On gala night, Christine stood center stage, singing that wonderful song, the melodious tone of her voice keeping the audience captivated. With sparkling starbursts in her hair and a glittering white gown, she truly looked like an angel.

While I stood and watched her, I tried not to feel envious. She was in a place where I would have loved to have been. But I knew I was nowhere near the skill that she had. She had earned that place on the stage, in that dress, by practice and a lot of training and hard work. At least, I thought this must have been her path. Since nobody seemed to know she had even been taking lessons, it was hard to say for certain exactly what had transpired that led to this lovely voice.

On the not-so-selfish other hand, I was incredibly happy for Christine. She deserved to be heard for a change. It was a magnificent break from that horrid La Carlotta. Perhaps the crowd would not even miss her. Perhaps now they would call for Christine to be their doted-on diva.

A wicked little smile pulled at the corner of my mouth. Oh, to see Carlotta squirm! I would have loved to have seen her at that moment. I was sure she wasn't in the audience, but positive that one of her attendants would be playing spy for her. There was no way Carlotta was going to give up her position that easily. She may have walked out on our managers, but she fully expected to be bought back; of this I was certain. If Christine hadn't been there, who knows what kind of ridiculous things Messieurs Firmin and André might have done to win Carlotta back.

The thought made me fairly sick, so I returned my attention to Christine. Her song ended and the crowd erupted in a frenzy of clapping, cheers, and whistles. From my spot just off stage I was able to distinguish the voices of our managers, cheering loudly for her too.

I turned to Meg, whose smile mirrored my own.

"She was magnificent!" Meg exclaimed.

"Carlotta could never top that," I stated, albeit quietly. I did not now how anyone could use the simple statement against me, but I had a feeling that they would find a way. There had been no more incidents following my shoe disappearance, but Madame Giry had kept everyone very busy. We had all been far too busy with rehearsal for anyone to pull more stupid pranks.

After the audience began to disperse, I found myself backstage jammed into a corridor to where the male portion of the audience was dispersing. Meg had explained to me what I could expect after the show, so I was hardly surprised to see that the corridor was filled with smooth talking men in tuxedos and giggling ballerinas and not a single woman from the audience. I saw a trio of men chatting together and I paused to watch them. My quest to find an abonné was foremost in my mind, although it was the last thing I wanted.

But I had no choice.

Before I could move, the group I had been watching turned their heads and looked directly at me, as if they had heard my thoughts. Suddenly self-conscious, I noticed I was toying with the fabric of my skirt again and I could feel the heavy thumping of my heart against my chest. I wondered what had caught their attention.

Then I saw the ballerina next to them. Giselle, the horrible little shrew that hid my shoes, was pointing at me. She stopped pointing long enough to hide her face while she told them some false "secret" of mine. The men looked slightly aghast and then laughed.

I felt my face flush. Unable to stand it any longer, I turned to head in the opposite direction and promptly ran into Meg.

"Oh! I'm sorry, Meg," I apologized.

"It's alright," Meg replied. "I'm just looking for Christine, but I don't see her."

"I think your mother took her up to the diva's room," I said.

"No, I asked her and she said she hadn't seen Christine either."

"Perhaps the chapel?" I suggested. I knew that Christine went there often to light a candle for her father.

Together we went off to the chapel in search of our friend.

Meg called out to her in sweet sing-song, "Christine! Christine!"

Rounding the curved stairway leading down to the chapel, I wasn't surprised to see Christine sitting on the floor in front of the candelabra, one candle lit.

Meg was on her immediately, continuing her singing, sweet and pleasant to hear. It made me smile. "Where in the world have you been hiding? Really you were perfect! I only wish I knew your secret. Who is your great tutor?"

I wished I knew her secret too. Hoping to gain some insight to the strange things going on here, I remained quiet waiting for Christine's answer.

