Author's Note: I do not own Phantom of the Opera

37

The day of Carlotta's party, the eve before Christmas Eve, as it were, dawned crisp, cold, and clear, periwinkle sky softly suggesting the possibility of snowfall later. Kayla spent the day with the young half of the crew, playing Coward and Tag in the empty theatre. They stole dough and other samples from the kitchen, where ovens blazed with the effort of Christmas baking. Scurrying about the halls in a determined, laughing pack, the boys attempted to search for Christine in the hopes of continuing their "drive the Vicomte insane" plot, but neither she nor Raoul were anywhere to be found. A fact which – judging by Jamie's impressively singular focus on vengeance – was rather fortunate for the nobleman in question.

When Meg arrived to fetch Kayla to get ready to depart, the crew – shockingly – did not complain, merely extracting a promise that Kayla would return to the stage to say goodbye before she left.

Meg helped Kayla into the new dress – forest green velvet, a strange but pleasant derivation from her standard shades of blue. The skirt was long, floor length, and hugged her hips before flowing out into a wider, almost mermaid style skirt. If Agatha and Marie Clare, who altered the dress for her, were shocked by the probably scandalous fit, the two Populaire seamstresses had not commented. Black lace crossed over her collarbone on the straight neckline, weaving intricately over her shoulders before tapering away into thin designs across the hem on the back of her neck. The long sleeves hugged her arms, ending in more black lace flowing about her wrists. "Oomph." Kayla exhaled sharply as Meg tugged at the ties crossing up the back of the dress. "Any tighter and I will slap you in your face," she huffed. The ballerina laughed.

There was a chorus of awed, high pitched gasps. Kayla turned her head and saw the senior cavaliers peering through the open door, bodies and heads piled up on top of each other like puppies. "So pretty," Avère cooed.

"You're not allowed up here, go aw- AY!" Kayla grinned, the reply turning into a loud squeak as Meg yanked at the black ribbons once more. "SCREW YOU GIRY."

Her hair was unceremoniously piled up into a messy bun, a style Meg attempted to make more presentable by securing it with a black metal clip that miraculously imitated the flowery ironwork pattern of the lace. Kayla did her own makeup, girlish pink lip stick and a touch of blush, along with black mascara, pale bronze eyeshadow, and a relatively successful attempt at winged obsidian liner.

"You look like a diva." The tone of Meg's compliment bordered on dubious.

"Not as pretty as Carlotta – nor Christine for that matter – but thanks. It's not too much, is it?"

"Not for this fancy of a party, I don't believe. Carlotta will be wearing much more cosmetics than you are. Besides, you're a different type of pretty. A golden pretty."

"Just like little Giry," Leonardo called through the door as he swanned by once more.

"What are you even doing up here, man? Go away!"

"Kayla's right, go away!"

When she was finally ready, Kayla locked up her clothes – and her phone – in her trunk, and swung her cerulean cloak over her shoulders, knotting the satin ribbon with deft fingers.

"I wish you were coming with me," Kayla moaned, slipping her feet into her standard boots and grabbing the black kid slippers Carlotta had insisted on buying her from under the bed.

"I would never be invited to La Carlotta's mansion, you know that."

"Neither would Christine, to be honest, but she's still going to be there. I should just bring you. As a plus one."

"Carlotta would never allow it."

"She would if I made her."

But in the end, it was decided that Meg would stay behind; the ballet corps were going out into the city on one of their semi-annual holiday pub nights. When Kayla walked out of the dorm, the set crew was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. They were all slightly dressed up, stiff black vests and ties over their colourful button up shirts. "Where are you good looking boys going tonight?" Kayla inquired, her hand hovering gracefully over the railing as she descended.

"The cavaliers invited us to go with them to the pub," Clemens explained, ruffling his red hair almost self-consciously with one hand. "Who bought you that?"

Kayla sashayed to the bottom of the stairs and spun, emerald fabric swishing around her ankles. "If you must know, I picked it out myself."

"Good taste," Jamie nodded.

"I thought maybe the Vicomte gave you money for that," Xavier scowled. "There were some rumors."

"Really, Xavier? Need I remind you that I've been avoiding the precious patron for… what? A month, now?"

"Almost three months, actually," Baptiste corrected, sheepishly straightening his tie.

"Thanks, Baptiste. The point remains, I would never wear anything the Vicomte picked out or bought for me."

Marius smacked Xavier in the back of the head with a grin.

"Ouch! Of course you wouldn't, Abbots. My apologies."

"I thought maybe I'd steal a dance from you, mademoiselle, since you are so coldly abandoning us on the night before Christmas Eve," Jamie suggested dramatically, giving a sweeping bow.

"I hope you know this will count as your Christmas present." Kayla curtsied and held out her hand to Jamie.

"Don't mind if I do," Jamie laughed, grabbing her hand with his larger, stronger one.

