Author's Note: Phantom of the Opera belongs to Webber, Leroux, etc.

20

Kayla's jaw dropped open, but she recovered quickly and chuckled. "You're kidding, right?"

The managers shook their heads.

Staring at them skeptically, Kayla inquired, "Why on Earth would you need me to talk to Carlotta?"

"Andre and I are of the opinion that La Carlotta should return to the Opera Populaire," Firmin spoke nervously. "We understand that Ms. Daäe is supremely talented and that she is… favoured, but Carlotta is just as talented, more experienced, and extremely popular with the public."

"You don't think you can afford to lose her," Kayla translated.

"No," Firmin agreed. "We cannot."

Kayla pursued her lips. "That still doesn't explain why you need me."

"We thought that a bit of gentler persuasion would be more effective," Andre reasoned, "As Firmin and I are not exactly in her good graces. And as a new member of the company, we felt that you would have the least amount of bias for the situation."

Kayla could not believe what she was hearing. "The first interaction I ever had with her was a threat," she emphasized. "And I sassed her from then on out. How could this possibly be a good idea?" In fact, as the omniscient presence, who had watched different versions of this story, in its entirety, more times than she could count, Kayla could not think of a single person with more bias that she had.

"You stood up to her," Andre argued. "And I have a feeling that she respects you for it."

"You don't have any other options?" Kayla asked after a pregnant pause. The managers shook their heads again. "Fine. I'll do it," Kayla sighed morosely.

Firmin and Andre looked excited and relieved. "Thank you, mademoiselle," Firmin stated gratefully.

Andre bounced to his feet and clapped his hands. "Excellent! I will call the carriage!" He bounded out of the room.

"Where are we going, exactly?" Kayla realized abruptly, turning to Firmin.

"Signora Giudicelli's residence," Firmin replied. "Andre and I will be waiting in the lobby. Take your time," he directed graciously.

"Thank you, monsieur," Kayla curtsied and walked out of the office as quickly as propriety allowed. Once she had shut the door, she whipped around and sprinted down the hallway. Skidding around the corner, she ran straight into someone walking the other way. She and the person with whom she had collided toppled to the ground with a thud. "Helvete! Jävla helvete, I am so sorry…" she shrieked, but her voice trailed off as she realized that the person whom she had bowled over and was now draped unceremoniously on top of was none other than Raoul de Chagny. Dammit.

"Mademoiselle Abbot," the Vicomte greeted, grinning up at her in what appeared to be genuine delight. "It is a pleasure to see you!" His blue eyes were very amused, and today his hair looked golden brown, like toffee.

Blushing furiously, Kayla scrambled off his chest and held out her hand to help him up. "I am terribly sorry, Vicomte," she apologized, her voice stiff with embarrassment. "Are you alright?"

Raoul took her offered hand and stood up. "I have been in worse pain," he joked good-naturedly. "My brother Philippe used to knock me down harder than that… he still does, in fact."

It took Kayla a couple of seconds to realise that he had not let go of her hand. "I need to go," she stuttered awkwardly. "Sorry again for knocking you over." She tried to extract her hand, but he had a grip like iron. Just when she was considering punching him as her only available option of escape, he spoke.

"Of course," Raoul purred, raising her hand to his lips and kissing it before he relinquished his grip. "Your cheek is healing, I trust?"

"Uh, yeah, sure," Kayla stammered, confused by the question. It took her a moment to conclude that he was most likely referring to the handprint left by Buquet after the first performance. "I've gotta go, bye!" And, screw propriety, she bolted down the hallway like a bat out of hell.

"I will see you soon, Mademoiselle Abbots!" Raoul called after her.

Kayla did not stop running until she hit the stage. It was empty, unlit and dreary. She kicked the wall, her boots producing a satisfying thud. "Shit," she spat. She could not understand why she was so unnerved by the interaction with Raoul, though it was probably because she tended to overanalyze and stress over almost every awkward encounter she had with another human being. Why did he even remember her name? In addition, the hand holding incident was weird, if not bordering on creepy. Would that have counted as harassment back home?

Hello? Hellooooo? Earth to Abbots? her brain interjected. Don't you have a Prima Donna to persuade?

Oh. Right.

Kayla halted her abuse of the wall and headed back up the stairs to the dorm.

When she entered the room, a few of the dancers were awake and moving around, but most were still unmoving lumps. Meg was awake, but still sitting in her bed. To Kayla's surprise, Christine was sitting next to her friend. The two girls had their heads together and were whispering conspiratorially when Kayla scurried up and kneeled down to unlock her trunk.

"Morning, Kayla," Meg whispered, smiling kindly at her.

"Hiya, Meg," Kayla chirped, rummaging through the pile of fabric.

"What are you doing?" Christine wondered softly, watching Kayla's actions curiously.

"The managers – curse them – have decided that I am going with them to try to convince Carlotta to come back," Kayla yipped with sarcastic cheeriness.

Christine and Meg both clapped their hands theatrically over their mouths and stared at Kayla in horror. "But why?" Christine murmured her face downcast. "Was I not good enough? Is he disappointed in me?"