"Meg, when your mother brought me here to live," Christine began, in a voice that made it seem she had been waiting for a long time to tell someone this particular story, "whenever I'd come down here alone, to light a candle for my father… a voice from above. And in my dreams he was always there. You see, when my father lay dying he told me that I would be protected by an angel. An angel of music."

"Christine," Meg said, "Do you believe-" She cut herself off and tried again. I could see that she did not want to hurt our friend by telling Christine she didn't really believe what she had said.

"Do you think the spirit of your father is coaching you?"

"Who else, Meg? Who?" was Christine's answer, a fiery passion lighting her dark eyes.

Looking at Meg I could see that she was trying to reason it out. Good. I was not satisfied with the answer either. There had to be another explanation; spirits did not teach people to sing. Before I could say anything, Christine began to sing softly.

Father once spoke of an angel

I used to dream he'd appear

Now as I sing I can sense him

And I know he's here

Here in this room he calls me, softly

Somewhere inside, hiding

Somehow I know he's always with me

He, the unseen genius

This poor girl, only five years younger than I, yet believing dead relatives talked to us. I did not believe that. I sang to my grandfather's grave, hoping that up in heaven he could hear me. But I never expected an answer. I knew better than that. The dead are gone and there is nothing left for them to say. Someone needed to set this girl right. I decided the best way was to do it kindly. Christine had risen as she sang and I took her hand and led her towards the staircase.

Humoring her somewhat, I sang:

Christine, you must have been dreaming

Stories like this can't come true.

Thankfully, I had Meg on my side, who caught on quickly and joined in.

Christine, you're talking in riddles

And it's not like you!

This seemed to have no effect, however, on Christine. She continued singing in glorious crescendo.

Angel of Music, guide and guardian

Grant to me your glory

Angel of Music, hide no longer

Secret and strange angel

He's with me even now…

We had entered into a long corridor, the walls merely sheer black curtains on either side of us. Worry creased my brow as I realized how cold Christine's hands were and though she was singing I felt an urge to interrupt. So I did, though Christine still continued to sing, too.

Your hands are cold-

All around me…

Your face, Christine, it's white!

It frightens me.

Don't be frightened, Meg sang and took Christine's other hand to comfort her.

I was genuinely worried about Christine. The fact that she was frightened, in return, frightened me. If she had continued acting excited that her father's spirit was speaking to her, then I could easily brush it off as pure imagination. When she became frightened of the fact that she was hearing ghosts, it made me nervous. Phantoms and spirits and invisible voice coaches… this opera house was getting stranger all the time and I wondered what I had gotten myself into. Unintentionally, I thought of my home and Benoit and I gulped.

I preferred the phantoms. They had not done anything to me yet, at least.

We led Christine back up to the backstage celebration and to Madame Giry, who whisked her off to the diva's bedroom to keep her away from all the hopeful patrons. Silly men. Christine was in no need of an abonné. Her father's fortune paid her way.

Nevertheless, while I stood wondering what to do about my own situation, I saw the Vicomte de Chagny approach the Messieurs André and Firmin. They exchanged a few words, of which I could not hear over the chatter in the hall, then the vicomte took the flowers Monsieur André held and went into Christine's room.

While I was certain of the vicomte's standing as a good man who would not take advantage of Christine, I was unfortunately back on the subject of money and sponsors. My insides bunched up immediately at the thought and I felt I was going to throw up. I turned away quickly, not wanting the managers to see me in distress. Meg walked with me, holding my elbow while I held my stomach.

"It will be alright," she said. "There is a man - a younger man - who I believe would make a good sponsor for you. He's just recently acquired his inheritance."

"If it's a brunette man with a mustache, I think he may have been turned against me already," I replied bitterly.

"Whatever are you talking about? Did Giselle say something?" Meg narrowed her eyes at me.

I did not feel inclined to explain, so I simply nodded.

Letting out a disgusted noise, Meg squeezed my arm tighter in irritation.

