Hello again! Hope you all enjoyed that last chapter.

I know not many folks out there are huge fans of Raoul and Meg. I know most of the phandom is full of RCers or ECers or EMers. Wellp, just trying to add something new to the mix. I also made a tumblr dedicated to Raoul and Meg called .com

Enjoy!

Nothing had changed upon returning to the Opera House. It was as if Madame Giry and the girls had never left. Everyone was in as big of a flurry about the new production of some new opera as they had been before. Christine and Meg fell back into rehearsals upon arriving home, almost as if they had never been on holiday. They missed the quiet little town by the sea, the little cottage and the freedom they felt there. They missed Raoul especially.

Meg knew if she wrote to the young Vicomte, something would happen. She would let herself get attached and her heart would become hopeful. She knew if she wrote to him and they began to correspond, that things would get too hard for either of them to handle. He would have to choose between her or his family and title and lifestyle. She wasn't going to do that.

She was just little Marguerite Giry.

Nothing truly special.

Just a ballerina.

And he a Vicomte.

Christine began disappearing at night. She didn't think Meg noticed, but she did. Meg found it harder to fall asleep most nights. Her mind was full of memories of the Vicomte. She would toss about in bed for a long while before finally settling. Just before she could fall asleep though, she would see Christine slip out of the bed next to hers. Meg would try and be as still as possible as she watched her friend wrap herself up in her coat and slip out of the ballet dormitory.

The Opera House wasn't exactly safe at night. The stagehands would often stay late after a show or rehearsal and drink together. Often times they would stalk the dark halls of the grand theater in hopes of finding some fun. They loved telling the ballet rats ghost stories, to make them fear the Opera Ghost. Even if he wasn't real, Meg didn't like to think of her best friend slipping out on her own.

So one night, after Christine had escaped, Meg got up and wrapped herself in her shawl and followed her. Her mother decided to save her special blue shawl for Meg for when she was older. So Meg was stuck with her plain white one. No memories were involved in it, and she decided it was better to just pretend nothing had ever happened. Time would go on, and they would forget all about what had happened on the beach.

Meg followed Christine from a safe distance, feeling a little uneasy to be walking the dark halls without a candle of her own. Christine had one, but it was so dim. But she seemed to move through the darkness easily, as if it was perfectly mapped out in her mind. Meg could tell the poor girl was shaking, and she kept whispering to herself as she moved about. But Meg remained silent, her graceful feet moving silently behind her friend.

Soon enough, the petite brunette slipped down a familiar hall and into the small chapel the Opera House had. Meg hesitated, standing in the darkness as the light of Christine began to disappear down the curve into the chapel. Had she just been coming to light a candle for her father at night? That was it? Meg didn't want to intrude on Christine's time alone. Still, she stepped closer to the doorway, bending slightly to peek down the stairs at her friend.

Indeed, she was kneeling on the ground, lighting the candle above her father's picture. Christine had seemed to calm. She was no longer trembling, and she seemed to breathe easier. Soon, she ducked her head of dark curls and began to pray quietly. Meg sighed and slowly got to her feet. So long as Christine was alright. Meg didn't know what to really think when she saw Christine slipping out so often. Sighing, she turned away and began to feel her way through the darkness.

"Good evening, Christine."

Meg stopped short, her breathing hitching in her throat. That voice. What a voice! It was so beautiful. Meg turned and quietly stepped down the stairs to peek in the chapel again. Christine lifted her head, a serene smile crossing her lips as she lifted her hands.

"Hello, maestro."

Meg furrowed her eyebrows, her dark eyes searching the room. The chapel was tiny, so Christine's candle illuminated the majority of it. There was no one there. Absolutely no one. When the voice spoke again to Christine, Meg held back a gasp. Never had she heard something so beautiful. The expression on Christine's face was not frightened by a mysterious voice in the darkness. She seemed so...so at home.

Meg lowered herself down onto the step and leaned against the wall as she listened. She just had to be sure her best friend was okay. That was definitely a masculine voice. Meg didn't want her friend to be hurt. Yet she seemed so familiar with this mysterious man. Meg heard the rustling of Christine's nightgown, and then suddenly, she began to sing! Meg widened her dark eyes, listening as she began to go through familiar scales. Then her voice began lifting, going higher and higher. It was a little sharp, and definitely needed improvement. Christine always had a very sweet voice in the chorus. But Meg could hear something so much more in her voice in that moment.

Christine's voice cracked, and she stopped. "Forgive me, maestro." She quickly stammered.

"Try again."

She did, this time, reaching the note she had been attempting to achieve. Meg peeked around and saw a satisfied smile on Christine's face.

"Better. You must relax, Christine. You must focus on the music. Feel it." The voice instructed.

"Yes, Angel."

Meg slunk back against the steps, furrowing her eyebrows together again. Angel? Meg had assumed this mysterious voice was a singing teacher of sorts. But an angel? Meg didn't think things like that were possible. She perked up in realization. The Angel of Music. Christine's storybook told of the Angel of Music coming to Little Lotte. It seemed so very appropriate that Raoul had once called Christine Little Lotte. She truly was her, if this mysterious voice really was an angelic being.

Meg didn't realize she sat on the staircase for the entire lesson. She closed her eyes, just listening to Christine sing. At times, the voice, or rather the angel, would be harsh with her in his instructions. It seemed to scare Christine, but she kept going, fixing the problems she was having almost immediately.

"You did well tonight, Christine. Now you must rest. That is all for tonight." He murmured.

"Oh Angel, won't you sing to me? Please?" She begged in a soft voice.

