"Where were you!?" Meg had cried when she found me. "I had that man waiting forever!" I had kept my eyes downcast as she berated me, unable to look at her. Out of the corner of my eye I saw her move and I flinched.

I had not seen Benoit in ten months, but still the fear of his wrath lay deep inside me. I could feel myself tense at every raised voice, whether it was directed at me or not. Although I never told Meg, or Christine, why I did it, they noticed it; every flinch, every cringe, every breath held waiting for someone's anger to subside. Each time, they talked to me and soothed me despite the fact that they had no idea why I acted the way I did. Wonderful, thoughtful, true friends.

Meg must have seen that cowed look about me then because she apologized. We went our separate ways then and I sought out the vicomte. I had disappointed Madame Giry and Meg; I did not want to disappoint the vicomte by leaving him waiting for me to return.

The vicomte was pacing in front of the double-doors when I finally made it back to him. He looked relieved for a moment when he saw me, but the look faded as he noticed the worried expression I still wore.

I relayed to him what Madame Giry had told me. That Christine was fine; resting. He narrowed his eyes at me and I gulped.

"But there was clearly a voice that was not Christine's on the other side of that door," he said, looking incredulous.

I gave him a demure shrug. "I tried to tell her," I said. Sadly, I shook my head. "She wouldn't listen."

The vicomte blew out an exasperated breath of air. He turned to walk away from me, but I called out to him.

"Monsieur le Vicomte!"

He turned back to me, a quizzical gleam in his eyes. "Yes?"

Playing with my skirt, I opened my mouth then shut it again. I was torn. Did I dare say what was on my heart to say? Something was wrong here. I could feel it; sense it, but I could not figure out what it was exactly. Madame Giry had something to do with it, I was sure, but I was not about to pin the blame on her when she had so generously taken me in and taken care of me. But shouldn't I tell someone else my suspicions before someone got hurt? Before Christine got hurt?

"What is it?" the vicomte pressed. Looking up at him, I met his gaze. There was a genuine worry in his blue eyes.

Taking a deep breath I said, "There is something strange going on here. In the opera house. I don't know what it is, but… it-" I paused, looking for a word that was not too extreme, "-worries… me."

The vicomte continued to hold my gaze, judging my words and intentions. "It worries you," he repeated. I nodded. "I see," he said, furrowing his brow.

"I'm sorry," I quickly apologized, suddenly getting the feeling that I had no business talking to this man. "I just… wanted someone else to know."

"Wanted someone to know that something strange is going on?"

"Yes, Vicomte."

"I am sorry, what is your name?"

The question surprised me and my mouth gaped dumbly for a second before I was able to say, "Jacqueline. Jacqueline Devoreaux."

The Vicomte came right up to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. Or at least, he tried to. When he lifted his hand, I shied away quickly, closing my eyes. I did not see exactly, but I think my reaction startled him just as much as his had me. Realizing what I had done appalled me and I forced my eyes open. With a scrutinizing look, the vicomte gently laid his hand upon my shoulder.

"Something strange is going on here, Miss Devoreaux," he said softly. "But rest assured, it is likely nothing dangerous. You are in no danger here. All right?" He used his other hand to tilt my face toward him, forcing me to look at him. His eyebrows raised in a silent question.

Again, all I could do was nod.

He shifted his gaze to his hand, still on my shoulder. I could see the question there in his eyes; the question of why I had dodged his touch. I tried not to panic as I thought he was going to ask - or demand - a reason for my behavior. Instead, he removed his hands and gave me a little bow, smiling a little.

I found myself returning his smile. Somehow his words had soothed me; released some great pressure I felt. I was glad that I had decided to share my concerns with the vicomte, even though it had initially felt awkward and wrong. As I watched him leave, I wondered at the impropriety of asking him to be my sponsor. My face grew warm with a blush kissing my cheeks, brought on by thoughts of that uncomfortable conversation. The implication would be disastrous and likely cause Christine great emotional pain as well. No, I could not do that to her. I would stay away from the Vicomte de Chagny. I had enough whispers about me floating through the ranks of the ballerinas, that I did not need to add more, neither did I need to drag Christine down with me.

I shook my head in disgrace. Perhaps Destiny had only brought me here to show me that I didn't belong here. But how could it be so cruel? My stomach was starting to hurt again and I made a quick decision to simply live here as long as I could. Until the Messieurs Firmin and André kicked me out. Until I had to run back to my father's house.

