Sweet Dreams

Summary: A ill Christine falls asleep, and her disturbing dream may mean nothing or everything to her and everyone that she is involved with. And she may never wake up from her ill-gotten dream unless someone can save her. Slightly dark.

"Raoul?" Christine's voice rang throughout the air. Looking up from his novel, Raoul saw Christine curled up in their bed.

"Christine, are you all right?" He rushed over to her side.
"Fine." She whispered, grabbing onto his hand.
"Are you sure?" He brushed some strands of hair out of her forehead.
"I just need to sleep." She pressed his fist against her bloodless lips. As her eyelids fluttered shut, Raoul slid into bed next her, with his arms wrapped around her waist.

"Sweet dreams my sweet ingenue." He spoke in an undertone before dozing off.

"Erik, Erik." Christine found herself standing backstage at the Opera Garnier, hearing someone hiss into empty space.
"What is this?" She took a step forward, letting her fingertips brush against the red velvet lined curtains.
"There you are." Christine turned around to see Meg by her side, furiously adjusting her bodice.
"Meg? Christine tried shaking the must out of her head. "What's happening?"
"Quiet." Meg stiffened, then clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, Christine, can you believe it? The clowns are here!"

"What?" Christine took a step back in shock as the curtains flew open and light streamed through, with clowns dancing in around her.
"No!" Christine fell to her knees, clutching her hands over her face in terror.

"Shh." Christine looked up and saw Raoul towering over her with a stern expression on his face. "You'll wake up Marie, how can you be so inconsiderate?" Getting up to her feet, Christine looked over to a small girl twisting a black ribbon in her chubby little hands.
"It can't be." Christine held a hand over her mouth, and turned around to run away, but Raoul grabbed her by the waist and held her back.
"Look at your mistake." Erik's voice issued from Raoul's mouth.

"No!" Christine tore away and fell down into a grassy field.
"I thought you would never make it." She looked up to see Erik hold out a bouquet of red and white roses.
"I think they should be yellow." She muttered to herself, gathering up grass in her hands.
"I haven't seen you around here lately." Erik said pleasantly, sitting down next Christine, offering her a block of cheese.
"Yes." Christine rested her head in her legs. "I've been busy. There is no time for things that are not part of my life anymore."

"That's not nice." Erik turned and looked at her, and Christine noticed that his face wasn't marred in the least.

"Don't you ever feel like you're just trapped?" Christine swivelled around and saw Little Jammes watching her from a staircase.
"What? I don't know." Christine turned her back on Jammes, and began walking away.
"Sometimes you just feel that this just can't work out." Christine felt Jammes' hands press against her temple.
"Stop it. I don't understand." Christine gritted her teeth in concentration.

"I'm your daughter." Jammes simply said, entwining Christine's hands with hers.
"If only," Christine blinked back the tears that threatened to spill.
"We can make this work." Jammes pulled back, looking down at her yellow frock. "I'll wear tweed, and you'll grow a cockney accent."

"Promise?" Christine pleaded in a hopeful tone as snow began falling gently. "Once more, with feeling." Christine hummed to herself, and she made her way up the staircase, fingering the folds of her ball gown.

"I thought you wanted to help." Erik appeared next to her again. "But instead, you insist on acting frivolous." Christine pulled down her mask, and tore at her dress.
"I'm sorry." She whispered. "I just want to show everyone who I really am."
"And now you have blonde hair." Erik pressed himself against her, and placed a necklace around her neck. Christine shuddered at the touch of the cold metal. "Maybe one day you can appreciate the magnitude of this gesture."
"Maybe." Christine reached up to feel the necklace, and saw Raoul standing at the end of the hallway wearing his evening suit.

"All this time, I knew you were never truly with me, and now you've proved me right." He pulled a gun out and pointed it at her head. Gasping, Christine expected Erik to intervene on her behalf, but as she looked around, she saw Erik in the corner, caressing a strawberry blonde woman.

"I've always wanted a new ingenue." He ran a hand through his nonexistent hair in a suave manner, and the woman who everyone knew was named Rose suppressed a giggle.
"I love you for whom you are Erik, not for your face." She said innocently, and they shared a passionate kiss.
"Isn't that sweet?" Raoul asked, before firing the gun.

Raoul woke up next to a convulsing Christine.
"Christine?" He jumped up to his feet unsure what to do. "Christine! Christine!" He grew more alarmed, and attempted to placate his wife. "Shh, Christine." He whimpered, hugging her close to his body. Gradually, her shakes subsided and she lay unmoving in Raoul's arms. "Christine?" He looked down at her, and saw that she was dead. Silently crying, Raoul laid his head on Christine's chest, thinking about the wasted years they shared together. This day was coming for months, and they both continued to look the other way, and now it was too late to live like they did in their childlike youth.