"Christine, it is very late."

"But you must, please! One song, that's all I ask."

The angel sighed. Meg was certain with a voice as wonderful as his, he had to have been an angel. Perhaps he looked the part as well! "You know I can never deny you anything." Christine perked up and sat up straighter, waiting patiently. When he began to sing, Meg froze. Yes, he truly was an angel. The Angel of Music. Meg believed now. There was nothing she had ever heard that was to be compared to this voice. Meg began to weep quietly from the sheer beauty of it. How was it even possible for something to sound so lovely?

When the song was through, Meg could have cried harder. She nearly applauded him, but it would give her away. As if her sobs wouldn't.

"One more?" Christine whispered. Meg could tell by her sniffles that she too was crying.

"No, Christine. That is all for tonight. Goodnight."

"Goodnight! Oh...thank you." She whispered. Christine composed herself and picked up her candle. She hesitantly got to her feet, her bright blue eyes searching the small room for any sign of her Angel. Perhaps he could come and be real. For her. Oh how beautiful he must be! Perhaps that was why she never saw him. Perhaps he was truly too beautiful for her human eyes. Christine sighed and turned to walk up the steps when she came upon the weeping Meg.

"Oh Meg! W-what on earth are you doing here? Have you been here long?" Christine stammered, her hands beginning to shake again.

Meg stood up and wiped at her eyes, sniffling softly. "Oh Christine, Christine! Your angel is real!" Meg whimpered. "You should have told me, Christine. I was so worried about you." Christine set the candle down and hugged her small friend.

"I'm sorry, Meg. I'm sorry. You mustn't tell a soul, okay? You must promise me." She pulled back and held her pinky out. Meg instantly curled her own around Christine's, nodding quickly.

"I promise!"

And Meg never told. Every night, Christine would slip out as soon as all the other girls were fast asleep. Most of the time, Meg would be awake and would wave her off. As they grew older, Meg began to wonder if it really was possible for it to be an angel truly teaching Christine. But every night, Christine would come back safely. It soon just became something so natural. Meg would sit up with Christine, then Christine would slip away and Meg would fall asleep until Christine came back.

She never spoke of the lessons. Christine never went into detail about anything. The changes in her voice were obvious to Meg though. She wasn't meant to be a chorus girl. Meg knew her father would be proud. If this voice Christine learned from truly was an angel, perhaps he could show Christine's father all he's taught her. Meg didn't know how those things really worked.

Madame Giry knew about the lessons. Meg remembered when she woke in the night as Christine came back, to find her mother personally escorting Christine to her bed. Meg had expected a good tongue lashing from her mother the next day, but it never came. There was no scoldings, no discussions. She just allowed them to happen. Madame Giry was full of secrets. She and Meg always had an understanding about the hidden things of Madame Giry's heart. Meg never questioned her mother. She trusted her more than anyone in her life, besides Christine of course. If her mother approved of the lessons, who was Meg to complain?

Six years had passed since the trip to the beach. Christine's lessons continued, and life went on in the Opera House. Meg became one of the most talented dancers in the corps, and she hoped one day she truly could become the prima ballerina. She grew in strength and beauty with each day.

The little ballerina never wrote the Vicomte de Chagny. Sort of. She wrote to him every single day, but she never found the courage to send them. She knew finding his address would be easy, seeing as he was an aristocrat, and highly recognized in Paris. But she couldn't. She knew the moment she did, he would enthusiastically try to contact her, to see her and Christine again. And Meg couldn't handle that. It wouldn't be right for him to be her friend, or Christine's. Christine never showed any interest in writing to Raoul, what with being so caught up in her lessons and daily life in the Opera House. Raoul wouldn't even recognize him.

Of course, he probably forgot all about the girls and the house by the sea. He probably wouldn't even recognize them.

Christine had grown into a beautiful young lady of eighteen, and was tall and lithe. Her hair had grown a darker shade of brown, and curled elegantly down to her waist. It no longer frizzed or became terribly unruly. Her blue eyes shone brighter with each passing day, and her demeanor was one of an elegant young lady. She enjoyed laughing and fussing with Meg and the other ballet rats. But she knew when to be calm, when to have quiet moments.

Meg was still small in height and build at age seventeen, but her body had filled out with lovely womanly curves. Her curls seemed to be made of pure gold, and they fell down to her waist as well. Her lashes grew longer and darker, her lips also becoming fuller. With her extensive ballet training, she was fit and walked with a grace that made her stand out from the rest of the ballerinas. She would often become too excited or frightened at times, and would let out silly shrieks or giggles if the situation called for it.

Meg found too much pleasure in telling the younger ballet rats ghost stories of the Opera Ghost. They would all shriek and giggle and then run around the Opera House attempting to find him. It would always end with Madame Giry scolding the girls, and ultimately, Meg. She couldn't help it. As innocent and shy as she was, she was a bit of a troublemaker also. Even if the Phantom was just a few stagehands trying to scare everyone and not a real specter, it still was funny to see how the girls would respond.

Christine never spoke of her angel, and soon enough, it wasn't a main priority for Meg to know. Christine hardly sang for Meg, but when she did, it seemed to sound more beautiful each time. Meg knew her best friend was talented. She also knew La Carlotta, the Opera's leading soprano for five seasons was also talented. But Christine deserved the spotlight for once. She deserved to shine. Meg hoped her day would come. All she wanted was for her best friend to sparkle, to show the world that hardships could be overcome and something beautiful could come from it. Meg knew Christine's father would have wanted that for her also.

Someday, the girls would have their chances.

Sooner than they realized.