Hello there!

Apologizes for waiting a while before updating. I needed a few days to rest and recuperate before finishing this chapter up. I most likely won't be posting until Sunday evening or so- I'll be on a train from Friday to Saturday. Also, on an additional note: As you'll be able to notice from this chapter, I've also been leaning a bit toward the Kay version of Phantom, so we'll see how this progresses from here. Have a wonderful day, readers! And thank you of all of your sweet comments!

Ever yours,

The Soprano in Shadow


"Miss Daae, if we can take the death scene between the two lovers—we'll begin as though the chorus just finished their bit in 'Off to your chains', and begin with Aminta's aria. Now the statue of Don Pedro isn't ready, but the other one is, so we'll just pretend it's over there. Octavio, Isabela and chorus, take your places too. Mr. Destler, would you mind filling in for our Don Juan again?" The composer nodded at the stage director's request and jumped onto the stage.

All emotions and thoughts that he had of her were completely wiped out of his mind—it was time to get serious again. As he strode toward center stage, his golden eyes met the hazel ones of Miss Daae—although she did ask him to call her Christine—and instead of his trademark smirk that he had worn the past two days, he gave her a gentle half smile.

"Now let's see what you can do for this scene, Miss Daae," he said quietly as they got into positions. Quietly, Christine nodded as she took her place beside the statue, and Erik knelt on the ground as the statue had already grabbed hold of Don Juan. As the orchestra began to play her cue, Christine began filling her diaphragm with air, as the plea of a young woman in love took over the stage.

"Ah, but if he is that man no more,

than death should not beg for his soul!

Death should not beg!

He is no longer of the shadows.

His life is mine,

he need not be sent to the pit of fire.

If I must, shall I too choose my life to give?

Will that be proof enough for you,

both mad and hungry for blood? Ahhh!"

Christine's sweet voice pleaded to the house that would be filled on opening night in less than half a week. Erik gazed up at Christine, her face turned up to the heavens as the lights captured her heartbroken and love-filled face. Yes, she was beautiful and strong—she filled his entire being with a sense of fulfillment and peace, even when they were arguing. She was an enigma. He may have only met the women this week, but that was all the time he needed. He was inspired, and his musical being was on fire with music he wanted to write only for her.

Christine looked down at her Don Juan, cupping his unmasked cheek with her hand for a moment, then sliding down until she was holding his hand, as she sang on.

"If I must, I shall choose to give

this life that will prove to all.

Prove his worth, and mine for his.

Ah! This dagger shall bite my flesh

and twine our eternity together.

For I shall fight with fate,

until fate brings to me he who loves me most!"

Finally hitting the final note of the aria, Christine raised a makeshift dagger and pretended to thrust it into her breast and collapsed onto the ground as she held tightly to Erik's hand, which would allow Aminta to be dragged to Hell with Don Juan and be judged.

The trap door below them opened as fog spread thickly onto the stage. As they dropped to the cushioned ground below, darkness hit the stage and a statue of the lovers in a passionate embrace rose up in the place of Don Pedro's. A single spotlight shone on the statue as the orchestra finally reached the end of the opera ending on a sweet chord that would help the audience believe that Don Juan's soul was cleansed and resting eternally with that of Aminta's.

Christine began to tear up as stared at the statue, and Erik watched as she began to cry lightly. Alarmed, Erik rushed over to her, afraid that she may have injured herself in some way. "Miss Daae, are you alright?"

Christine sniffled. "I'm alright, Mr. Destler, thank you though. It's just… this opera. It's so— so—." She broke off unable to finish her thought, but Erik understood.

This was his masterpiece. The angel who loved the devil. The light that loved the darkness. The beautiful that loved the damned. This was his one hope in life: to be loved. For someone else to understand and see it the way he did… he was grateful. To be fair, she was the one soprano who was asked to perform in all of his operas, but now Erik understood why. While she may have been too pure to understand the dark passion between Don Juan and Aminta through the seduction, she understood what real acceptance for someone was, and that meant the world to him.

"Let's get you upstairs and back in the light," Erik said gruffly, choking back his own emotions as he helped the young soprano up.

Christine allowed the masked composer to pull her up, but kept hold of his arm as he tried to lead her back to the company. "Erik. Your mask. What's behind it?"

Her quiet question startled him. He couldn't bear to look at her after Christine asked the one question Erik had hoped she wouldn't ask. "In the Organization, Miss Daae, they send me out to execute those who are mad beyond help. They call me both 'Death's Angel' and 'Hell Bringer'. They call me those because of what lies beneath. If you wish to stay as my friend in this life, I suggest that you never ask again." However, if you wish to love me, then ask me again, and I shall show it to you, angel. Mentally Erik almost wished Christine could hear his thoughts. He wished that she would continue asking. But she didn't, and that answered his silent question. "We should be heading back upstairs."

He led her back in silence, both pondering their own thoughts, both trying to hard not to look at the other. When they got back to the stage, they smiled and rejoiced with the others upon finishing the staging. But both were thinking the same thing.

Where do we go from here?

