Which Poisons Our Love
Disclaimer: I do not own POTO or it's characters.
Summary: I hate summaries - I never do a good job on them! But the just of it is this: Four years after the fateful fire that destroyed part of the Opera Populaire, Christine is still in search for her missing Angel. When she finally finds him, she realizes he has changed, and many things she does not know about him. She declares her love for him, and in her mind, she thinks everything will work out fine now that she's with him. But then a tragedy happens, and the blame is misplaced on Erik, forcing him to once again flee. When Christine decides that she will go with him, many changes occure, and things she never realized are forced upon her. With danger lurking, can they get out of this alive, let alone keep their rocky love from ending once again?
Really, you must read it to enjoy it. I'm not very good at summaries, like I said, but I have been
writing different types of fanfics, including LOTR, for over two years now. Might be a little slow in the beginning, but catches on quick.
One last note - I THRIVE on reviews. If you're reading, please at least drop me a quick line to say so and if you like it or not. Thanks so much!
And now...
Which Poisons Our Love...
Christine stood in front of the Opera House, looking forlorn and with longing. Not longing for the House itself, or what it held, but what it used to hold. What it will never hold again.
She clung to her cloak, pulling it closer to her in the cold night air. She should be in her dormitory by now, but she couldn't bring herself to go in just yet. It had been a day full of painful, heart stabbing memories that were all too fresh in her mind now. She knew there would be no sleep for her tonight, and as soon as she tiptoed into the halls of the housing for the ballet rats, no matter who quietly she tried, Madam Giry would be there to scold her for being out so late.
"It will ruin your beautiful voice! Do you want that? No! Do not stay out in the night air, Christine!" She was always saying. But Christine didn't mind if her voice was ruined. Who was there to sing to now? Strangers? Her heart wasn't into it anymore - she couldn't force herself to become passionate about the stage when it came to singing. Playing silent roles that gave her no glory was certainly fine with her now. She didn't mind. So let her voice go to ruin; she didn't need it - almost as much as she didn't need him.
She sighed, then, gathering her skirts, headed up the steps for the Opera House. At least in the comfort of her room she could remember in a proper way - find memories that took place right before her in that room, whether she welcomed them or not.
"Christine, must you?" Meg pleaded, not wanting her friend to go.
"Yes Meg...it's important to me. I'll assure you that I wont be missed. It's only a few hours long each day."
"But I'll miss you! And besides...a hospital? You - a volunteer nurse?"
"I'm not a singer anymore, Meg. I need to do something more than stage work and silent roles."
"But Christine!" Meg stopped. What else could she say?
Madam Giry, who had been listening to the two girls, took Christine by the arm and walked her away from Meg. In a hushed tone, she spoked to the girl whom she thought of as a daughter.
"Christine...you wont find him. Don't make yourself do these things just for the chance to see him."
"But Madame Giry...I'd die for the just the very chance to see him again. Taking on a small job is nothing to me. Besides...I need something to do in the long days."
The older woman nodded slowly. Of all people, she could relate best. "If you do see him...you'll be sure to tell me, wont you?"
"Of course, Madame. You'll be the very first...and probably only."
"Then go, child. Don't stay gone for too many hours. You really are missed when we are without you. This Opera House stands only for the mere hope that one day it will bare you as it's Diva."
Christine cast her a sad glance. "Then it might as well fall - I sing no longer. I sing for no one now."
Christine started to walk away when she heard Madam Giry whisper under her breath, more to herself then to whom she was addressing. "Except your angel, Christine. Do not forget your angel, child."
Those whispered words stung her eyes and tore at her heart. How could she sing for her angel if he had deserted her?
