Don't own anything but a few characters and the plot. This goes for the rest of the story.
Un
Three years have passed since the incident regarding the mysterious Phantom of the Opera. Most of the opera regulars have forgotten the fiasco, and those who do remember have turned the factual events into fictitious tales to pass on for generations upon generations.
It has taken three years to repair the damages to the Opera Populaire. A brand new chandelier had been built, replacing the one that set fire to the theatre during Don Juan Triumphant. Most of the cast had fled, never to return even to the vicinity of the Opera Populaire in fear that the Phantom will kill them.
In the meantime, Messieurs Richard Firmin and Gilles Andre have been successful to the highest degree. So many residents of Paris had come to assist in the repairs, and there were so many donations. Firmin once told Andre that he should thank that dreadful Phantom for the popularity, or none of this fame would exist.
The Vicomte de Chagny continued to propose to Christine Daae, and Christine continued to decline, for the Phantom had yet to leave her mind. She had accepted his proposal three years ago, and it was really difficult telling him she changed her mind. She promised that once the Phantom was behind her, she would wed him immediately. He continued to wait patiently for her hand.
Signora Carlotta Giudicelli had passed in a most wretched fashion mere months after the fiasco. She was injured in and unknown accident and her wounds had festered. Some say that the wounds were her fault, due to the death of dear Piangi. Her injuries took septic, and the physician was unable to cure her ailments. Paris was filled with anguish when her death was announced. With her death, Christine could finally rise to fame dramatically. There was no longer any competition with the prima donna.
Andre and Firmin had decided to hold a masquerade of the most amiable nature in celebration of the grand re-opening of the Opera Populaire. For a nominal fee, everyone could attend. Those Andre and Firmin knew on a first name basis attended free, including Christine Daae and Raoul, the Vicomte de Chagny.
"Doesn't this bring back wretched memories?" Christine asked Raoul as they arrived in an elegant coach bearing the Chagny coat of arms.
"You promised not to bring that up, Christine. You should enjoy yourself instead of delve on ancient history," Raoul replied.
"I've relived those days inside my head over and over again. It's not ancient to me." He kissed her hand softly.
"Do try to forget, my dear. He won't harm you while I live." She smiled weakly. How could she ever forget those moments? How could she forget the boat to the dungeons, and the Phantom himself clad in an elegant black suit and a long black cape? All memories aren't in need of forgetting…
A servant clad in satin finery opened the door of the horse-drawn carriage and assisted Christine out of the coach.
"Miss Daae," he said, bowing to Christine. "Monsieur," he said, bowing to Raoul.
"Well met, Monsieur," Raoul told him, and handed him a gold coin for his kindness. Raoul escorted Christine inside the Opera Populaire to the large foyer, where the masquerade was being held. There were men and women, large and small, clad in varying gowns and suits and elegant masks.
Christine's mask was simple and elegant, with few exotic twists. It was milk white, and matched her gorgeous gown. Raoul's mask was even simpler than Christine's, for his bore no elegant designs. 'Twas simply a black mask that only covered his eyes.
Another servant loudly announced their entrance, and they were immediately surrounded by familiar faces cloaked in elegant masks. There was a man Christine recognized immediately with horror. She had not expected to see him here. She knew the white half mask anywhere.
What is he doing here? Christine thought to herself. Her heart began to race. Who would die with him here? She didn't realize that she was fretting over nothing. She began to fall backwards, almost fainting. It was quite fortunate that Raoul was able to catch her.
"My dear, it is only Monsieur Pierre," Raoul assured, fanning her face with his hand. Some would have thought of this event as comical, at least until they spotted Pierre clad in his attire. Christine smiled weakly. This man wasn't old enough, and his complexion was too fair. His voice was too high and he wasn't as tall as the Phantom. So many things different about him that she hadn't noticed at first!
"I'm terribly sorry. It's the only style I knew I could wear without the fear of matching someone else," said Pierre. He did indeed make a wise choice in choosing the Phantom's outfit, for everyone else was still afraid of the mere sight of the Opera Ghost.
"Apology accepted, Monsieur. Don't worry about me," said Christine, gathering her wits. "You frightened me a little, that's all." He bowed low and departed.
"I'm sorry, Raoul," she apologized sincerely, grasping his right hand in both of hers.
"Don't be. I cannot begin to fathom what horrors you went through." He kissed her gently on the hands that held his own, and smiled. "I'm here to guide you." She smiled at him, and they progressed further into the majestic crowd.