It was midnight, and he couldn't sleep. After tossing around for several hours, Erik gave up and walked into the apartment's kitchen. Perhaps some warm milk would help him tonight? But he knew what kept him from sleep. Christine. The woman who held his heart in her dainty hands, but had no idea. She could ruin him. But maybe he wanted to be ruined.

As if hearing his thoughts, she appeared by the window, wearing a nightgown and robe, watching the nighttime stars through the large window. Although the back of her was bathed in moonlight, the rest of her body was hidden in shadow. He stood there silent for a moment, drinking in the sight of her, then cautiously approached her and laid a hand on her shoulder.

"Why will you not leave me alone, Christine? Why must you torment me even when I sleep? You have no idea of what I feel."

She only turned around in response, and Erik recoiled at the sight of her, because it wasn't Christine. It was instead the solemn face of Luciana.

"Christine?" Luciana spat the name back at him as though it were dirt, her face scrunched up in anger. "Who is this Christine? Do you love her? Do I know longer matter know that I'm dead? Will you spill her innocent blood as well and bleed her dry?" At her final words, the ghosts face began to decay until all that was left was her haunted skeleton. "Will you make her become like me?"

Erik sat up suddenly, his face covered in beads of sweat, chest heaving, as he covered the damaged half of his face. It was only a dream: a combination of his past with future fears. Turning, he glanced at the clock by his bed and groaned. It was two in the morning.

Tonight was the opening of his masterpiece, and he would need all of his energy in the evening, in order to get everyone settled with the leading tenor. Then the performance would be a success (hopefully), and the societal after-event would be his main concern in trying to get away from it as soon as possible. Perhaps he could call in his associate Nadir in order to cause a diversion so that he could make his escape from the crowds.

He lay back in bed and stared at the ceiling, thinking of both of the women that had affected his life: the past and the future. Both women tortured his life, but where one tortured him sweetly with challenges and innocently passionate eyes, the other tortured his mind with guilt and regret. One lived in reality and the other lived in death.

Christine scowled as she sat in the chair impatiently, as the head of costume and makeup oversaw the arranging of her hair. Why did all of this have to take so long? Act One had begun about twenty minutes ago, and the soprano was itching for a sneak peak of who her Don Juan would be.

"Alright Miss Daae, you're all set. However, Mr. Destler has requested that you wait here until you are called up for Act Two," the stage director said, popping her head inside the dressing room in order to evaluate the female lead's opening outfit.

Huffing in exasperation, Christine rolled her eyes as she glared at her own image in the mirror. That man is going to pay big time when we get back to the apartment.

Catching the eye of her Batricio in the mirror, Nathaniel Mongielli, Christine's scowl changed to a smile as he approached her, and kissed her cheek. Both Italian bred in Brooklyn and an utter flirt, the soprano sometimes wondered how it was that he had stayed married for so long. Behind him, the curtain had just closed for the end of Act One, which meant that she would meet her Don Juan soon enough.

"Bella!" he exclaimed quietly, as he glanced up and down her form approvingly. Offering a light blush in response, Christine offered him her most luminous smile as got up from her seat and twirled around him in her peasant clothes. "Why don't I take you out for a glass of wine tonight in celebration, yeah? You have no one to go home to tonight, yes?" Nathaniel asked, his eyes sparkling with mischievousness.

"I may not, Nathaniel, however, you do." With that, the tenor gave her a small look of amusement, kissed her hand, and made his way to the stage for his opening place in the opera, with Christine not so far behind her.

Eagerly, Christine glanced at both sides of the wings, as the orchestra began to play the opening lines of music for Act Two, then remembered that there was still a full chorus and duet to sing before Don Juan's entrance because of his costume change into clean clothes. Rolling her eyes in annoyance, she took her place across from Nathaniel as the curtains began to open, and pasted on a smile. This was the first time she would be seen in the world premiere of this opera, and like hell would she embarrass herself onstage!

"Oh joyous day of rapture!

Oh joyous, oh joyous day

of time to squander.

Let our voice of praise onto those who ask,

those who ask for love.

Let this day tie the two…"

As the chorus began their opening lines singing, Christine mentally began to time the entrance of Don Juan as she remembered what Andre had told her earlier that day…

...

"Now Christine, remember. You'll have less than two minutes for this client between Act Two and Intermission. He won't be expecting you, but he'll also know who you really are, and the last thing we need is for people to think that one of the world's current opera diva is an assassin."

Grimly, Christine nodded at Andre's warning. That would be definitely bad for business. Picking up the folder that contained all of her client's data, Christine studied the military buzz cut, the cold gray eyes and the look that he was up to nothing good.

"Francis Werger? What kind of name is that? Why was he targeted?" Christine asked, curious about her newest client.

"Darling, it's 'Franz-Is Ver-ger'," Andre corrected the soprano. "And he's the current ring leader for some drug operation here in New York. His main weakness is opera, which is why Madame signed you down for this. He always has bodyguards by the door upon entering his box, however Mr. Werger here is not a fan of allowing others to see him get emotional during an opera. Which is why he pays the opera house large amounts of money for a solid black curtain to separate his box from the others. So you will have less than thirty seconds to sneak into his box, take care of him, and then leave the box before the doors are opened for the house. The minute you're no longer onstage and Don Juan begins singing his aria, you must strike then. Got it, Cat?"

