Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, I have only borrowed them. Also, I have borrowed some of the libretto from Aida and the 1989 version of Phantom of the Opera with Robert Englund.
Changy Mansion, Nantes
A soft, night breeze wafted through the open windows of the Vicompte and Vicomptess de Changy's house while they slept. From her place on the bed, the Vicomptess Christine de Changy—the former Christine Daae—sighed, and turned over onto her side. Christine was dreaming of her old life as a chorus girl at the Opera Populaire, so unlike her current life as wife to one of the wealthiest men in France. A life filled with parties, and fake laughter…
"Darling, did you order the flowers for the dinner tonight?" Raoul asked.
"Oh!" Christine gasped, "I completely forgot! Oh Raoul, I'm sorry! When I went to town yesterday I passed a music shop. It was filled with music, and violins, and organs… the flowers slipped right from my mind. I can go out to the garden and get some now if you'd like--"
"No, no, don't bother", Raoul shot her an annoyed look, "it's too late. He'll be here any moment!"
Suddenly, the door rang. Raoul gasped "He's here! Quick! Everyone out of the hall! Except Christine! Darling you stay here." and he pulled her next to him, "Smile! He's a very big political figure, this Monsieur Recoche, and we must show him every courtesy!" Standing next to Raoul, Christine sighed, and plastered a huge smile on her face. It didn't reach her eyes.
The maids scurried out of the way of the opening doors. Standing between the oaken doors was a very big man.
"HELLO!" he bellowed "I'm here! And I've brought my little wife! Josée! Say hello to these good people!" Out behind him stepped a dainty woman, no older than 17. In contrast to her husband, Madame Recoche was small, pale, fine-featured, and quiet, whereas her husband was large, red faced, puffy eyed, and loud. Putting his arm around her waist, and wrenching her towards him, M. Recoche yelled "Perhaps you and the Viscomptess will be friends, eh, ma petite femme?" Whimpering, Josée nodded and stayed silent.
Turning to Christine, Raoul said, "Darling, why don't you show Mme. Rechoche around the castle? M. Recoche and I have some very important business to discuss."
"But Raoul--", Christine protested.
"Christine…" Raoul said warningly, "kindly show Mme. Recoche around, I'm sure she'd love to see those new drapes of yours… "
Giving Raoul one last glare, Christine exited the room with Josée; but not before hearing M. Recoche say "Women, eh? They're all alike! Prying into men's business…not their place, heh…not their place…" Christine then heard Raoul's uneasy bark of laughter echo the halls.
Yes, Christine got her sheltered life with Raoul, but was it worth it? Not being allowed to sing, for fear that it would bring back the ghost of so many years ago? Not allowed to go to Paris or the Opera in case it would open old wounds? Christine's mind and body went with Raoul that night, but did her soul?
After Christine's dream about the Opera House, she woke up and couldn't get back to sleep. Hoping she would become lulled by the soft breeze, Christine wandered onto the rooftop clad only in her nightdress and night coat.
Wrapping her coat around her slim frame, Christine went to the edge of the rooftop and looked out into the night.
"Why, Angel, why? Why did I leave you? You're my soul… " Christine whispered. "You're my music! You alone can make my song take flight…Oh Angel!" Christine blinked and felt the wet trickle of a tear roll down her face. "Angel, why? Why did I desert you? I need music! I need your help! Angel!" Christine continued her relentless monologue while she sank down onto the ground.
Wide-eyed and pale, she whispered into the wind,
Angel of music
I denied you!
Turning from true beauty!
Angel my soul
Was weak forgive me
Enter at last, Master!
Reduced to silent sobs, Christine closed her eyes and sighed. "Why can't I let go?"
"Christine? Christine are you here?" Raoul's voice carried through the wind.
"Yes, I'm here." She whispered. "What are you doing up?"
Coming to stand beside her Raoul said "I heard you wake up. And then I thought I heard singing…" Suddenly his face contorted with rage. "Were you singing? You promised Christine! You promised you would never sing!"
Christine looked at him tearfully. "Raoul, I can't not sing. It's as much a part of me as my heart! I could never give up singing! Never! Don't ask me to, please." She ended up talking in a whisper. "I couldn't bear it."
