WE ARE SO CLOSE TO THE BIG DAY! haha thank you for the reviews :] and thanks to those of you reading! I really wanted Christine to go all out and bitch at Meg, but I wanted it to be realistic for Christine's character...so I tried my best. acchkkk I hope you enjoy this chapter!

A/N: in the quotations area I do before chapters I believe I'm going to be quoting a bunch of songs that I think lyrics are relevant to the story, so if you find that you like it but don't know the song then just ask me what it's from in the reviews, because from one POTO fan to another...we know that music definitely feeds the soul, and who am I to not offer beautiful music to those I share so much in common with? haha and on another note, Erik in this chapter plays one of Lorenzo's song...I guess imagine it to be Once Upon A December from Anastasia (I've actually tried to play it and the timing is very frustrating! and I do not own Phantom related things or Anastasia) I'm just telling you to imagine Once Upon A December to help you all visualize or rather "audiolize" what the characters are hearing

okay enough talking, more reading! :D

CHAPTER 10: The Last Chance

"...this story's old but it goes,

on and on until we disappear,

calm me and let me taste,

the salt you breathed,

while you were underneath,

I am the one who haunts your dreams,

of mountains sunk below the sea,

I spoke the words but never gave a thought,

to what they all could mean,

I know that this is what you want,

a funeral keeps both of us apart,

you know that you are not alone,

need you like water in my lungs..." -Jesse Lacey

Erik's POV

Madame Giry didn't arrive until morning, and when she did news was very interesting indeed. The police were investigating my home in search for identification and evidence to any other crimes which may have occurred at the Opera Populaire in the past; they wouldn't be successful. However, it came to my attention that they were also wrecking havoc and collecting most of my belongings. My sheet music, drawings, dioramas of numerous stage sets, and stolen set pieces were being tampered with. I was irate by this information and demanded to leave for the opera house but Madame Giry insisted I stay out of sight and within her home while she would do everything in her power to salvage what she could in my domain. True, the mob had proved successful in locating my prime whereabouts, but they knew nothing of the other catacombs down below the theatre; which was where Madame Giry would move everything she could manage to gather.

She also informed me of the police reports relating to the number of deaths from last night. There had been a total of three casualties; only one died by my hand. Lorenzo Trentacosta had been chased on to the roof of the opera house and strangled a policeman to death, and then with the man's gun and shot the other two officers twice and bashed their heads with it; only one of them woke up. Madame Giry and I concluded that Lorenzo Trentacosta had not meant to kill the men he shot; otherwise he would've shot them in a more vital part of the body, but knocked them unconscious and used the dead officer to break his fall when he jumped off the roof. It also seemed very peculiar that he did not simply take off the mask, but Madame Giry suggested that he was in belief that he was being chased because he had snuck in through the dressing room. Though this was probably true, I knew that Lorenzo Trentacosta was no classic gentlemen. To fight a man in self defense was one thing but to strangle a man to death, especially someone who upheld the law, was another. I knew this from detailed experience. Anyone can stab or shoot someone, with one quick motion the deed is easy and done, but when you strangle someone it requires a form of rage to be able to kill them with your own hands without stopping to change your mind due to life's basic morals. Not only did he strangle him but he used him to jump off a roof; which in my mind seemed rather vulgar and clever all at once. The fact that I thought it was clever just helped support my judgment of Lorenzo Trentacosta; he was lethal to the average man.

I couldn't sleep. Knowing the exact location of Christine's whereabouts and that she would be staying in Paris for at least another year had made me restless. Not to mention she was additionally in the presence of a dangerous person. How could I know that if this Lorenzo boy would kill a policeman what would then stop him from killing someone like Christine? Perhaps not kill her but nonetheless it made me utterly distraught, and jealous. Yes, I was jealous that this boy who had never even met Christine would be spending a night, if not more, in the same vicinity as her. But was I also jealous of his talent as well? It was claimed in the letter that he was a composer, but who was that fop to be the judge of musical talent; especially in my area of expertise? Whether or not Madame Giry spotted me taking Lorenzo Trentacosta's compositions out of his bag I could've cared less, but from what I could read on the musical staff…it was good; very good.