Until I had to run back to Benoit.

There was no way I was going to get any sleep tonight. Regardless of that fact, I crept up the stairs to the dormitory, only to meet Meg coming down.

"I thought perhaps you had gone to bed," she said by way of greeting.

I shook my head. "I don't think I can sleep," I told her. Noise drifted down the stairs from the dormitory. Someone talking; girls giggling. Not wanting whomever was up there to hear our conversation, I pulled Meg down the stairs and, after making sure no one else was around to eavesdrop, I explained the reason why I hadn't returned to her in time to meet the would-be sponsor.

"Do you think we should go see her?" Meg asked, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Should we make sure Christine is alright?"

I pursed my lips, thinking. Finally, I nodded. "I think so. I most certainly won't be able to sleep until I know she's alright."

Meg nodded too. "Meet me outside Christine's room," she commanded. So I did.

I did not have to wait long until she showed up at Christine's door, with a ring of keys in her delicate hands. Meg fumbled with the keyring for only a second before finding the correct key. She unlocked the door and gently pushed it open, both of us stepping inside without hesitation. It was unnerving how dark and silent the room was. I hoped Christine really was sleeping.

"Christine?" Meg whispered into the dark. No response. We crept into the room and I carefully shut the door behind us. The room was spacious, most of that space taken up with enormous bouquets of pink roses, the old diva's favorite. Flowers intended for her, no doubt, but passed off to Christine who had sung in her stead. Aside from all the flowers, La Carlotta's posters hung on the wall, and there was a definite feminine feel in the decorating, marking it quite obviously as the old diva's room. We made our way deeper into the room, throwing a glance back over our shoulders after a few steps to make sure we were truly alone. Something felt wrong and the back of my neck tingled. I wondered if Meg had the same feeling, as she kept throwing glances over her shoulder. I didn't see Christine anywhere, and in the dim light I could see this was only a sitting room. I frowned. That light… Where was that light coming from? I did not see any candles.

"Meg! Look!" I exclaimed, grasping her arm and pointing; pointing right at the gilt-framed floor-length mirror at the back of the room- and the light coming from the wall behind it.

We looked at each other, and in silent agreement, stepped closer to the mirror to examine it. I was positive that the nervousness I felt was shared by Meg, although she was the one who reached the mirror first, grabbing the edge. She peered around the back of the mirror while I hung back, studying the mirror from a short distance. The golden frame seemed to be firmly attached to the wall, but the glass portion of the mirror appeared to roll aside on some sort of track. With a questioning look at me, to which I merely responded with raised eyebrows, she pushed the mirror. It slid easily along the wall, revealing more light and a passage beyond.

A sharp intake of breath had Meg looking back at me again. I didn't look at her. I just stepped forward and grabbed onto her hand. She turned her attention back to the secret passage and the mirror door. Carefully checking out the passage just inside the mirror-door, she deemed it safe enough and stepped through, holding my hand, and I followed.

Looking at the back of the mirror revealed that it was only a mirror on the outside. From this side, inside the tunnel, you could see right through it.

"You can see right through it," Meg whispered to me, unnecessarily.

I nodded. The air felt strange in the tunnel and I was not certain I wanted my voice to be heard here. Also, I wondered if Christine (or whoever else had been in the room with her) had come down this way. It would explain how she could have disappeared from her room so easily.

But… The diva gets a secret passage in her room? To where? No matter where it led, La Carlotta would never use that tunnel. She relied too heavily on people seeing her. But had she known it was there? Had she mentioned it in front of the cast members or perhaps the crew? I decided she must have, otherwise how would Christine have discovered it?

Having judged that the door would not lock behind us, Meg and I inched forward into the stone-walled tunnel. Water dripped from the ceiling, leaving puddles on the floor, giving it a damp smell There were sconces on the walls, but none were lit. A light came from somewhere up ahead, out of my field of view, but reflecting in the puddles. The light held a blue tint so I thought perhaps there was a skylight allowing in a bit of moonlight.

We weren't a few metres into the tunnel when I heard a skittering sound. Meg loudly gasped and jumped back, flapping her hands up and down in a gesture of surprised disgust. A couple of rats scampered away from us and I gave Meg a withering look. Her reaction had frightened me more than the rats had. I started down the tunnel again, still moving slowly so that I would not be startled by more rats.

Creeping along in the dim and musty passage, I thought I heard another sound. I paused for only a second, only to have a hand grab my shoulder. Because I thought it was Meg, I let out a gasp of shock when I spun around and found myself face to face with Madame Giry. Beside me, Meg gasped too.

