Always Thinking of You
By: blue buggy
Summary: (One-shot) 20 years have pasted when Phantom meets the eldest daughter of Christine and Raoul.
Rating: K
Author's Comments: Hello, everybody! This is my first Phantom Fan fic, so please bear with me. I was listening to the CD the other day and this idea popped into my head. It simply had to be written. So please enjoy and review afterwards.
Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera.
Winter in Paris was never an enjoyable season for the seventeen years old, Elizabeth de Chagny. It was too bleak for her liking. Too cold, too. The landscape was hard and barren. The once green trees turned grey in dead. In short, winter had turned the lively city of Paris into a graveyard. The closed shops, stood like gravestones. The people that were on the streets wore only black and covered their faces to shield from the cold. Their movements were slow and it seemed they were mourners of this massive graveyard.
If Paris was indeed a graveyard, then the Opera house was a mausoleum. Once a symbol of the city's cultural climax, it now practically laid in ruins. Doors locked up, windows boarded over; the opera house stood alone. Cold like the rest of city. Not even the heat of summer could warm the building to its former glory. A frigid, dark cloud hung over it like a plague. No one dared to enter the building and no one ever came out.
Rumors still swept through the city of that dastardly day. Few, perhaps even now, truly knew what happened in the catacombs of the opera house. Those who did preferred to remain in silence and not speak of that day.
Elizabeth sighed as she continued to walk down the streets of Paris. She had spent the most of her life in the country with her parents and her other siblings in their humble estate. They rarely took in visitors and even more rarely left. Being the eldest, Elizabeth had taken it upon herself to journey to Paris for the first time, alone. This was not her first time in Paris. She had spent many weeks here before, but the lurking of her parents always prevented her from seeking out what she truly wanted. Answers.
Her parents had barely skimmed the surface of the secrets that lay behind those doors of the Opera house, and Elizabeth was dying to know. What had happened there? What caused her mother to surrender her love of singing? Why did her father shiver when ever that topic came up? Who was that masked man? These questions and many more always went unanswered and Elizabeth was determined to have them answered.
Stopping only once to fix her the black hood of her cloak, Elizabeth kept her path to the Opera house. As young woman, Elizabeth highly resembled her mother. She had the same chestnut, curly hair that was too unruly for any woman of status. Elizabeth had managed to tame it, by pulling it up in a small bun at the top of her head. Her chocolate eyes stood out on her pale face. She also inherited her mother's snowy skin and rosy cheeks. What she ha inherited from her father had to be her stubbornness and courage. It was courage to journey into the unknown and a stubbornness that she would never be happy until she had the answers she desired.
It was dusk and sun was beginning to set in the west. Elizabeth quickened her pace. She did not want to be on the streets at night.
Finally, with a quickened breath, Elizabeth reached her destination. The opera house stood before her like a dulled gem, forgotten with the test of time.
She frowned as she founded that all the doors were locked. How was she going to get in?
Walking to side of the building, Elizabeth found an entrance in a space passage way that was covered in bars. Pulling one of the bars off, she squeezed herself through and entered the house. Not caring if her dress was ruined or dirtied, she continued through the tunnel until she came to a metal grate. She found a small door in the grate and pushed it open. Stepping down, Elizabeth found herself in a chapel.
Elizabeth let her fingers roll over the stained glass as she walked, her mind taking in the image of the place. Her eyes drifted to a candle stand. Several pictures were on it, but her eyes focused one. A man with dark hair, with pensive stare captivated her.
"Who are you?" A voice shouted, startling the girl. A man immersed in darkness, swooped down upon the girl, his cape bellowing behind him. Elizabeth tried to run, but the dark man had grabbed her arm. "I asked you a question! Who are you? What are you doing here!?"
He pulled her closer so he could look into her eyes. Elizabeth tried to look away, but could not but gaze into the face of her captor. He wore a black coat that rivaled the darkness of night. A hood covered his head and most of his face. Elizabeth was unable to see what he actually looked like. She could see his eyes. They looked tired, almost, like he was giving up on living.
He shook her away from her thoughts. "Are you mute? Speak!"
"E-Elizabeth." She stuttered. "Elizabeth de Chagny."
"de Chagny?" The man threw her arm down in disgust. "de Chagny?!" He repeated, taking one step back.
"Yes, Monsieur." Elizabeth replied, with a nod.
"Tell me, child." The man said with his back turned to her. "Who are your parents?" He clenching his teeth for he already knew the answer.
