Chapter One - Mourning For An Angel
Christine's hand trailed lightly along the wooden banister as she made her way up the stairs to the little hall above the servants' quarters. At the far end of the drab plastered passage, she pushed open a door and stepped out onto the roof of her husband's home.
The sun was just setting over Paris. Christine sat carefully on the parapet and looked out of the city. From here, she could just see the light gilding the newly-restored dome of the Opera Populaire.
It was hard to believe that it had been almost a year since the performance of Don Juan Triumphant and the terrible events that had followed the Phantom's opera. It was almost seven months since her wedding.
The theatre had been restored and, two months ago, the new season had begun. In all that time, Christine had not gone back.
She wondered what had become of him. No one had been able to tell her how he died, but everyone was certain that he had. His body was never found.
She had heard, though, rumors that the new season was a haunted one. That a true ghost haunted the theatre now. His ghost, they said. Notes continued to harass the managers, but they lacked the lilting arrogance of the old Opera Ghost. Mysterious sounds terrified the unwary. A voice was heard echoing in lonely corridors, the sound of heavy steps startled the silence at unexpected time.
Was it truly the Phantom, Christine wondered. Had he survived and did he once again hide in the shadows of his theatre? She would have given the world to know.
Who could tell her? When she married Raoul, she severed all ties to the Opera Populaire. She had kept contact with Madame Giry and Meg, but they were in London now. Meg was already a prima ballerina on the London stage. Madame seemed to wish to forget her role in the tragedy of the Opera Ghost.
"Dearest, what are you doing up here again?"
Christine turned to see her husband emerging from the little door. In the dying light, he looked so very handsome, the breeze ruffling his hair and the darkening sky reflected in his eyes.
"I suppose," she said with a light laugh, "that you will now treat me to another lecture how it isn't quite right for the wife of a Vicomte to perch on the edge of the roof like a common maid."
"No lecture this evening, love. It's just that Theodore and Madeleine will be arriving soon. You'd better dress for dinner."
Ah, yes, Raoul was forever inviting his old friends to dine with them. Always escorting her to lovely parties. Each day, however, she found that she increasingly treasured those rare hours of solitude.
Returning to her room, she found her maid had already laid out her gown. It was a lovely dress but, like all of her clothes, it was black.
On the day before her wedding, she told Raoul that she wished to wear black for one year. To mourn for her Angel of Music. He had not been pleased by this.
"Please, Raoul, let me do this," she'd said to him, "whatever harm he may have caused, I will always remember that he was my teacher. He gave me the gift of music and I could not repay him. Please, this is the only thing I will ever ask of you."
I suppose this is a good time to add the usual disclaimer. I don't own the characters, etc...I just do this because I enjoy it. Like my previous efforts, this is based mostly on the 2004 ALW film. Reviews always welcome!