Without words, Madame Giry gave Meg a look that clearly said 'you know better' and took her hand to lead her back out of the passage. I hesitated, though I do not know why.

"Jacqueline," Madame Giry stage-whispered to me. I looked up and she waved at me to follow. I obeyed.

We all filed into the diva's room and Madame Giry closed the mirror behind us. Meg said nothing, so I kept silent too. I did not know what to expect and decided until Madame Giry spoke and I could judge her mood that I should remain quiet.

Madame Giry turned around to face us after the mirror was shut. She just looked at us a moment before sighing. She began speaking as she walked past us to the door.

"Meg, you know better than to explore the secret passages," she said calmly. "They are dangerous. I have told you that should you find one you were never to enter it. Did you forget?" Madame Giry spun around to face her daughter.

"No, I didn't," Meg replied. Gesturing at me she said, "But Lina said that Christine-"

"And I told Jacqueline there was nothing to worry about," she interrupted, clearly irritated at my involvement. "You have heard this warning now, too," she said, speaking to me. "It is for your own safety - and perhaps the safety of others as well - that you avoid the passages. Do not tell anyone of the passage you found and do not go looking for more."

Meg pursed her lips, but said nothing more.

After giving us a scrutinizing look, Madame Giry opened the bedroom door and let Meg out, but stopped me as I passed, putting a hand on my arm. Her touch was gentle, but her voice was firm. "Do not make me regret letting you into this opera house."

I bowed my head. "Yes, Madame," I murmured. I felt foolish. Like a child that was caught being naughty. Although, I had not had that warning from her before, so I should not have felt so ashamed.

I followed Meg back to the dormitory with Madame Giry close behind. As we went up the stairs I could hear the girls shrieking and giggling, as if being frightened on purpose. Indeed this was the case. Monsieur Buquet was there in the dormitory, growling at the ballerinas and a couple women that I recognized that were not with the ballet. I believe those women were in a profession no less degrading than the one in which I currently found myself, so I really could not think ill of them. But I did not enjoy the presence of neither them nor Monsieur Buquet. Especially once he began telling a tale, in a manner of song.

Like yellow parchment is his skin

A great black hole serves as the nose that... never grew

He had a grey blanket draped over his shoulders and it did not take me long to figure out that he was telling a story about the phantom. Again.

You must be always on your guard...

He dropped the blanket from his shoulders and with a sweeping of his hand, pointed theatrically at the girls.

Or he will catch you! -with his magical lasso.

As he said this he brandished a rope, tied into a noose. Quickly, he reached out and snagged one of the women, who dared to walk past him at that moment, with the rope. She gasped and leaned away as he growled some more and feigned biting at her.

"Rawr! Rawr!"

I turned away in disgust; both at his horrid story and his horrid behavior. Madame Giry spared me from witnessing anything more when she entered the room and swiftly marched over to Monsieur Buquet, snatching the rope from his grasp. Everyone, including Monsieur Buquet, quieted down in respect.

She sang in a warning tone:

Those who speak of what they know

Find too late that prudent silence is wise

He did not seem to enjoy the fact that Madame Giry had taken his fun away. He looked down his nose at her with a haughty, somewhat challenging, look.

But then she sang:

Joseph Buquet, hold your tongue!

And she slapped him. Many of the girls gasped, including myself. Madame! I wondered, was that allowed? I could feel a cold chill over my body. Reassuring myself once again that she would never strike me, I only half-turned my attention back to getting ready for bed.

But Madame Giry wasn't finished.

Keep your hands at the level of your eyes!

With that, she deftly threw the noose around his neck and tightened it. Everyone gasped at that.

"I'm sorry, Madame," Monsieur Buquet croaked.

Madame Giry loosened the noose and took it off. She tossed it at him and he caught it, one-handed, against his chest.

"Get out now," she ordered him.

To his credit, he did not argue with her. Though he did not seem thrilled that she had just nearly choked him. He left and I crawled into bed.

I did not sleep well that night. I tossed about beneath the warm covers, wondering where Christine had gone. Wondering where the tunnel led. Wondering what would happen to me without a sponsor. Wondering, wondering, wondering. Madame Giry's display with the lasso had unnerved me as well and I couldn't get that image out of my head. I had nightmares about it… but it was around my neck and it was Benoit at the other end.