The masquerade began with a lively number, and there wasn't a single soul, save the obedient servants, who were without a partner and alone. Christine dismissed the previous event and discarded the apprehension inside her mind. She danced well with Raoul, a giddy grin upon her face. He couldn't help but smile back, for he rarely saw her this pleased. All around them, everyone was gaily dressed and happy. After a few more numbers similar to the first one, the music slowed to a serenade and the lights dimmed. Before Raoul could take her hand for another dance, Pierre approached once more. Christine was startled by his appearance, but smiled quickly and relaxed.
"May I borrow Miss Daae and take this dance?" he inquired. Raoul stood aside and permitted the dance.
"You shall have my hand, Monsieur Pierre," she said, grinning widely. Raoul grinned fit to split his face. Small crow's feet formed at the corner of his eyes. He enjoyed seeing her happy. She wasn't this happy too often. He watched Pierre lead her off in his white half mask, and then turned to acquire some wine.
He found a servant carrying a tray of White Zinfandel. Raoul took a glass and sipped at it. He scanned the crowd of dancers, spotting Christine immediately. How could he not see her? To him, she was so beautiful she shined gorgeously. He wished she would finally put the past behind her and accept his proposal. He sighed deeply and reminded himself that patience is a virtue.
He noticed something strange about the man Christine was dancing with, something he didn't notice before. He seemed a bit older than Pierre, though not much older than Christine herself. An alarm sounded inside Raoul's mind, though he dismissed it quickly. Maybe it was the light that made him look older.
"How have you been?" Pierre whispered into Christine's ear.
"We've known each other for a year or so, Monsieur. You ask me this like you haven't seen me in years," she whispered back.
"I'm only asking, Mademoiselle."
"Don't ask," she said. "Dance." She smiled wryly. They moved slowly to the music. After a minute or so, she whispered, "I've been quite fine, thank you. The memory of the Phantom of the Opera has just begun to leave my mind."
"I apologize for the horror," Pierre whispered. She took no notice of the strange apology.
"Don't be sorry. You had nothing to do with it."
Raoul was beginning to grow apprehensive. It had been three years, and not so much as a note from the Phantom had been seen. Most thought he had finally passed away with despair. If the Phantom was supposedly dead, why was he so frightened now? He waited patiently for the song to end. Pierre bowed to Christine and retreated, never to be seen again that night.
"Did he say anything to you?" Raoul asked as he led her aside and motioned for a servant. He handed her a small glass of wine, and took a second one.
"He only asked how I was," Christine said. Another song began, and Raoul took her hand to dance once more.
The night passed in the same fashion, with lively and slow songs in abundance. The night celebrating the grand re-opening should have ended fantastically, though, unfortunately, it did not.
In the middle of the final number, a young Madame cried out, startling everyone.
"Murder!" She fainted after the statement, and the servants immediately raced to her aid. Raoul and Christine looked at each other, their expressions exchanging a silent apprehensive conversation.
Everyone else crowded around Madame Charlotte as she was being revived. It didn't take long for them to wake her. She sat up and took a sip of water. All of the color quickly left her face.
"Who was murdered?" someone asked. She gathered her wits and spoke the name Raoul feared hearing.
"Monsieur Pierre." Everyone gasped at hearing that name, for they all remembered that he was the one clad in attire similar to that which the Phantom wore. Was it simply coincidence, or did the Phantom set him up? Christine's eyes widened as she realized that the man she danced with was not Pierre, but the clever Opera Ghost. Why didn't she recognize the voice? What exactly was going on?
I am your Angel of Music. Come to me, Angel of Music. The voice inside her head haunted her. She knew it anywhere. She shook her head and fell to her knees, massaging her temples. She hoped to rid her mind of the phantom voice.
"What's the matter?" asked Raoul, concerned for the woman he loved.
"He's here," she whispered in fear.
"Who's here?" he asked.
"The Phantom of the Opera." Fear was most unfortunately instilled into all of those attending the masquerade.
"What are we going to do?"
"Will the Phantom kill again?"
"What will happen to all of us?" Andre and Firmin were quick to calm to crowd, though their efforts seemed to be in vain.
Christine took Raoul's hand and led him to the dressing room she had become so familiar with three years ago. She was pleased that they had completely restored it perfectly down to the paintings on the wall.
