That Night- A Beneath A Moonless Sky One Shot
By:Hannah Lancaster
The black carriage was of high class and looked out of place in front of the small, almost run down looking, cottage. If the carriage itself didn't stop someone in their tracks to take a closer look, then the family crest emblazoned in gold and silver across the side of the doors certainly would.
If someone had been passing by the secluded cottage on the outskirts of Paris that night, they might have seen the small hooded figure that stepped out of the carriage. They might have thought it curious that the cloaked figure looked around almost cautiously, as if to see if there were any prying eyes lurking about.
But on that certain night, on the very edge of Paris, there was not a soul in sight. The old cobblestone street was barren from any other passengers save for the carriage, the driver, and the figure in a blue cloak, who was approaching the small cottage with timid yet hurried steps.
A small white hand emerged from the folds of the garment, grasped the small lion shaped door knocker, and tapped it three times.
Within seconds, locks were heard being unlatched from the inside of the cottage. The door opened, and a single candle illuminated the small hooded figure for the first time.
It was a woman, eighteen, maybe older. Lips that were usually open in song or smiling with barely concealed amusement, were now being worried tenderly by the young woman's teeth. Her brow was furrowed and her blue eyes showed only sorrow.
But the little blonde clutching a robe to her neck in one hand, and in the other hand holding the candle recognized her best friend all the same.
"Christine!"
Little Meg Giry, showing surprising strength for a woman of such small stature, grasped the soprano's arm and pulled her inside. She shut the door, and went around the room lighting kerosene lamps and candles. Placing the candle in her hand on the nearest table, she then went to her dearest friend and removed the cloak from her shoulders.
She pulled Christine into a hard embrace, squeezing her with all the pent up longing the past three months had left her.
"Oh, Christine," she whispered with barely concealed excitement, pulling back to look at the beautiful brunette. "It's so good to see you. I have missed you something terrible."
Christine's composure dropped and her face crumpled as tears starting streaking their way down her pale cheeks.
"Oh, Meg, I can't take it any longer." she sobbed, sinking to the floor in defeat. "The endless questioning by the police, and my constant withdrawals from Raoul are driving him to drink, and- oh Meg, I just needed a friend to speak to."
Meg slid to the floor beside her and took Christine into her arms.
"Shh... I'm here. I have always been here to listen. You know that."
Christine sighed, and pulled away, wiping at her cheeks.
"You'd think I would be happier. I—I am to be wed tomorrow."
Meg smiled. "Oh no. Its just the rage in all the news papers that Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny has finally decided to settle down and provide his family with an heir... and with an actress no less!"
Christine snorted a very unladylike snort.
"Yes, and you should see the looks I get from his family. Oh, no they are polite as ever in front of Raoul, but I see the looks they give me down their noses. I can hear the whispers they try conceal behind fans or hands."
Look, it is her. The actress who was kidnapped by the famous Phantom of the Opera... oh yes you know the story darling, she was his muse you see... its her fault the chandelier fell and killed all those people... wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if she was carrying his brat right now... not fit to bare the Chagny name...
Fresh tears coursed down her face as she started to struggle to breathe air into her lungs.
"I should have known that I would never be accepted into the family. I should have foreseen it. Why would they ever accept a mere chorus girl, who isn't fit to kiss their feet?"
"Christine! You are no mere chorus girl. You are Christine Daaé, The Soprano of the Century! At least that is what the papers are calling you. They might even call you that in the next. Who is to say? Any man would be proud to call you his wife."
Christine sighed once more. "Yes, an ordinary man. One without a title perhaps. I can only cause Raoul pain I believe. I'll always be the chorus girl who got captured by the Opera Ghost."
"Christine," Meg said softly, removing the tears from her friends face with her thumbs, one on each cheek. "Raoul loves you. He loves you for you. He could care less if you were a street urchin."
"But I am no longer the child he knew. That is what he still see's... the stupid awkward girl who lost her red scarf on winter holiday."
"And he was the boy who got that awkward girl's scarf. Fetched it because he was quite smitten with you, even at such a young age." Meg winked at Christine. "Look at you, breaking hearts at such an early age."