Raoul stared at her with hard eyes. "When you married me, you promised to stop singing. You promised to put all of him" he spat, "behind. Why can't you?"
Christine then stood up and faced him defiantly. "He was everything to me Raoul! He taught me how to sing! How to live! Because with him… I'm not just a woman. I'm an angel. His angel of music. And he's my angel. Without music, I've couldn't live!"
Raoul grabbed her by the arm and towed her inside. "Well, I guess you'll just have to make do."
Back in bed, Christine turned onto her side with her back facing Raoul. Raoul then came in beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Christine? Darling, don't be mad. I don't want to lose you." When Christine didn't respond Raoul gave her one last look and went to sleep.
Later that night, Raoul woke up to hear Christine whimpering and calling out "Angel…?" Finally her whimpering subsided and she fell once more into a remotely peaceful sleep. Raoul stared at her and whispered desperately "Why Christine? Why can't you love me? ".
In the morning, Christine awoke to find Raoul gone. She stood up, stretched, and looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes sported heavy black bags under them, and her nightgown was rumpled. "Sleeping beauty" she thought wryly. It was just then that she saw the note on the desktop. She plucked it off the desk and frowned when she read it. It was from Raoul.
"Darling Christine,
I'm sorry for what had transpired last night. We were both tired and ill-mannered. We would not have said many of those things had we been well rested. Let us now forget all of that.
Ma cherie, I shall be gone for a couple of days. I've gone to the capital on urgent business. Financial business, so you just leave that to me. Fear not, darling wife, it shall only be for a few days. Maybe if you're good I'll bring you back a little present.
Yours always,
Raoul"
Christine scrunched up her nose in disgust and thought mockingly "'Maybe if you're good I'll bring you back a little present'. Ha. He still thinks I'm Little Lotte, the girl with the red scarf. I've no need for useless 'little presents from the capital.' What would he bring me? A doll?" Christine's lips formed a thin line. "Why can't he realize I'm not the same innocent girl I used to be?! I've noticed he's not the same. He's…changed. " Christine sighed, put the letter back down on the dresser, and walked over to the window. Suddenly a new realization swept over her. "He's gone! I may do what I like, and he won't find out! I could sing, I could visit my father's grave, I could-" Her train of thought paused. "I could visit him." She said wonderingly out loud. Then, from deep inside her mind came a nagging voice. "He may not be alive. He may be dead, or something. Or in prison. Or…" "Or he's alive!" She exclaimed. "Yeah, but he won't want to see you! You betrayed him!" "ARGH!" She yelled, and stomped her foot.
Christine walked over to the window, and gazed out at the rolling countryside hills. In her minds eye she saw past the stone gates, and the miles and miles of farmland. She saw past all those hills, and saw Paris. She saw the Opera House, and an underground lair…
Turning on her heel, Christine fled to her wardrobe. Grabbing the closest dress to her, Christine yelled to her head maid, "Monette, I'm going to the capital!"
A couple suitcases later, Christine stepped into a coach, and closed the door. While she settled down for the long ride Christine sighed contentedly. "Alone at last."
The ride to Paris was an all day trip, so by the time Christine arrived in Paris, night had engulfed the city. Too weary to do little else, Christine went to the first hotel she found, and ordered for a hot bath and a meal. After she was pink from scrubbing, Christine put on her nightgown and slipped into bed.
Cavalier's Inn, Paris
The next morning, Christine awoke to find the sun shining through the open curtains. She got out of bed, and stretched before the window. Below her, Christine could see the cobbled streets of Paris, and the stone buildings.
Christine smiled wistfully down at the bustling road. She had missed the noisy life of the city. She had missed the merchants yelling out their wares, or the squalling infants, or the running children. This was where she had grown up; she was a city girl, born and bred.
Breathing in the putrid smell of city air, Christine sighed and turned around. Gazing around her room, Christine made up her mind to visit an old friend.
Opéra Populaire, 235 Rue Scribe, Paris
The cabby bounced along the cobbled streets and stopped at 235 Rue Scribe, the Paris Opera House. It hadn't changed much in 2 years, Christine noted as she stepped down from the cabby. It had been rebuilt, but they had used the exact same plans as the old Opera Populaire.
As the cabby drove away, Christine was left standing in front of the steps leading up to the front doors of the Opera.
