Author's Note: Phantom of the Opera belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber, Gaston Leroux, and others. Think of Me belongs to Andrew Lloyd Webber. I am only responsible for Kayla and any other original characters.

4

Kayla had to hide her smile as Madame Giry made her proclamation. The fact that she could literally see the midnight black splotches of ink and sharp cursive of the Phantom's note was just enforcing her feeling of delight that she was even in the same building as the elusive ghost.

"God in heaven, you're all obsessed," Firmin sighed.

The ballet mistress shot him a warning glance before continuing. "He welcomes you to his opera house," she explained, ignoring Andre's quiet protest in terms of ownership. "And he requests that you continue to keep Box 5 empty for his use… and he reminds you that his salary is due."

"His salary?!" gaped Firmin incredulously.

Madame Giry gave a birdlike nod. "Monsieur Leverfe used to give him twenty thousand francs a month," she commented, flipping her long, thick, silvery blonde braid over her shoulder.

"Twenty thousand francs?!" blustered Andre.

"Perhaps you can afford more?" the woman smirked, twirling her elegant black and gold cane over the polished floor. "With the Vicomte as your patron?"

"Well, Madame, I had hoped to made that announcement public this evening, when the Vicomte was to join us for the gala," Firmin sneered. "But it appears that we shall have to cancel, as it seems we have lost our star!" He shredded the Phantom's letter into tiny pieces as he looked wildly at Andre.

"Surely there's an… an…" Andre stuttered.

"Understudy?" one of the male cast members suggested.

"Yes! An understudy!" Andre cried, latching onto the word like a baby with a new toy.

"Understudy?! There is no understudy for la Carlotta!" Reyer snapped with more venom than Kayla felt was necessary. Firmin and Andre were not opera experts, after all; it was not fair to take out the stress of the situation on the new managers.

"A full house, Andre! We shall have to refund a full house!" Firmin moaned.

"Christine Daäe could sing it, sir."

There was a moment of stunned silence as Kayla and Madame Giry stared at each other; the ballet mistress and the new stage hand had spoken completely in unison. Kayla blushed and gestured at Madame Giry. "Sorry, désolé!" she apologized, switching to French halfway through the statement. "S'il vous plaît, continuer." She had gone out on a limb with the French, since in this movieverse most people spoke with British accents. It did, however, pay off with Giry, and no one reacted to the language change. Maybe French and English were pretty much interchangeable in this universe?

Madame Giry smiled at the embarrassed girl kindly. "Merci."

Kayla grinned to herself. Don't take French, they said, her mind jeered. You'll never use Parisian and Canadian French, they said.

"A chorus girl?" Andre scoffed. "Don't be silly."

"She has been taking lessons with a great teacher," Madame Giry said proudly, prodding Christine forward.

"Whom?"

"I don't know his name, monsieur," Christine admitted quietly. Kayla watched the interaction in awestruck silence.

"Let her sing for you, monsieurs," Madame Giry coaxed. "I assure you, she has been well taught."

"Oh oui, elle l'a fait," Kayla muttered. Madame Giry looked at her sharply, but at Kayla's returned guilty grin, her façade softened. No one else heard the aside.

Firmin and Andre reluctantly convinced Christine towards the front of the stage. "From the beginning of the aria then, mademoiselle," Reyer indicated kindly, raising his baton. Christine threw a questioning glance at Madame Giry, who nodded encouragingly.

"This is doing nothing for my nerves," Firmin muttered crossly.

"But she is very pretty," Andre returned in a tone suggesting that this fact alone solved all their problems.

"Think of me, think of me fondly

When we've said goodbye

Remember me, once in a while

Please promise me you'll try…"

Christine's melodious voice silenced everyone present. Kayla was amazed. Christine, or Emmy, as Kayla was referring to her in her mind, obviously had natural talent, but it was very clear that she had been subject to incredible coaching. If she hadn't already known about the Phantom, she would have been very inclined to believe the Angel of Music theory. So clear and sweet were Christine's notes that everyone stood still, waiting in respectful silence. As she flawlessly reached the finale, everyone present applauded. The managers immediately cast Christine as Elyssa, and there were no objections.

