The backstage of the Opera House was a wandering mess of sets, props and ropes. Humans wandered along the edges, waiting for their turn to audition.

Christine sat on a crate, wearing her best dress again, reading a book while leaning against the wall with a leg crossed comfortably.

Meg sat next to her, in her ballet skirt and shoes. In the corner of Christine's eye she saw Meg's hands picking at the edges of her skirt, slowly pulling apart the seams.

Christine looked down from her book to reach out to stop her from unstiching her skirt too badly. "Darling, your going to have to fix that later." She reminded her. "Best leave it alone."

Meg nodded, reaching up to fiddle with her hair. "You're so calm." She whispered. "You're the one auditioning and you're so calm."

"This is nothing new to me." Christine gave a rue smile. "I used to do a lot of auditions, I learned to be very comfortable with them."

"I do a lot of auditions too!" Meg insisted. "I audition for the lead Ballerina roles for every Opera."

"I used to do three or a four a week." Christine smiled and sat back, listening to a singer onstage.

"Three or four." Meg looked startled. "But-"

"I moved around a lot, trying to find a place that could take me." Christine shrugged, then winced as a women onstage tried and failed to hit a higher note. "Oh, I do wish she'd chosen another song, she's more of an alto."

"What are you Christine?" Meg asked.

"Oh, definitely a soprano." Christine said firmly, turning back to her reading, she turned a page absently. "I can go very high."

"I do hope you get the part." Meg said urgently, ignoring Christine's cue to end the conversation. Or perhaps she was unaware of it. "I've had enough of strutting, squawking Carlotta."

Christine smoothed out a page. "Her singing is decent."

"You keep on saying that." Meg said, giving Christine an odd look. "Why do you keep on saying that?"

"It's about the only thing I can say about her that is kind." Christine allowed herself a prim smile. "I don't believe in insulting others."

"I heard that yesterday you were pretty insulting to Carlotta." Meg slyly reminded her.

"That was different." She turned another page.

"Oh?"

"It was in the defense of Emily. I was trying to direct the attention to me." Christine shrugged. "No moral rule can hold true all the time. I believe, and still believe, that yesterday was a proper time to break that rule."

Meg frowned. "What?"

Christine looked up from her reading and gave Meg a tired, but kind, smile. "Killing is wrong, yes?"

"Of course." Meg said quickly.

"And those who kill ought to be put in jail?"

Meg nodded. "Yes, yes of course, then gasped suddenly. "Oh- Christine I'm sorry."

"It's quite alright." Christine placed a sheet of paper in her place and closed her book. "Let's say, someone is attacking you, and you fight back and killed them. Now is that wrong?"

"I- I don't think so." Meg admitted.

"Exactly." Christine informed Meg with a wink. "In general, I don't like to kill people. But if killing others in required in the defense of myself and the rest of the human race, I will do so."

Meg nodded. "I think I understand what you mean now."

"Good." Christine opened her book again and began reading. This time Meg took the hint and remained silent. For a few moments she enjoyed peace as she read.

"You're always reading these days." Another voice said cheerfully.

Christine looked up, and gave Emily a smile. "How are you darling?" She asked softly. "Shouldn't you be resting at home? You have a baby now to think of." She added.

Emily waved her hand. "I walked to the Opera House nearly every day for six years, and I'll do it as much as I like now." She smiled. "Besides, I wanted to be here for your audition, I've never heard you sing."

"It's true then?" Meg leaned forward and grinned. "You're pregnant?"

"Oh yes." Emily's cheeks tinged red. "Adam is very excited, he's asked a friend of his to build a cradle, and he's working hard to make money so he, or she, can go to school." Her eyes twinkled at Christine. "I made sure that he knew that was what I wanted."

Christine nodded. "I'm glad."

Meg smiled. "I remember Christine teaching me how to read and write and explaining how the world worked. I thought she knew everything, she was so smart."

"Education and true intelligence are very different things." Christine remarked. "I have education."

"You are very smart though." Emily insisted. "Listen to yourself, you could be a Greek philosopher."

"If I had been born in Greece, I would have been a wife, slaving away to my husband and bearing children whilst scrubbing floors. I wouldn't have had the means nor the time to-" Christine halted mid sentence, Carlotta passed by, giving Christine and her companions a glare.

"To come up with my own philosophy." Christine finished.

"It's her turn to go onstage." Emily said. "I saw the list."

"Very good." Christine murmured. "I'm a few spots after her."

"Not a lot of people are auditioning for the lead." Meg said.

"Not many people expect to get it." Christine remarked and tucked her book under her arms. "I'd best warm up now."

"Christine Daae, auditioning for lead singer." A tired voice echoed from the stage.

Christine walked out to center stage and curtsied. "Good morning monsieur's!" She called. "How are you this morning?"

"Very well, thank you mademoiselle." One of them called back. She recognized the managers, and a few men she didn't recognize still scribbling a few notes from the last audition. One of the managers glanced up, and his eyes widend.

"Mademoiselle Daae?" He called out. "What are you doing?"

"Auditioning Monsieur." Christine replied with a warm smile and a nod of her head.

"I-well." He sat back and began fiddling with his beard. "Do you really think you can get this part?"

"I don't know Monsieur." Christine answered. "I guess I'll find out."

"Very well." He looked down at his paper. "What will you be singing?" He asked politely.

"Casta Diva." She replied. "A shortened version, of course."

"Yes, well, begin." He smiled tightly and pressed his pencil to the paper.

Christine quickly checked her posture, and then took a deep breath, and sang.

It was a slow and sweet song, full of emotion, her strength in singing. They were the last words of a women going to her death, Christine poured into it all her feelings of pain, of wanting and waiting for death.

People stopped in their tracks, stage hands gathered to the wings to see who made such a noise, the general chatter in the auditorium faded to make room for the new and sweet sound.

Christine felt a smile appear on her face, feeling the music spread through her. As she lifted her head for dramatic effect, she nearly choked when she saw Erik.

He was there, in the rafters, not even bothering to hide himself. His cape draped over the many beams, his full mask never once leaving her. She could almost hear his sigh of relief, of surprise, but relief all the same.

Memories flooded into her memory, this piece was an easier song, one that Erik had given her during her first few lessons. Then he had spent the next year perfecting it, despite the reasonable breaks in between practicing, by the end of that year, she had hated it with a passion.

Now she enjoyed it greatly, and it flowed from her mouth easily, a familiar reminder of lessons and music and-

Something in her stomach twisted, and she forced herself to look foreword again. Still, she felt his eyes burrowing into her, watching her preform in front of a crowd for the first time in ten years.

Then she finished the song, holding it out for dramatic effect, letting it fade into the corners of the room.

Then she ended it.

There was silence, pure silence, a crowd holding it's breath, waiting for more but finding none.

Then a judge, one she didn't know, began clapping. Another did as well, hand after hand joined them, making it grow into a loud applause.

Everyone was applauding. From the maids with their dusty or soapy hands to her fellow auditioneers with sheets of music in their hands.

She heard whistles of appreciation, and a cry for another song. And that still resounding applause, going on and on and on.

The judges stood, one had tears streaming down his face, the managers looking like someone had knocked them on the heads but still shouting as loudly as the rest.

Christine smiled at the familiar scene, and bowed low, bending her knees downwards and lifting her skirts to compensate, as she rose, she looked up again towards Erik for approval.

He was clapping more enthusiastically than any of them.