A/N: A nice little one-shot to help me separate myself from Swan Song for a bit and hopefully allow me to really get into my next (as yet unnamed) fanfic. Feel free to review this, I always reply.
Of course, she thought, looking up at the catwalk hanging a dizzying number of meters from the stage. Of course they had to choose me.
Climbing the stairs to the walk was nothing, but looking down the narrow space she was expected to traverse made her stomach simultaneously drop and rise to her throat.
Joseph Buquet chose this of all days to be absent from the theatre, or at least his post, and Monsieur Reyer had been quite insistent that this particular rope needed to be loosed. He did not even bother to explain what it was for. He had merely asked one of the ballet girls to go up. And of course he had chosen her, Christine, who was terrified of heights. He had assured her that it was perfectly safe, or else he would have had someone else go up. This had done little to quell the storm in her stomach.
'Just go to that one.' Meg told her from below.
Christine nodded. She set her shoulders, looking dead ahead and keeping her fingers on the rails that secured both sides. Taking deliberate breaths, she kept her chin up. She felt like she had been up there an eternity already, but she continued, making her cautious way to the desired rope. With shaking fingers, she untied it and carefully lowered whatever was tied at the other end. She did not care to look down to find out at present.
A chorus of thanks rang up from below, signalling she was done. She was just about to turn and head back to the stage when Meg cheered something up at her.
Looking down to the dancer proved to be a bad idea. Immediately her hands clamped on the rail as her knees shook frightfully. She could not move, and could barely even think. Her breathing came in quick gasps as fear overtook her. She felt tears well up as she dove deeper and deeper into panic. What if she never came back down again? What if she fell? Certainly this height would kill her, she thought.
Suddenly, a soft warm shadow enveloped her back. She felt a breath come to her ear as gentle black gloved hands came to rest feather-light upon her own.
'Breathe,' the darkness instructed.
She did as she was told, remembering how her Angel of Music had taught her. It was odd that this voice sounded so similar.
'Now, let go of the rail,' it continued, slightly encouragingly.
She shook her head, barely gasping out, 'I can't.'
'Yes, you can. Just let go. I will not let you fall or trip.' It assured, softly purring at her ear.
Slowly, tentatively, she allowed her fingers to relax under his. She felt herself sway slightly and took his hands, though not nearly as tightly as she had the rail.
'There now, that was not so bad. I am right here, you will not fall.' It told her again, soothing her fears before she could even voice them.
Christine felt strangely reassured to have the great shadow looming behind her like an impenetrable wall. It obviously took smaller steps for her benefit as they calmly and cautiously made their way off the narrow catwalk. Though she kept a firm hold on its hands, she noticed that they only touched her lightly. It was as if whoever was behind her feared breaking her like she were made of glass. She found odd comfort in their gentle touch.
At last, they made it to the stairs. Christine let go to grab the rail of the spiralling steps that lead to solid ground.
'Thank you, Monsieur, I-' She turned round to find the catwalk empty. It was then that she fully realised that the mysterious figure who had helped her was most likely the famed and feared Opera Ghost. Cocking her head at this thought, she made her way back down to the stage and continued to rehearse with the others.
If the Phantom was so terrible, then why did he help her?
A/N: Hope you liked this little piece. I get a kick out of writing little stories like this, so be prepared for more to potentially pop up. If I get enough reviews, I might be tempted to write this in Erik's perspective, but first let me know if you liked it.