On Tuesday, the day of the first dress rehearsal of Il Muto, Carlotta arrived at the opera house to find Christine Daae standing at the (locked) door to her dressing room.
"And what are you doing here?" Good Lord, if she had some sort of letter to deliver…
"Today I'm shadowing you," Christine declared.
"Today you're what?"
"You're always accusing me of things lately. You say I've been sending the threatening letters. That I was the one to sabotage the costumes. You even said I dropped a sandbag onstage the other day…"
"A mean and petty trick," Carlotta said.
"…but I was with Raoul all day, and you still won't believe me."
Carlotta snorted. "As if your lover wouldn't be pleased to cover for you!"
"Well, if you won't believe Raoul, you'll believe have to believe your own eyes," Christine said. She put her hands on her hips. "Today is the first dress rehearsal. Things are very likely to go wrong. And I'll be with you when it happens."
"Most likely to cause the accident. Are you planning on pushing me offstage or putting something in my tea?"
"Oh, does the diva not think she can handle a stupid little toad like me?" Christine batted her eyes.
Clearly the girl had something up her sleeve. But Carlotta wasn't afraid to give it a try. If Christine had some sort of plot, it would be much easier to stop her up close—besides, if she refused, Christine would lord it over her as proof of her willingness to be put to the test. It would be inconvenient, but she could stand it. "Fine. But the managers will not like it."
"Then you will have to tell them to put up with it, since it is for your satisfaction."
Carlotta hmphed. But she allowed Christine to come in her room to put on her makeup and get changed. She had brought all the necessary supplies with her, and the room was plenty large enough.
It took a solid hour to get on clothes and makeup. After that, there was some lag time—people messing with the set and other actors getting on their costumes and final preparations. Carlotta and Christine sat in the dressing room glaring at each other for maybe fifteen minutes with barely any conversation before they were summoned to warm up.
Or rather, Carlotta was summoned to warm up. Christine, who didn't have a single line in the opera, could just as easily have sat it out, or warmed up her body instead for some of the movements her part required. But she trailed along behind Carlotta, only a couple feet away from her, causing several people to give them confused looks. After all, the two of them hardly ever got along.
"Miss Daae will be with me today," Carlotta said loudly as they came onstage for warm-ups, to clear up any confusion. "I intend to make sure she does not try any of her usual antics."
The chorus director said, "But Carlotta, won't that be distracting to you?" He smiled patiently.
Carlotta hated people who tried to humor her while simultaneously trying to change her mind. "I think I have enough mind to focus on two things at once, monsieur. Now, play a scale."
She always showed off her range and lung capacity a little during warm-ups, just to show the other singers who was in charge. Now, with Christine standing so close to her and gazing directly at her lips, she felt rather as if she, not Christine, were the one being watched. So she gave it her all, putting even more effort into her scales and other exercises than usual. She even tried her best to look dignified during the lip buzzes, which was a futile battle.
Christine didn't laugh at her during such awkward exercises, but neither did she look impressed. Instead she looked as if she were hardly paying attention.
Well, that didn't matter. This wasn't about Christine watching Carlotta. This was about Carlotta watching Christine.
And then it was time for them to get into their places. Carlotta took Piangi aside. "I can't be watching her the whole time—you know I am always onstage. Please. If it becomes impossible for me to keep an eye on her, watch her for me."
"I won't be going anywhere," Christine said.
Piangi looked skeptical. "Carlotta, isn't this a little…"
"She volunteered for this, so take it up with her. If she wants proof of her own innocence, we must give it to her or prove her guilt. And we certainly must stop her from doing anything to hurt the opera house. You can't disagree with that."
"Yes, but…"
Carlotta gave him a look, and he stopped talking. Christine laughed. "Don't worry about me, monsieur. I'm not a criminal. And I'd prefer not to be treated like one in the future, but for today it is fine."
Carlotta nodded. "You see, she does not object."
"If you say so," Piangi said. Though he still looked entirely doubtful.
Carlotta would always have said her scenes with Christine in Il Muto held a certain level of tension. First and foremost, there was the sexual tension between their characters, which while often mocked in the show still drove much of the action. And there was their chemistry as actors—whatever Carlotta might say against Christine, no one could deny she had a way of expressing herself onstage, even through her body language, and combined with Carlotta's finesse they were pure dynamite. There was also a certain tension between them personally, as Carlotta always had to act at least as well as Christine onstage, well aware that Christine coveted her part, well aware of Christine's malicious resentment.
Today, however, the tension was much higher than usual. Every time they glanced at each other, Christine's eyes captured her with such challenge, such defiance, that Carlotta could barely glance away to speak to her faux-husband or give an aside to the audience. And every time Christine left the stage she had to take a moment to catch her breath and refocus. She found herself annoyed at every other singer onstage, whose scenes with her and without Christine were so boring in comparison. With such dull companions one could hardly perform their best.
She wished, as she had often wished in the past few weeks, that Christine's part were not silent. If Christine could only sing then Carlotta could sing opposite her, could outclass her and prove herself superior. But with Christine unable to challenge her, the match felt unsettled. The managers had declared Carlotta the victor; an audience might have felt differently, and they would never find out.
