Disclaimer: I do not own POTO.
A/N: I don't know whether they celebrated the Fête de la Musique in nineteenth century France, but let's just pretend they did. This is based on the STAGE musical. A dash of Leroux. No movie.
Christine woke on the morning of June twenty-first, 1881 as she would on any other day. She had been with Raoul at the Chagny country estate for only about two weeks now. The maid that Raoul had assigned to her, Rosalie, was in her room the minute she stirred and helped Christine to dress. It was a little odd, having Rosalie dress her. Today, Christine dismissed Rosalie from her morning duties so that she might meet her secret lover (Christine was the only person that Rosalie had told) in one of the estate's intricate gardens.
"Thank you, Mademoiselle," Rosalie said whole-heartedly, with a small curtsey.
"Go," Christine urged. "He's waiting for you."
"Thank you, Mademoiselle," Rosalie repeated once more before hurrying out of Christine's suite. She smiled as her maid shut the door as she began dressing herself.
At breakfast, Raoul met Christine with an unexpected amount of excitement. He asked, "Do you know what day it is, Christine?"
"The twenty-first of June," Christine replied, a bit puzzled. "Why?"
"Why? Christine, I'm surprised that such a musical person as you wouldn't know what today is. Today is the Fête de la Musique!" Christine had almost forgotten. Tonight all musicians were encouraged to go play their songs in the street all the night through. How she had enjoyed this night so many years ago when her father was still alive! They used to go out on the streets. He would play Scandinavian folk songs on his violin and Christine would sing and sometimes dance.
Then Christine's happy mood darkened. She couldn't think about music without thinking about him. First he was her Angel of Music, but then he turned out to be a man who was madly in love with her. Then Christine found out that he went by yet another name- the "Phantom of the Opera". She thought about the time he had brought her down to his lair, five stories below civilization. There she had discovered many truths. She learned that her angel was a man, and that he had a plan for them to share the future together. She learned that her former angel's music had an enormous amount of influence of her. Christine also learned the most terrible truth about the Phantom: the right side of his face was severely deformed. When she had removed his mask, Christine had had no idea of the monstrosity that lay beneath it. Now, as she thought more and more on the Phantom's face, it didn't seem as bad as it had when she'd first removed the mask. Perhaps it was just the initial shock and the sight of the deformed flesh curled up in an expression of rage.
"Christine?" Raoul's voice brought her out of her thoughts. "Are you all right?"
"Of course."
"So, about the Fête de la Musique. Do you want to go into Paris and listen to all the musicians?"
"Could I sing with them?"
"Christine, it's risky enough bringing you back to the city. I don't want him finding you."
"Raoul, I'm sure-"
He firmly declared, "We can go and listen, but you shall not sing. Besides, I've heard that cold air is bad for one's voice."
"It's June, Raoul. Even at night the air is still warm and mild."
"Well, just trust me, Christine." Not wanting to hurt Raoul, but still a little angry, Christine focused all her attentions on her breakfast and, when she was finished went out to the gardens.
Once she was sure that none of Raoul's disapproving family could see her, Christine ran through the expansive gardens like a child, letting her chocolate curls flow free and allowing her pale blue to get just a little bit soiled. It felt so good for Christine to be without restraints and just run wild. She and Raoul had done this every day of the summers they spent together at Perros when they were little. Since when had Raoul gotten so proper, so grown-up? Christine still enjoyed acting like a child at certain times. She'd seen a little bit of Raoul's childish side on the roof of the opera, when he'd lifted her up in his arms and twirled her around before planting a kiss on her lips. Why couldn't Raoul be like that every day?
"Oh, my Rose, I love you." Christine stopped dead in her tracks at the sound of the voice that came from the other side of the hedge.
"I love you too, Eudes." Christine's body untensed when she heard her maid's voice. She continued on her wild romp, passing the lovers without even acknowledging their presence. She figured that they'd prefer their privacy. As she left Rosalie and Eudes behind, another question popped into Christine's head. Why didn't Raoul tell her that he loved her any more? Was it because he was uncomfortable with showing his love around his staunch family?
Christine thought aloud, "If he isn't comfortable with having me around his family, then I should still be in Paris, not here."
XXX
As the sun began to set, a carriage passed through the gates of the de Chagny estate to make the long treck into Paris. Inside the coach, Christine and Raoul sat on opposite sides of the plush, velvet seats. Several times, Raoul would say something to try to strike up a conversation like, "Aren't the sunset's colors brilliant?", but he was unable to get much of a response from Christine. And so, the ride was made in almost total silence.
Finally, the carriage reached Paris just as people were emerging from their homes to perform and hear others perform. Soon many different melodies filled the air, although, strangely, they sounded as if they belonged together. Christine and Raoul walked down the streets together, lingering at each perform they passed for a few moments. Tears began to well in Christine's eyes as she thought of her deceased father.
Soon the Opera Populaire's grand façade came into view. Raoul felt a bit panicked- he hadn't intended to bring Christine to this part of the city. He tried to steer her down a different street, but she was insistent on moving forward towards the opera. Hoping for the best, Raoul followed her. Christine let out a deep breath as she stood in front of her beloved opera. She looked up to the mighty statue of La Victorie Ailée, and for a second she thought she saw a dark figure resting between the statue's wings. Raoul was preoccupied with a flutist who was playing a merry tune. Slowly, though, one could hear the melancholy strains of a violin coming from the opera. Christine squinted her eyes and saw a gleam of white amid the black. She ran towards the opera. It was him.
The front doors were locked, but Christine hurried around to the back and opened a stage door that performs used and was most often unlocked. Her descent to the Opera Populaire's summit went quite smoothly, except for Christine getting her dainty foot stuck in one of the beams for a second. When she reached the roof, she threw open the door and called out to her angel.
The man who was tucked in the statue laughed dryly and said as he continued playing, "I can almost hear her voice." Christine recognized the piece he was playing now. He'd sung it to her the time he'd brought her down to his lair. She opened her mouth and sang:
"Floating, falling, sweet intoxication!
Touch me, trust me, savour each sensation!"
The Phantom roused and turned toward his love. Hesitantly reaching his arm out to her he continued the song:
"Let the dream begin, let your darker side give in
to the power of the music that I write --
the power of the music of the night ...
You alone can make my song take flight -
help me make the music of the night ..."
He savored the moment as his Christine lay in his arms. He really wasn't surprised that tonight was the night that had brought them together. The Fête de la Musique was after all, a celebration of music- of their music.
Fin
A/N: Please R&R! Flames are welcome!