"Never mind that," she said. "I will fix it. We'll go find him and I'll introduce you and -"

I stopped abruptly and turned to her. "I can't do this, Meg," I whined. "My stomach hurts and I'm afraid I might throw up. And what if you can't change his mind? What if Giselle tells everyone some horrible lie and I can't…"

Meg had thrown her hands up and was gesturing at me to settle down.

"Lina, it's just nerves. How about this: you go take a little walk to calm down and I'll go talk to that man? Once you've calmed down, come find me and everything will be alright."

I did not want to agree, but I could barely argue with her. Defeated, I nodded slowly.

Walking off by myself, I got that urge I had on that final night I faced Benoit. An urge to run. But now where would I go? There was nowhere left to run. It was here with an abonné, or there with Benoit. God forgive me, I could not decide which was worse. Benoit had done horrible things to me, but had never violated me. Never once threatened me in that way. And now here I was, relying on Meg to talk someone into becoming that person…

In exchange for a sponsor to pay for me living and training at the opera house, I had to perform a service as well.

But I did not want to do that.

My hands were shaking so I folded my arms to hide it. Not that there was anyone around to see. I walked down quiet hallways, avoiding as many people as possible. I tried to calm down by telling myself that I had some true friends now and that whatever happened, I thought they would stand beside me.

Eventually, I came back to the hall right outside the diva's room where Christine was staying. But as her door came into view, I hesitated. Vicomte de Chagny was there, but no one else. I watched as he tried to turn the doorknob, but it resisted.

Locked.

Why was her door locked? Did she not want to see him? I bit my lip wondering if I should interfere.

But then I heard the vicomte mutter, "Whose voice is that?"

Sensing some trouble, I stepped forward and he looked up at me, a frown creasing his handsome face. "Has anyone entered this room?" he asked, demanding.

I raised my eyebrows. "Not that I know of, sir. But I have not been…" I trailed off as I neared the door and heard a man's voice from the other side of the door. A chill went down my spine as I realized that someone was in the room with Christine.

And we had no idea who.

Raoul banged against the door calling for Christine, but she did not answer, nor did she open the door.

"I will go find Madame Giry," I told him. "Perhaps she will know."

I ran off to find her. After twenty minutes of searching, I did find her. But her help was far from helpful. She told me that Christine needed her rest and that she did not want any more visitors tonight.

"But Madame Giry there was someone else in there with her! I'm sure of it!" I cried.

"I think you must be quite stressed, Jacqueline. Hearing voices! And if there is someone in her room, that is none of our business," she said tightly. "You should be resting, too. Come, come! Time for sleep." She tried ushering me on my way, but I was so flabbergasted by her lack of concern that I didn't move.

"But then what did I hear? Surely the vicomte and I have not both gone mad. Who is in there with Christine? The vicomte is trying to get in to see her," I explained. I saw her jaw twitch, but she remained stoic.

"Did you find a sponsor, Jacqueline?" she asked. The unexpected question hit me with such force that I was certain hitting a stone wall would have hurt less.

"N-no." My voice was barely a whisper. "Meg thought…" I couldn't even finish the sentence. I looked about, realizing that all the guests had gone. I blinked. When had they left? It didn't really matter when they had left, the point was that they left. And I had missed my opportunity.

The look on Madame Giry's face was enough to tell me that she was disappointed and concerned. Unable to stand it, I told her I would go to bed and I left, feeling as depressed and as helpless as I ever had.

And I was left wondering: now what do I do?

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A/N: Okay, all my lovelies! This is the part where I'm going to reeeeally have to work hard to get this story the way I want it, so future updates may NOT be very steady. Or maybe they will. It all basically depends on what life allows me to do and how inspired I am. And I am not very fond of this chapter and am positive it will undergo some sort of major editing at some point in the future, but for now, I'm just posting it. Please, please DO tell me what you think of it! Even if you don't like it. Especially if you don't like it! But if you do like it, I'd like to know...

...what do YOU think Lina should do now? ;)