"Why have you brought me here?" he asked.
"I needed a moment without so many people," she said.
"Why here?"
"It's a room I became so familiar with three years ago." He embraced her deeply, trying to offer what comfort he could give. Not even he could forget the event in the Phantom's catacombs. She took a seat in front of the vanity and noticed a single red rose with a black ribbon tied around it. She lifted it and admired it deeply, as if studying the intricate petals or the white bead that held the ribbon to the stem.
"Where did that come from?" Raoul asked, noticing the rose.
"It was just lying here," she replied. She knew exactly where it came from. What would he think if she told him that the rose was left by the Phantom for her?
"It's beautiful," Raoul said, taking the rose and admiring it himself, turning it over in his hands. He felt the silk ribbon and smelled the fragrance of the rose, then handed it back. He ran his right hand through his shoulder length auburn hair and knelt next to Christine.
"Shall I have the carriage readied?" he asked.
"For what?" she replied.
"We will be going to supper, of course," he said, smiling. He wanted so much for her to smile back. She didn't smile near as much as she used to. What exactly did the Phantom do to her? He may never know.
"I'd rather stay here a bit longer, if you don't mind. You go on ahead," she said. Raoul thought for a moment, and then stood up.
"If it's your wish, then I'll comply. I'll see you in a few minutes then, I suppose," he said. She nodded. He kissed her softly and made his swift exit. She stole a glance at the mirror to her left. She remembered the mirror not really being a mirror at all, but a door to the dungeons below. It was cracked slightly, and she saw the flickering light of a torch on the other side. She walked to the mirror and peered through, seeing nothing.
"I'm sorry, but he's waiting," she whispered, and left.
She met with Raoul outside the Opera Populaire. She had lost all sense of time, and it must have been rather late.
"It took you long enough," he said impatiently. There's no telling how long he had stood waiting by the coach.
"I'm sorry," she replied. It was all she could say. "Shall we dine now?" There was a faint smile on the corners of his mouth. He was just happy that she was here and not in the Phantom's malevolent grasp. He assisted her inside the coach and then followed closely behind, closing the door behind him. The coachman cracked his whip and they began to move. Raoul grasped her hand in his own, promising her that everything will be okay. She believed him, if only a little bit. She knew the Phantom was capable of killing a thousand men just to get to her, but he would stop at Raoul, knowing that his competition had at last been defeated.
They arrived at Raoul's estate that his late father had passed on to him and were greeted warmly by their maids and cooks and everyone else. Christine bore a weak smile, yet no one was shocked. Everyone knew she rarely smiled, and they never pressed the matter. It upset Raoul many times knowing that he couldn't make the love of his life grin widely. He wondered what her expression would show if the Phantom were with her. He felt a little bit ashamed that he thought she would feel fear with the Phantom, for he never wanted her to be afraid.
She followed Raoul to the large table where everyone could sit to eat. It was there they dined on supper. She ate only half of her meal. She didn't have much of an appetite that night. Raoul ate heartily, having seconds and even thirds. Christine retreated to her personal bedroom, not the one she shared with Raoul. She crawled under the comfort of the blanket and sheet and drifted into sleep, dreaming of the Angel of Music singing songs in her head.
Raoul came in and kissed her cheek, bidding her goodnight as she slept soundly. He retreated to the much larger room he called his own, and sat at a desk. He lit a candle for illumination, and simply sat at the desk. He pondered many things. Would Christine leave him for the Phantom? Would she dare consider the Phantom after what had happened? Despite what many may think, but the event in the dungeons was fresh on his mind. He could have lost her. She could have lost him! It only would have taken one more tug from that man with the distorted face. He would have lost consciousness and then felt the cool touch of Death's hands upon him.
He shrugged his thoughts away, hoping to rid himself of the memory of that fateful night. He blew out the fading candle. He changed into his night clothes and pulled back the comforter and crawled into his large bed. He tossed and turned, and it was nigh unto morning before he actually was able to drift asleep, though his rest was not very long.
He woke up, deciding that sleep was simply unfeasible. He dressed quickly and combed his shoulder length auburn hair, making sure that not a single hair was out of place, and that it curled inward at the bottom. After confirming that he looked absolutely dashing, he retreated down a flight of stairs to the dining area, where the table was being set for the consumption of food. Christine had not yet woke from her slumber, and he knew better than to wake her.
And the Angel of Music sings songs in my head…