I'm so glad you're enjoying this story. Really, it means so much to me and I love each and every one of you. I only hope I'm doing these characters justice. We've had a long history together.

More Raoul! I'm going to do my best with making him amazing. Well, more amazing than he already is. I know Meg pretty well, but I want to get into Raoul's head also. Christine and Erik are indeed secondary characters here also, but I will do my best to add some scenes with them also. I know there are some EC shippers reading and I want them to be pleased as well. Also, it's not completely based on the movie, though there are many elements attributing to it. It's mingled with the movie and the actual stage show.

Anyways, I ramble. I hope you enjoy this chapter. Dundundunnn.

It was early when the Vicomte de Chagny rose from his bed. Much earlier than he was needing to be up. The sun hadn't even lifted to warm the earth yet. And yet he was wide awake, pacing his bedroom back and forth. It was a large room, and he did many laps. Eventually his legs began to tire and he found himself sitting on his bed, large hands resting on his knees. Today was an important day. It was something he would never get out of doing. He owed it to his father to make this one visit. His father, the Comte, had a full day of appointments and work to do. His brother would be shadowing their father. And of course, Raoul's two sisters would never do this job.

No, it was a job that had landed on the Vicomte's shoulders.

"All you must do is go to the Opera House, speak with the managers and establish yourself as the patron. Nothing difficult at all, Raoul. Don't be a fool." He muttered to himself. It was the same mantra he had been muttering for hours. And yet he still couldn't truly believe his own words.

Raoul was merely twenty years old, and was soon to be twenty one in three months time. It was his duty to do something like this. It was absolutely simple considering the things he had done before. When he had joined the Navy as sixteen, he had been on a boat with many smelly young men for months at a time. He had been strong, and done hard work. True, he had come back to his pampered lifestyle happily. But he had definitely learned to take care of himself, to realize there was more to life than this. He had taken on his responsibilities as the Vicomte as soon as he had come back just a year ago.

So why on earth was he so nervous for today?

"You fool, you know why." Raoul answered his own question, raking his fingers through his short brown hair for the millionth time that morning.

A girl. A silly little girl.

A girl who may not even be there any longer. Perhaps she was happy, gone away and married. Perhaps she was perfectly happy and never thought of the boy who saved her shawl. Raoul didn't know which would be harder to face. Actually seeing her or knowing she truly had forgotten him and was married and happy.

Because he had never forgotten her.

Or Christine for that matter.

But Meg especially. She had promised to write him. Six years had gone past and not a single letter. He should have just brushed it off, forgotten all about it. But he never did. There was something about those beautiful brown eyes of hers that had drawn him in. Even at fourteen he had wanted to know every last detail about her. He had wanted to simply let her talk and he could watch the changes her faces made. If he closed his eyes he could still see her clearly, hear her voice, see her dimpled smile.

"Stop it, you idiot." Raoul growled at himself.

And this loop went on and on for two more hours. Eventually he needed to shave and dress himself for his appointment. He kept telling himself that she wouldn't be there, neither would Christine. He mumbled it to himself all morning. Even when he sat down for breakfast with his family, he would mumble it under his breath. His stomach was too knotted and nervous to handle anything but a few bites of egg and large gulps of black coffee. The coffee only made him more nervous, more jittery.

No one really noticed his troubles, and he was thankful. His sisters were chattering on about some form of gossip, while Philippe and the Comte, William de Chagny, discussed the days events. When Raoul rose to leave, they merely wished him good luck and sent him off. Raoul road his carriage in silence to the theater, squeezing his gloves in a tight, nervous fashion.

It was a long ride into the city.

Much too long for one to be alone with one's thoughts.

Meg too had been up for too long of a time. But most certainly not for the reasons the Vicomte had been. Had she known he was to be arriving at the Opera House in a mere matter or hours, she would have been feeling just the same. Her reasons were much different.

Madame Giry had woken the ballet girls for an early morning rehearsal. The newest opera called, Hannibal, would be debuting that evening. Everything had to be absolutely perfect. The finest of Paris would be in the audience that night. There was no room for mistakes. So the girls were up bright and early to run through the dances over and over again. Despite being used to it, they all still grumbled and complained over it. Madame Giry only made the dancing last longer.

After breakfast, the girls changed into their outfits made of beautiful bolts of green and red fabric and beautiful beadings of the same colors. They were the finest clothes they ever got to wear. Most girls looked forward to when a new opera would open. Despite the grueling work, they would always get to wear beautiful costumes made from the finest of fabrics that seemed to glimmer and glitter under the stage lights. Most usually would, what with the intricate details put into them.