Steeling herself, Christine slowly made her way up the steps, and went through the grand doors. Christine gasped. It was the exact same as before! The lush, red velvet carpets, the gilded walls, the gold-leafed statuettes... it was all the same. Running her hand along the smooth banister, Christine made her way up the grand staircase. She turned left and found herself in an empty hallway. Suddenly, she heard footsteps behind her. Turning quickly, Christine realized it was a girl from the ballet corps.
"May I help you, Mademoiselle?" She asked.
"Yes," Christine replied, "I was wondering if Mme. Giry is still employed here. I would like very much to talk with her. "
The ballerina nodded anxiously. "She still resides here. She's no longer the ballet mistress, but the managers allow her to live here still, as a thank you for services rendered." Then the girl's voice dropped to a whisper. "It's said in the dormitories that it was she who told the Viscompte de Changy how to find the old Opera Ghost." The ballet rat looked up at Christine expectantly. "You do know who the Opera Ghost was, don't you?"
Christine lowered her eyelashes and looked at her feet. "Yes. I know him."
The ballet rat led Christine to some of the lesser used hallways of the Opera House. Christine recognized some of them from her time as a chorus girl. Eventually Christine found herself staring at the door marked 'Giry'.
"Mademoiselle?" The girl tugged on Christine's sleeve. "Would you like me to introduce you to her?"
"No," she replied. "I don't think any introductions shall be necessary. Thank you for helping me. But I'd like to be alone with the Madame now, thank you." Christine watched the girl nod her head, and skip away off to practice.
Christine turned to face the door. Locking her eyes on the doorknob, she knocked twice, and waited for an answer. When she heard an irritated voice call out, "Oui? Who is it?" Christine opened the door without another word.
Christine stepped into the room, and looked for Madame Giry.
"Ma cherie? C'est vraiment toi? " Said a voice from the corner of the room.
Christine smiled happily. "Oui, Madame. C'est moi. Petite Christine. I've come looking for someone." Christine crossed the room, and took the old woman into her arms. "I'm looking for an old…friend if mine." Christine looked down at her toes. "I'm looking for my Angel. Does he live?"
Christine heard a sharp intake of breath. "Oui, ma cherie. He lives. But I advise you not to see him. It would not be a happy reunion." Christine drew back from the embrace and looked at Mme. Giry despairingly. Mme. Giry was tall, stern looking, and yet pretty in a haughty kind of way. Her brown hair turning grey was pulled back into a tight bun, and her clothes consisted of a simple dress. Her piercing grey eyes stared down at Christine.
"Is he angry? Sad? Happy? Madame, I must know. I know I made wrong choice when I went with Raoul, and I can't change that anymore. But I must see him again. Raoul's making me give up singing! Madame, how could a man who says he loves me make me give up my passion? Singing is my life, and my Angel is the only one who respects that."
Madame Giry looked at her frankly. "Christine, what do you want to happen?" She spoke softly. "Do you want him to take you back? Do you want to mock him, and show him your wedding ring? He won't be happy to see you, is all I can say. I think it better if you left him alone. He's suffered enough."
"He's suffered?! I know I rejected him, but what about me! I'm probably just as sad and mad at myself as he is! I must see him Madame, please! Take me to him!" Christine looked pleadingly at her.
Mme. Giry huffed. "Very well. Follow me."
Mme. Giry led her to the Opera's little chapel. It was the same chapel the Christine used to visit to pray for her father. Mme. Giry stopped by a sculpture of an angel, and turned to Christine. "We must push this over to the side. Help me please." Together, the two women pushed the angel sculpture to the side, to reveal a dark staircase. Mme. Giry took a candle from the altar, and motioned for Christine to follow her quietly. She led the way down the stairs until they reached the bottom.
"This opens up to a hall. If you take the second door on the left, you will end up by the edge of the lake, at his home. If you go through the fifth door on the right, you will end up near your old dressing room. You may choose your path, but now, I must leave you. Bonne chance, ma cherie! " Giving Christine the candle, the former ballet mistress disappeared back up the stairs.
Christine made her way down to the hall. As she reached the hall, Christine stopped walking and looked at the doors lining the sides. Turning her head, she looked at the fifth door on the right. "I could go back now. I could save both of us a lot of pain." But she didn't. Christine lifted her chin up, and opened the second door on the left.
