Amor Vincit Omnia
Chapter One Guardian Angel
"Okay everyone, essays on my desk on Monday, please," Mr. Kahn called out over the deafening sound of the tidal wave of eager students making their way towards the door, and freedom for the weekend.
Shrugging, Nadir Kahn suspected that none of his students had heard a word he'd just said. Sighing, he gathered up his briefcase, stood up from his desk, and turned to straighten the desks and organize the classroom a little before departing for home.
With a charming smile, Christine Daae, one of Nadir's favorite students, walked quickly to the front of the room and began to assist him.
"Thanks, Christine. It's hell cleaning up after these people sometimes. You'd swear I was teaching a bunch of children instead of students in their senior year."
Christine laughed lightly. "Yes well, Friday does that to people. They just want their freedom."
Personally Christine wasn't particularly looking forward to her weekend. In fact, she dreaded every second she was forced to stay cooped up at home. All it would mean would be another silent few days trying vainly to make conversation with the elderly grandmother with whom she lived.
After the death of her parents two years previously, Christine had found herself almost completely alone in the world, with nobody but her well-meaning grandmother to care for her. Sadly, the roles had become quite reversed. Christine's grandmother Adele, though kindly and intelligent, was bed-ridden and had been for quite some time, leaving Christine to undertake almost all of the household tasks, and she found herself having to grow up much faster than her peers. It seemed all she ever did was go home to the perpetually silent house, look in on her grandmother who was usually either asleep or melancholy at best if she happened to be awake, cook a meal for the two of them, do whatever household chores and shopping that was required, and then slog through her homework late into the night. Even her one love, music, was taken from her. With the death of her father (which had been but months after the death of her mother) had come the death of her passion for song.
Christine and Charles Daae had sung together constantly; her father accompanying them upon his beautiful violin, which he had loved more than any other earthly possession. Charles Daae had loved three things passionately; his wife Sarah, his daughter Christine, and his music. Christine had acted as his inspiration; hence the two of them had been very close because of the bond music forged between them. Now, each time Christine opened her mouth to sing, she felt a wave of longing sweep over her, rendering her unable to do anything else but sigh and cease to try.
Therefore, slowly and cruelly, each comfort Christine had ever had was torn from her grasp. Without her parents and her music, she felt lost; as though she were wandering aimlessly through life, eagerly awaiting the moment of sleep, when she would be permitted to relax into oblivion.
"Christine? Are you all right?"
Mr. Kahn's concerned voice broke through her deep thoughts and she looked up guiltily into his questioning eyes.
"Oh, yes. Sorry; got distracted that's all. Shall I erase the board for you, Mr. Kahn?"
"Thanks, Christine, you're a gem. Well—I suppose I'll be off. Have a good weekend, then."
Noticing for the first time her history teacher's sorrowful expression, Christine frowned and asked, "Is something wrong Mr. Kahn?" She felt a bit silly to be asking him to confide in her, but then again, they had grown somewhat close over the course of the year, and she felt like she could truly talk to him with no reservations.
"Oh…it's nothing. Just going to—go see my friend, that's all."
Christine smiled knowingly. Mr. Kahn had revealed to her some months ago that he had a mysterious friend whom he would often visit. They had apparently met back when Mr. Kahn had lived in Iran, and they had both made the decision to move to Canada at the same time. Thus, Mr. Kahn frequently dropped by the man's home to visit. Christine had gathered, after much prying on her part, and much reluctant confession on Mr. Kahn's that this particular gentleman was a highly antisocial creature, preferring privacy and solitude to interacting with other people. Mr. Kahn was the only one who seemed to be allowed to visit him, and little was known about him. Christine herself did not even know where this strange man lived, what he looked like, or even his name. Mr. Kahn had decided it would not please his friend if he threw his name around, such was the man's desire for privacy and secrecy.
"I don't know why you put up with him—he seems to make you so miserable. Why does he worry you so much?" asked Christine, with typical insatiable curiosity.
"Oh, Christine, believe me, if I were to go into details and try to explain him to you, we'd be here all night, and you would still not be satisfied I feel sure. Besides, I don't think that you would understand him, you're too young."
Slightly miffed at Mr. Kahn's words, Christine tossed her blonde curls and pretended to storm towards the door.
"Well, in that case, if you find me too immature for your harsh words, by all means spare my delicate ears."
Smiling amusedly at her display, he responded accordingly.