Meg and Christine giggled to each other as they all walked through the busy halls of the Opera House. Even before reaching the stage, they could hear La Carlotta warming up. The woman was never very nice to the ballet girls. Or anyone else for that matter. But she did have a lovely voice, anyone had to admit that. Though the cast of the Opera House was rather tired of hearing her same rolling Italian voice. Same with her lover, Ubaldo Piangi, who also was usually her leading man.

As they all bustled onstage with the rest of the cast, the maestro, a weary older gentleman named Monsieur Reyer, came into the pit with the orchestra. The girls went through the usual stretches. Some grumbled about there not really being a point in doing so, since they had been dancing since dawn. But still, it was how things went. The rules were the rules. And no one wanted to argue with Madame Giry. Her steely gaze would shut anyone up in an instant.

Rehearsals began without a hitch. Despite the audience being empty, the cast performed as if it was filled to the brim. Many a rehearsal had been boring and much too long. But with the gala being that very night, they would have to give it their all. All day long. It would be a tiring run, but the cast was ready for this. Everything seemed to be going perfectly. The ballerinas were graceful and sang decently. The rest of the cast were on key and didn't miss any cues. Even Carlotta wasn't as shrill as she had been before. But of course, Pianji's Italian accent got the better of him. The poor man. He still struggled with certain words. And Monsieur Reyer always stopped him in attempts to fix it.

When stagehands realized the cast had stopped to fix whatever was wrong, they began milling about onstage, shouting orders to those up above in the flys or carrying ladders and various props around the stage. Everyone waited patiently though, slightly irritated in even being delayed in rehearsals. Meg and Christine waited patiently, giggling softly as Pianji and Reyer went back and forth over the proper pronunciation of 'Rome'. Rehearsals continued on again, until they had run through the beginning song completely.

It left the entire cast breathless and energized for more. The break was welcomed. Of course, most of the performers had much better things to do. But Christine and Meg lived and breathed the opera. As did most of the ballet rats. They didn't want the fame. They just wanted to shine, to feel that wonderful, fluttery feeling inside when they pretended to be someone else. When they could use their specific talents to bring joy.

Meg and Christine sat off to the side, whispering to each other about the show that evening. Everyone was scattered about simply chatting as Monsieur Lefevre walked in with three men trailing behind him. Everyone hushed, but began whispering to each other and staring curiously. Two of the men that had walked in behind the manager were older gentleman in fine clothes. They drank in everything about the cast as Monsieur Lefevre introduced them as the new managers.

New managers?

Everyone was all in a tizzy about that. There had been rumors of Monsieur Lefevre leaving the company, but no one thought they were genuine. He had been a kind old man who handled the affairs of the Opera. He always found pleasure in the shows and the people working for him. And he even humored whoever was doing all the Phantom nonsense. Apparently he believed, as many also did. It would be sad to see him go. The newer managers didn't seem to know much about the theater. They didn't seem artsy enough to understand. But they seemed kind enough, and rather funny.

"The Phantom will have fun with them, won't he?" Meg giggled.

She had begun to truly believe the Phantom was real, and not just a prank all the stagehands were playing on the company. She never shared this with Christine, for fear of scaring her friend. But Meg had entered her mother's quarters without much warning at one time, and had found perfect white and black envelopes with a seemingly bloody red skull as the wax seal. Her mother had scrambled to put them away and never addressed the subject. It seemed rather obvious, and Meg didn't know why she hadn't ever noticed before. Her mother was always the mouthpiece for this Phantom. She would have never been okay with stagehands playing pranks on the ballet girls. They were far too drunk constantly anyways. Meg silently believed her mother, but was more careful with her stories to the girls. If he really was real and this threatening specter, Meg didn't want to upset him. Still, it was rather fun to joke about it all sometimes. Christine would get suspicious if Meg didn't.

"Oh Meg, hush!" Christine laughed softly.

"And may I also introduce our new patron, Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny." Monsieur Lefevre said proudly.

Meg and Christine's giggles subsided as they met each other's eyes. Blue met brown and they both gasped. "Raoul." Meg whispered. Both girls looked up from their places on the floor. Christine couldn't help but smile and lean out just a little, almost as if she wanted Raoul to notice them. Meg, on the other hand, was pale and was beginning to tremble from nerves.

She looked up at him as everyone applauded the new additions of the Opera House. He was so different. He was a man now. He was very tall, but very sturdy. His clothes were fine and suited his strong frame. His hair was short and a darker shade of brown than Meg had remembered it being. It seemed to curl ever so slightly to the nape of his neck. What Meg recognized instantly was his deep blue eyes. They were the same as they were when they had first met. And his smile, oh his smile! It was a nervous smile,but so very familiar nonetheless.