Christine nodded at the instructions. That didn't seem hard enough.

"Ah what joyous day!" That was her cue from the chorus, as they began to freeze in place. She glanced at Nathaniel as they both drew in breath and began their duet together.

"Ah for he must forget!" "Ah Tisbea! You know not—"

"And I must love! But ah!" "My pain is filled with salt of you!"

"Why this man, he who loves another?" "Will you not hear my pleas?"

As their duet began, Christine realized that this would mean Don Juan was already on stage, however his back would be to her, since he would be speaking with Passarino.

"Tisbea, this day is clouded in shadow!" "His love is far, so why not follow?"

"Must this girl be mine?" "Must this man be him who loves me not? Ah—!"

Nathaniel paused as Christine began her cadenza, and looked at him mournfully. Then this would be the final line of the duet. Maybe after this act, he would try again? His wife was off in Europe for her own opera career, and he was lonely. As his eyes roamed the stage, they paused and caught the eyes of a red haired beauty. Or maybe he wouldn't try again.

"What misery we shall be together!" "Ah, Tisbea! Tisbea! My heart!"

They paused staring sadly at the other, both chests heaving, as the house was filled with applause and the chorus came back to life once more. Christine tried once more to glance behind her, only to realize that it wouldn't be until Aminta runs off and Don Juan follows her, when she would be able to see who the singer was. What a pain! She turned her face towards upstage in an attempt to try closing her eyes and blocking them from the light.

"Oh cruel fates, what joke is this?" Her eyes snapped open as the rich baritone voice reached her ears. "What trickery would this be to truly love? Has Cupid gone and thrust an arrow? Has this village girl taken the last beat of my heart?" What a voice! Although she may have had a weakness for baritones in the past, she had never heard anything like this!

She glanced at Nathaniel who lipped "Wow" and Christine now wished that she had chosen where Nathaniel was standing, in order to see who this was first.

"Fate has been so kind until now,

but this maiden has ropes round my beating heart of fire!"

As Don Juan turned and walked towards the audience, Christine wondered when she would finally be able to see who it was. All she could still see was the back of his dark hair, and she was becoming impatient.

"Ah, cruel fates!

Shall you now have me love?

Or shall I take her and leave?

But, ah! Her smile,

sweet temptress of innocence!"

At the end of Don Juan's aria, he turned away from the audience, and stalked towards the chorus. As he sang about who he was, Christine turned, only to be blocked off by a wall of chorus members. Was she never going to see this man?

Motioning to his servant, Don Juan handed Passarino a large sack of gold in order to lure the other villagers away. As the villagers sang their next chorus ("Ah his master, how kind he is!"), Passarino led them offstage, leaving behind the lovely Aminta and Don Juan.

However, she still couldn't look at him! For Aminta still had to sing more! Christine internally groaned—did this girl do nothing but sing?

"Ah, fates if my voice reaches the heavens,

why must this be so?

For if your intent is to cast my life in sadness,

Thy goals have been complete—I cry."

"Little one, do not distress…" Don Juan's response caused Christine's character, Aminta, to be startled as she saw that she wasn't alone. Glancing at him, Aminta cowered away from the powerful Don on stage, and looked away from him—the very picture of shy and meek.

As Christine sang the recitative of "For he loves one who is not me!", Christine's eyes met the mysterious masked baritone, and all she could think of doing was remembering to breathe.

Those beautiful eyes haunted her mind after that glance as she sang her aria about be unwilling to marry a man who held no love for her. For those five seconds, that had melted her insides to the core, and it took all of her experience as an opera singer to not run offstage and drag him off with her. For the rest of Scene One, she couldn't take her eyes off of his own, forgetting about the man himself. Any motion she made, any thoughts she had, were for those eyes alone.

As Aminta outwardly thanked the kind Don for assisting her in attaining her fiancé, Christine made her way offstage dazed and confused. How had she never seen this baritone onstage before?

Nathaniel rushed over to her quietly backstage as she took a large slurp of water. "Can you believe it? I wonder what the press is going to be saying about all of this! He has some nerve!" The tenor rushed off seconds after his words, leaving Christine confused. What was he talking about? What exactly was going on?

She walked over to the chorus members who were whispering amongst themselves excitedly. "Can someone tell me what's going on, please? Does anyone know who Don Juan is?"

One of the blonde chorus members looked at her amazed. "You didn't recognize him?" she asked flabbergasted. Christine shook her head in response, just as the director of the chorus came over and shushed all of them because of their noise.

Even more confused about what she was missing, Christine headed over to the wings of stage right, in order to have a better look at the baritone, nearly bumping into the man himself in her hurry. As she stared up at those eyes again, Christine still couldn't help but forget everything that she was trying to figure out. That is until the masked man smirked, leaned forward and whispered in her ear before moving away from her quickly in order to get into place.

"Don't forget, angel: sing like you mean it."