After this, the official rehearsal sort of fell apart, and groups of dancers and singers moved to separate sections of the stage to privately practice. Kayla, meanwhile, approached her new bosses. "My orders, sir?" she requested.

"Report to Madame Giry," Firmin decided finally, looking a little dazed. "She will see to your clothes and accommodations, and will be able to give you a more accurate picture of your duties this evening."

"Thank you, monsieurs," Kayla acknowledged, giving another awkward curtsey. Securing her bag over one shoulder, she slowly made her way over to the ballet mistress, who was directing the rest of the corps through another portion of the opera.

"Madame Giry?" Kayla began timidly. The older woman turned and looked at her expectantly. "I'm Kayla, the new stage hand? Monsieur Firmin said I should talk to you…"

"Mademoiselle Abbots, of course," Madame Giry stated crisply. "Please, come with me. Meg!" she barked at her daughter, who whipped around to face her mother. "Lead the others in the rest of the dances. I expect you all to have rehearsed up to act four by the time I return. Christine, my dear, you shall accompany me."

Christine Daäe hurried from Meg's side towards Kayla and Madame Giry. Kayla was nervous to say the least; as the movie had only displayed the magical transition from rehearsal to performance, she had no knowledge whatsoever about the events of the next few hours.

Madame Giry led the way off the stage through the wings, beckoning the two girls to follow. So they did, Kayla falling into step with Christine as if navigating opera houses with fictional characters was something she did on a regular basis. "Beautiful performance, Ms. Daäe," Kayla complimented, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.

Christine beamed at her. "Thank you, Ms. Abbots," she replied graciously, flashing ivory white teeth. "But please, call me Christine."

"I will, if you call me Kayla," Kayla conceded. If Samantha could see her now, her sister would be so jealous. "So I guess you are the Prima Donna now," Kayla remarked. "Your teacher must be very proud."

"I hope so," Christine murmured, twisting a piece of glossy brown hair around a pale finger.

"Oh, darling, I know so," Kayla reassured, giving a knowing smile.

Christine's delicate features bore an expression of shock. "You know the Angel of Music?" she asked in a hushed whisper.

Kayla laughed. "You could say that, but I doubt he knows of me," she explained. "The only musical talent I have is the amount of time I spend listening to it." Glancing slyly at the beautiful brunette out of the corner of her deep blue eyes, Kayla added, "I bet the Vicomte will be very pleased with your performance tonight as well."

Christine blushed, her white cheeks turning rosy, and Kayla smirked. No matter how pissed Samantha had been over the whole Erik and Christine dynamic and the Raoul Christine pairing, Kayla had always shipped the later; in some small way so that Samantha could unconsciously ship herself with the Opera Ghost. "Do you really think so?" Christine asked shyly.

"He'll be heading down to congratulate you before you're even finished singing, mark my words," Kayla assured. "I don't blame you at all; he's a looker."

"A looker?" Christine repeated, her doe brown eyes wide with confusion.

"He's handsome," Kayla amended. "You know him?"

"We were friends, when we were small," Christine told her, smiling bashfully.

"It's meant to be!" Kayla exclaimed dramatically, and the young soprano laughed. Looking up, Kayla saw Madame Giry waiting patiently by the door of the Prima Donna suite. As she had not been paying attention to their route through the halls, Kayla had no idea how they had gotten there. Considering that she was going to be living her for the foreseeable future, Kayla vowed to pay more attention to the routes through the labyrinth of an Opera House. Unfortunately, there would be no glittery monarchs in this particular maze, part of her mind pointed out. Just a dark, sociopathic overlord.

Gesturing the two girls into the large, ornate room, Madame Giry shut the wooden door behind them. "Come and sit here, my dear," the ballet mistress directed Christine, who did as she was told and gingerly sat down in a fancy chair in front of the dressing table. "You can sew, yes?" Giry rounded on Kayla, who nodded. "As you no doubt already found out from the former diva, the dress for act three is not yet finished." She waved her hand at a mountain of sparkling, snow-white fabric.

"I can do it," Kayla agreed. "Do you have a mannequin?" Madame Giry pointed over to it.