Madame Giry had left in the evening to go back to the opera house leaving me alone with Meg. We never spoke a word to one another. I stayed in one room and she remained in another. As much as I always have appreciated Madame Giry for helping me for as long as I've known her; Meg was quite the opposite. I had asked her mother on many numerous occasions to restrain her daughter from wandering in areas of the opera house in places she shouldn't roam. The secret entrances and passage ways were installed for my safety and privacy, and for anyone who tried to find me would ultimately pay the price curiosity asked for. Virtually I was always unmoved by their deaths, but due to the fact that Meg was the daughter of the woman who had enabled my life to be one with music and art; it seemed that warning her of her daughter's annoyingly intimate relationship with inquisitiveness played a fair trade.

I made myself comfortable in a small room that lined the walls with nothing but over flooded bookshelves. Madame Giry always brought a book with her to the theatre in case she had a few moments to spare to be able to enjoy herself when she wasn't instructing the dancers. There was also a small piano located in the corner. I was relieved at first but when I sat down in front of it I could feel my chest cave inwards; everything I ever wrote or played had always been for Christine. In an attempt to shove this knowledge to the back of my mind I began to play something popular and simple; Mozart's Rondo. After a couple measures I stopped playing. What the hell was I doing? I never even liked Mozart to begin with; all of his music was no doubt catchy but where was the darkening influence of life within them? I started to recall the musical preferences in my mind but after playing a few verses of each song I had to stop; was there nothing that appealed to me anymore? Before Christine entered my life I had marveled at great composers who had come before me and played their music with such fascination, but when Christine came along something struck me. I viciously began writing my own music for I was unable to find anything else that expressed the way I felt about her. She was my muse. She granted me the skill to create a world I couldn't make alone. It was her that had given me the wings for my music and imagination. Christine became music herself in my life, and yet I needed her like water in my lungs.

Admitting defeat I then remembered Lorenzo's composition I had taken. I pulled it out of my pocket and unfolded the few sheets. There was no title of his score. Placing it on the piano's music stand I took a few moments to look over the song. There was something about his composition that caught my attention; the timing. The timing of his song was very unusual. I tried to envision the song in my head but decided to just play it out and hear it for myself. After playing the first few measures I was quite impressed with the music, but then the song got heavier and demanded my hands to move at unusual paces in contrast with one another. Now I felt something towards Lorenzo Trentacosta that I had never had for anyone else; respect. These unusual timings had blended together so melodically; it was not a piece of music a mediocre pianist could play flawlessly the first time reading it through. Not only did the music posses perfect harmonies but it also contained emotion depth. Listening to the tune while I played I felt I was being carried into an unknown story. It became apparent to me that this song wasn't just a piece of piano music; it begged for a voice to expose its true meaning.

"Meg!"

I immediately stopped playing and felt my face go white. I quickly tucked the sheet music into my pocket while closing the door behind me ran out into the front room where a wide eyed Meg stood.

"Meg? Meg are you home?" Christine's voice called from behind the front door.

"Don't you dare open that door." I whispered so deafly but demanding into her ear. She looked absolutely terrified.

"I just heard a door close inside." A males voice that I didn't know came from outside. How could he have possibly heard that?

"I can hear you Meg. It's me Christine!"

Meg turned around to look at me with a helpless look on her face. I gave her a severe look of disapproval but it was too late. She cracked open the door.

"Hi Christine."

Oh if she wasn't the damn daughter of the woman who saved my life I would kill her a thousand times over.

"What brings you here?" Meg continued.

I was forced to quietly retreat into the spare room. I silently closed the door and pressed my ear against it.

"I just wondered if I could borrow some clothes. Raoul doesn't have anything for me to wear." God how I hated that name! And to hear it from her lips!

