"Are we really going to the Opera, Papa?" Asked a young girl, no more than sixteen years of age, with pale skin and a mass of dark curls. Her fair skin was unblemished, her figure slight and slender. She had been wanting to go to the opera for quite some time, yet her father had always refused her, telling her that it brought back too many painful memories. She reminded him so much of his first and only true love. Raoul had often wondered why fate tormented him so, by giving him an only child, a daughter, that so closely resembled the woman he had lost so many years ago.
Young Catherine was almost an exact duplicate of Christine de Chagny, Raoul's first wife. He had been shocked and amazed when his second wife, a fair haired beauty had given him a dark angel, his princess. His wife had died during her birth, and Raoul had never remarried, spending all of his time and energy with his daughter. He had moved away from Paris, to a town on the outskirts. So much had happened since then, and he often wondered about the young boy that he had called his son for ten long years.
Gustave would be a man now, probably married with children of his own. It was difficult for Raoul to think of him, he had loved the boy and truly believed that he was his, until that dark day when he finally realized the truth. He had learned some time later that on that very same day, his Christine had been killed. It had been a tragic time for him, and he tried to keep it out of his mind entirely.
He had been approached by several young men wanting his Catherine's hand in marriage, and he had refused them all. He was not willing to let go of his daughter, not yet. She reminded him so much of Christine, he could not bear her leaving him. So he kept her close to him, not allowing her to go out on her own, even with a chaperone, unless he was there as well.
Catherine was essentially in a gilded cage. Beautiful, but a cage nonetheless. She was spoiled by her father, and she felt no resentments towards him. She did not know about Christine, or anything about that time in her fathers life. Quite a few years ago however, she had come across a rather startling discovery. There was an old trunk in the attic filled with playbills and music scores. She had begged her father to allow her to study music, and he did, however reluctantly. She was no great musician, but she had a pleasant enough voice that, if cultivated, would make her a great asset to the opera world.
Raoul did not want to see this happen however, and he was pained whenever he heard her singing and practicing. He very rarely refused her anything, and this was no different. He smiled at his daughter and placed his hand lovingly over hers. "Yes, Catherine, we are going to the Opera tonight." He agreed, smiling at her exuberance. "I have reserved my old box for us to see the show in." He had managed to secure Box 5.
Even in the new opera house, there was still the lingering remains of the Opera Ghost, and the superstitions still held true. The new managers had been very reluctant to sell him the box, but he had insisted. He believed that the Phantom, Erik, would remain at Coney Island, where he had built his own empire and could freely reign there with the Giry's at his side. He had heard that the old woman had passed, and he had sent Meg his condolences.
Meg had quit the theater after accidentally shooting Christine and killing her. She had done only two performances after that and could not take the boos and hisses. The world hated her for what she had done, thinking she had killed the diva on purpose out of jealousy. She had retreated and married a simple man who knew nothing of the whole affair. She had never had children, and had shut herself away from the world, wanting nothing more to do with the arts in any way.
Catherine laughed and hugged her father, knowing nothing of any of this. She jumped up and ran out of the room, babbling about what she should wear. Raoul shook his head and retreated to his room, dismissing his servants for a time. He pulled out a portrait of his dear Christine, unable to resist the temptation. "Catherine is the same age you were when we married… She looks so much like you, Christine. I think it must be God's way of allowing me to redeem myself to you. I denied you so much, and now I have Catherine. I cannot keep her shut away forever. I must allow her to fly, as I had never allowed you." He whispered. He kissed the portrait and placed it carefully back in the drawer, hidden from all eyes but his own.
"Catherine, if you do not hurry we are going to miss the show." Raoul called to his daughter. He was dressed impeccably, resembling very much the young man that he had once been, albeit it a bit older and larger, his fair hair beginning to go white. He paced, checking his watch, his hat, gloves and scarf awaiting him, held by his servant as he waited for his daughter.
Catherine came down the hall a few moments later, dressed in a lovely blue dress that highlighted all her beauty. Her dark curls hung loose down her back, pulled back from her face only slightly, curls framing her fair, delicate face. Raoul felt his breath catch. It was like being thrown back in time. The style was different, but she could have been Christine standing there before him.
Catherine cleared her throat and turned in a circle. "How do I look, Papa?" She asked him with a shy smile. Raoul blinked several times to clear his eyes and his mind and he smiled lovingly at his daughter. "You are a vision, my sweet." He assured her, receiving a blinding smile in return. He held his arm out to her and she gladly accepted. "Shall we press on?" He asked her and she beamed up at him.
