast." He announced, producing a plate of cheese bread and something to drink.

When I didn't budge, he set it all on the nightstand. Unnerving silence.

"So…how are you holding up?" I finally met his eyes.

"How do you think I'm holding up?"

Jacques held his hands up in defense. "You're right, dumb question." He sat next to me.

"What am I supposed to do, now?"

"Well, I wouldn't recommend working tonight. Not that anyone expects you to, anyway. But Monsieur Firmin asked me to tell you that he has some business to discuss with you."

"Fine."

He stood up. "I'll let him know you'll be up after breakfast."

"Not really that hungry."

"Well…try to be." And with that, he left me alone.

After several minutes of staring down the cheese bread, I decided to hell with it. Eating would just serve to make me more nauseous than I already felt, so I sucked in a deep breath, adopted a passive look, and ventured out into the world, head held high. A world confined within the Opera's walls, for it now was the only world I cared to know.

My meeting with Monsieur Firmin was very brief. I sat stone-faced in a very uncomfortable chair, facing his desk. The office reeked of cigar smoke, and seemed very dim even with the morning sun, which looked as though it wouldn't dare peek through the windows.

"First of all, allow me to give my condolences. I am sorry for your loss, young Mister Buquet." He couldn't have sounded more insincere. "I assume you know why I've requested you here this morning?"

I shook my head.

"Hmm, well, now that Mr. Buquet is—no longer with us, there is the pressing matter of settling his finances."

At mentioning this, I feared he would ask me for money I most certainly didn't have, but he surprised me.

"Being his next of kin, you will receive the remainder of his wages as well as a small compensation for your tragic loss. By the way, did your brother have access to any other financial means? A bank account…?"

"No, sir. My brother has no other money other than what he has been making here."

"I see. Well, I'm sorry to say it's not a very large pension, what's leftover. But it should tide you over for awhile until you've managed to save enough for yourself."

I nodded solemnly for lack of anything to say. The news wasn't particularly thrilling.

"That is all. You may go, now." Monsieur Firmin dismissed me.

Not keen on the idea of returning to an empty room, I wandered around the Opera House, again.

Maggie

Of all people, I had to have a run-in with Meg Giry and Christine Daae. It's not that I had anything against them, personally. I just couldn't stomach the thought of female social interaction or any social interaction for that matter. I was so tired; worn out from pretending to be something I'm not.

The moment they rounded the corner, I turned heel, pretending not to see them, and would've succeeded in my escape attempt if Meg hadn't called out my name. Damn. I turned around, slowly, slipping into my façade of grieving younger brother. Bollocks, how was that supposed to look? My development of character was interrupted when Meg spoke.

"We heard the awful news. I'm so sorry, Sidney. Is there anything we can do for you?" Christine asked.

"No." I make a point of clearing my throat once I realized how soft and high-pitched I sounded.

"Christine and I were just on our way back to the ballet dorms. She's been staying with her foster mother. Come back and talk with us."

Before I could decline the invitation, I was pulled and herded along between the two of them. Minutes later, we were all sitting in the dorm room in whatever available seats we could find, and started talking like close friends. At least, they did. I, on the other hand, didn't volunteer much information, and I felt they somehow sensed how much I wanted to be somewhere else.

"You know, I lost my father when I was just a young child."

'You mean younger child,' I thought, judging Christine to not be any older than I. On a bitterer note, losing a father wasn't the same as losing a sibling. I suppose in some cases it was a hundred times worse, but that depended on the relationship one had with the father. I loved mine very much, make no mistake, but we never exactly shared that unshakeable bond I had with Joseph. It felt as if we were something more powerful than brother and sister, more than best friends, though I don't know what that would be called. No, not like lovers. Let's not be perverse, here.

Trying to sound remotely sympathetic, I replied, "That must have been devastating."

She nodded, eyes watering. "He was like my best friend. More than that, even."

Hmm…perhaps I gave Christine far too less credit than I should have.

"Once he was gone, it was like…"

"…The world just stopped?" I finished for her.

Her cerulean blue eyes bore into mine. "Precisely."

We both suddenly realized that Meg was excluded from the conversation.

"What about you Me—Mademoiselle Giry?" Remember to play the gentlemen, keep my gender in check. She smiled mischievously at me before answering.

"My father's gone, too. I don't know where. I have no siblings."

"Well, it seems we all have one thing in common," I smiled, "We know what it's like to lose someone."

"Oh, I believe we have more in common that that." Meg bounced out of her seat, grabbing a few accessories from a nearby vanity.

"Really, like what for instance?"

"For instance, the fact that we're all girls." She grinned.

And my heart officially made the short jump from chest to windpipe.