L'Epoque

On January 13th, 1881, chorus member and newly established diva, Christine Daae, reappeared with her proclaimed suitor, Raoul de Chagny, after their two day disappearance throughout the performance of Charles Gounod's Faust. Mlle. Daae, as Marguerite, was appealing to the angels to take her soul to heaven when the lights flickered; thereupon discovering she was gone from the stage. Upon further speculation, it is noted that a trapdoor was found in the area Daae was standing when the lights were cut. Detectives are still on this strange case at the Opera Garnier.

--Mon. Pierre Flambeaux

"Just like the press to be hot on this case," Raoul muttered in annoyance as he read his morning paper. "They can't show the least amount of respect towards a couple who've undergone supreme torture from a cantankerous mad- man."

He tossed the paper on the dining room table and addressed Christine head on, who was seated in the far corner, her fingers mechanically knitting a red winter scarf. "Detectives Aston and Beauvais are due to arrive this afternoon for an interview."

Christine nodded her head, a few golden curls dangling before her eyes. "What will you say to them, Raoul?"

"I will say nothing more than the truth," he replied confidently with his hands clasped behind his back. "More important is what you will say to them."

For the first time in three days, Christine looked into Raoul's eyes, and he saw they were filled with terror. "I swore on my honor to not disgrace him," she said in a hoarse whisper. "All I ask of you now is to do the same."

"How can you say such things after what he put you through? He created a false illusion, took advantage of your innocence, and forced you to stay with him in his putrid home!" Raoul circled the table to stand nearer Christine but did not reach out to embrace her. "All I ask of you now is to keep our safety intact. I worked so hard to free you, and I'd die if you were taken from me again."

In as equal a pleading voice as his, Christine cried: "Raoul, listen to me!" He sunk to his knees before her, and she reached out to encase his hands in her own. "Listen to me; before he released us he said to me he wouldn't live much longer. It was apparent in his voice and eyes, so I know he was telling the truth. When he feels death close at hand, he will report to the Persian and he will post it in the obituaries for me to see. He said: "Before your young man takes you as his wife, please return to your poor Erik to bury him in secret."'

Christine's hand fluttered to his cheek. "I chose to be with you because I love you, Raoul," a tear slid down her cheek. "But he breathed life into dreams I never thought I could have, and to think if they find him because of us—I cannot bear it! Let him die peacefully, let his face and mind go unknown because there are too many people who will take it for granted, and will exploit it."

Raoul studied Christine's weary face, so filled with sadness and pity. "Whatever happened to the little girl with the red scarf by the sea?" Raoul questioned aloud.

Christine stroked Raoul's face. "She grew up," she said.

When Detectives Aston and Beauvais arrived at the Chagny estate, Raoul escorted them to the drawing room where Christine sat trembling, hastily attempting to gather her reverie.

"Messieurs, this is my fiancée, Mademoiselle Christine Daae," Raoul said with a wave of his hand. "Darling, this is Detective Aston," he indicated the stout young man with a trim beard and moustache, "and Detective Beauvais."

Beauvais was an older man with impeccable taste in clothes and manner, although one could not be deceived by his outward suavity. He attended to both Raoul and Christine with warm regard, and studied them with his warm, gleaming brown eyes. "Mademoiselle," Beauvais said, "it has come to our knowledge there is an immense possibility you were abducted that night during your performance through a trapdoor in the stage floor."

Christine rolled her eyes discreetly. "It was laid in such a strategic manner, it was awhile before anyone spotted it and suddenly Mon. Aston and I both found this case was much more complex than we originally assumed."

"We were ordered to pay you a visit to ask you a few questions about that night and of the time of your absence," piped Aston as he pulled a leather bound notebook from inside his coat. "At any time you feel offended or unable to answer any of these questions, please notify Detective Beauvais or me but we strongly encourage you to answer every one of these questions to your fullest degree."

Christine nodded. "I understand."

And with that, Aston opened his notebook and there began the interview. "Mlle., what do you remember at the time of your disappearance?" Aston retrieved his pen and ink.

"The whole amphitheater went dark as I was singing," Christine began with measure and stability, "and the floor slid from beneath my feet. My mind had no time to register these haste occurrences, until later when I awoke in a familiar bedroom with a man's face above me."

"And you have no recollection of this man taking you?" Beauvais questioned, his fingers stroking his chin.

"No, I was drugged with chloroform," she replied. "On more than one occasion—by the same man."

"Do you know this man?"

"Yes, I do," she said tightly. "He was my voice teacher, who fell into the unfortunate circumstance of loving me. But I was in love with another and attempted to leave with Raoul after my performance as Marguerite. As you can see, we didn't make it too far."

"You could not simply tell this man you did not love him?" Beauvais asked. He was genuinely intrigued by this strange unfolding tale.

"If you knew him as I did, messieurs, you would do the same."

Silence permeated the drawing room, and they each sipped their tea for a moment. Aston resumed the discussion. "Can you tell me about this man, Mlle?" he said with an air of authority. The interview was growing too serious to retreat on any details.

"His name was Erik, and he had the astounding ability for music. It was not such commonplace opera as we sing today, as it is filled with the deepest of human emotions we strive so hard to deny," she explained. "Erik was a man of heaven and earth, he could either create or destroy, and this was fully dictated by his volatile emotions."

"You speak as if you cannot decide whether to love or hate him," Beauvais interjected.

"He was not a bad man," Christine was growing defensive. "He cared for my every need when I was at his mercy, and I am indebted to him for that! Yet when I was with him, there was nothing I could feel but pity and fear. You'd think a man with such talent and mind as he would be among the ranks of kings and emperors, but in all reality he was a lonely and bitter man who believed he could be nothing other than a voice through a wall."

Christine was speaking now to herself more than she was Detectives Aston and Beauvais, and all three men exchanged quizzical expressions. "You speak of Erik as if he no longer exists," Aston speculated.

"When I awoke in Erik's home, he immediately flew at me with accusations of my betrayal," she recounted steely. She had strived to forget those hours of misery, yet they were trudged in her wake again and again. "Though he was angry and hurt, he begged for my hand in marriage with increasing hysteria. Raoul and another man had been looking for me at this time, and when they finally reached us Erik decided that he would explode the opera house with rigged barrels of gunpowder if I didn't accept his proposal. Excuse me."

Christine reached to the tray with their dispatched tea cups and half eaten cookies for her handkerchief. She dabbed her wet eyes before resuming her story. "Eventually I agreed to marry him, and he released Raoul and the Persian from captivity. He immediately… killed the Persian…. Erik said he could not trust him to reveal his identity. Then he turned to me and Raoul. We were holding each other, and rage suddenly overwrought his being. He lashed at Raoul and me, and there was a scuffle. I was afraid for Raoul's safety and I took a bronze figurine of a scorpion and struck him to the temple."

Sobs squelched Christine's voice and she curled into herself with overwhelming grief. Raoul wrapped his arms around her petite frame and comforted her with his warmth and loving words.

"We are finished here today," Raoul stated with conviction.

"Is that all the information you have to offer?" Aston clarified.

"We have given you all there is to know."

Christine remained in the drawing room, and observed the two men at the window as they climbed into their brougham. Raoul appeared at the door frame when they left and Christine turned to face him. "Thank you," she whispered."

A/N: I have really wanted to write a Leroux continuation for a long time. This first chapter may seem a little choppy, but as the story progresses I assure you it will get better and will make more sense. I hope you leave me a review to let me know what you think, whether good or bad, and how I can improve in later chapters. I also hope you return for the next installment.

Jungle Julia