At the Opera House, Catherine was nearly beside herself with pleasure, her ivory cheeks colored prettily with her excitement. She was unaware of the stares she received, but Raoul did not miss it and he kept her close to him. They were led up to their box and Raoul had to remind her not to lean over the balcony. "Catherine, it is not civilized to lean so far over the balcony." He reprimanded her gently.
Catherine apologized and sat back, remembering her manners at once and acting the perfect young lady. She had been bred in the most proper of homes, and though she longed for her freedom, she knew well what society wished of her, and she followed her fathers example. The Opera House was premiering a new show that night, by a young composer, Gustave Duquesne. It was a rather haunting piece and Raoul was made terribly uncomfortable by the music.
He excused himself before the third act, saying that he was ill. And indeed he looked pale and drawn. He insisted that Catherine stay and finish the show. She was completely entranced by what was happening on the stage and barely noticed that her father had gone once the music continued. She did not realize that just as her attention was completely focused on the stage, a pair of eyes had not moved from her since she had entered the Paris Opera House.
Erik had not remained at Coney Island as Raoul had expected him to. He had fled back to Paris with his son, unable to bear the realities of what had happened in the new world. He had returned to his home, still intact even after all these years. He had taught his son Gustave everything that he had known, and the boy had blossomed.
Gustave had always been inclined towards the arts, and he had begun composing the year his mother had been killed. His operas tended to be haunting, full of despair. But at the end there was always a pocket of hope, of such intense feeling that it brought tears to one's eyes. He was a man now, nearly twenty eight years of age. He had not yet married, he had been content in his music. The past year or so however, he had begun writing of his mother, and he longed for a love as strong as the one his parents had shared, however ill fated it had been.
It was just as well that Raoul had left before the show ended, for it ended with a terrible blow, the young heroine being killed, leaving her son behind, as well as her destroyed lover. Catherine could not stop the tears pouring down her cheeks as she watched. She smiled and clapped with everyone else as the curtain came down, standing to applaud. It had been everything that she had dreamt and more. She turned to share her feelings with her father, only to realize that she had been left alone for the first time in her life.
The knowledge both thrilled and terrified her. She accepted her things and dressed warmly. She forced herself to take a deep breath and she left the box. She kept her head down slightly, trying to remain unseen as she struggled to get through the crowd. Before she knew what was happening, there was a hand at her elbow. She looked up in surprise at the handsomest face that she had ever seen, set in a smile as he looked down upon her.
"Pardon me, mademoiselle. Should you be left on your own in such a place?" He asked in a kindly tone. "Please, allow me to assist you to your cab." He said to her. She could barely nod her consent and she allowed him to lead her to the steps of the Opera House, his hand gentle and firm on her elbow. She could not look away from him and once they stopped, she found the strength to speak.
"Excuse me, but who are you?" Catherine managed to ask. The gentleman stopped and turned to face her completely, releasing her elbow, as it would not be proper to hold on to her. "I beg your pardon. My name is Gustave." He said to her. "Gustave Duquesne." Catherine could feel her head nearly explode and she could scarcely keep herself from gushing.
"You are the composer of tonights opera." She said quietly, her voice barely audible over the noise of the busy Paris street. She was rewarded with a smile. "Guilty. Did you enjoy the show, miss…?" He trailed off, not knowing her name, what to call her. She dropped a gentle curtsy. "Forgive me, sir. My manners have slipped. My name is Catherine." She told him.
Gustave smiled at her and bowed. "It is a pleasure, Mademoiselle. Did you enjoy the show?" He asked her once more. Catherine flushed and nodded. "It was… beyond anything that I ever could have imagined. It was beautiful and haunting, poignant and sincere. I have never heard anything quite like it before." She said to him. Gustave smiled down at her and reached for her gloved hand. He pressed a gentle kiss to the back of her hand and released her a moment later.
"I could ask for no greater reward than your praise." He said, smiling at the color that heightened in her cheeks. She reminded him of his mother, his beautiful, warm, magical mother. He wondered if no other had ever interested him because no other woman had held that ethereal kind of beauty, that same type of wise innocence that even by the age of ten, he knew that his mother had.
Catherine had completely entranced him, and as he walked her to her cab, he found the courage to ask her to join him the next night after the show for supper. "I will ensure you a private box for the performance, and then supper afterward. We can discuss the show if you wish." He said as he gave her his hand to help her into the cab. Catherine looked out the window after she had been settled.
"I wish that I could, kind sir. My father is ill, I regret. I must remain at home until he is well. We only came here tonight because I had been longing to come to the city and see the Opera for myself. I have been studying and wished to see it live. My father never could refuse me." She said with a shy smile. She did not want to see the dissapointment on his face and she hastened to add, "I shall ask his permission to come to the theater again."