"Raoul de Chagny and Christine Daae de Chagny." She timidly replied.
Elizabeth noticed the man visibility tensed up.
"Sir, may I ask, how you know them?" Elizabeth took a step forward. "Are you him? Are you the Phantom of the Opera?"
The Phantom let out breath. "I'm hardly who I used to be." Then his voice lowered. "Since that day my angel left me."
"Then you are the tutor that taught my mother how to sing." Elizabeth asked, smiling; a smile that reminded the Phantom of his beloved angel.
"I was."
"She has told me much about you."
The Phantom flinched. "She has told you about a monster, then? Or did she tell you about a child from hell?"
Elizabeth shook her head. "Neither. She told me about an angel; an angel who watched over her and taught her to become a magnificent singer. When I was very young she told me about you, every night, right before I would go to bed."
"Why would she tell you about me?" The Phantom snapped. "I was nothing but an angel from Hell that nearly killed her lover."
"I do not think my mother has ever thought of you like that." Elizabeth reassured him. "I have never heard her speak ill of you."
"How is she?" Whispered the Phantom.
"She is well. She is tired with my new baby sister."
"She has more then one child, then?"
"Yes. I am the oldest. I have two younger brothers and my baby sister."
"You look exactly like her." The Phantom said in a melancholy tone.
Elizabeth blushed as she took the compliment. "Thank you. Father has often said that."
He flinched as the conversation turned to him. That cursed man that stole his angel from him.
"Has she lived a full life?"
"Yes, but…" Elizabeth sighed before continuing. "I do not think she has. She may have everything that any woman would desire, but it always seems she's sad. She has traveled. She has a wonderful home, children, and a loving husband, but I don't think it is enough."
The Phantom finally turned around to face this girl. "What makes you say this, Mademoiselle?"
Elizabeth sighed and looked at him with eyes of sadness. "I think she regrets it; leaving this place, singing, and leaving you." Elizabeth took a deep breath. "Monsieur, I know my mother well. While he has told me has told me very little of what happened on that day; she did tell me about you. She told me how thankful she was to have you as a teacher. She only wishes that things did not have to end the way they did."
The Phantom closed his eyes. His angel. His angel missed him. She actually missed. He could not help but let out a small sob. "I never stopped loving her." He told her.
"And she never stopped loving you."
"Tell me, my dear. Do you sing?"
"Yes." Elizabeth replied, proud. "Mother has taught me everything she knew."
"Sing for me then. Sing for me, daughter of my Angel of Music."
Elizabeth nodded. She stood up straighter. Her hands were at her side. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath before starting.
"Think of me, think of me fondly," The Phantom closed his eyes and remembered when he first saw Christine on stage. A Goddess, an angel, she was a vision of beauty in that white dress. Her heavenly voice had captured the audience as much as she had captured his heart.
"When we've said good-bye! Remember me, once in a while, please, promise me, you'll try! When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free... If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me!" Elizabeth's voice was soft and sweet like her mother's.
"We never said, our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, but if you can still remember, stop and think of me." It seemed like an invisible orchestra joined her in her soft melody. The lyrics seemed to put a constricting hold on the Phantom and he was unable to move or speak. He even had a hard time breathing. She just reminded him of her way too much.
"Think of all the things, we've shared and seen! Don't think about the things, which might have been!" The Phantom took this too heart. He spent too long in hiding. He wasted too much time wondering about what life could have been with her.
"Think of me! Think of me waking, silent and resigned! Imagine me, trying too hard to put you from my mind! Re call those days, look back on all those times, think of the things, we'll never do! There will never be a day when I won't think of you."
Elizabeth prepared herself for the climax of the song and hit the high notes with such a grace and precession that rivaled her mother. "We never said, our love was evergreen or as unchanging as the sea, but please promise me that sometimes you will think of me!"
The Phantom was now in tears by the time she had finished singing. 'Oh my angel.' He thought. 'I have never stopped thinking about you.'
"Brava, Mademoiselle. You sing beautifully." He praised her. Then he began to step back into the shadows. He wanted to leave her sight. He wanted to save her from the wickedness of his face.
But Elizabeth had other plans.
"Wait!" She cried after him, Taking several steps to him. Gently she took his hands in hers. "Please. Will you not teach me as you did my mother?"
The Phantom was shocked at this young girl's request. "Why would you want to learn from a monster?"
"I see no monster." She said, small tears falling. "I see only an Angel of Music."
Ok. It was bad, but it was my fist Phantom story. I want to write more, so please help with your reviews. Thank you.