Lifting his hands dramatically in surrender , he looked apologetically at her and cried mockingly, "Oh Miss Daae! You must forgive me! I have been unforgivably discourteous towards you. I beg your pardon."
Christine burst out laughing at this unusual show of humorous antics from her ordinarily serious teacher, and she assured him that she had indeed forgiven him.
Suddenly a bell rang, and Christine jumped.
"My God! I'll miss the bus if I don't run for it! Have a good weekend, and…good luck, if that's the proper sentiment."
"It'll do. Enjoy your weekend as well Christine. And remember your essay."
"I will. Goodnight."
He nodded in acknowledgement as Christine fled the room, skidding to a halt before her locker and fishing out her backpack hurriedly.
Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she squeaked in surprise, before recognizing a very familiar pair of beautiful blue eyes and blonde hair; her boyfriend, Raoul. Her expression softened slightly as she recognized him. In Christine's dark world, her only two comforts were Raoul, and her best friend Meg Giry, who had to be the sweetest, and yet the most endearingly irritating girl alive.
"You okay, Chris? You look like you thought I was a murderer or something."
She blushed, embarrassed at her frightened squeak of surprise , and explained that she was late for the bus, and had not expected anybody to come up behind her, as she was in somewhat of a hurry, and had been absorbed in her thoughts.
"Relax. It'll be okay. No need to be so jumpy Christine. Hey, how about hanging out tonight? We never get together…sometimes I feel like I don't even have a girlfriend." The last few words were uttered with a subtle edge of bitterness that was very uncharacteristic of raoul. It made Christine feel slightly guilty.
Christine watched as his expression went from boyishly excited to sad and forlorn. Raoul had the most adorable lost-puppy look imaginable, and he was not afraid to use it. He knew full well it melted Christine's tender heart like butter.
"I'm sorry, Raoul. Not tonight. I have to go home and look after Grandma. Then I have that wretched essay to write, not to mention a bunch of bookkeeping to do. I so wish I knew what I was doing with our money half the time. It's so overwhelming trying to remember what I've paid and what bills I haven't, and dealing with income tax and all that. I don't know why they don't just leave Grandma be; she makes so little to begin with, taxing her on her pension is just short of cruelty."
Raoul smiled rather sadly at Christine's little rant. He was aware of her financial difficulty, and he also knew she was the one that was often forced to deal with the responsibilities ordinarily entrusted to adults. A young girl of seventeen shouldn't have all the cares of an adult thrust upon her so quickly, and she had few people to assist her. Raouls' family was quite well off; his father being a successful lawyer, and so he was always aching to help Christine out wherever she needed it. However, Christine possessed unwavering pride, and refused to take what she considered charity from anybody, least of all from her boyfriend. She had accepted the troubles and difficulties before her with admirable calmness and determination.
"Why don't you take it easy tonight, Christine? You're always so tense, and doing all that work and being under so much stress can't be good for you. Please?...Just one quick dinner. A movie maybe? Anything. I just want to see you."
A second bell rang out shrilly, signaling the departure of the first round of buses, and the arrival of the second group. Christine groaned aloud, realizing she had missed her bus.
"No worries, sweetheart. I'll drive you home. Or wherever you want to go."
"Thank you so much Raoul. But I really can't go out tonight. I really should go home and get things sorted out there. Grandma will be worried if I don't come home. Why don't you just drive me as far as your house, and I'll walk the rest of the way. It's only a few blocks down anyway."
Looking uncertain, Raoul shook his head.
"No, I'll drive you to your door. It's cold out, and it's already getting dark. You shouldn't be out by yourself. You'd think growing up in the city would have taught you that, Christine." He looked somewhat impatient with her apparent foolishness.
Christine considered it rather the opposite; having grown up in this setting, (although she liked the country much more) had given her a confidence she would need to walk about alone in the dark streets.
"No no, I'll be fine, Raoul. You needn't go out of your way."
After some hesitation, he nodded reluctantly and took her hand as they headed for the door.
The cold was biting and painful against the skin of Christine's face as they walked out, hand in hand, scanning for the parking lot for Raouls' completely gorgeous black car. Christine, as a general rule, knew next to nothing about cars, not having ever owned or desired one herself, but she knew it was new, extremely expensive, and very powerful.
As Raoul went to open his door and unlock hers, Christine found herself feeling slight resentment at how well off Raoul was compared with her. Pushing that selfish thought away roughly, she opened the passenger door and sank into the comfortable leather seat. Heated, of course. Sighing contentedly, she let the wash of warmth from the car's heater lull her into a slightly more relaxed state.
