Summary: Ten years after the opera house burns, Christine, now a mother, closes the door on her past for good. Oneshot.
Disclaimer: Nothing relating to PotO is mine. Obviously.
A/N: So, this a rather busy time (with exams and prom coming up), but I needed something to do during my breaks! This is a rather short one-shot from Christine's POV. I hope it's not too confusing, aha. Enjoy, and please review!
The very first indication that perhaps something wasn't quite right was the simple fact that I was barefoot. I had never gone barefoot before, especially out of the comfort of my own home. But, for some reason, today I was barefoot.
Softly, I made my way up the steps and into the abandoned opera house. It almost seemed as if it was located deep in the heart of some impossible dream. Cold chills swept over my body and I hugged my husband's overcoat closer to my delicate frame. Through the familiar corridors of the dark opera house I walked, knowing each turn like the back of my hand, although I had not been here for an entire decade.
The cobwebs and creaks did not bother me; did not frighten me as they used to. Much to my surprise I was not feeling anything as I ventured deeper, I had distanced myself from it, only looking back on it. I was calm, but not serene as I entered my old dressing room. In fact, I bordered dangerously on numb as I glanced at my old mirror, the one that the Angel of Music had taken me through ten years ago. In the chair at the vanity sat myself, dressed in the lace nightgown I had worn that night, but the red scarf the Vicomte had retrieved for me around her neck.
"Angel?" the girl asked quietly.
"No, I am not your angel." I replied with a sad smile.
Little Lotte turned to me, her young face looking so entirely innocent. A look that I had lost years ago. "You?"
"Good afternoon, Christine Daae."
"You remember my name!" Little Lotte playfully clapped, a little smile spread on her features.
"Of course I do, sweetheart. How could I ever have forgotten you?" I ask, slowly approaching the young girl. I kneeled at her feet, much like the Vicomte had kneeled at mine.
"That is good! That is good that people are not forgetting me! I thought my father had forgotten me when he did not send me the Angel of Music, but he did! He did, Christine!" She was so happy, but all I could do was sigh.
"I know he sent your Angel, Little Lotte." I reached out and touched her cheek tenderly.
"He sings to me, and he teaches me to sing!" She cried happily. "Are you coming back to me, Christine? Can we play together? Sing together? We can have so much fun! It gets quite lonely here, I have no one to sing or play with me." Little Lotte grasped my hand desperately, looking at me like a lost little girl who had just found her mother.
"No, I'm not staying here, sweetheart. I was just thinking of you."
"You should have come by sooner; you missed the Angel of Music!" And then she began to sing, a lullaby I was so familiar with.
"What I love best, Lotte said, is when I'm asleep in my bed.
The angel of music sings songs in my head."
"The angel of music sings songs in my head…" I finished, as if it was of the utmost importance that I remembered. "I suppose I had come to chat, and to say goodbye." I said more to myself than to Lotte. I finally came to the realization that I had to separate myself from the girl, I was a woman now, and a mother more importantly, and I had to free myself from this little girl's influence. Particularly, from the influence her father, her Angel, and her childhood friend had on her.
"Please don't leave me, Christine!" I could see the tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes, and I wrapped my arms around her frail body, allowing her to rest her curly head against my chest. "I am so lost!"
"I know." I began, "I was too. I never, ever wanted to grow up."
"But you don't have to! You can stay here with me! And we can sing!" She began to hum the lullaby her father had taught her so many years ago. "And the Angel of Music can be real for us! If you would just stay, Christine!
"I can no longer hide anymore, Lotte. There is no angel of music to give me singing lessons from beyond the mirror, and I am a mother, I have responsibilities. I cannot stay. I cannot hide. Please understand this; it would be easier for both of us." I told her, finally releasing her from my embrace, however reluctantly.
"Tell me about her."
My brow furrowed in confusion. "About who?"
"Your daughter, silly."
"Claudia… Claudia is four years old. She is my angel. She has curly brown hair like my own and she has her father's eyes…" As Christine continued her fond description of the brightest light in her life, Lotte's eyes were becoming watery. "What is it, sweetheart?"
"Oh, nothing. I miss father. Sometimes the angel is not enough."
I nodded, walking away from the door and putting my hand on the doorknob. "You're leaving?" she asked me innocently.
"Yes, I cannot stay any longer." I opened the door a bit, completely unaware of what would greet me on the other side.
"Maman! Maman!" A little voice called out. My daughter pushed the door open and ran eagerly into my arms. "Maman, look what Papa made me!" She exclaimed, holding out the little toy doll. I smiled at my daughter, and planted a kiss on her tiny nose.
Yes, I had indeed grown and matured since then. I became a woman, a wife, and a mother. No longer could I carelessly prance around, pretending to be oblivious to the cold reality that surrounded me. I now had a family to live for, and with that I had responsibilities. I had to separate myself from the imaginative little girl I once was. I had to move on, and Little Lotte had to grow up.
Our games of make-believe are at an end.
I looked back towards the vanity, but Christine had vanished, and I… I had awakened, safe and sound in the arms of my sleeping husband.
It's a little different from what I usually write, but I hope you enjoyed it. Whoever Christine's husband is, well, that's for you to decide. ;)