Gustave smiled at her and reached for her hand once more. "I shall pace until I see your face again, my dear mademoiselle." He said. He released her hand and watched the cab roll away. He returned inside and did the usual niceties before being able to get away. He hurried down to the cellars, into the apartments that he shared with his father.
"I have met her at last, father." He said the moment he had crossed the lake. Erik looked up and smiled at his son. He only went up to listen to his sons shows very seldom. He preffered to go to the dress rehearsals, which were closed to the public and he could listen in peace. He had been composing as well, something for his Christine. He had been working on it for years and years, never being able to bring himself to finish it.
"Who have you met at last, Gustave?" He asked indulgently. He knew that his son was sought, but that he had been holding out for that one special woman, one that he could never find. He indulged his sons every whim without any regret, save one, that his mother would not be there to hear it. Erik had been injecting himself with morphine these last few years, his body betraying him. He had begun to fail in his health, and he did not want his son to know or to worry about it.
"I have found the woman I am going to marry, Father." Gustave said, his eyes shining brightly. He had never felt this before, and he knew that he must have Catherine for his own, at any costs. "She is so beautiful, Father, everything that I have been waiting and wishing for. I think Mother dear must have sent her here for me." He said.
Erik felt a sharp stab of pain at the reference to his Christine, and he pulled himself up slowly from his organ. "I am happy for you, my son." He said to him as he moved towards the young man. "You must tell me more about this treasure that you have found. Will I have the pleasure of meeting her?" He asked him with a soft smile. His son had the same vigor that he himself had once had when he was much younger, and he could see that strange glow in his eyes that bordered on obsessive.
"I do not yet know, Father. She says that her father does not let her out of his sight. I think he must be afraid that someone will whisk her away from him. She is like a precious shining jewel that must be exquisitely cared for so that she will shine as brightly as she was meant to." Erik could not help shaking his head slightly. It was no small wonder that his son was a great composer at so early an age, he had a great gift for language.
"Then you must endeavor to secure her hand as soon as possible. If she is what you have been searching for, then you must not let her escape you." He said to him. He had made the mistake of letting his love go once, and he had payed dearly for it, he did not want his son to suffer the same fate.
Gustave nodded and reached for his hands. "I will, Father. She has promised to come to the show tomorrow night and then to supper with me afterwards. I am going to be sure that she has Box Five, it is the best in the house." He said to him. Erik frowned when he heard that. "Box Five. Are you sure that is what you wish?" He asked his son. Gustave nodded. "She deserves the best, Father, and that is what she shall have."
Catherine could not believe what the night had brought. She was in love! She entered the house and went to her fathers rooms almost immediately. "Father, the most incredible thing has happened. I have met the man that I am going to marry!" She exclaimed. Raoul pulled to his feet at the knock on his door and greeted his daughter, taking her hands in his own. "What is this about, Catherine? You have spoken to a stranger?" He asked, dissaproval clear in his voice.
Catherine blanched and she shook her head. "No Father, the gentleman approached me. He helped me out to the carriage. Father, it was the composer of tonights opera." She said to him. "He is a wonderful man, so very talented. I wish that you had felt well enough to stay and see the conclusion. It was so very moving." She said to him. Raoul kept his frown as she continued. "He wishes me to dine with him tomorrow evening after the performance." She said to him. "Father please, I have never felt this way before, not about anyone." She pleaded with him, her dark eyes searching his face.
Raoul sighed heavily and shook his head. "My dear child, I can not allow you to go out alone at night with a strange man." He said to her. "It is simply not proper for you to do so. Not even and especially not with a young composer. Those artistic types allow their imaginations to run away with them, they can get carried away very quickly with a young girl." He warned her.
"Gustave would never do anything of the sort, Papa. Please, join me at the Opera tomorrow night and meet him for yourself. You can see that he is not like most other men, that he is special and different than all the others." She pleaded with him. Raoul was stunned just a little at the name, but he never dreamed that it could be his Gustave, Christine's child. He siged and looked into his daughters face, unable to deny her. "Alright, my love. We shall go to the performance tomorrow night and I shall meet your young man and determine whether he should be allowed to court you."
Catherine let out a small happy sound and hugged her father tightly. "Oh thank you, Papa. You shall see how different and warm he is." She said to him, leaning up to place a kiss against his cheek. "I think it is time that I retire. Goodnight, dear Papa." She said and left him alone to his thoughts.
Raoul sat down hard, his mind spinning. He knew that he should not have left Catherine alone tonight, should not have taken her to the opera in the first place. He regretted his decision, but it seemed that there was nothing more to do about it now. It would seem that this young man had captured his daughters heart, and he must at least pretend that he approved for a time. He feared that she would get her heart broken, he knew only too well how fickle musicians could be.