Raoul leaned across the seat to bestow a quick kiss on her lips before turning and revving the engine. It purred like a contented cat, and the car glided smoothly out of the parking space and onto the street.
Raoul patted the dash board fondly before fixing his gaze partly on the road, partly on the lovely young woman sitting next to him. He reached over and grasped her cool little hand in his own, seeking to warm her cold fingers with his own.
She looked up at him and smiled, but there was a sadness in the expression he could not quite ignore. Although it was normal for Christine's large blue eyes to hold a permanent sadness, a sorrow that was etched into her face like a constant companion, it was unusual for her smile to be so weary and melancholy. Sighing tiredly Raoul turned his full attention to the street ahead of him as he carefully navigated the way to his home.
He had learned long ago that it was futile to try to draw Christine Daae completely out of her shroud of sadness. She had lost a piece of herself when her father had died. It did not appear that he would ever return it to her, and it made Raoul's heart ache for her. However, despite his rather profound thoughts about Christine, he often resented her for never consenting to move on. She was always so deep in her thoughts; sunken into her world of quiet darkness.
"You're really quiet tonight, Chris. More than usual even. Are you sure you're all right?"
Christine pondered this; she supposed she was no worse off than normal, so she replied with a murmur of ascent that was meant to reassure her concerned companion. He shrugged helplessly and pulled up in his driveway, before the grand house in which he lived.
"Are you sure you wouldn't like me to take you all the way home?"
"Quite. It'll be fine Raoul."
She opened her door, and Raoul climbed out of his seat as well. Walking around the vehicle, he took Christine briefly into his arms for a kiss, and to his relief, she did not pull away, but reciprocated, burying her face into his shoulder momentarily, wishing for his comfort. Then, pulling gently away, she turned for home.
With just a hint of desperation in his voice, Raoul made one last effort to make her stay with him a little longer.
"C'mon Chris, please? Watch a movie. I know you've been dying to see that new one—what's it called… aw, I can't remember. Some musical?"
Christine paused for a moment, then smiling, turned back towards Raoul.
"All right, as long as I'm home early enough to get some work done, I guess a movie wouldn't kill me. Besides, I should tell you, I've missed spending time with you too. And, I'm really sorry for how things have been lately. I feel so overwhelmed sometimes, but that's no excuse to—"
"It's totally okay, honey. I understand you're going through a lot, and I'd never be mad at you for something you have no control over."
Lifting her chin with a finger, he kissed her once more, gently and sweetly. The last vestiges of worry faded from her face, and Christine wrapped her arms around Raoul's waist in a quick hug of thanks.
"Well, let's go, then."
She nodded, and they headed for the nearby movie theatre; a small place with only two movies showing at once.
Christine blinked as they walked out of the theatre several hours later, smiling dreamily at the thought of the film she had just witnessed.
"That was the best movie I've seen in a long time! The lead had such an amazing voice… and I definitely want the soundtrack to that one!"
Raoul grinned at his girlfriend's apparent rapture over the musical. He had never cared for music that much; beyond the usual background noise it provided, he didn't listen to it much unless it had a decent beat, where as Christine could amuse herself by listening to music for hours on end. It was a pity, thought Raoul sadly, that she refused to sing. He had heard her before Charles Daee's death, and knew she possessed a very beautiful gift, if she would only use it.
"I'm glad you liked it. Not my favorite, but—"
"Well, nothing pleases you but plenty of car chases and gun fire," Christine said teasingly, slapping him playfully on the arm.
"Oh right, every sane human being on this earth prefers soppy romances with a few cheesy song-and-dance routines for variety." Raoul countered. Christine was surprised at his rare sarcasm; raoul was many things… sweet, kind-hearted, devastatingly handsome, but witty was not one of them.
"Why don't we stop for a coffee?"
Raoul was determined to keep her for as long as he could, unwilling to waste this opportunity.
"Well, okay! Why not?" Christine exclaimed cheerfully, and they stepped into a little coffee shop on the corner, reveling in the warmth and the enticing aroma of coffee and baked goods.
It had been a long time since Raoul had been able to treat Christine in this fashion, and they ended up having a wonderful time together, although Christine had to admit she longed for slightly more stimulating conversation. Christine was a lover of books, music, philosophy and the like. Typical teen-aged banter, such as the idle chatter she often shared with Raoul, left her feeling strangely empty. However, in the six months of their relationship, and the two years of their friendship before then, Christine had chosen to overlook this fact, since Raoul was so charming and an invaluable friend to her.