He hadn't noticed them. Of course he wouldn't. Meg knew this would happen. Still, she found herself rising to her feet as one of the new managers, Monsieur Andre, insisting La Carlotta sing the aria her character would sing that evening. Raoul stood by to politely listen, though he was anxious to leave. He hadn't seen Meg or Christine yet, and he was slightly comforted by that fact. None of the silly ballet girls even seemed to resemble Meg or Christine. They all sent him charming smiles and little giggles, but he didn't see Christine's shining blue eyes or Meg's glowing brown pair.

Again he felt that pang in his chest. Perhaps they had forgotten about him. He didn't know which was worse. Not facing them, more specifically Meg, or knowing they had just moved past everything.

He had lifted his eyes to watch the diva sing her aria. Her voice was fine enough. A little sharp, but he could see why she had so many fans. He didn't know too much of the arts, though he had studied them a little after he met Meg and Christine. He had been so convinced they would write to him, and he wanted to have things they could talk about. Sighing, she squeezed his gloves tighter in his hands, simply wanting to escape.

But suddenly, the lamps flickered and there was a sudden shouting from above them. The ballet girls screamed shrill screams as a backdrop collapsed to the ground. It would have collapsed on La Carlotta had she not been pulled away. Still, it was enough to leave her shaking and screaming.

"He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!" A voice shrieked. Raoul felt his heart nearly stop as a tiny blonde girl went running towards a figure he hadn't noticed before. Madame Giry. Raoul widened his eyes, his jaw slacking as he realized that it was her. Meg. That shaking voice belonged to Meg. Raoul looked above, attempting to seem concerned. Which he was, of course. He just was completely thrown. He let his gaze flicker over to Meg, despite the managers fluttering about around La Carlotta.

Madame Giry was attempting to console her daughter, but poor Meg remembered she had left Christine on the floor and went scurrying away in an instant. The managers scolded Meg as she passed, and Meg nearly jumped out of her skin. As if she didn't had enough on her mind! Meg took a deep breath, calming herself as she knelt in front of Christine. Christine had been attempting to catch Raoul's eye, but when the backdrop had nearly killed Carlotta, she had shrunk back against the piano onstage.

"Are you alright?" Meg asked gently. Christine's eyes were wide and she seemed more frightened than anyone else, even Carlotta.

Christine swallowed hard and nodded slowly, managing a little smile. "Of course, Meg. Just caught me off guard."

Meg nodded and took her friend's hands as they knelt together. She looked towards where Raoul stood. Had he seen her? Meg wasn't sure if she wanted him to or not. She would have no idea what to say to him. 'I know I promised to write to you, but sorry, I was too scared.' No, that was stupid. Either way, she was unsure of herself, and very nervous.

Raoul attempted to look anywhere but at the small blonde. He just wanted out of there. He politely excused himself and promised to return for the gala, and hurried away. He didn't know what was more discomforting. Knowing that Meg and Christine were there, in the chorus of the Opera House he and his family were funding, or the fact that apparently their Phantom really was real. He shook his head and glanced over his shoulder once more.

His blue eyes locked with a pair of dark brown, and it made him turn away and hurry away even faster.

Meg's breath caught in her throat when Raoul's beautiful eyes caught hers. She looked back at Christine as La Carlotta also stormed off, insisting she was finished and would not return. The managers bumbled around attempting to find a replacement. As Madame Giry warned the managers about the Phantom, Meg's eyes grew wide. She glanced at her mother before looking towards Christine. Meg locked eyes with Christine, deciding to worry about the Vicomte being there at another time. This was Christine's chance. If the brunette wouldn't say anything, Meg would.

Meg jumped to her feet and pulled Christine up as well. "Christine Daae' could sing it sir!" She practically dragged Christine across the stage until the poor girl stopped firmly in her tracks.

"A ballet girl?" Monsieur Firmin mumbled dryly.

"She has been taking lessons from a great teacher!" Meg insisted.

"Oh? From whom?" Monsieur Andre inquired.

Meg looked towards Christine expectantly. She wasn't sure what her friend would say, but she still waited patiently. Christine stammered, frozen in place. "I don't know, sir."

"Fantastic." Monsieur Firmin enthused. "A full house, and we will have to cancel!"

Monsieur Andre took a step forward, studying Christine closely. "Daae? Well isn't that a curious name. Any relation to the violinist?"

Meg noticed Christine soften slightly. "My father, sir."