Erik too was troubled, but only slightly. He had been worrying over his son, that when Erik died, his son would simply go out like a flame. He knew that Gustave was strong, but he had already lost his mother, could he survive losing his father as well, leaving him all alone in the world? Erik took comfort in the fact that his son had finally found someone he wanted to share his life with, and he returned to his music, his sanctuary.
That next night was a strange one. Catherine dressed in her finest, a blindingly white gown that sparkled, leaving her long curls down, pulled back only at the temples. Raoul dressed in his finest as well, and received quite a shock at the sight of his daughter. His heart burned and ached for Christine, but he smiled at his daughter and took her arm to escort her out to the carriage. He was silent during the ride, something that Catherine could not easily ignore.
"Papa, what troubles you?" She asked him, leaning over and placing her hand over his on his lap. "Do you miss Mama?" She asked him softly. Raoul looked over at his daughter, so innocent and trusting and he simply shook his head. "I told you that the theater brings back some rather painful memories, my dear. It is only those thoughts that trouble me." He assured her. Catherine frowned. "Papa, perhaps it would help if you spoke of these memories. Perhaps they would not weigh so heavily in your mind if you released them." She said, dying to know what his memories were and why they pained him so. Her mother had never been musical, not to her knowledge, but there had been that trunk in the attic… who had it belonged to?
Raoul pat the top of her hand with his free one and he shook his head. "Maybe some day, my dear. But that is not tonight. Do not let my past overshadow your future." He said to her. Catherine was still puzzled and she yearned to ask him about the box of music, but she did not have the courage. She sat back and they rode on in silence.
Once they had arrived at the theater, they were shown to their box, and a beautifully written note was delivered into Catherine's anxious hands. They took their seat and Raoul looked over the program, wondering at the little of the play he had seen the night before, wondering how it eventually all worked out. He gave his daughter her privacy to read her letter, and did not press her as to what it was about.
Catherine opened her letter and smiled as she scanned over it.
'My darling,
I do so hope that you arrive safely to the theater. I enjoyed our interlude last night and look forward to seeing the beauty of your face at supper tonight.
Gustave'
Catherine sighed happily and looked over at her father. She lost a bit of her smile as she watched him, but that was soon gone as the overture began. Her eyes were glued to the stage, her heart soaring and falling with the music, feeling as though it were speaking directly to her.
Erik had hidden much earlier that night, in his old spot in the pillar at Box Five. He could see and hear everything, and what a shock he received when he saw his old rival, Raoul de Chagny enter the box with… but no, it could not be. He saw Christine there with him, looking as she had the night he had held her in his arms for the first time, the night they had conceived Gustave.
It was not possible, and yet there she was, sitting before his very eyes, Raoul at her side, watching her carefully, his love clear in his eyes. Erik felt a blinding hatred rise in his chest. A part of him realized that this could not be his Christine, but he had been on the morphine for so very long that it had begun to change him, to warp his mind in intangible and unsuspected ways.
He vowed then and there that his Christine would not be gone from his grasp another time. She would be his, whether she admitted that she wanted him or not, he would not let her go, would not walk away from her this time. The show had ended at last, and Raoul excused himself to go to the bathroom, leaving her alone at last. He began to sing, and he watched her succumb to his voice, drop her glove in surprise.
The moment he knew that she was under his spell, he came out from his hiding spot and reached his black gloved hand to her. Catherine was entranced and she took his hand in her one bare one, allowing him to lead her. She could not take her eyes away from the mask, and his voice wrapped her in a soft cocoon of music, wrapped around her mind in a velvet grip, terrifying and exhilarating all at once. She followed him through the mazes that only he knew, down to his hidden lair, his home that he shared with his son.
Meanwhile, Gustave had made his way up to Box Five. He had intended to head up earlier and speak with her, but there had been complications that had prevented it. The box was empty when he got there and he frowned. He knew she had come, he had been told that she was there. He turned when he heard a voice calling for Catherine, and he felt his heart stop. The last man he had expected to see, the man that he had believed was his father for the first ten years of his life, was standing before him.
"Catherine, my dear, we must…" Raoul looked up and he stopped midway through his thought as he lay eyes on the young man standing in his box. He shook his head as though to clear it, unable to believe his eyes. "This cannot be… Gustave?" He said, able to clearly see the young boy he had raised as his own until that fateful day when everything had fallen apart.