Eventually, to their shock, ten o'clock rolled around, the place began to close up, and a rather irritated waitress shooed them out of the shop.
Christine gasped. "God, it's that time already? Grandma must be frantic! I need to get home. Just drop me off at your house and I'll run the rest of the way."
Raoul looked slightly disappointed but hid it quickly behind a mask of his usual bright smile.
"Okay… here we are."
They got out of his car, and Christine went up to him, reaching out to him. Raoul gratefully embraced her tightly, kissing her deeply before finally relinquishing her.
"'night, Raoul. I'll try and call you tomorrow, okay?"
"Sounds good, 'night Chris. Sweet dreams, sweetheart."
Christine smiled in answer, but a fist squeezed her heart. Not for the first time, Christine was infinitely glad she had not told Raoul of the nightmares that had plagued her for several months now; the ones that caused her to sit upright in bed, shaking and sobbing violently. She was sure they would only serve to worry him, and Raoul was a very anxious person, and she anticipated that he would make an unbearably unnecessary fuss over the whole matter. Therefore, only Meg, who was slightly more level-headed, had any inkling of the dreams which terrorized Christine, and she was sworn to secrecy. If Meg was anything, it was loyal.
Waving one last time, Christine headed down the sidewalk, homeward bound at last. However, the glow of happiness that had come to life in her soul from the date with Raoul was somewhat stifled by the memories and dark musings that always came upon her when she remembered the nightmares.
As she walked, she continued to think, head down against the biting wind. Her thoughts somehow drifted to her conversation with her history teacher earlier that evening, and she wondered, for the umpteenth time, about Mr. Kahn's mysterious friend. He obviously needed some compassion in his life, if he insisted upon secluding himself and pushing away human contact. She wondered briefly whether or not he felt the way she did; as though part of him had been lost, and people prying into his life, trying to cheer him up, were only worsening the pain. Often, Christine found herself wishing fervently to be alone. Alone with herself. And at the same time, she longed for company and comfort. For the stability her father's presence had offered. Not that Christine had not loved and needed her mother. Sarah Daae had been the kindest and gentlest of souls, and Christine was suitably devastated when the cancer that had ravaged her mother's body for months had finally robbed her of her life. Her father had been so stricken, that he had slipped into a kind of depression after Sarah's death, but he had been consoled by the fact that a living incarnation of his wife's spirit still lived; Christine was his sole solace in his dark emotional turmoil. Then, there had come that terrible night, when the pain had proved too much for Charles Daae, and he had drunk himself into a kind of stupor. Without realizing what he was doing, he had walked out, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and a thin t-shirt, and had roamed the area near his house, in the bitter cold of a January night. He had gone out in the wee hours of the morning, when few people were out and about, and those who were had not been concerned with drunken strangers tottering about. They usually had a purpose which occupied all of their attention. He had eventually slipped and fallen onto the sidewalk, promptly passing out and remaining still and sleeping in the frigid weather, surrounded by snow banks and continually assaulted by the fierce winter wind. Canadian winters were nothing to scoff at, and the thermometer had been hovering somewhere around thirty below zero; very cold weather, even for that area.
Christine had been over at Meg's house to spend the night, and she did not know of her father's little escapade. When she arrived home the next day, it was to find a police officer waiting for her. He had explained to her that Charles Daae had been found that morning lying frozen on the sidewalk, clothed poorly against the cold, and clearly unconscious. . By the time he was found, his life had dwindled to a faintly flickering spark, and by the time Christine made it to the hospital, he had already died, and that feeble spark had been extinguished. Her fragile fifteen-year-old heart had broken then, and she had flung herself across the body of her father, weeping desperately into his chest. The doctor had finally managed to pry the distraught girl from her father's body, and he managed to calm her, with the help of a few nurses, and a mild sedative.
So, Christine had been turned over to the care of her grandmother, who at the time had been quite capable of caring for her, but her arthritis had slowly worn her body down, till she was reduced to lying in bed and being cared for by her grand-daughter. Adele resented the fact that her poor Christine was forced to tend to her, but there was little she could do to remedy the situation, and the girl had never showed signs of irritation or unwillingness when it came to looking after her grandmother.
Of course, Christine was not the type of person to show outward signs of her weariness, and she did her best to act as though the burdens she carried were light and did not trouble her, instead of risking hurting those she loved.
