I can't believe I'm starting ANOTHER, but A Very Fine Line is about half done and I saw Phantom onstage last night, and I fell completely back in love with it. This is a very different story for me. Let me just say, I've never been a Christine/Erik shipper, but after the show last night, I decided it could be done. So I am going to create my own vision on what the sequel will be like. I hope it's okay!!!!!
February 13, 1882
2:00 A.M.
A light misty drizzle had begun to fall over the city as a crowd gathered outside the opera house, holding vigil for the kidnapped soprano and her lover, the Vicomte. It was a mild night for February, almost unseasonably balmy. The harried opera managers stood to the side, speaking with various reporters and Surete. A woman dressed all in black stood close by them, and if she hadn't looked so very stern, one might have guessed that she was worried. The only indication of this, however, was the small furrow between her perfectly sculpted eyebrows. Her red hair was pulled so tightly back from her face, that she seemed older than her mere forty years. A group of young women were amassed around her like chicks around the mother hen.
The crowd was silent, waiting for something, anything to emerge from the darkened opera house. The only sounds were the quiet murmur of the police questioning witnesses and the soft sound of the rain falling on the pavement. At someone's sudden gasp, the crowd collectively lurched forward, hoping to see what was happening. Two people had appeared at the stairs into the opera house from within: A slight, dark haired girl in an elaborate wedding gown and a young man, who looked worse for the wear. He was soaked to the bone and there was an alarming red mark across his neck. Though he held the girl around the waist, there was a weakness in his stance, as if he may collapse at any moment.
Immediately, the couple were surrounded by police and medical personnel, causing so much commotion that everybody hardly noticed the smaller, fair haired girl who emerged next. In her tiny hand was clutched a white object. The woman in black rushed toward her, reprimanding her first before crushing the child to her.
"Maman," Her tiny voice trilled over the murmurs of the crowd. "He's gone." Her eyes drifted down to her hands, which held the mask of the perpetrator.
"What do you mean he's gone?" One angry member of the crowd cried, hearing her.
"You mean, he's escaped?" A woman cried. The police immediately surrounded the building, guns at the ready until a female voice spread desperately through the crowd.
"STOP!"
Everything came to a halt and every eye turned back to the dark haired girl, who was Christine Daae.
"Leave him alone!" She sobbed, her chest heaving with the labor of her breathing. "Leave him in peace, he isn't going to hurt anyone!" The woman in black, the ballet mistress took her into her arms, soothing her while her companion, the Vicomte de Chagny stared at her in disbelief.
"You are defending what he did tonight?" He asked her incredulously as people fussed over his bruised and battered body.
"No," The girl replied, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "Of course not, but--"
"Hush," Madame Giry comforted her, stroking the fine curls on the soprano's head. "You needn't worry yourself over it any longer, child." She gave the Vicomte a calculating look.
"She is confused, understandably." She reminded him. "She needs sleep." The man nodded.
"I'll have my carriage brought around." The Vicomte replied. Madame Giry gave him a scathing look.
"Absolutely not." She snapped, guiding Christine's head to rest against her shoulder. "She will stay with me. She is my charge, not yours."
"She is my fiancée." He argued.
"Not your wife." Madame Giry added, taking Christine's hand along with her daughter's. "Until you are married, she will stay with me." Raoul nodded, sighing in defeat.
"Of course." He said calmly. "Forgive me. At least let me take you three home and see you safe inside." Madame Giry gave him a curt nod and followed him to the carriage with the girls in tow, ignoring the questions of reporters and police as they fought through the crowd.
Madame Giry was quick to make a pot of tea after the Vicomte had said his goodbyes and promised to return first thing in the morning. Meg was a good girl and had guided Christine's tired form into the room the two girls shared and had helped her out of the wedding dress and into a soft, clean nightgown. Madame Giry, seeing the state of panic and bemusement that Gustave Daae's daughter was in after her hellish ordeal, put a small dose of Laudanum into the child's teacup to help her sleep.
It was frightening to see the girl's big amber eyes so desolate. Silently, the ballet mistress cursed the man who had caused Christine so much grief these past months. Still, she knew the blame was also to be set on her own head. She had been the one to play along with his ploy, to encourage Christine to trust him. Never had she imagined that he would become obsessed with the child.
The two girls entered the kitchen holding hands. Christine's skin was pale, blending with the white of her cotton nightgown. Meg petted her hand as if that could help and guiding her to sit in a wooden chair at the kitchen table.
"Tea." Madame Giry said, setting the cup in front of her. "Drink."
"I'm not thirsty." Christine said quietly, but at the look that Madame Giry gave her, she immediately picked it up and took a small sip. Meg settled into the seat beside her and watched her closest friend and adoptive sister's face. She gladly accepted the cup of tea her mother placed before her. "I don't want to go to sleep tonight." Christine said, holding the cup between her hands and letting the warmth settle into her skin. "All I see is his face."
"Is it so terrible?" Meg whispered cautiously as Christine's large, brown eyes turned toward her and she shuddered.
"No." Christine whispered. "Not the deformity. The hurt. The pain…I can't bear it, I can't-"
Her voice broke and she bowed her head, her long hair falling to shield her face as her shoulders began to shake with the sobs that left her small body as she finally cried. Madame Giry crossed the room, barely touching the ground as she put her arm around Christine.
"This is not your fault, child, do you understand me?" Placing a finger beneath the girl's chin, she lifted her head. "This is not your doing, nor your responsibility. You don't owe him anything." Christine glared at her through her tears.
"How can you of all people, say that? I owe him everything. Without him, I would be nothing, I would be-"
"A girl with a quiet life and a happy future." Madame Giry said, sighing.
"If I hadn't been in Hannibal, Raoul would have never noticed me. If he hadn't taught me to sing, I would have never been in it…if he hadn't called to me that first night in the chapel…"
"You can ponder what might have been until you die, but we can't go back." Madame Giry told her regretfully. "We can only go forward. The point is, Raoul did notice you…you love each other. You have a real future together." Christine nodded, though it was not hard to see this did not ease her suffering.
"You don't understand," She said, a tear winding down her cheek, "I…kissed him. I chose him. That's when he let us go…and when he told us to leave, I-" Her voice dropped to a whisper, "I didn't want to."
"It is not up to you to save him." Madame Giry said fiercely. "I know you, Christine…you have such a kind heart that you would jump in front of a carriage to save a rabbit. This is not that."
"I know what I felt!" Christine insisted, staring at her guardian intensely. Madame Giry's blue eyes were kind.
"Marry Raoul as soon as possible, love." She said quietly. "You will be happy with him. There is no future with Erik." Christine stared at the woman and tilted her head in surprise.
"That's his name?" She asked softly, her voice changing. Her eyes flitted downward and she mouthed his name, trying it on her lips.
"You're confused, Christine." Madame Giry said to her, "You need rest." Looking at Meg, she motioned for her to help Christine up, her form now drooping from the dose of Laudanum. "Everything will be better in the morning."
"Had to save Raoul…" Christine slurred, hanging against Meg's small body. "Couldn't let him die for me…"
"I know." Madame Giry said, guiding the girl into her bedroom. Gently, she and Meg eased Christine onto the bed she and Meg shared. Christine's head lolled to the side, her dark lashes making a silken fan over her white, silken skin. "Goodnight sweetheart." Madame Giry kissed the girl's forehead before turning to her daughter.
"It is going to be a hard time for her, Meg, love." She said regretfully.
"I'll help her through." Meg promised, as Madame Giry kissed her cheek lovingly.
"I know you will, my girl."
"Erik…" Christine murmured once more before falling completely silent, her breath coming in evenly.
She was asleep.