Gustave looked back at him with as much surprise as he had ever shown. It seemed amazing… impossible. "How do you know Catherine?" He asked the older man. Raoul shook his head. "Duqeusne, of course… it was you that my daughter met last night." Raoul frowned deeply as he looked over the young man. He rather approved of him, but he would never admit to it. He was still bitter about Christine lying to him for so long, until it was too late.
"Daughter…" Gustave repeated, hardly believing that fate could have come around in such a way. "You are looking well, sir." He said, remembering the manners that his mother had instilled in him so very long ago. Raoul nodded and said his thanks. "As are you. I see that you have made your way quite well, Gustave. I must admit, I thought you would still be in New York, running Phantasma." He said, being very frank about it.
Gustave swallowed hard and shook his head. "No, actually. Father was homesick after mother died, so we returned." He said to him, feeling badly about bringing up the past. They stayed in awkward silence for a few minutes, waiting for Catherine to get back. The theater had almost completely emptied and Raoul was getting nervous. Catherine never went off without him, without at least telling him where she was going. He leaned down and picked up her glove from the floor, the only thing that had been left behind.
"Excuse me, Gustave. I must find Catherine." He said and turned to leave the box. Gustave frowned and let him go, making no move to stop him. He did not understand why Catherine would simply have walked off as she had. He had thought that there was something more between them, that she had wanted to meet and dine with him. Perhaps he had been wrong. He waited a few minutes longer before retreating to his home once more, defeated.
He heard the music playing from his fathers organ, as well as singing. He was surprised by this, his father very rarely sang. He could feel the power in his fathers voice, the seductiveness in it. He frowned and moved forward, towards the door to his fathers room. For the first time since he could remember, the door was locked. He frowned heavily and sat on the sofa, facing his fathers room, listening to the seductive sounds coming from under the door.
Raoul was going frantic. His daughter was nowhere to be found, and no one had seen her since they had walked in. The young woman was a Vicomtesse, and very rich in her own right. Raoul feared that someone had kidnapped her and planned only to release after his demands had been met. He had called the police and was searching everywhere for his little girl, Erik not once crossing his mind.
Gustave had nearly fallen asleep on the sofa when the music stopped. He perked up and stood, watching the door. His father came out a few moments later, the soft sounds of a music box coming from his bedroom, all but silenced with the shutting and locking of the door.
"Father, what is going on?" Gustave asked him. Erik said nothing for a few moments, humming softly to himself as though he did not realize that Gustave was even there. Gustave reached out and touched his arm. "Father." He repeated. Erik looked down at his son, blinking a few moments as if he did not recognize him. "Hello, Gustave. Was your show a success? Was your young lady waiting for you as you hoped?" He asked him, a strange quality to his voice.
Gustave shook his head, forgetting for a moment. "No, she left before I could get to her. I suppose that it was not meant to be after all. I suppose that not all things will work out the way that we hope." He said to his father. "What is going on in there, Father? Do you… have a friend?" He asked him with a frown. He did not believe he had ever seen his father with anyone else before, and certainly had never brought anyone down to their home before.
Erik said nothing in answer to his sons question. "I am sorry that things did not work out for you, my son. There will be another for you." He said and left it at that. Over the next few days, Erik came and went with packages, going into his room and staying there for hours at a time, his voice leaking through the cracks in the door. It was not until nearly a week later that Gustave heard something that he had never expected, a girls voice, mixing with his fathers.
Gustave had tried the door many times, and it had always been locked. He waited until his father had gone out and he tried the door once again. He knicked and called out, feeling rather silly, but unable to help himself. "Hello? Is there anyone in there?" He asked, knocking quite loudly.
"Angel, is that you?" He heard a young female's voice call out. His heart stopped as he recognized that voice. "Just a moment, I shall try and open the door. Can you open it from your side?" He called through the door. The girls voice came back faintly. "It is locked from this side as well… where am I?" Came her voice. What was his father doing with Catherine de Chagny? Surely he could not still hold a grudge against Raoul after all these years?
"Wait a moment, I think I may know another way in." Gustave called to Catherine. He went around, knowing his fathers tricks. He opened a latch that opened the mirror in the room and he entered. Before he knew what was happening, he had Catherine in his arms. She had rushed towards him and forgetting all of her breeding and manners.
"Oh thank goodness! I have been so afraid!" Catherine exclaimed, nearly hysterical at this point. She pulled back and received a shock when she realized who it was that she was clinging to. "Gustave? How did you get here? How did you find me? Where am I?" Her questions came out too rapidly for him to answer her. He shook his head and held her close. She felt right in his arms, even though the circumstances were so very strange.