That drew a laugh from Christine's chest, and it emerged as a small giggle that brought a true smile to her lips for the first time in months.
"The other reason I came was to give you this."
From the folds of her dress she drew forth a monogrammed envelope, and placed it into Meg's hands.
"Here. It's an invitation to my wedding tomorrow. I want you to be my maid of honor, Meg."
She expected to see joy on her closest friend's face, and was surprised to see a look of sadness and guilt cross into her eyes.
"I know it is short notice, but I already have a dress for you and-,"
"No, its not... it isn't that Christine."
There was a pause, then Meg said something Christine never expected to hear.
"Mother and I are leaving tomorrow. For-,"
She was interrupted when the back door opened, and Meg's eyes got large with fright and then they darted to Christine's face.
"Girl... is there any bread left? I find myself quite famished and-,"
Christine's whole body froze, because she knew the voice. Knew it quite well. It was the voice that still haunted her dreams, and the owner of the voice still occupied her mind with worry over what had happened to him.
"Angel?"
The figure who was heading towards Meg, had not noticed Christine as she was blocked by Meg. He now stopped as he heard her call out the only name she knew him by.
Angel? More like a demon.
The cloak around his shoulders to keep out the chill billowed out as he spun around and stalked back out the door.
Oh, Christine. My dearest Christine. Why have you come? Have you not caused me enough pain? Can't you just leave me to die of grief in peace?
Back inside the cottage, Christine still sat frozen, visibly shaken.
"Christine-," Meg started timidly. "I didn't know how to tell you-,"
"Why is he here?" Christine asked softly, finally finding her voice. Her heart had actually lifted a bit when she had heard his voice again. At least he wasn't dead somewhere.
"He came to our home, after... well after everything. Mother was astonishingly not surprised to find him soaked to the skin, dripping on with rain water on our doorstep. She invited him in without a word. I of course couldn't speak, especially when I saw him without anything covering his... well his deformity. Mother simply turned to look at me, and said softly, "Meg, I think you have something that belongs to our friend."" Meg swallowed hard, the sound echoing throughout the small house. "I had found his mask in the fifth cellar. I don't know why I took it... I suppose so the scavengers wouldn't take it. They destroyed everything. It was so beautiful down there. All the candles, the paintings, the drawings of... you."
Christine smiled the biggest smile that had graced her lips in months.
"Meg, I must speak with him. I have to..."
She didn't finish before she pulled herself to her feet, nearly tripping over her skirts in excitement.
"Christine!"
She wasn't listening. She picked up her skirts and ran out the doorway he had come through and vacated only moments before.
"Christine! Come back!" Meg ran after her, before a hand on her shoulder stopped her short.
Meg looked up to find her mother in a severe black up to her chin robe, gazing out at Christine's form as it went into the barn.
"Let her say her goodbyes. We are leaving for New York tomorrow."
"Mother, Christine wants me to be in her wedding tomorrow. Can we not just-,"
"Where has she been the past three months? Certainly not contacting us. She is far to happy in her new rich lifestyle to be bothered with dear old friends."
Meg shook her head, tears coming to her eyes.
"Mother you are wrong. Christine has been utterly miserable. She told me-,"
"Christine has pushed us away. We have been forgotten except when she needs us. She needs you because Raoul's cousin refuses to be maid of honor for the Opera Ghost's Harlot."
Meg sank her head in defeat, and her body shook with tears as her mothers long slender hand grasped the door and closed it.
The finality of the door closing was like it was closing Christine out of their lives forever.
Christine, my dear friend. I am going to become famous just like you when we get to New York. Maybe then you will think I am worthy of still being your friend.
~8~
"Angel? Are you here?" Christine called out as she entered the dark barn. There were holes in the roof, but there was no moonlight tonight, so she couldn't see three feet in front of her face.
"Angel?"
There was no reply. But where could he have gone?
Not wanting to venture into the darkness anymore than she had to, Christine turned around and went to walk back out.
"Oh, Christine." she heard from above. "Are you an illusion, come to torment me some more? Can your memory not just leave me in peace?"
"Angel? Where are you?"
There was a sigh, and then a gleam of white porcelain flashed in the darkness of the hayloft above her head.