Despite my not sleeping well, I woke up with the rest of the ballerinas when Madame Giry came through to rouse us. I went sleepily and distractedly about my morning until I noticed Madame Giry had gone missing. Without anyone to guide me in my next lesson, I went in search of her.

I had not gone far when I saw her and Meg going down the hall, headed toward the main entrance. I called after them and rushed to catch up. When I finally did catch up to them, a nervousness settled in the pit of my stomach. Something in their eyes…

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing is wrong," Meg replied before her mother could. "Christine is back."

"She's back?" I echoed dumbly. "Is she… alright?"

Meg nodded.

"Yes," said Madame Giry. Soothingly, she added, "I told you she would be well." With a half-smile, she turned around and continued down the hall. Meg and I towed behind, Meg telling me what she knew, while I tried very hard to ignore the fact that she was trailing her mother instead of coming to tell me this piece of news.

"She came back some time very early this morning," she explained. "And now Mother has a letter for the managers. This is usually the time they arrive so we assumed we could meet them at the entrance."

"A letter from whom?"

Meg looked at me. A look that said she did not want to tell me because I would not believe her. "The Phantom of the Opera."

She was right. I did not believe her. But this time I felt it prudent to keep my mouth shut. I just followed mother and daughter out into the grand foyer where we could, indeed, hear the managers.

...All we've heard since we came

Is Miss Daaé's name

Madame Giry did not wait to hear more, as the managers were going up the stairs with none other than Carlotta, linked arm-in-arm between them, followed closely by her entourage. My heart sank. They wanted her back. Christine had completely awed the audience and still they wanted Carlotta back. I felt sick.

"Miss Daaé has returned," said Madame Giry. All those on the stairs spun around to look at her.

"I hope no worse for wear, as far as we're concerned?" asked Monsieur Firmin, a hint of worry in his voice.

"Where precisely is she now?" added Monsieur André.

"I thought it best she was alone," Madame Giry told them.

"She needed rest," Meg interjected.

Vicomte de Chagny was quick to ask, "May I see her?"

"No, Monsieur, she will see no one."

Of course Carlotta and Piangi had only one thing on their minds and butted in, simultaneously. "Will she sing? Will she sing?"

"Here. I have a note," said Madame Giry in answer to their question, extending the piece of parchment she carried. As she held it out I could see the big red skull in the sealing wax. How dreadful! I wondered wherever she had gotten such a hideous seal.

"Let me see it!" they all cried, except Firmin.

Instead, he said more kindly, "Please." And she, looking almost regrettable, gave him the note.

Firmin broke the seal and, removing the note, began to read it aloud to all present. "Gentlemen, I have now sent you several notes of the most amiable nature detailing how my theatre is to be run. You have not followed my instructions. I shall give you one last chance. Christine Daaé has returned to you and I am anxious her career should progress. In the new production of Il Muto you will therefore cast Carlotta as the pageboy. And put Miss Daaé in the role of countess. The role which Miss Daaé plays calls for charm and appeal. The role of the pageboy is silent which makes my casting, in a word, ideal. I shall watch the performance from my normal seat in box five, which will be kept empty for me. Should these commands be ignored, a disaster beyond your imaginations will occur. I remain, gentlemen, your obedient servant, O.G."

I blinked in shock at the bold words in the note. This letter was written by someone who knew Christine had been missing. Meg said it had come from the Phantom, but I disagreed with that notion. It most likely had been fabricated by Madame Giry. She was the one always handing out these mysterious notes and so seemed the most likely suspect. Had nobody questioned her? I did not have time to catch the vicomte's eye before Carlotta flew into an outrage.

"Christine!" Carlotta sang loudly, angrily, starting down the stairs.

Piangi was just as upset and their voices joined together to sing, "It's all a ploy to help Christine!"

"This is insane," Firmin said, throwing his hands up.

"I know who sent this!" Carlotta continued, getting in the vicomte's face. "The vicomte - her lover," she spat. Ripping the letter from his hand, she threw it on the ground, lifted her skirts, and proceeded to make her way down the marble staircase.

"Indeed!" Vicomte de Chagny replied sarcastically. "Can you believe this?" he said to the others. He did not seem at all surprised by her outburst, but greatly displeased at her accusation.

I couldn't help but to roll my eyes when the managers chased after Carlotta crying, "Signora! You are our star! And always will be!" Even Madame Giry followed, although I had a feeling it was merely for her benefit to keep an ear on what was happening. If she truly wanted Christine to be the new diva, then she would need to know everything that was going on in the opera house. Meg pranced along behind, casting a glance back over her shoulder at me. I, however, had no interest in the diva's tantrum.