"I don't think your Angel's disappointed with your singing, sweetheart," Kayla quipped. "There could be something else though. He doesn't have anything to do with this; the managers just wanted some sort of insurance in case the pressure gets to you. Congrats on your engagement, by the way," she added, taking a cursory glance at Christine's swan-like throat, where the glint of a gold chain was visible. With a jolt, Kayla realized that the soprano's chain was identical to the one which was hidden under her shirt, locked around her own neck.

"How…" Christine began, while Meg looked shocked.

"You owe me ten francs at payday, Giry," Kayla chuckled, continuing her search through the trunk. Sitting back on her heels, she moaned, "What the hell does one wear to a diva's house? I sure as hell can't wear pants."

Meg sprang up immediately. "Oh, let me help!" she offered, kneeling next to Kayla on the wooden floor and peering into the trunk. And thus, power was transferred to the two sixteen year olds. Meg and Christine made Kayla put on the floor length black skirt, and were trying to force Kayla into a corset before Kayla put her foot down. Thankfully, the grey blouse was not too tight without the corset.

When she was dressed in the grey blouse, black skirt, and black stockings, Meg pushed Kayla down to sit on the bed, bounced behind her, and began to French-braid the older girl's hair. Christine, meanwhile, began to line Kayla's eyes with black kohl. "I feel like a doll," Kayla giggled, trying to stay completely still so the two girls could work.

"I am only going to line your eyes," Christine decided, finishing and setting the cosmetics aside. "Simplicity is the best method, I think. If you look too fancy, Carlotta may feel threatened."

"Good thinking," Meg agreed, knotting the end of Kayla's braid with what felt like a ribbon.

"Thank you, Christine and Meg," Kayla acknowledged with a grateful grin. "This is kind of a new thing for me."

"You mean you have never dressed up?!" Meg yelped, sounding scandalized.

"I don't get out much," Kayla shrugged, knowing that even though these girls were her almost-friends, the revelation of being from another century would end the camaraderie in a flash. Along with her life, as the Phantom would most likely take her out. Very violently. Technically, she dressed up in her own time period, but she had never been styled for 1870, so she was not really lying to Meg…

"Oh, you poor thing," Christine cooed sympathetically, sounding very much like a mother. Kayla resisted the urge to laugh.

"But I can't see you guys getting out very much," Kayla commented as the two girls stood her up and directed her toward a long mirror at the other end of the dorm. "Living in an opera house under Madame Giry's guardianship."

"We get out enough," Meg smirked, positioning Kayla in front of the mirror before stepping back.

When Kayla saw her reflection, it took her a moment to comprehend exactly what she was looking at. The girl in the mirror was elegant, poised, and the picture of class. The black and grey of her outfit made her skin look paler, and the kohl made her blue eyes pop. Her skirt brushed over the tops of her work boots, which were the only shoes she currently had, but their presence did not detract from the appearance. In short, her reflection looked like the perfect model of a nineteenth century lady. Kayla reached up and ran her fingers over the tight French-braid, pulling the end forward to reveal the azure blue silk ribbon that Meg had used to fasten the blonde strands. "I look good," Kayla snickered, turning to examine her profile. "You can do my makeup every day, Christine, how about that?" The young singer glowed happily with Kayla's praise.

Kayla pulled the two girls forward, looping her arms over their shoulders. "Look at us!" she exclaimed, staring at the three girls reflected in the mirror. The golden haired dancer, blonde stage manager, and brunette soprano smiled from out of the liquid glass. "We are hot!"

Meg and Christine giggled at Kayla's excitement. "Thank you for your help, darlings, but I must be off now," Kayla announced, giving the two girls a quick squeeze before dropping her arms and turning away from the mirror.

"Good luck, Kayla," Meg laughed, looking very pleased the product of her handiwork.

"Take a cloak with you; it snowed quite a bit yesterday," Christine advised confidently. Kayla clearly recognized the unconscious allusion to the rooftop sojourn of the previous night.

"Oh, that reminds me!" Meg yelped, scurrying to her own trunk. Across the smooth wood was draped a thick, royal blue cloak with a hood. "This is yours," the ballerina explained, holding the garment out to Kayla. "Maman came by this morning to give it to you, but you weren't here."

Kayla accepted the cloak with a nod of thanks. "Merci, to both of you. The managers are expecting me, so I must be off." With a final wave to her famous new friends, Kayla hurried back out of the door.

Author's Note: So, this chapter is posted a day early because my stressful exam week starts tomorrow and I most likely won't be able to post. Therefore, here is a chapter today. I'll see if I can post tomorrow, but unfortunately no guarantees on that.

Thank you to everyone who read, reviewed, favourited, or followed, and thanks to E-man-dy-s, my guest reviewer from the last chapter.

Hopefully you enjoyed this one, and remember, feel free to drop me a line if you have questions, comments, or critiques, or can think of anything else for the three months of Elysian peace!

Thanks!

Tierney