"Catherine… I do not know why or how you came to be down here, but this is not where you belong." He told her. He looked away from her for a few moments and glanced around the room. It was not the same as it had been. His fathers things had been moved and replaced with feminine things, and portraits of his mother were everywhere. He looked back to Catherine's terrified face and he tried to soothe her. "My sweet Catherine, I think I know why my father has brought you here." He said softly.
Catherine had tears in her eyes, unable to grasp what was happening to her. "The masked man… he calls me Christine… he calls himself my angel of music. I do not understand. He has… some power over me that I can not refuse. When he sings… he invades my every pore. He wraps himself inside my mind and I can not get free." She confided to him, her cheeks flushed with fever.
Gustave nodded. "Come, Catherine. I shall help you away from here. The masked man is my father. I am afraid that he has mistaken you for someone he loved very much once." He said to her. Catherine shook her head and clung to his arm, following him through the mirror, the darkness nearly blinding her. The pink dress she wore practically shone in the gloom, her arm laced through his as she followed him blindly.
She was flushed and feverish, she had not been well for days, had not left that room for more than a week. She shuddered as he led her through the dark, damp halls. He shrugged off his jacket and assisted her into it. She barely muttered a thank you and they continued. It seemed like ages before they were finally out of the cellars and in the air, out in the open, by a sewer grate near the back of the opera house. Catherine burst out in tears and she turned to Gustave, clasping his hands in her cold ones.
"I can not thank you enough from rescuing me. If there is anything that I can do for you, you need only to name it and it is yours." She said to him. Gustave could not resist. He bent down to her and pressed his lips against hers, holding her hands gently in his own. He pulled back after a few moments and smiled down at her. "I am at your call, mademoiselle. Whatever you wish of me, so shall I be." He said to her. She flushed deeply and lowered her head in modesty.
"I thank you for helping me escape him. If I may, could I trouble you to help me home? My father must be terribly worried about me. I am embarrassed to ask, how long was I down there?" Catherine asked him, not knowing what else to do. She had not seen the sun, and had no way of knowing how long she had been trapped with the Opera Ghost.
Gustave frowned. "You have been gone for nearly nine days, Catherine." He told her gently, guiding her up towards the street, where they could hail a cab to take her home. Catherine blanched and did not know what to say to that. She allowed Gustave to help her into the cab, and she did not protest when he insisted he go with her, to be sure that she arrived safely. He kept her hands in his to keep them warm, as neither of them had any gloves.
As they rode, Gustave told her the story of his parents, and of her own father, as much as he knew of it anyway. "I think my father must have mistaken you for my mother. I am so sorry about all of this, Catherine. I shall try and reason with my father, to make him see that you are not my mother, perhaps I can get him to understand."
Catherine listened with fascination. "I had always wondered why my father had refused to go to the Opera House. It was because he had loved your mother, Christine. I did not know that it was possible to love someone so completely that it could rule your entire life." She said, looking up into his face. "Is that why you came to me? Because I look so much like her?" She asked him, more than a little afraid of his answer.
Gustave took a deep breath and looked her honestly in the face. "It was the first thing that I noticed about you, it is true. But that is not why I decided that I wanted to pursue you, Catherine. You are lovely, but it is not the only reason that you attracted me that night. There is something more to you, and that is why I enjoy being around you." He told her, rather enjoying the flush that rose into her cheeks.
"I was afraid that it was only because I looked like her. It is strange, to feel jealous of someone that you have never met, someone that is no longer here." Catherine realized too late what she had said, and she hastened to apologize. "Oh, Gustave I am sorry. I did not mean to insult your mother." She said, squeezing his hands.
Gustave shook his head and smiled at her. "Do not worry, Catherine. It was long ago." he assured her. "Come, we must get you home." He said. The carriage had stopped, and he climbed out, then helped her out. Raoul had been called by the butler that there was a carriage, and he came runnint out the door.
"Catherine!" Raoul cried out and ran to her, wrapping her in his arms and holding her close. She nearly sobbed with the joy of seeing her again and he refused to let go until she complained of being unable to breathe. He pulled back and held her at arms length. "Come inside, you must be freezing." He said, taking her by the shoulders and leading her towards the house.
Catherine pulled back slightly and tried to force him to stop. "Papa, please. Gustave… he rescued me." She said, turning to look at the young man. Gustave had already turned back towards the cab and Catherine called out to him. "Gustave, please. You must come inside." She pleaded with him. Gustave met Raouls hostile gaze and he looked quickly away. "Perhaps another time, mademoiselle." He said. "I must be getting back to my father. Excuse me." He said and bowed out.
