Chapter One

Two months after the final events of The Phantom of the Opera

"Only two more weeks, my Darling! I can hardly wait to make you my wife," Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny lovingly said as he walked his fiancee, Christine Daae, to the door of the small home she was staying in. "No more good-byes, no more lonely nights spent in a large house all to myself, and soon...children to enjoy! I cannot wait to start our lives together!"

Christine smiled distractedly. "Children?"

"Of course, Darling! We can have three, five, ten! I love children and you'll make the perfect mother!" Raoul smiled winningly.

Christine frowned. "But when the opera opens again, I want to sing. I can't be both mother and performer, I-"

"Of course you can't be both! Your career is over. There's no need for you to perform in public any more. As the Vicomtesse de Chagny, you will have too many duties to deal with, not to mention our children," Raoul answered, oblivious to Christine's growing concern.

"But-," she began.

"Not now, Christine. Don't worry. We'll talk about all of this later, You'll see. You'll be so busy you won't even have time to hum. The society circles we'll be in are much too high for public singing anyhow."

"Raoul, we need to talk about all of this," Christine began, but he placed a quieting finger to her lips.

"Later, my love. I need to return home and pack for my journey to Bourges tomorrow. I'll only be gone a week, but it will feel like an eternity until I come back to you. I love you, Christine," he said leaning in and kissing her. He pulled away, smiling and returned to his waiting carriage. He waved at her as he pulled away down the street.

Christine hadn't moved from her spot on Madame Giry's doorstep. There were far too many things racing through her mind: no more singing, children, his kiss. As the day to their wedding drew closer, Christine was feeling more and more uneasy. Her thoughts had already been in a confusing tumble that was distracting her more and more each day, but what he'd said tonight had sent her completely into a whirlwind.

The door behind her opened and her best friend appeared. "Christine? Are you coming in or did the Vicomte's kiss leave you swooning?" Meg Giry giggled. "Mother told me not to peek, but I couldn't help it. It's all so romantic!"

Christine turned to enter the house and Meg's bright smile immediately faded. "Christine, what's wrong?"

Madame Sabine Giry looked up from her book and, seeing Christine's expression, took her glasses off and set the book to the side. "Meg, make us some tea, please. Christine, come. Sit down."

As Meg scurried to do her mother's bidding, Christine removed her light wrap and sat as asked. "He doesn't want me to sing."

Meg popped her head back in at that. "Raoul? But what about the opera?"

Madame Giry shot her daughter a look and then turned back to Christine. "I was afraid of this. Let me guess...his social level doesn't leave room for a wife who pursues her own career?"

Christine nodded. "It's more than that. He wants children: many children. I suppose I should have anticipated that but now that he's said it, I'm realizing that would end my career no matter what. I've never wanted children; I suppose because my mother died when I was so young...I don't know. All I know is he wants me to bear his children and play the role of a silent Vicomtesse. I can't. I can't give up my music! Not after what I've learned...what I've gone through. It's the only thing that I have of...of…" Christine trailed off, but Sabine knew what she wanted to say.

Meg came in with a tray filled with tea things and arranged everyone's cups as her mother took Christine's hand.

"Christine, you know you are as much a daughter to me as Meg. I don't want to see you so distraught. I'm going to say some things that may be difficult for you to hear, but I would be no true mother if I didn't tell you." Here she paused, looking for understanding from her adopted daughter. When Christine nodded, she continued.

"You are so young. Love is a curious thing that often goes unrecognized. The Vicomte is dashing, handsome, exuberant. He would sweep any woman off her feet. It's no wonder you found yourself caught up in a whirlwind with him. Now that things have settled, do you still feel swept away in your emotions?"

Christine looked down at her hands. "I love Raoul. He's a good man. He's caring and considerate; he loves me."

Madame Giry spoke quietly. "Christine, you could be describing your father. When do you feel passion?"

Christine opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. "I'm not sure I know what passion feels like."

Sabine shook her head sadly. "Then, my Love, you do not have that with the Vicomte. Without passion, you cannot truly know romantic love. Take it from someone who knows; love you misunderstand is love you'll regret."

Meg cleared her throat. "Christine, I don't know a lot about this either but what did you feel when you kissed him tonight?"

Christine frowned. "Feel? I don't know that I 'felt' anything. Why?"

Meg and her mother exchanged looks. "When I kissed Etienne a while back, it felt amazing! My stomach jumped all around, my heart pounded, and my head spun. Just thinking about that kiss makes me feel the same! That's passion, Christine!"

"Which is precisely why I told you to stay away from him," Sabine interjected, scowling at her daughter. "He has that effect on all of the girls he kisses...and there are many!"

Christine was stunned. She had only felt that way once in her life and it was not with Raoul. Those very feelings Meg had described were what had shaken her to her core and terrified her. What was worse, she often felt that way merely in the presence of her once angel. She touched her lips, remembering how intensely she had felt every moment of the kiss they had shared that fateful night nearly two months ago. Even now, her stomach behaved as Meg described, but it was accompanied by a similar twinge deeper within her body and she swallowed hard.

Sabine did not miss what transpired and she spoke once more. "Christine, you've never had a chance to live your own life. You lived for your father, then your angel took you under his wing, and now the Vicomte has laid claim to you. You need time to discover who you are, free of any male influence."

Christine's eyes shot up and hope battled in her. "But how? I can't face Raoul and he will never take no for an answer. How do I start over?"

"I have a brother who lives in America. We could go...the three of us. I have money saved and you could both audition for theater there. There are so many theaters and Laurent is a musician at their great opera house. You could both get something."

Meg clapped in excitement. "America, Christine! Just think of it! It would be a fresh start and no one would know anything about what happened here!"

"But Raoul will be back in a week. How long will it take?" Christine asked hesitantly.

"We can leave for Calais tonight and be on a ship to America tomorrow. The crossing is only a few days. It would be more than enough time to be settled in New York before Raoul returned," Sabine replied. "We would only pack some clothes. There's nothing here I am overly attached to that I cannot either take with or replace."

Meg looked expectantly at Christine. The chance to run away and start over...escape the pressure of her fiance and the ghost of the one person she could not stop thinking about…

"I'll go pack, "she replied.