Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN PHANTOM OF THE OPERA. (Sniffle) And the carol 'Oh Come Emmanuel.'

Hey everyone, how are you? Well…it's the last week of my vacation, which means I probably won't be able to update this for a while. But no have no fear! I will update it…just…not as quickly. Man, I'm so excited for tomorrow, cause I'm going to a Speed the Light rally, which helps fundraise money to help missionaries from other countries. Our church's worship band is playing, and a missionary from South Africa is speaking…. so yeah. It's going to be crazy. And I hope God moves through everything in His amazing way. Anyways, here's the chapter! Hope you enjoy and God Bless. -Liane

P.s. I'm going to say hi to my crush also (which I'm not really good at). So which me luck! XD

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The Paris Opera House had its moments in its long history. There would be times when managers quitted, prima Donnas threw fits, and rumors were spread like wildfire through the ballet dormitories. But this one? This one topped them all...it was so outrageous, that even the little ballerinas were stunned into complete silence.

The prima Donna had refused to sing!

Christine stopped trying to loosen her corset's cream laces momentarily to contemplate what had just transpired. Frozen to her spot, she could only watch as everyone went into a panic, running to gossip to their fellow crew workers. Carlotta, ever the diva, told the managers, Andre and Firmin, that she wouldn't sing until her costume was cleaned. Christine huffed irritably as she gazed longingly at the empty, red rows of seats. Rows of seats that were being taken for granted. What she wouldn't give to sing in front of those seats, to see those extravagant fans and little mini-programs flutter against the audience's faces, to feel the heat of the spotlight against her face…

"Christine Daae could sing it, sir," Madame Giry suggested to the very sweaty manager, who was about to dab his face with a sheet of paper that had disappeared from the conductor's stand. Scoffing, he threw a glance over at the girl's way.

"That fragile little thing? Don't be silly."

"Oh, but she had been trained well, monsieur. And by an exceptionally great teacher," the ballet instructor shot back. She motioned for Christine to come forward, her thin lips pursed tightly together. "Please keep in mind that you don't have many options right now."

Christine looked up at the frowning manager hesitantly with her timid, chocolate eyes. She had never gotten this close to the man before, and it terrified her beyond belief! 'I just hope I don't make a fool of myself in front of him, and crack my voice in the middle of the song…' she thought silently. Oh, how she wished that her Angel were here right now. She missed him, and his support that he always gave freely during their lessons together. What had happened to the trusting relationship that they had shared together? The one that had always made her feel safe, loved?

Maybe he didn't care for her anymore.

Christine squeezed her eyes shut, willing her thoughts to be silent. As reasonable as they were, they were extremely painful, and she didn't need painful when she was about to perform in front of her peers. She just had to concentrate, she told herself firmly as she gazed out at the empty red seat. This was what she wanted since she was a little girl, wasn't it? She couldn't waste this opportunity now, just because she got lost in her thoughts! 'Just don't think about him for right now, and it will be all over soon enough...'

'I can't do this…I can't do this…' started like a mantra through her head. Her hands shook as she began to open her little pink mouth. 'I can't do this…'

Suddenly, she noticed a flash of white porcelain in Box Five.

…Angel?

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"Sing for me, my Angel…Sing for me…."

Gazing concernedly at the object of his affections, Erik could only hope that she heard him. The girl was pale as a ghost, and she looked like she was about to fall over at any minute! But, oh, she was so beautiful…his heart pounded fiercely in his chest as he took in her costume. Her chocolate eyes and hair were practically glowing under the golden halo, and her wings were magnificent. He sighed longingly, his amber eyes shining.

'She truly does look like an angel…'

Erik had been pacing around his home for days, missing the beautiful sound of Christine's voice, and her gentle touch. Humiliated, he couldn't bring himself to face his beautiful student after the incident at Madame Giry's. 'Congratulations, Erik. You were practically rambling like a madman in front of her!' his mind said sarcastically. A shudder ran through him as he remembered Christine's willingness to comfort his sick body. Erik closed his eyes in shame, his raven black hair falling against his saddened face. No one had ever given him such a display of affection, and it was earth rattling that this sweet girl would even dare it. At least he had the comforting memory of her warm embrace…

Because Christine could never love him now.

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He was here!

Christine's heart skipped a beat, and she almost jumped for joy. He was here! Goodness knows why the man finally decided to show up, but she couldn't care less. Happiness coursed through her entire system, and almost everyone onstage noticed the drastic change in her expression. Turning to the expectant manager, she gave a quiet smile.

"I'm ready."

The piano man, his long hands poised in position, gave a reassuring nod, and began to play. Widely smiling, everything in the world seemed right again, and with the small reassurance of her maestro's appearance did she begin to sing.

Oh come, Oh come Emmanuel…

And ransom captive Israel,

That mourns in lonely exile here

Until the Son of God appear…

Catching her breath, she then prepared for the last crescendo, feeling lost in the emotional pull of the song. If there was one thing that Erik taught her to do, it was to let go and sing with her whole heart. No matter what happened between them, she felt that she was always going to feel grateful towards him for that.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel…

Christine closed her eyes, and clenched her fists tightly as she delivered the last line of the song, her halo falling against her forehead caressingly.

Shall come to you, O Israel!

Opening her eyes, she held her breath, and waited for someone's approval. Well…if there was going to be any. The managers eyes were bulging out of their sockets, Madame Giry was giving a rare smile, and the audience? The audience was dead still, still enough to make her insides tremble. But what she didn't expect was…oh!

'They're clapping for me!' she thought, her mind still wrapped in a cloudy blur. 'They're…' Unfortunately, she concluded that holding her breathe during the song was not exactly the best idea, since everything around her was becoming black, and the floor was rushing up to meet her.

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(A/N: HA! See? Christine's corset was bound to cause some problems. Anyhow, hope you enjoyed! God Bless!)