A/N: Wow! I'm so happy to be receiving so many positive reviews! Who knew that the deep within Phantom Phandom lay such a passionate group of RCers?

Thanks to all those who reviewed:bexxy, Glitter Queen of The Ice show, Lindaleriel (I am honored you like it so much!), caz, Rogue Scholar (I wish to find myself a man who would shop for me like that...willingly), Shandethe Sanders (Raoul would make the COOLEST Musketeer!), Gigi the Dancer (Raoul has an inner strength that many of the EC people miss during the final scene), Kchan88 (I paused my DVD to look at Raoul's eyes as I wrote the last chapter...pretty...), and Hikaru Hayashi (AIAoY is so beautiful...I love it on my OLC CD with Sarah Brightman and Steve Barton, and I love it in the movie with Emmy Rossum and Patrick Wilson...although I have yet to decide which version I like better...)

And here comes the next chapter. Read, enjoy, and review!

Chapter Three: The Reconciliation/The Secret Engagement

She had forgiven him. She sent him a letter inviting him to accompany her to the masquerade that Messrs. Firmin and Andre were throwing, and he sent her a letter to accept. He wanted to see her in person, but he couldn't quite work up the courage. Something had been bothering Christine—something more than what Raoul had done—and he had no idea how to act so that she wouldn't react so badly again. He sometimes had worked himself to the doors of her dressing room, but then forced himself to go straight to the business that he had with Messrs. Firmin and Andre.

It was not until she came to the doorstep of his Paris residence on a storming afternoon, however, that his fears were assuaged.

"Raoul de Changy." Her voice was stronger than it had been before; being lead soprano at the Opera Populaire had not given her a diva attitude like it had given La Carlotta, but certainly it provided all the confidence she had formerly lacked. "You have made quite a disappointing fiancé." He couldn't speak. He didn't know what to say.

"You left me all alone at the opera house." She gave him a half-smile. "Will you let me in?"

His eyes widened, realizing that she was standing outside in the rain. "Christine, I'm sorry!" He stood out of the doorway as she stepped in. He took her cloak and closed the door behind her. "You must be soaking!"

"I'm fine, Raoul." Her voice was calm. Raoul could not help but look at her. The absence had made her more beautiful, the rain still balancing delicately on her eyelashes. He wanted to reach out for her, to envelop her obviously drenched body with his own, but his reservations held him back.

Sensing his hesitation, Christine stepped toward Raoul, her smile slightly wavering. "I've missed you, Raoul."

His silence broke. "Christine, I've missed you too." Simultaneously, they bridged the distance between them, embracing. They pulled slightly away, kissing fervently. Raoul kissed her nose and then her forehead before pulling away slightly. "Oh, Christine. I love you so much."

"Raoul. Never leave me again." She looked at him earnestly. "I don't think I could bear it."

He grinned broadly. "Never," he promised, and he kissed her again.

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After their reconciliation, all darkness between them vanished. Even the darkness that had normally clouded Christine had nearly lifted, her smile purer and more frequent than it had ever been in the past. Raoul could not get enough of her.

Christine had been amazingly busy as the Opera Populaire's lead soprano. Raoul came to most of the rehearsals, and when he could not, he sent Christine flowers—never roses, as the memory of that weak flower that preventing him from grasping her completely from her nightmares still lingered. However, not only Raoul, but Christine also was pleased when La Carlotta came back, newly rejuvenated from a trip back from Spain. "Vas only a mistakah. Eh bettah now," she claimed, and Christine let her. Christine had enjoyed being the star, certainly, but it was amazing how draining it was on her. She gave her soul every night and never quite got it all back. Needless to say, the return of Carlotta was welcomed.

There had been no more accidents since the night Buquet died. Some had even convinced themselves it had been a suicide all along. Raoul looked on the event with suspicion, but he still could not fully bring himself to believe in the Opera Ghost that Christine vehemently claimed existed.

The masquerade had come sooner than either had expected. Messr. Firmin had highly encouraged costumes—Meg had joked lightly that it was because it gave him an excuse to look as silly as he normally did without insult—and Christine was eager to play along. "Come, Raoul. It could be fun!"

"Fun? Christine…" He sighed. "What did you want to costume yourself as?"

"Well, we should match, of course."

He laughed. "We could dress as matching pairs of boots!"

She looked at him, cross. "Raoul, that's not helping." She cocked her head in thought. Her eyes scanned her dressing room. They had kept Christine as the second soprano, or first mezzo in order to play opposite Carlotta, and thus had let her keep her dressing room. Carlotta had asked for a new one, and Messrs. Firmin and Andre were eager to grovel and transform an old ballet room to accommodate her.

Her eyes fell on the poster in on her wall from her last role as lead soprano. "Raoul, that's it!" She hugged him brightly, and then went into her wardrobe, pulling out a pink dress. Raoul recognized it instantly. He had seen her perform in it daily. "One of your dresses as Juliet?"

"Where did Romeo and Juliet meet?" She hurried on, excitedly, not waiting for his response, "A ball! As we will be attending. You shall be my Romeo. Far better you than Piangi." She smiled at him, spinning herself around with the dress.

"Didn't Romeo and Juliet die at the end of the tale?" Raoul meant it as a teasing comment, but Christine stopped spinning and shook her head seriously.

"You are not to die, Raoul. I won't let you."

"I have no intentions of dying." He shook the idea from his mind. "But, the question, my darling, is how I am to fit in Piangi's Romeo."

Christine laughed, throwing her dress across her chair, and grasped his hands in hers, pulling him to follow her. "We are the Opera Populaire! If anything, we pride ourselves in our costuming!"

He laughed, and looked down at her soft hands leading him. He stiffened when he didn't see the ring he had given her on her finger. When he stopped following her, she turned. "What's wrong, Raoul?"

"Why aren't you wearing the ring I gave you?" He meant for it to sound softly inquisitive, but he could not help but sound offended.

Christine's face dropped suddenly, looking at him pleadingly for some understanding he could not manifest. Sighing, she touched the long gold chain that fell around her neck and pulled it out of the bodice of her dress. On the end of the chain was linked the ring, glittering in the hazy lights. "Raoul, it shall never leave me. But I cannot wear it."

"Why ever not?" His voice was slightly angry now. "Why can't the world know that we're in love?"

Her face once again pleaded with him. "Raoul. Raoul, please. Think of it as…a secret engagement! Do you remember those stories we'd tell each other as Father played the violin? Remember how we would pretend to be the characters in the stories? Well, pretend with me, Raoul. Pretend we are secretly engaged, and the secret must be kept to save our lives!"

"For how long, Little Lotte?" His voice was calmer. "Little Lotte, how long?"

Her eyes flickered. "Soon, Raoul. I promise you, soon all will know." She kissed him, harder than usual, as if she could force the idea onto him with a kiss. The odd thing was that she could. "Now, to have your costume redone!"

Raoul followed her willingly, but he could not fully let the absence of his ring escape from his mind. The Opera Ghost, a small voice snickered in his mind, but he brushed it aside. There was no Opera Ghost.

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Or is there? As always, thanks for reading, and I encourage reviewing!