Her Story by tactics

Disclaimer: As much as I wish I did, I do not own anything to do with Phantom of the Opera. Not the movie, not the novel, not the musical.

Prologue

Meg and I, along with the rest of our fellow ballerinas quickly made our way to the stage where Madame Giry was already waiting for us. We made it just in time to hear that the Opera Populaire now had two new managers, Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre. Their patron had just walked in – my eyes widened in recognition and a smile touched my lips.

"It's Raoul," I whispered to Meg. She turned to me intently.

"Before my father died," I continued, quite lost in memories, "In our house by the sea… I suppose you could say we were childhood sweethearts. He called me Little Lottie…" Meg grinned at me and gushed, "Oh Christine, he's so handsome!"

I looked wistfully at the Vicomte de Chagny. Gone was the awkward, thin little boy who used to chase me down the beach from dawn until dusk. In his place was a tall young man with brown hair that grew to reach his shoulders, and the excited, childish gleam in his eyes gone. I sighed. I suppose I couldn't really expect him to remain that same child.

I broke out of my reverie as Raoul, (or the Vicomte, as I should be referring to him now) walked in my direction. My breath was caught in my throat – did he recognize me after all? He cast but a single glance my way and strode past with the two new managers. I don't think I disguised my disappointment very well as I told Meg, "He wouldn't recognize me…" She cut me off confidently, "He didn't see you."

The rap of Madame Giry's cane hitting the solid wooden floor interrupted us, and gave us our cue to slip into our routine.

I could vaguely hear her talking to the new managers as I concentrated on remembering the steps of the somewhat complicated routine. The rehearsal reached its climactic end as Carlotta, the Opera House's resident Soprano, and Piangi, the resident tenor, sang out the last verse with impressive vocal power. With a sigh I retreated back to the side of the stage with Meg. We watched with amusement as Carlotta threw her usual diva-tantrum in the direction of the new managers.

"Do you think she'd really leave for good one of these days?" Meg asked me with a quiet giggle.

I laughed and replied, "No, because only this Opera House is patient enough to put up with the likes of her!" We laughed as we noticed her storm out but stopped abruptly as Madame Giry sent a stern look our way. The managers chased after her, persuading her to stay with sugar-coated words. Apparently it worked – she was going to sing the aria in Act Three for them. Willingly.

At her screeching demand we were to keep silent, she began.

Think of me, Think of me fondly

As we've said goodbye…

Remember me, once in a while

Please promise me you'll try…

Before she could continue, a backdrop fell from above the stage. I pulled Meg to the side as to avoid it. It fell directly on her and so she promptly screamed for someone to get it off her. The managers and her posse frantically rushed to her aid. Meg whispered to me, "He's here! The Phantom of the Opera!" One of the performers yelled, "Buquet! Could you make sure that those backdrops are more secure? Do you have any idea to what you could've cost us!"

Joseph Buquet, a stage hand who was especially fond of scaring the ballerinas with horrific tales of the resident Phantom, rushed into explanation, "Sir, don't look at me! It wasn't my post! I couldn't have done it – Please monsieur, there's no one there! Or if there is, well then, it must've been a Ghost!" He chuckled in a way that sent shivers up my spine. His words affected the other ballerinas. Their eyes reflected panic and excitement.

Carlotta kept up her deafening screeches of how she was not going to perform because of the strange incidents that seemed to randomly occur. She finally left. The two managers started to panic and hesitantly asked Monsieur Reyer, the conductor, if Carlotta was to return. Madame Giry didn't really help when she approached them with a black edged envelope in her hand.

Everyone knew what was coming.

"I have a message, sirs, from the Opera Ghost," she announced to them. The managers were annoyed, to say the least. Madame Giry continued, however, "He welcomes you to his Opera House" – to which Monsieur Andre demanded, "his Opera House!" – "and commands that you leave Box 5 empty for his use. He also reminds you that his salary is due."

That seemed to break what was left of the managers' patience. "His salary!" They demanded. Madame Giry was as calm and collected as ever as she replied coolly, "Of course. The old manager used to pay him 20 000 francs a month."

Monsieur Andre exploded – "20 000 francs!" Then they ranted about how they were going to have to refund a full house and expressing their worry about the financial state of the Opera House. Madame Giry made her way to Meg and I. She addressed me quietly and said to me, "This is your chance, child. You can make him proud…" I shook my head, still nervous about the whole situation in general.

As the managers were now discussing (rather loudly) the possibility of Carlotta's understudy, Madame Giry interrupted loudly, "Christine Daae could sing it, sirs." I looked up in shock.

Monsieur Firmin was not impressed as he scoffed, "The chorus girl? Don't be silly."

My self-esteem plummeted. Madame Giry had her arm around my shoulders supportively. "Let her sing for you, Monsieurs. She has been taught by a great teacher," she insisted.

Monsieur Firmin sighed and called me to the centre of the stage. "Come on, don't be shy."

Monsieur Reyer instructed me, "From the beginning of the aria, Mademoiselle." I looked nervously at Meg and Madame Giry. They both smiled encouragingly at me. My voice quivered as I began. I looked their way again, and Madame Giry waved her arm in a supportive gesture. I smiled and felt more confidence seep into my voice as it rose in pitch.

I heard the rest of the cast gather behind me, seemingly fascinated. As the song was coming to an end, I could feel a tightening in my chest as I sang out the final note in high soprano pitch. At the end of it all, I stood there feeling very accomplished. I grinned at Madame Giry and Meg as I walked back in their direction. Relief seemed to flood over the entire cast as excited conversation filled in the place of the brief silence.

Meg was the first to address me, "Christine, you were brilliant! They are sure to pick you to replace that awful Carlotta!"

I smiled bashfully as I said, "They surely haven't decided yet…" Just as those words left my lips, the managers implored me, "Mademoiselle! You simply have to perform for tonight's gala! We insist on it!" A blush crept onto my cheeks as I lowered my head and replied shyly, "Yes, of course… It would be a pleasure." They heaved a heavy sigh of relief and went back to Monsieur Reyer to discuss whatever last minute adjustments that would have to be made.

The performance that night went splendidly. A smile was plastered on my face as I received a standing ovation. I gracefully made my way backstage. No one's praise mattered most but his. My teacher, my mentor – my Angel of Music.

TBC

A/n – Excuse my lack of originality here but I did say it was a retelling of the story, except through a more EC bias. I'm all for EC coz Raoul's an insufferable fop.