A/N: Hello everybody, this is DarkFlameOfTheMonkey expanding her fanfiction.
In response to an anonymous review on one of my other stories, I'm writing two more Phantom of the Opera fics, on the Leroux basis. Never Look Back was my first PotO fic and it's on my DarkFlameOfTheMonkey profile if anyone at all is interested. This one-shot isn't exactly what was asked for, but still...
If I stray off Leroux canon, then it's due to the fact that I don't have a copy of the book with me for reference. Oh well, this is fanfiction. A little poetic license can't hurt, right?
Plus, a wee celebratory fic to mark my going and seeing of The Phantom of the Opera musical TODAY! A full report on the experience will be put on the profile. I just got back from the show, and I'm already on the computer. All will be revealed for any who have not yet seen the musical very soon!
Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, but I think the people that do are doing okay...
The Rose Garden
"Pink." Christine sighed. "I'll settle with pink. I suppose red roses are too cliché." She leaned forward and gingerly cut off a rose from the plant, leaving a long stem. She was alone in that part of the garden. But Christine didn't feel as if it were like that at all.
She turned to her fiancée, standing next to the door that led back into the house. "But Raoul, we should be having our wedding somewhere else. Paris is too close to the opera house to be comfortable. I have fulfilled my promise to Erik and we should be off, like we planned!"
"You said yourself that he was dead when you came to him." Raoul came and sat on the white bench next to the purple orchids, beckoning for Christine to join him. The garden of Madame Valerius was very beautiful and Christine had been walking around it, on Raoul's insistence, to pick out some flowers for their wedding. "Besides, wouldn't you like to say goodbye to everyone you know before we leave? Erik is no longer angry with us and we can take the time to plan instead of rushing off as we intended." The plan they had made upon the roof of the Opera Garnier was already fading into the past. It seemed a childish fancy now, only that the situation had been dire.
"You, Raoul, of all people..." Christine began. "I would have thought that you were going mad with paranoia, my love." Christine shivered as a breeze blew through the balcony garden. "Don't you ever think that he's still here?" she whispered.
"Here? But Erik is far underneath the ground in his grave, where he can rest." Raoul said, doing his best to comfort the girl.
"He's somewhere, Raoul. And I keep thinking to myself that he is here." Christine blinked slowly, looking around at Madame Valerius' flowers. "Oh God forbid, he could very well be!"
Raoul stood up and brought her back to the bench. Eventually he slipped his arm around her waist. "Christine, the two of you had spent a lot of time talking and singing to each other." Raoul gulped, trying to find a sentence that would help. In truth, he didn't know much about the subject at all. To him Erik was just a Phantom that had flashed across the city. "I believe you're just finding it difficult to... What is it? Let go?"
"You might be right." Christine said reluctantly, pushing back her hair from her face. "But at some point, Erik was a true angel. He had always seemed...somehow immortal."
"Just a man, Christine. Only a man."
"Sorry man indeed." Christine sighed. "Poor Erik... He used to sing me to sleep, you know that, Raoul?" She yawned, wandering off with her speech. "I thought myself such a lucky girl, having the Angel of Music with me."
Raoul nodded, moving on the bench to let Christine lean on him better; she seemed about to fall asleep! Poor, tired girl...
"He always found a way to wander about in my dreams at night." Christine pondered seriously. "I would see flashes of him, and hear his lullaby throughout. I suppose he was on my mind too often."
"He was your Angel of Music and he looked after you well." Raoul said quickly. "Now try and rest, Christine. Your wedding day is but two days away!"
"Hmm." Christine closed her eyes, but did not sop talking. "Why is it so cold in this garden all of a sudden?" she muttered, frustrated. A stronger wind threw her hair out of place. "He's here." Christine breathed abruptly, her eyes snapping open.
"What?" Raoul smoothed down her hair, letting her head lie on his shoulder again. "No, it's only the wind. Just sleep, Christine. Your weariness is playing tricks with you."
"Raoul, I have lived with the Angel of Music watching me for years." she stated sternly, sitting up. "I know when someone is around and watching me. And he is!" Christine stood up, walking to one of the rose bushes. Selecting a red rose, she cut the bud it off its thorny stem and proceeded to pull the petals off one at a time. Dark red petals gradually fell to the ground, carried a few centimetres away with the wind.
"Yes, I know he is here." Christine proclaimed firmly.
"Darling, you've just been living with the feeling for so long that you feel it all the time." her friend reasoned, standing up and hugging her. "But I am sure; no one is here with us!"
"Raoul! I told you that the Angel of Music can not die. I told you!" Christine shouted hysterically.
"Christine... You may be losing your wits from lack of sleep." Raoul warned when she broke away from his arms.
Christine hugged herself, rubbing her bare arms and walked hastily about the garden as if hunting for a sign that Opera Ghost was there. "The Angel of Music is here. He had always haunted me in my sleep. He still is, and he always will! Oh Raoul, Raoul!"Christine cried, glancing around her frantically. "No one can protect me, Raoul. He will always be reaching for me with his cold hands..."
"Christine!" Raoul opened his arms to her, unable to comfort his wife-to-be and helplessly watching her ramble. "Christine, please come here..." he begged. If only she would get back inside... Indoors would be safe! Indoors she would be safe from the phantom that refused to leave her, and indoors she could be protected. "Christine, please... Come!"
The young woman continued to mutter incoherently to herself, looking at her toes. "So many roses, so beautiful and perfect, so stupid... Under the ground..."
The rose garden seemed a place from which Mademoiselle Daae could never escape.
"Christine, please come back inside!"
The rose garden was a maze. It was a labyrinth that never let go of those that entered it. The Phantom of the Opera was always infinitely thorough with his every one of his traps.
"No!" she wailed, giving a shrill scream. "Get away! I don't want red roses any more!"
Christine would always be looking back over her shoulder, expecting him to be standing there, holding a bloom imploringly out to her.
I hope you enjoyed that fic! If you have any comments, they would be welcome!
I remain,
DarkFlameOfTheMonkey
-also a Phanatic sitting at her compuer at the moment. Who says that Raoul de Chagny is not a fop, except perhaps in the 2004 movie.
I'm off to type the recount of my day now. Adieu.