Catherine felt her heart sink as he drove away, tears pricking at her eyes. Raoul gathered her close and pulled her into the house. He had her maid set her a bath and ordered the dress she had on destroyed. If that madman tried to take his daughter from him, he would have his head on a platter. He had taken his Christine away from him, he would not let him have Catherine as well. He vowed then and there to keep her free from the opera at any and all costs…
Raoul had arranged passage for then to the sea. He wanted to get his daughter as far away from Paris and from the opera as he possibly could. Catherine had barely had a moment to herself to send a message to Gustave. The moment she could, she sent a message to him, telling him that her father was forcing her to move far away, to the ends of the earth. She did not want to go, but she saw no way around it. She had to do as her father wished her to do, until she was married, then she would be bound to do her husbands wishes.
Catherine was nearly at her wits end, she did not want to go, but they were leaving in the morning, and she had no other choice. She had made her father swear that they could stop at the opera house before they left, and he had agreed, as long as she never left his sight for a moment. It bothered her, but she agreed. To see Gustave at least one last time before she left would be worth any embarassment that would be thrust upon her by her father.
Gustave was waiting on the steps, having received her message. His father had not been well for some time now, since he had taken Catherine from his grasp. He had retreated to his rooms, not coming out, not eating or sleeping, injecting himself with more and more morphine to try and stop the terrible pain in his body and in his heart.
Gustave gathered Catherine to him the moment that she was out of the cab, not even taking notice of Raoul watching them. He led her to the steps, enough to be out of earshot of her father. "Catherine, come away with me. Marry me and we shall go off to Austria and live happily, where no one has ever heard of us or our parents." He said urgently to her.
Catherine was completely taken aback by his offer. They barely knew one another, though she wanted to accept him with all of her heart. "Gustave… my father… I am all that he has. I could not abandon him like that, it would kill him." She said fretfully. Gustave held her gloved hands in his own and shook his head. "Don't you see, Catherine? If I allow you to walk away, to travel across the sea, we may never see one another again. History is trying to repeat itself, to pull us apart from one another when our hearts urge us to remain close."
Catherine could feel herself weeping and she shook her head. "Gustave, it would destroy him if I were to leave him. Your mother betrayed him and then left him, and then my mother died. I could not do that to him. And what of your father? You said yourself that he is very ill and that he has no one but you to care for him. What would he do without you here?" She asked him.
"They are grown men, Catherine. They will survive without us, but I do not think I can survive without you. I have waited so long for you, I can not let you walk away from me now." He said, releasing her hands and taking her face in his hands. "Catherine, please… come away with me. We can leave this very moment. I have money saved up from years of hard work. We can go anywhere, do anything." He said to her. Catherine knew that she wanted to stay with him, but she also knew that she could not leave her father behind.
He leaned forward and kissed her, her face cupped in his hands. The two of them closed their eyes, and so it was a tremendous shock when they were torn apart by brutal hands. Catherine cried out, her wrist ensnared in a feirce iron like grip. She was spun to the side and nearly tumbled off the steps, her dark eyes going wide, her pale face even paler as she looked up into the face of the masked man.
Gustave took a step back when he realized the hold his father had on Catherine and he held his hands up. "Father, this is not Mother… release her, I beg you." He said, trying to reason with the half crazed man before him. Raoul had seen this and was out of the cab in an instant. He raced towards them, fear making his heart pound hard in his chest. His precious daughter was in terrible danger, and he knew that with Erik, it would not do to make a rash decision.
Catherine was clearly terrified as Erik held her wrist in his hand, so tough that he threatened to break her wrist, to snap it in two pieces. "You will not leave your angel again, Christine. You belong to me, now and forever." He growled in her ear, tickling her ear with his warm breath and making her shudder. "Please, my name is Catherine, not Christine." She said in a trembling voice.
"Erik, this is not Christine. Christine died long ago, remember? She was killed at the peir, shot by Meg Giry." Raoul said, trying to get him to see the truth. Erik was far beyond reasoning however. His hand flicked out and the Punjab Lasso, that old, deadly weapon, flicked out and around Raoul's neck. "I should have taken care of you long ago, before she could run to you." Erik hissed and with a flick of his wrist, Raoul crumpled to the ground, dead.
Catherine's scream rang out, echoing back to her, filling the early morning air with the noise, the sound of profound greif. Her father had been murdered right in front of her. Erik started to move backwards, keeping Catherine's wrist in his hand. "You will be mine, Christine… come with me. We shall live together, undisturbed to sing our operas together, for eternity."
Gustave followed, staying enough behind to be out of danger, trying to find a way around his fathers deadly tricks to get to the frightened girl caught in his grasp. Catherine was trying to explain to the masked man that she was not Christine, that she had no idea what he was talking about. It was to no avail, Erik ignored her and pulled her down to his lair. She cried out as she was placed back in the room she had so recently escaped from. Erik locked her in, setting all of the traps so that she would not get out until he chose to let her out.