Everyone seemed to hesitate even still. Meg walked past Christine and gently touched her arm, giving her an encouraging look. Madame Giry had a slight smirk on her face as she stepped forward. "Let her sing for you, messieurs. She has been well taught." Madame Giry and Christine shared a look, a silent conversation happening in their eyes. Meg noticed this as she brought forward Elissa's scarf for Christine to sing with. The poor girl was practically shaking when she tore her gaze from Madame Giry. Meg gave her a reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze on her arm as Christine took center stage.

Right where she belonged.

When Christine began singing, everyone was nervous. How silly that a simple ballet girl who had only ever been in the chorus sing the lead role of the new opera? And Christine was shaky. But when she finally gave it her all, everyone seemed to stop breathing.

She had the voice of an angel. She truly was an angel.

Christine faced the full audience with glowing confidence. She was finally right where she belonged. The spotlight was as if she was in the sun, and she was absolutely radiant. Meg hadn't ever seen her so beautiful before. She enraptured the audience with her singing and her demeanor. In this moment, she was Elissa.

Raoul de Changy realized he hadn't been dreaming when he saw Meg. For there was Christine, glowing beneath the lights. Her voice was perfection incarnate. Raoul should have been melting, racing the many other men that would surely be at her dressing room door to simply see her. He should have. But all he could think about was the tiny blonde he had seen before.

It was her he needed to see, to speak to. Christine would come next.

Christine was met with a roaring applause. She had never looked so happy or beautiful. The music pulsed within her. When she had taken her final bows and the curtains finally fell, the other ballet girls practically jumped on her. Meg included. They all were a chattering, babbling slur of girlish voices until Madame Giry stomped her cane on the ground. She scolded the ballet girls after congratulating Christine, and escorted them to the practice room. Christine followed, but Meg realized she had turned away and slipped towards the chapel. There was a huge commotion in the grand hall, and Meg knew the festivities of the gala were commencing. Everyone would surely be celebrating well into the night.

Meg glanced over her shoulder, wanting to have some time with her best friend, but also wanting to know what they could do about Raoul. She glanced ahead at Madame Giry and the girls before slipping away. Meg turned down the hall, peeking into the dark shadows as her friend disappeared down into the chapel in a flurry of red and green. A candle for her father, of course. Meg glanced over her shoulder before slipping down into the chapel as well, calling out to her friend.

Christine was grinning from ear to ear as she knelt in front of the candles. Meg giggled upon arriving and knelt beside her friend. "Why on earth did you come down here, hiding from your fans?" Meg touched her friend's hand. "Really you were perfect!"

Both girls giggled at this, the pair practically bouncing. "What's your secret? Is it...is it him?" Meg asked softly, knowing Christine knew exactly who she meant. At this question, Christine's face fell slightly, though her smile could not fade. Slowly, she nodded at Meg.

"Even still, he coaches you?" Meg whispered.

"Even still." Christine finally said.

"Christine, do you truly believe he's who he says he is?" Meg asked cautiously.

The other girl considered this for a moment, her blue eyes searching the small room. "I have never been more sure of anything, Meg. My angel is real. He is the angel of music. I know it. I hear his voice. I...I feel him with me always. How else could I have sung like I did tonight? I feel so weak now, Meg. I gave it all to him. Tonight was all for him." She sighed, her smile faltering. "It frightens me sometimes, Meg. It truly does."

"Christine, hush now. Don't be frightened. You've become so cold. Come, you must rest." Meg squeezed Christine's hand and gently pulled her to her feet. When they turned around, Madame Giry waited with an upset expression.

"Are you not a dancer, Meg Giry? Go and practice!" Madame Giry snapped. "I shall escort Christine back to her new dressing room." Meg nodded and blushed, giving Christine a kiss on the cheek before slipping past her mother. "And Meg. I was asked to give you this." Madame Giry turned, her emerald eyes focusing on her daughter. Be careful. Her eyes read.

Meg looked down at the simple white envelope in her mother's fingers. She shakily took it, nodding slowly as she slipped out of the chapel. In the lamplight in the hall, she carefully tore open the note.

"Don't forget about the boy from the sea." She read aloud. Her eyebrows furrowed together and she winced slightly. "Oh Raoul." She whispered. Meg slipped from the hall and into the practice room where she stuffed the letter beneath her plain white shawl. Once she reached the barre, it took her a moment to realize the other girls had already left. Meg sighed and ran through a few stretches and simple practices before deciding enough was enough. She went and retrieved her shawl and note, before turning towards the door.

It opened before she reached it, and she looked up, expecting to find her mother. Instead, the Vicomte de Changy stood before her, blue eyes fixing on hers.

"Miss Giry. Where is your blue shawl?" He questioned softly.