"I am here. But I am no angel, Christine. Demon or devil maybe. But certainly no angel."
Christine looked around and found the ladder that led to the hayloft, no more than two feet away. She walked over to it, and, after a second's hesitation, placed her foot on the bottom rung.
"Come up here if you wish to break my heart again."
She bit her bottom lip, then began to climb the ladder, one step at a time. One hand in front of the other.
"Break your heart? You mean like how you shattered my illusions of an angel I thought was sent from heaven... only to find out I was only some naive girl who would believe anything if it would make her feel better."
"Christine..."
"I bet you found it easy to prey on a young girls emotions who had just lost her father. Easy pickings, I suppose. A stupid, stupid girl who would do your every whim... because she thought you were her angel."
The last word was spoken bitterly as she finally climbed into the hay loft, her bare hands now bearing long splinters from where she had gripped the rungs so tightly.
"Ouch." she said, trying to determine where the worst ones were in the darkness.
There was a sigh from the other side of the hayloft, then he was in front of her, taking her hands in between the two of his. His fingers were shaking slightly as they probed her palm.
"Cold?" she asked, wondering at the sudden shakiness.
He snorted in rough amusement.
"Hardly."
His long white fingers brushed over one of the worst ones, and Christine flinched.
"This might sting a little." he said, then started pinching around the splinter, trying to work it out of the skin.
"Ouch! That hurts!"
"Maybe you should stop being a child, and let me get these out before you get an infection."
Christine jerked her hand out from beneath his fingers with a sob.
"I am tired of everyone calling me a child!" she cried out in anger, fresh tears coursing down her face. "And I am tired of being treated like fine porcelain. I am not going to break. I am a woman."
Christine's bosom heaved with her rage, making her statement about her womanhood physically shown.
"Yes, I can see how it is evident," he said, his eyes drawn to her chest, making him more of a man in Christine's eyes than ever.
She crawled towards those eyes, the only thing besides the mask and his hands visible in the darkness, her anger forgotten at seeing what he desired. That she was the object of his desire.
"Do you see my womanhood, Angel?" she asked, and smiled when she saw his hands clench.
His eyes closed and his voice shook when he spoke one word... a name.
"Erik."
"I beg your pardon?"
His eyes flashed open and they burned with a feverish intensity, igniting the fire in Christine's soul like a open flame.
"Erik... is my name."
The whisper echoed across the space between them, his tone making goosebumps stand up on Christine's arms.
She took a deep breath, and made her decision... the one she felt was the right one this time. She was making her choice.
"Erik... would you... like to kiss me?"
As she said his name for the first time, a feeling of elation filled her body, and for the first time in months... everything felt right.
His eyes widened, and he looked almost scared, though the heat in his eyes still scalded her like a small campfire.
"Christine... I don't think we should-,"
Christine lunged across the small space separating them, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her lips to his. He didn't move at first, and she was worried if she had overstepped her boundaries.
Maybe I have misread the entire situation... what if he no longer cares? I should just pull away and apologize...
Just as she was about to remove her lips from his, he suddenly grabbed her with hands that shook and started kissing her back with wild and untrained abandon.
His lips were obviously unused to being used for such practices, and yet at the moment, Christine could care less. With him holding her the way he was... as overtaken with desire for him as she was... she had never felt more inexperienced.
She lifted her hands to cup both sides of his face, and with a shock she found his mask gone from the right side.
He pulled away... and she could see nothing. Only his eyes showed their blueness in the darkness... and in them she saw all the love a person could hold for another human being in their depths.
"Christine... I... don't want to hurt you. I have never..." his voice shook with barely repressed emotions.
"Shhh," she whispered, pressing a single finger to his lips, before caressing them lovingly. "We shall teach each other."
~8~
Light pricked at Christine's eyes as began to awaken, and she smiled as she finally greeted the day.
Stretching out her arms above her head, the events of the night before played out in her mind.
Inexperienced as they both were there was a lot a fumbling... but teaching each other had been the highlight of their experience... of their lovemaking.
Lovemaking...
Love...
I love him...
Joy filled Christine's heart, and she turned over to declare her love...
… to no one.
He was gone...