I remained where I was. Looking up the staircase, I realized that I was not the only one who had remained behind. Vicomte de Chagny was still standing on the landing. I considered talking to him, to see what he thought of the note. Or more accurately, notes.

The letter Monsieur Firmin read claimed there had been multiple notes sent to them and I was curious as to their contents. All together there could have been some clues as to who had written them. Because this nonsense with the Opera Ghost had to stop. Threatening letters were one thing, but when my friends began to mysteriously disappear, it was time for it to stop. I wasn't sure what I could do to help, but I had to try.

The motivation in me to do this was astonishing. I had never felt like this before. Perhaps it was because I could in no way help myself in my own situation, that I so passionately craved to solve this puzzle. I could not save myself; maybe I could save Christine.

The vicomte finally glanced my direction and I caught his eye. The dark look in his eyes told me that he was unhappy about what had transpired and that he would need some time to think about his next move.

It had me wondering if maybe I was wrong and Carlotta right. Could the vicomte really have written those letters, though?

Staring into those blue eyes I decided no... no he could not have. Something passed between us then, but not words. This was something much deeper than words. As if our very souls were calling out to each other, knowing that we were somehow bound together, in a way that had yet to be discovered. So we locked eyes for a moment, the vicomte and I, and we seemed to come to an understanding. I understood that he would try to find out who had written those letters, and why, and he understood that I would do my best to keep an eye on Christine, to keep her safe.

With a silent nod to each other, we went our separate ways; he went up the stairs and I found myself headed to the dormitory to find Christine. When I got there, her bed was empty.

I stood frowning at the untouched bed. Then I remembered. Clicking my tongue at my mistake, I spun around and headed instead to the diva's room. Since La Carlotta had not yet made her presence known to Madame Giry at the time when Madame would have been taking care of Christine, she likely put Christine to bed in the diva's room.

Holding my breath as I reached for the door handle, I prayed it wasn't locked. The handle let me push it down and I blew out a relieved sigh. With a quick look around to see if anyone was watching, I slipped into the room. Closing the door quietly behind me, I had the eerie feeling of déja vu.

The room was once again dark and silent. If Christine was in fact sleeping, then I didn't want to wake her. I moved quietly into the bedroom, but the big canopy bed was also empty. I frowned again. Where on earth was Christine now? I turned my head, looking over my shoulder at the door. She wouldn't…

I hurried back out to the sitting room and turned my eyes upon the mirror at the end of the room. It was closed this time; no light shone out from it's secret tunnel. Walking up to the mirror, I stopped in front of it. I gazed at my reflection and it gazed right back.

"You're in there, aren't you, Christine?" I whispered. "For some reason you keep leaving us. You know where this passage goes."

I was quiet a moment - as if the mirror was going to answer! I shook my head at my foolishness. If Christine had gone down this tunnel, then I needed to know what lay at the other end of it. She had not gone down there to rendezvous with the vicomte, of that at least, I was certain.

I closed my eyes and pictured the vicomte, last night, letting me know he believed me; telling me that there was nothing dangerous here. I pictured him standing on the staircase landing, meeting my gaze. And in his gaze I found strength; strength to do what I thought needed to be done to set this right. My eyes opened and I saw a young woman in that mirror who would do what she needed to help her friend.

My voice was still soft as I put my hands on the glass. "Well, I am sorry, Christine, but you have people that are worried about you and I cannot let you go down that path alone."

With a grunt, I pushed on the glass sideways and the mirror slid aside easily, as if it welcomed me. Eyeing it suspiciously through narrowed eyes, I stepped through the doorway. I was able to see by that strange dim light and I did not hesitate when I walked farther than I had the night before.

Rats, water, and the dark, would not keep me from following after my friend.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

A/N: Hello, Lovelies! I apologize for not getting this posted on time. Life and all its little tragedies. :S I also apologize for the length of this chapter. I had quite an epic fail in keeping this to the word count limit that I had allowed myself. But I would rather have people complain about a too-long chapter, than have them stop reading because I had compromised quality for a rather pointless limitation. After all, it's about telling the story, not about the length, right? :) Well, let me know how you feel about it in the comments. Or PM me! I'm open to that.

Now, after all that - who's ready to see some Phantom?! ;)