Meg agreed to get her clothes but then the man required a bathroom thusly having Christine come inside of the house. This man was clearly not Raoul. His voice was baritone and suggestively threatening. I heard his footsteps grow closer to the door and then stop as it echoed further away; he was in the room with the piano. A sneak! I wanted to leap out of the door and ask him what was his business here and why was he with Christine. Wait…he was with Christine and it wasn't Raoul; Lorenzo.

"Meg, am I right?" Lorenzo made way to the front room.

"Yes." She was scared.

"I couldn't help but notice a piano in one of the rooms down the hall. Do you play?"

"No."

"And no one else is here?"

Blast! This boy heard me play his song!

"Just me."

"Lorenzo what is this all about?" god, now she was saying his name. She hadn't even known him a day and now they were out and about together?

"Very well. Have a good night then." He spat. I could hear the door crash open and him march out of the house.

"I-I'm so sorry. I should go see what's wrong with him." Christine cared about another man! This was more than I could take! Perhaps I was overacting, but I didn't care. My Christine was right there, and now she was leaving.

I waited a few moments for the door to close until I came out of the room. I was prepared tell Meg off for letting them both in while I was here.

"Damn it girl, why did you let them…Meg?"

She was sitting on the floor with her head tucked into her knees when I heard a few sniffs escape from her body. She was crying. I felt more awkward the louder her crying got. I thought about asking her why she was upset, but instead I quietly went back into the spare room and stared out the window. The sky was a dark shade of blue dimly lit by the few stars that were out tonight. Where did I go wrong? I buried my face into my hands. Had I not once been what Christine dreamt of? There was a time when she loved me unconditionally for bringing her music and comfort, and I loved her for loving me. If there was some way I could have known of the Vicomte's arrival in advance then I would have exposed myself to Christine years ago. What if I did? Would she have loved me on her own and forgave me for posing as her Angel of Music sent by her father? I did it all for her; it was always for her. I lifted open the window and felt the icy wind sting against my face. It felt good to breathe in the cold air. All of the sudden I heard the front door smash open.

"Where is he!"

Christine was back! Like a foolish child I quickly ran across the room and hid inside the closet.

"Christine, I-I don't know what you're talking about." Meg was very unconvincing.

"No! You're hiding him! He's here right now and I'm going to find him! You and your mother! You both- I don't know! You both have been up to something- deny it to hell all you want but I know he's here!"

That was the first time I ever heard Christine say the word 'hell' or raise her voice in such a manner. I could hear her running down the hall and getting closer to the room.

"Christine w-who are you talking about?" I could hear Meg run after her.

"You know exactly who I'm talking about! Just shut up!"

My jaw dropped. My vocabulary wasn't exactly perfect, but Christine never said anything remotely insulting to anyone in all of the years I've known her. She always spoke kind words. She had to be upset, and she was upset because she was trying to find me! It didn't make any sense. I heard the footsteps come into the room.

"He's gone." Meg said.

I heard the door slam shut. Oh god, I was in the same room as Christine and hiding myself in this ridiculous closet!

"I know that now." Christine fiercely whispered.

"Christine I swear I didn't-"

"Don't even start Meg- for years your mother has known things…things that not just anyone could know. She knows Erik…I know she knows."

"Christine that's the thing, she knows and not me."

"I know he was here when me and Lorenzo came! Why did you lie to me Meg?"

"He didn't want to see you!" Meg…I was going to kill her. Yes, I was going to kill Meg the instant I got out of this closet.

"What?" Christine's voice broke, "Why doesn't he want to see me?"

"He needed to pick up a few things and that was it...please don't tell anyone we had him here, Maman-"

"Of course I'm not going to tell anyone!" Christine choked…was she crying?

"Why, why do you care?" Meg asked the question I wanted to know myself.

"What kind of question is that?" Christine snapped.

"You pulled off his mask in front of hundreds of people and then left Christine, maybe that's why."

Touché.

"You don't know anything!" Christine began to cry hysterically.