Reverently gathering up the dress, Kayla carried it over to the full body mannequin in the corner of room, across from where Christine was nervously perched. A pincushion as full of pins as a hedgehog, a box of sewing needles, and a wide range of expensive looking thread sat on a small wooden table. Slipping the partially completed dress onto the mannequin, Kayla threaded a needle and got to work. Luckily enough for her, one of her fashion teachers had given them an open final in their second year in which all the students were required to individually choose a movie costume and almost perfectly replicate it, using their own patterns and materials. Kayla had chosen a dress from Phantom of the Opera; ironically enough, the same dress she was now working on. She had aced that final in school, and had not yet forgotten the exact system in which the Act Three dress was pieced together and embroidered. She had even accounted for the corset in that final for accuracy! Yet she never could have expected that she would be working on the same dress twice.

As she stitched, she was able to watch Madame Giry carefully curling each of Christine's dark locks. Kayla's indigo eyes wandered from the shiny round mirrors of the dressing table, over the walls of Carlotta portraits and posters, and to the gold framed, floor-to-ceiling mirror…

Kayla jumped in her seat, unintentionally stabbing herself with the needle. "Dammit," she hissed, examining the damage. Her fingertip was oozing a few drops of blood, but it was nothing too serious, so she wrapped the wound in a Kleenex from her bag and kept working, surreptitiously watching the mirror. From this angle, it looked normal, nothing like the reflective windows that Kayla was used to seeing in airports. Unlike those windows, however, Kayla could not see through the glass of the mirror. At this very moment, the Phantom could be watching and no one would know it. Stop trying to freak yourself out, Kayla scolded herself, and attempted to return her focus to her work. In her peripheral vision, she could see Madame Giry pinning beautiful diamond flowers onto Christine's voluminous curls.

After forty-five minutes, Madame Giry came over to inspect the costume. Kayla tied off the final stich and set the needle aside, rolling her neck and shoulders to eradicate the stiffness of sitting still for over half an hour. "Finished?" Madame Giry inquired, running a critical eye over the full skirt and low bodice.

"Yes," Kayla affirmed cheerfully, running through a careful inspection of her own. "The embroidery was practically finished, but I still had to finish it up and do touch-ups, and damn is it complicated, so I spent most of my time on that. The bodice and skirt were about half-done, so I did that too. It took me longer than I expected, but it should do the trick."

Nodding regally, Madame Giry turned to Christine. "You may wait here until I return, my dear," she instructed. "Rest, and warm up your voice if you require it; you have a long night ahead of you." Peering at Kayla, she continued, "You, Ms. Abbots, will come with me, and we will see to your accommodations and job this evening."

Kayla scooped up her bag and followed, waving goodbye to Christine as she headed out the door. She carefully memorized every turn, staircase, and doorway until they reached one of the dormitories. "This will be your bed," Madame Giry gestured as they entered the large room. "I've put you next to Meg, so you will be in good hands."

"This is the dancers' dorm, isn't it?" Kayla pondered. She received a wary glance in reply.

"Yes, it is, but we could not have you rooming with those rascally stage hands, now could we?" At the foot of Kayla's tidy new cot, there was a sturdy wooden box, which Madame Giry opened with a key. Handing the key to Kayla, she explained, "You may keep all of your belongings in this box. And I take it you will need some clothing for when you are not working," she added, frowning at Kayla's pants. "I will bring you some suitable outfits tomorrow, but for now we must be off."

Kayla got the message and stuck her purse in the box, taking her iPhone with her. As soon as she locked the chest and stuck the key and phone into her pocket, Madame Giry led the way out of the dormitory.

Translations

Unlike Kayla, I know neither Canadian nor Parisian French, so I ruefully attribute all errors in translation to Google Translate.

*désolé - sorry

**S'il vous plaît, continuer – Please, continue.

***Oh oui, elle l'a fait – Oh yes, she has

Author's Note: We're getting quite close to Hannibal! Thank you to all those who favourited, followed, and reviewed. I hope this chapter lived up to all of your expectations. Chapter 5 should be posted fairly soon!

Thanks!

Tierney