Christine nearly fainted at the sight. She was on the edge of the lake, near his organ. What once used to be his pride, his home, was now in shambles. His music was littered everywhere, and all the candles were turned over. His mirrors were cracked, and his instruments were beyond repair. Christine let out a moan, and collapsed on the steps.
It was ruined! Everything good in his life was ruined! All her fault….Christine cried silently. "Oh Angel, I'm sorry.. I'm ever so sorry…"
Suddenly, she heard a voice and looked around wildly.
"Why have you come?
For fear or pity?
Or have you come
For true love?"
Christine gasped and struggled to sit up.
"Angel or man
Friend or Phantom?
Who is it there hiding?"
The voice harmonised with hers,
"You have forgotten your Angel"
Christine stood up and walked around his lair.
"Angel, I wish
Would you forgive me?
Mercy on me
Angel!"
The voice got softer.
"Why have you come here, my Angel?
Is it for fear or pity?"
Christine clasped her hands to her chest, and looked into the only mirror that wasn't cracked.
"Now as we sing here together
Our souls become one!"
Faintly, Christine could make out a dark shape behind her in the mirror. Peering closer, she heard the voice—his voice—swell with anger.
"Prying Pandora,
You betrayed me
Turning from your
True love!
Lying Delilah
You deceived me
Why have you come?
Christine!"
Eyes brimming with tears, Christine sang out desperately,
"Angel, my soul
Was broke in two
I come to ask
Forgiveness!
And if you grant me
That one wish,
Give to me now
Your love!"
Christine opened her eyes wide as a shape emerged from the shadows. "Angel?" "I am no angel, Christine." He replied. "I am but a man. Not even. I am a broken shell, with a broken heart."
Christine stepped towards him. "Angel." She looked down. "You are more than a broken shell. You are a genius, a magician, a composer, a musician, and my Angel. You are far from being a broken shell. " Christine looked up. "I came here not to spill foul words. I came here to ask forgiveness."
As he stepped into the light, Christine's stomach did a flip-flop. She had forgotten what he looked like. He was tall, dark, intense, and imposing. His electric blue eyes pierced through the darkness better than any light, and night time cloaked him like a cape. He carried with him an air of confidence, and mystery. In contrast to his dark outfit, he bore a white porcelain mask that covered half his face. The Opera Ghost was back.
"Forgiveness?" He spat. "You've come for forgiveness? Why? Why would you want forgiveness from a monster? Go back to your prince charming, Christine, and leave to wallow by myself."
"You are not a monster." Singing softly, Christine stared at everything and nothing.
"Angel of Music!
I denied you
Turning from true beauty!
Angel of music, hide no longer
Grant to me your glory!"
"Christine." Something in his voice made her look up, and her chest tightened. He looked down at her with pleading eyes. "Christine, please…go! It was hard enough to leave you before, why must you make it harder?" The pain in his voice was obvious. "Go back to your Vicompte. Share with him your lifetime, and leave your Angel." He turned away from her. "Your Angel is no more."
Christine put her hand on his shoulder briefly. "If I go, will you tell me your name? All Angels have names."
"Dear, sweet, naïve Christine. I am not the Angel you have always thought I was!"
"Your name, Angel." She spoke evenly, "Then I shall leave, if that is your wish."
He sighed and ran a hand through his midnight black hair. "I am Erik." And with a swirl of his cape, he disappeared into the shadows once more.
Christine exited his home, and soon found herself in the small chapel. She knelt before the altar, and lit a candle. Clasping her hands together in hope, Christine whispered a fervent prayer. "Father, help me. You have sent me my Angel of Music, and I turned him down. Now he is gone, and I am alone again. Father, be merciful on him, and comfort him. For I cannot." A tear rolled down her cheek. "He won't let me."
Unbeknownst to her, a dark shape with staring blue eyes watched her carefully through the mirror.
The next day, Christine bought a ticket to the new opera, Faust. It was a new Opera, and the tickets were for the opening night. Christine was nervous. This was her first public appearance at the Opera since her….disruption two years back. Now, two years later, she wondered if anyone would remember her.
As she seated herself in the audience, Christine sighed and leaned back. For now, she would enjoy the show.