When the opera drew to a close, she was exhausted. Grabbing Christine's arm (bare to the elbow in her Serafimo costume), she said, "We are returning to the dressing room to change. The heat is unbearable."
The chorus director said, "We have notes for you, Madame—there are certain changes we would like to suggest…"
"I am certain they are minor and can wait. You do not understand how it is to be a woman in my position, with this level of pressure on me. If I cannot sit down, I will faint."
"There are seats right here."
"I am going to change." Carlotta marched towards the exit, still pulling Christine along with her. "You may wait or you may give notes to the others. I will return in good time."
In the dressing room, Carlotta sighed and took off her wig. It was the hottest part of her costume, and while it did add a certain grandeur to her character, she was always glad to be rid of it. Besides, white hair had never suited her as well as red.
"You were in fine form today," Christine said.
"And what is that supposed to mean?" People often criticized Carlotta for making demands of directors, managers and the like. But she had no patience for those who didn't understand power and influence had to be wielded in order to be maintained.
Christine shook her head. "Always so quick to take offense?"
"I don't expect compliments from a little toad like you."
Christine flushed. She tore off her man's shirt and threw it straight at Carlotta's face. "You…you are a hateful woman! What is wrong with you?"
Carlotta stormed over to Christine and seized her shoulder. A bare shoulder—taking off the shirt had left her in her corset. "I'm hateful?" She leaned into Christine's face. "I don't send hate letters. I don't make threats."
Christine's pupils were dilated and her voice was fierce. "Every time I try to be reasonable you…"
"Well it's not my fault that…"
Christine grabbed Carlotta's neck and pulled her into an open mouthed kiss. Carlotta gasped, words strangled mid-sentence. She almost stumbled backwards but no, there was no way she would let Christine intimidate her. Carlotta had kissed more than fifty men in her life. Christine had possibly kissed one. There was no way she could win at this one.
She grabbed Christine's waist and, lips still locked, shoved her against the locked door to the dressing room. Then she pulled her mouth away from Christine's and put it to use on Christine's neck instead, sucking the juncture where throat met jaw. Christine gasped. "Oh, you're such a—"
There was a knock on the door.
Carlotta didn't bother to stop sucking Christine's neck. Christine whimpered. In a breathy voice, she asked, "Who is it?"
"Miss Daae, you and Carlotta are needed at once."
Carlotta bit down just a little harder. Christine nearly choked.
"Miss Daae?"
"We're still changing."
"There's been an accident."
Carlotta paused.
"An accident?" Christine asked. She gently pushed Carlotta off, and Carlotta stepped away.
"Yes, an accident. One of the set pieces has caught on fire…the piece used for the background in the parlor…"
"You'll admit it can't have been me this time," Christine said.
She was nearly into her normal clothes, a blue dress that suited her well enough but not nearly as well as just a corset and a pair of trousers. Carlotta sighed.
"I mean, I was a little distracted," Christine said tartly. "Or are you going to say I somehow snuck out while you were kissing me?"
There were a hundred answers to that objection. Christine could have rigged some sort of booby trap ahead of time with oil and a fuse. She could have collaborated with the Vicomte, whom Carlotta had not been watching and who remained unaccounted for. She could have arranged things any number of ways, and set this up beforehand to make herself appear innocent.
But she was looking at Carlotta with a certain amount of worry, and not as if she thought she might be caught in a lie. Rather as if she hoped Carlotta wouldn't think badly of her. To call her a liar now, to blame the incident on her, felt a little crueler than Carlotta liked.
And then there was Carlotta's pride. Christine had kissed her and liked it—those moans had been entirely genuine. There had been nothing cold and calculated about the way she had responded to Carlotta's hands, to her mouth. And Carlotta was experienced enough to know by now when someone was enjoying themselves.
"Fine," she said. "I'll admit it wasn't you. Silly girl."
"And you take back your accusations?"
"What, do you want me to publicly recant?"
"I suppose that's too much to ask." Christine stole a fond look at Carlotta as she buttoned up her dress in the front. "For you to admit that you were wrong—really I'm surprised you'll even do it here."
Carlotta scowled. "Don't be impertinent."
"Of course not." Christine sauntered over to Carlotta, who was struggling with her own dress—it closed in the back and had a large number of buttons. "Do you want help with that?"
"If it's not too much to ask," Carlotta said sarcastically.
With a light laugh, Christine buttoned her up. But before she stepped away she pressed a kiss to the back of Carlotta's neck.
"Don't think this is going to become regular," Carlotta warned her.
"I don't think anything."
"Good." Carlotta brushed her skirt down and headed to the door. "Well, let's see what they have to say to us."
Christine followed a little too close behind her. "I'm still shadowing you."
"All day?"
"I need to prove my innocence beyond doubt," Christine said. "It might even be wise for me to come home with you." She spoke very firmly and seriously.
"Hm. We'll talk about that later." Sighing, Carlotta took Christine's hand, and they walked down the hall together.
AN:
Written for the prompt "Carlotta/Christine, 'I'm only here to establish an alibi'." I continue to fall down the Il Muto rabbit hole because seriously, probably the best canon era for the Carlotta/Christine to go down. Anyways I hope it filled the prompt and that you enjoyed.
(Cross-posted from AO3)