I wanted to jump out of this closet and let her know I was here! But why didn't I? There was so much information I could learn right now. Then I heard a something thump against the closet door and could hear it slide down against the closet door as the crying got louder; it was Christine. She was literally two inches away from me and hearing her cry through the door made my heart feel as if a steak was slowly puncturing through the core.

"Christine…" Meg soothingly called, "Why are you crying?"

"I-I don't k-know."

My heart sank. Of course…why would she cry for me? She chose Raoul last night, why change her mind now?

"Look, Christine I can imagine how hard things must be for you, but you made a choice. Don't you think it's unfair to keep both men in your lives when they can't be in each others?"

"I thought you said you didn't know anything." Christine said coldly.

"It's not that hard to see." Meg sighed, "Don't you think you rushed Christine?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean…with the engagement and everything? You knew him when you were a kid and didn't see him for like ten years and barely talked about him, and then he shows up and now you're getting married."

Perhaps I wouldn't kill Meg.

"What…? Don't be crazy-"

"No, don't you be crazy."

"So…is he okay?" Christine whispered.

"Who?"

"Erik."

Oh she said my name, and she wanted to know if I was okay.

"Is that what his name is?" had Madame Giry never told Meg? I knew I could count on her.

"Yes."

"Well…I can't really say. When he was here he never slept or ate or did much of anything."

"He has Lorenzo's compositions." Christine whispered.

"Oh…is that why-"

"Yes, he said he heard someone playing his song when we left your house…that's why I had to come back…c-cause I knew-" Christine's sentence was cut off by her crying.

She would never know this, but I was pressed up against the closet door right behind her with my hand and face pressed against it to be as close to her as possible. I could faintly hear the breathing of her lungs against the door; it was beautiful because it was a sound I thought I may never hear again.

"Well, I don't know where he is…so what are you going to tell Lorenzo?"

"The…truth."

"What!"

What!

"No- not everything…but that someone was here and didn't want to see me and happened to have his music...did he purposely take his music?"

"I have no idea. Maman was reading the letter Raoul sent him, it could've fell out of the bag and the Phantom could've picked it up…"

"You know you can call him Erik right?"

"It's weird to think he actually has a name."

"Why?"

"I don't know, I've just grown used to calling him what everyone knows him by."

"I suppose I know what you mean…I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"It's okay Christine."

"If…if he comes back here could you tell him something for me?"

"What is it?"

"Could you tell him…never mind."

Damn it!

"What were you going to say?"

"I was just going to ask you to tell him Happy Valentine's day for me…but it's not that happy."

Damn right it wasn't a happy day. Two knocks tapped on the door.

"Ladies?" it was Lorenzo.

"That's Lorenzo…I should go, Raoul will be home soon." I heard Christine stand up, "I'm sorry Meg."

"It's okay Christine…tell Lorenzo I'm sorry."

"Meg?"

"Yes Christine?"

"Is he staying?"

"Are you?" Meg whispered.

"Yes."

"I really don't know."

"Thank you Meg."

The door opened and the footsteps grew distant until they were heard no longer, and once again she was gone.

I slowly opened the closet door and walked out into the hallway. When Meg turned from the front door and saw me her eyes grew wide with fear. As angry as I was with her I kept myself composed.

"Tell your mother that I will be settled in my new home the next time she goes to the theatre."

Walking past her I went through the front door and walked down the street. It was now a pitch black night with very few people out on this 'Valentine's Day'. I spotted a parked carriage with no occupants. I quickly untied one of the horses and mounted myself onto the beast and began to make my way to the opera house. I needed to get ready for a lot of things. In four days would be the Fine Arts Academy presentations, in four days I would return what belonged to Lorenzo Trentacosta while he helped me return what was rightfully mine, and in four days would be the beginning of another extraordinary year at the Opera Populaire.

Next chapter is in Lorenzo's POV and the Fine Arts Academy Presentations! FINALLY! :]

P.S, I'm sorry there was a lack of Lorenzo's fury in this chapter...BUT I have a special surprise when we go through his POV the next chapter ;]