The opera opened to a stage of darkly coloured streamers and costumes. Then, the singing began. Christine winced. Apparently Carlotta had forgiven M. Andre and M. Firmin, and was once again their diva. While the star continued her shrieking, Christine mulled over her long-awaited meeting with the Phantom. 'No', she thought. 'Erik.'
Somewhere in the second act, Christine heard a gasp rise up from the crowd. Snapping her head up, her eyes widened as she noticed a shower of toads fall onto the head of Carlotta. Croaking toads. Suddenly, the loud voice came out of nowhere and pierced the din.
"Did I not instruct that this thing you call a diva was not to perform? Carlotta… you seek to be known by all Paris. Well…you are now known to the Opera Ghost! Be prepared for more misfortunes should you not comply with my demands. " And as quickly as it came, the presence disappeared. Gone was the spell that had held captive the audience. They now stood up in their chairs and demanded to know what was going on.
In the confusion and chaos around her, Christine managed to slip away unnoticed to the rooftop. She climbed the many stairs, and soon found herself staring over the side of the rooftop.
"Careful." A shape emerged from the shadows. "Keep away from the edge…" The voice called out mockingly. "We wouldn't want you to fall, now would we?"
Christine walked up to the shape as it became visible in the moonlight. "Oh Erik…why did you do that? Haven't you learnt that murder and trickery is not the way to live?"
"And what other option have I?" he snapped. "I could go back to wallowing in self pity and hanging onto old memories, but to what end? Your Angel died the night he was betrayed. And a new Opera Ghost was reborn. One who will not allow wilful children worm their way into his heart."
Christine talked softly. "Must it be so hard? You needn't plunder or become reclusive. You could go out in the world, and be someone! Maybe not in the city, but in the country, away from everyone…" Her voice trailed off. "You don't deserve to live like this. No one does."
Erik retreated back into the shadows. "You are playing with fire, Madame, and I refuse to be the one burnt again."
As Christine felt his presence begin to fade, she cried out desperately,
"Pitiful creature of darkness
What kind of life have you known?
God give me courage to show you
You are not alone!"
Christine cried out hysterically. "You promised you would never leave me; you said you would always be there to guide me, to protect me. I did not give up on you, even when I thought you dead. Yet I stand before you begging for your forgiveness, and you have given up this easily on your promise? I gave you my soul, and I haven't got it back. Tell me…tell me, Erik, that you want me to leave, and never see me again. Look at me in the eye, and tell me. Give me my soul back, if you do not want it." Christine lifted her chin up, and looked around wildly. "Tell me." She waited, and waited for Erik to come and tell her to leave. With baited breath, she stood motionless waiting to be dismissed. The dismissal did not come.
Despairing, Christine cradled her head in her hands and wept. Then softly, gently, she could hear a distant sound. It was the sweet sound of a violin! Faintly, she could recognize what piece it was. It was "Angel of Music". Then, ever so softly she heard singing.
"Wandering child,
So lost, so helpless.
Yearning for my guidance."
Christine replied wonderingly,
"Angel, I hear you,
Speak, I listen
Stay by my side, guide me!"
Erik replied with a smile in his voice.
"You have remembered your angel!"
Christine sang pleadingly.
"Angel, oh speak!
What endless warnings,
Echo in this whisper?"
His song continued.
"Too long you've wandered without me
Alone, your song has faded"
Christine answered passionately.
"Wildly my mind beats against you,
Yet my soul obeys!"
Their voices swelled in ecstasy and harmonised in perfect song.
"Angel of Music
I/You denied you/me
Turning from true beauty!"
"Angel of Music
Do not shun me/My protector
Come to me strange Angel!"
"Oh Angel!" Christine breathed. "Do you forgive me?" A gloved hand reached out to cup her face.
"I forgive you."
Later that night when they had parted, Christine walked back down to the chapel. She knelt in front of the candles, and lit one. And there she remained, silent, until she looked up at the sculpted angel, sat back on her heels, and said, "Thank you Papa!"
The next morning Christine woke up from her slumber and yawned. Already the sun had started to come up, and Parisians were already going out for their Sunday strolls. Christine stood up and put on a green satin dress and her opera gloves, and headed outside to visit the Bois.