Lost in these musings, and still pondering what Mr. Kahn's cold friend's situation could possibly be, she found herself very suddenly face to face with a rather burly youth, perhaps a few years her senior, who was leering menacingly down at her.
"Well well well, what do I see?" he crooned in an oily voice that at once repulsed and terrified her. She opened her mouth to emit one of her piercing screams in the hope that someone would come to her aid, she drew in a deep breath.
"Oh, easy now, beautiful. That's not wise, is it? Wouldn't want anybody else getting hurt, would you? Scream, and I'll make sure whoever comes to help regrets it."
Smiling crookedly at her, he drew a knife and allowed the metal blade to glint before her eye, before settling it ever so gently against the skin of her throat.
Frozen with terror, Christine closed her mouth and stood still, rooted to the pavement, thinking frantically. Her mind was a jumble of confused thoughts, and she was more frightened than she could remember being in a very long time.
Suddenly, something caught her captor's attention and he turned, bringing the knife from her throat and concealing it behind his back.
"Good evening… it is a rather cold night to be loitering about like this, and I feel sure this young lady would like to reach her destination. It would be in her best interest to warm up, and I am just as sure that it would be in yours to allow her to proceed unhindered."
Relief and renewed fear swept through Christine simultaneously. The figure that now stood mere feet away from her, was tall, shrouded in shadows, and almost completely obscured and invisible in the night, but for the two ominously glowing pinpricks that were his eyes. Christine shook her head, trying to clear it; she could have sworn the man's eyes were glowing in the darkness like a cat's.
As terrifying and threatening as this man's appearance was, it was his voice that truly captured Christine's attention. It was at once beautiful and dripping with menace. It was cool, yet it seemed to have the ability to carry and express a whirlwind of emotion, should the opportunity arise. A tenor voice, something Christine had always been partial too, with a paralyzing beauty which once again rooted her to the spot. She felt frightened of the chilling power it possessed, but she also felt that she could simply stand and listen to that angelic voice forever. She was conscious of a shiver running down her spine, , and it was not purely a shiver of fear. In that moment, and upon further reflection afterword, Christine felt sure she would never be able to rid herself of the memory of that voice; such was the glorious beauty and power of it.
Fear was swift to seize the upper hand again however, when Christine's wandering eyes fell upon the face of her captor which, having been lighted by a nearby street lamp was pale as death. Gasping, Christine finally registered the choked cries issuing from the stricken boy's mouth, as his fingers clawed at his throat. A lasso of sorts appeared to be looped around his neck, and the figure in the shadows stood calmly, slowly…ever so slowly tightening the rope.
"No!" the youth managed to choke out through his constricted throat.
"I'll do anything! I'll let her go, I'll do whatever you want! Just—just let—me—go—p-plea—"
He never got the chance to finish the word, for the figure loosened the rope so suddenly, that the boy lost his balance and fell to the icy pavement at Christine's feet.
"Be sure you do not try this again. Believe me when I say, you will live to regret it most deeply. Now, be on your way before I decide to undo my generous actions."
Muttering incoherent apologies, Christine's attacker scrambled shakily to his feet. Taking one look at Christine, with unbridled terror in his pale face, he spun on his heel, and ran.
Christine, having just recovered from the extreme shock of the entire scene, asked hesitantly, "How…how can I ever thank—"
He did not give her time to finish, (interrupting people seemed not to bother him at all) he simply turned towards her, fixed her with those eerily glowing eyes, and said in a considerably gentler tone that nevertheless carried a sharp edge, "You would do well to take better care, my dear. I may not be there to lasso the next one."
With that, he whirled around and proceeded to walk briskly away.
"Wait!" Christine called desperately, attempting to catch up with him. "You saved my life just now. Can I at least have your name? Can I not give you something for your trouble? I—I don't have any money, but maybe—I don't know. Let me do something!"
Without stopping, the man glanced over his shoulder at her, and said, "My name is of no consequence, and I will not require anything for my trouble, as you put it. Goodnight."
It was said with such finality that Christine, frightened and shaken as she was, did not dare to argue. Looking confusedly after him, she turned back to the sidewalk and headed once more towards home, this time thankfully, , with no mishaps.
a/n: Well, there you have it. The first chapter of my very first flight into fan fiction. I hope you like it, and if you do, (or if you don't and can offer criticism to make it better) please, please review! If I get reviews, I will continue the story. If not, I might choose not to continue, because what would be the point? Of course, I might just choose to continue for my own entertainment. Anyhow, tell me what you think! As this is my first fic, please be kind.