Gustave had followed his father and he waited until Catherine was no longer in his grasp to confront him. "Father, you must release Catherine. This is wrong. You can not force a woman to remain here against her will. She is not my mother. Mother is dead, do you understand that? Christine is dead and gone." He said, trying to shock his father into understanding the truth.
Erik ignored his son and walked away, taking no more note of him that he would of an ant. Catherine's screams and cries could be heard echoing over the lair, and with each sound, Gustave's heart ached for the girl. Gustave moved towards his father and he took hold of his arm. "Father, listen to me." He said to him in a harsher tone than he had ever taken with him before.
"You are not well. You have killed a man. Release Catherine now and give yourself in for the wrongs you have done. Nothing good will come of this." He said to him with a heavy frown. He knew that something like this would not go unnoticed, and he was certain that Raoul's murder had been reported and people would be coming down here soon to check. If they caught his father, Gustave knew that they would kill him and ask questions later.
Erik spun around, his face in a rage. He ripped his mask off and glared at his son, his anger blazing in his face, his eyes wild and filled with the morphine that had destroyed his veins. He raised his hand and sent a startling blow on his son that sent him reeling backward and into the wall. He was too stunned to even cry out and he slumped down upon the floor.
Erik turned and looked down at his son, as if he could barely see him. He turned around and went back to his room. He locked the door behind him and pressured Catherine into a corner. She screamed at the sight of his face without the mask and fainted dead away. Erik dressed her in Christine's old wedding dress, the one he had forced on her so many many years ago. He lay her down on the bed and prepared the room. Christine had accepted him once, he would make her accept him again.
Gustave had blacked out, his head having hit the solid rock. Several hours later, he woke with a terrible headache pounding in his head. He could not hear anything from his fathers room, but he knew very well that could mean very little. He groaned and pulled to his feet slowly, the room spinning around him. He could hear nothing and he moved slowly towards his fathers room.
Catherine was sobbing, curled up on the floor in a corner of the room, curled up into herself. She had never imagined anything like this happening to her, especially not in so brutal a fashion. At least it seemed that the old man had passed out on the bed. He had not moved for some time. She whimpered and put her head in her knees, her curls a mess around her head, the wedding dress in tatters, hanging off her body in pieces.
Gustave managed to get the door open and he walked carefully into the room. At first glance, Catherine was nowhere to be found, so he went to the bed, where his father was laying face forward, naked on the bed. Gustave was concerned and he rolled him over. He saw the black veins in his arms from the years of shooting morphine into his system, and he felt remorse surge through his body. Whatever else he had been, Erik had been his father.
Gustave checked the man and he was sad to see that he was dead. His body had simply given out on him. Gustave covered his father with the blanket that was still on the bed. He knew that there would be time to greive for his father, but he must see what had happened to Catherine. He called out to her, searching around the room, fearing the worst had happened.
He saw her at last, in the corner. He moved slowly towards her and crouched in front of her, taking great care to not startle her. "Catherine… are you alright?" He asked softly, resisting the urge to reach out and touch her. Catherine could not respond for some time. Finally she picked her head up and looked at him, dark bruises around her eyes and marring her ivory skin.
"I shall never be all right again." She said to him. "I watched my father be murdered, and that same man that did it, took … me…" She said in a soft whimper. Gustave had suspected as much when he saw his father naked and he made a gentle sound. "Catherine, if you will allow it, I would like to take care of you, to try and make up for the things that my father has done." He said gently.
Catherine looked to the bed and shuddered violently before looking back to Gustave. He had been so sweet to her, and she was all alone now in the world. She made a gentle sound and kept her dark eyes on him for a few moments. She would not let him touch her, but he got her a clean dress to change into and he guided her back out of the lair.
They walked into the middle of a band of police. Gustave stayed by her side the entire time and would not leave her. Catherine leaned against him, taking his support as he gave it. She grew so weary that she had to lean against him, as against the rules as it was. She felt safe with him, and she was afraid of what was going to happen now. She had no one to provide for her, no family and no where to go.
Gustave had sworn to protect her, and he would do so for the rest of his life, even going so far as to raising the half sister that she bore, that had been forced upon Catherine. They had named her Christine Madeline, after their mothers. Gustave took good care of them, and married Catherine, raising little Christine as his own, never holding it against either of them. They both prayed that the child would never want to go into the theater, a place that had caused the both of them so much pain through out their lives.
AN: This was written in one day and no rewrites were done to it, just a little thing that hit my head and I wanted to get it out. Let me know what you think!