They did not have any music, but at some point Dennis started whistling an Irish-sounding reel, and they danced to that. Each of the stagehands took a term, including Baptiste, whose foot-shorter height proved to be a great source of amusement for the rest of the crew.

"I've really got to go," Kayla said regretfully, giving a final curtsey to Leo, her last partner. "Y'all are the best dancers ever."

"See you in the morning, I suppose?" Jamie raised one brown brow at her.

"Yep. None of you should be hungover. Party responsibly, my friends."

"You too, Abbots."

It was with a faint sense of impending exhaustion that Kayla walked to the lobby and climbed into the carriage with the sharply dressed Firmin and Andre.

Carlotta met her at the door, dragging Enrico along with her. "Piangi and I have to socialize, silly engagement congratulations and all dat, but you'll be guarded. My cousin will make sure of dat. Won't you, Enrico?" She nudged her cousin, who was occupied with using his outstretched arm to steady Kayla as she struggled to exchange her boots for the slippers.

"Si, so I shall."

Enrico was the best party companion a girl could ask for. As a member of the Giudicelli family, he was privy to the intricacies of the Piangi and Giudicelli clans, both of whom had representatives present, as well as having detailed knowledge of the power plays and drams unfolding in the Parisian high society. He sat next to her at the head of the table, along with Carlotta and Piangi, and pointed out all of the guests and the reasons for their inclusion in the event. He was such a good conversationalist that Kayla barely even noticed the patron and the soprano at the far end of the table. And bloody hell, could he dance. "What are your plans for the holidays?" Kayla asked conversationally as they spun through the ballroom, more than one jealous female gaze cast in her direction as Enrico grinned down at her.

"Travelling, I'm afraid. I set off for Milan in the morning."

"What? So you won't be at the Masquerade?"

"Unfortunately not."

"Who's going to protect me from the Vicomte, then?"

Enrico laughed, spinning Kayla out with a flick of his wrist and then pulling her back in. "Trust me, mademoiselle…" The dark haired Italian dipped her, holding her perfectly steady as Kayla leant back. Raising her up once more, Enrico smiled at her. "You are more than capable of protecting yourself."

"Gees, now I'm blushing, thanks a lot you flattering Italian. Are you planning on coming back to Paris?"

"Not until late spring. But when I do, I shall, of course, be visiting the Populaire. Perhaps I will see you then?"

Kayla's stomach clenched guiltily. "Sure, why not?"

The music flourished to completion, and the dancing guests paused and applauded. Enrico fished a pocket watch out of his waistcoat pocket. "It's almost ten 'o' clock, mademoiselle. Is there anything you require?"

"I'd take some punch. Dear heaven, is that the time already? I'm exhausted!"

He left her at some empty chairs at the edge of the room and hurried off to the refreshments tables. Kayla plopped down onto the seat and leaned down to massage her feet; the slippers were tighter than she had anticipated. Glancing up for a moment, she spotted the Vicomte moving through the crowd, travelling in her general direction and far closer than she would have liked. Hopping up from her chair, she scurried to one of the glass balcony doors, opened it carefully, and slipped through, making sure to not completely shut it behind her; she did not want to get locked out. The winter air was refreshing after the heat of the ballroom. She leaned against the icy stone rails of the balcony, staring up at the twinkling stars. There was a creak.

"Sorry, Enrico, just needed some air."

"I do not blame you in the slightest."

Kayla squeaked. A wide eyed look over her shoulder alerted her to the Vicomte standing by the door. "It's quite warm in there, you had a good idea," the nobleman stated casually.

"What the hell do you want?" she snarled, clenching her hands into fists and taking another step back.

"What I have wanted since I first met you; to talk." He took a measured step forward.

Kayla straightened up, her back almost military in its posture. "Sorry, not a chance. Not after the crap you pulled. You can't just chase a girl and expect her to be receptive to your supposed reasonableness. Excuse me."

The Vicomte stepped to the side, blocking her path to the door. "I'm afraid it can't wait."

"Oh yes it can."

"I do not believe that you understand my situation. I have allowed you to remain at the Populaire for this long for one reason and one reason alone…"

"My friendly rapport with the managers, respect of the crew, and my stunningly driven work ethic?"

"…I can see the markings of greatness in you. You have ambition, Mademoiselle Abbots. You know what you want and will not stop until you get it. I am much the same. Of course, you aren't a star, like my Christine…"

"You sure know how to flatter a woman, don't you Vicomte?"

"…But you have your own special skills. Valuable skills. Skills that you know how to use."

"My skills. The skills that are mine. The skills I specifically practice. Those skills?"

He ignored her. "You are ambitious, driven, beautiful, and very good with people. You have all the markings of a great lady, even if you do not have a title of your own."

"Is there somewhere you're going with this?"

"We could be very valuable to each other."

"Is this a proposal?"

"Of sorts."

"Need I remind you, you're marrying Christine, you twat."

"Of course I am marrying Christine."

There was a tense pause.

"Oh HELL no! You are not suggesting what I think you're suggesting!"

"It is a perfectly civilized arrangement, let me assure you."

"Christine is my friend, you devious piece of shit!"

"Far greater men than I have done worse and prospered. Christine will love me regardless."

"Are you out of your bleeding mind? You don't think I'd seriously consider being your mistress?!"

"You do not see the benefits now, but you will. I am a patient man. I can wait." Smiling sinisterly, he took another step towards her. "You are a beautiful woman, Kayla. You deserve all finer things in life. Imagine it, a title, money, power, and prestige, all the gems and dresses money can buy…" Closer and closer he stalked, reaching out a white gloved hand to touch her face. "A fine home, a family, children; you could have it all, Kayla." His fingertips hovered over her cheek. He leant forward, smiling with soft triumph.

Her knee shot upward and hit him squarely in the family jewels. Wheezing, he bent over. Kayla took the chance and grabbed his wrist, using her shoulder as leverage against his side and flipping him ruthlessly onto his back. The snow broke his landing somewhat, but the thump was still quite loud. His eyes were shut, his bronze hair tousled. He moaned. Stepping over his prostrate form, Kayla strode hurriedly to the door and squeezed back inside.

She found Christine seated in the corner, watching the violinist play with wistful brown eyes. "Hey, um, Chris? I found Raoul outside. I think that he's had a little too much to drink."

The soprano's eyes widened in shock. "Is he alright? And are you feeling ill, Kayla? Your face is quite flushed!"

"Too much champagne maybe, or it could be that it's hot in here. I'd recommend trying to find someone to help you with Raoul, he didn't seem to be in a good state of mind."

"Merci, Kayla, but what… Kayla?"

But Kayla had already made herself scarce, mortified with even the thought of Christine finding out about what Raoul had proposed.

She spent the remainder of the evening upstairs in Carlotta's private sitting room, playing with the seven toy poodle puppies that the diva owned. Minnie, Jeff, and Fitzherbert were delighted to see her. All the puppies had their names carved into tiny golden charms attached to satin ribbons collars, and Kayla noted with delight that the three newest additions had been christened with the names she had chosen. The other four were just as sweet, and were named Viviache, Piccolo, Allegretto, and Aria, all Italian musical terms, a commonality Kayla found immensely amusing.

"Abbots?" A sharp rap on the door frame tore Kayla's attention away from the wriggling fur balls surrounding her. Carlotta stood in the doorway, arms crossed and staring at her almost sympathetically. "The fop and Daäe have gone 'ome. He wanted to speak with you for some reason, but I told 'im you were indisposed. He did not seem very 'appy about dat."

"You believe me, don't you?" Tears prickled behind Kayla's eyes. "He's going to try to get me fired, Carlotta."

"No, no, no, don't cry in front of me, Abbots. We're not at dat stage in our friendship just yet. And I will not let 'im."

Kayla laughed haltingly and hugged Minnie, who was pawing at her skirt and whining. "Thanks Carlotta."

"Do you want to come downstairs? Last hurrah, and all dat? And dere is still some of dat chocolate cake left. And you might need something stronger to drink than champagne."

Kayla scratched Fitzherbert behind one of his floppy ears. "Don't mind if I do."

Almost all the guests were still present when she and the diva finally emerged from upstairs. Music played sweetly and softly, and everyone was still dancing. "Pardon me, my love, but I believe I owe da little signorina a dance," Piangi boomed cheerfully as Carlotta and Kayla wandered into the ballroom.

"Whatever for?" Kayla asked, the baritone's enthusiasm drawing a smile out of her despite her black mood.

"I feel dat da little lady who 'elped me propose to my future wife deserves at least a dance, no?"

"Touché. Lead on, signor."

It was only once she and the managers had returned to the Populaire – after she had said her thanks and goodnights – that she slipped through the halls and into Box Five curled up on the velvet seat, and let her tears go. She cried for her family back home, for the dangerous situation she found herself in, for the fact that she had said her final goodbye to Enrico earlier that evening, and for the fact that whether she stayed here forever or returned home to her own time, she would lose people. Sobbing with grief and exhaustion, Kayla remained blissfully unaware of the guardian angel watching from the column, standing guard over his little magician.

Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who followed, favourited, and reviewed last chapter, and to E-man-dy-S, RAINBOWNEMESIS, and DetectiveOfTheOpera who also reviewed.

For all those who wished me luck on my Spanish exam, thank you. However, judging by the extreme emotional distress exhibited by the entire class and the uproar of swearing when the TA left the room for a minute, all fifty of us are going to fail. One girl actually burst into tears and had to leave, it was so difficult. So yay.

I was late for work because I was trying to post, but my fricking keyboard wasn't working very well, so I'm posting it now. But still, another post on Saturday, which was my goal. Anyway please review and tell me what you think! Follow or favourite if the mood strikes you. The masquerade chapter should be up soon!

Hugs,

Tierney