Every young girl has their dreams. Whether it's to marry their knight in shinning armor or to visit lands they only heard about as children. Some of those girls were lucky enough to reach their dreams, while others would continue to dream until the end of their life. Christine Daae was like every other girl, but she was also one of the lucky ones.
From the moment Christine Daae stepped into the opera house at the age of seven her mind was a live with wonder and brimming with endless fantasies. Before and after ballet practice she would wander the countless halls and disappear into rooms to explore their reaches. The only area she wouldn't go near was the cellar, with its multiple floors and river one could get lost with incredible ease.
Ten years after arriving at the opera house Christine was one of its prized ballerinas, flourishing and surpassing those who had been ballerinas for all their life. With such high regards from the manager and Ballet Instructor she was given privileges only three others were given, including the box keeper's daughter Meg. Christine began to receive larger roles in the operas and was being casted before the others. The moment the girls knew Christine was favored above the rest was when she was given a dressing room all her own.
The caramel haired girl dashed down the hall, a bundle of half sewn costumes in her arms. The girl's pale skin glistened with sweat as she rounded a corner, nearly missing a wandering ballerina. Christine didn't look back at the nameless face as she disappeared into the shadows. Her mind was clouded with a frightful thoughts and her vision clouded over with tears. She hid her face with her hair; letting her tears fall when ever they so wished. All she really wanted right now was to be locked away in her dressing room.
Christine raised her leg and gave the door a swift kick, causing it swing open and hit the wall with a loud smack. She rushed in to the dimly lit room and threw the costumes onto the velveteen couch before turning around and closing the door violently. Christine stared harshly at the wooden door before her legs gave out. She fell to the floor in a heap, tears streaming down her face and her body shaking from her sobs.
The harsh words of La Carlotta still stung Christine's ears. "Stupid girl, do you think the managers will let you sing? Did your papa tell you that you sung like an angel? Parents will say anything to their children just to make them happy. As long as I am here you will be nothing more then a stupid ballerina." At that point the Spanish diva threw an armful of costumes at the teary eyed girl. "Take this to the costume shop and tell them they need to take it in. Don't look at me like that! Get out of here before I get the managers."
Christine heaved a sigh, sniffling and wiping away the tears. She looked at the door, studying the grain of the wood as her mind came to a slow pace of thought. Christine looked down at her hands, sighing and wiping away her tears. "She's right." she whispered. "Papa always said I sung like an angel. Did he say that to make me happy?"
Once more tears began to form in Chrisitne's eyes, forming and trailing down her flushed cheeks. It was like a ritual these days; she would arrive in the opera house and warm up like the other girls. They would practice until noon when they took a quick break to eat and after that it was more practicing. While Carlotta Giudicelli was there, though, no one seemed to be free of her torment and yet she seemed to focus her energy on Christine more often these days.
"No." Christine said bitterly. "Signora Giudicelli is wrong, I can sing. I took lessons and the teachers would have turned me away if I could not sing." Christine took in a deep breath and dried her eyes. She couldn't tell if she said this in truce or just to make her worries disappear.
Christine climbed to her feet and smoothed out her dress. At once she turned and looked at the mirror that stood before her, taking up the whole back wall. It was outlined with woodwork, done by a master craftsmen and gleaming against the lamplight. Christine slowly approached the mirror, her eyes turning to her own reflection. Her cheeks were still flushed and her eyes still red from her fit of tears. She frowned at herself, trying to adjust her caramel colored hair to hide her flustered look.
"Beautiful. . . ." a voice muttered.
Christine's heart skipped a beat as she heard that word echoing in her mind. With wide eyed wonder she stared past her reflection, almost hoping to see the owner of the voice. Could she have imagined it? The spoken word was within her mind, yet it wasn't her voice; it was like there was someone within Christine's head.
"I must be going insane" Christine said backing away form the mirror. She continued to watch the mirror, waiting for something to happen within its reflective world. After that fleeting moment of childish wishing, though, Christine gathered the half finished costumes and rushed out the door.
Erik waited in silence as the door closed before him, his hand on the cold piece of glass. His heart was racing wildly in his chest and his eyes waiting to catch one more glimpse at the beauty he had just seen. She was the embodiment of beauty, taking away his breath with a simple teary-eyed stare towards him, though she thought she was alone. In that moment of sudden rapture he had spoken; she heard that word and for a moment Erik thought he had been caught.
Turning sharply Erik dashed down the musty passage with a simple torch to light his way. The girl spoke of Signora Giudicelli and that was all he needed to know so he could track her every step. Erik followed every curve of the hall, one gloved hand against the stone wall as he tried to steady himself along the way. His mind seemed focused on one thing and one thing alone: that beautiful seraph that had appeared before him in a fleeting moment.
'What has come over me?' Erik thought. 'What is driving me to rush after a child that I have only seen once? Have I no control over these feeling?'
"Have you seen Lauren?"
Erik came to a sudden stop as that familiar voice reached his ears through the walls. He leaned against that unfeeling slab of earth, his brown eyes closing tightly as he imagined the woman that was speaking. She sounded like she was smiling, it was forced but she was smiling. "How I wish to see that smile." Erik whispered, his gloved fingers touching the stone softly. His own voice seemed to startle him and soon he realized what he had said.
"No." Erik growled as he pushed himself away from the wall viciously. "I will not let a woman wriggle her way into my life."
"Oh Christine, have you been crying again?" That voice was all too familiar to Erik as well, it belonged to the box keeper's daughter, Meg. She was a petite little creature with wide blue eyes and a mass of blonde hair that seemed too unruly for such a lithe figure.
"No. Okay, maybe a little. Its Signora Giudicelli, she's been saying such nasty things to me."
Meg laughed. "She is like that to everyone, so don't take it to heart."
"I don't know, Meg." Christine said softly. "She seems to pick me out of the group more than usual. I haven't done anything to her."
"Well, mama says its because you've become lead ballerina. All you need to do now is sing and you may have Signora Giudicelli's job. We all now you can do it; your voice is beautiful!"
"Sing?" Christine gasped. "I haven't really sung in such a long time; I don't think I could."
"Why not hire a tutor!"
Christine heaved a sigh. "I have no money for such a thing."
Erik stared blankly at the wall and smiled to himself. "You wish for a tutor?" He touched the wall once more, sighing. "I will give you your wish, darling child, if it is the only way I can see you." He turned away quickly, hurrying down the unknown hall with a new purpose in mind.
Christine stared vacantly at the mirror in her room, staring at her reflection and taking in everything she possibly could. Ever since she heard that voice earlier in the day she couldn't stop thinking about how it could have happened. With her thoughts on other things she was quickly scolded during practice and she was noticing that Madame Giry was watching her closer than usual. The idea of Madame Giry watching the girls during practice was nothing new but this time she seemed to be talking to the shadows beside her.
With a yawn Christine rubbed her eyes and rested her back against the wall. She trained her eyes on the mirror once more, her vision growing blurry for a moment. "I cannot sleep yet." she whispered. Christine kept watch for a while longer, fighting off her impending sleep with every ounce of strength she could muster. "What am I doing?" She asked herself suddenly. "Only a child would do such a thing." Sluggishly Christine pulled herself to her feet and reached for her cloak.
"Are you leaving so soon Mademoiselle Daae?"
Everything seemed to freeze in time when Christine heard those words. She turned and looked at the mirror, rushing towards it with a sudden burst of energy. Her hands groped the glass itself and wooden frame that housed it, her eyes trying to see something that wasn't there. "Am I mad or is there truly someone speaking to me?"
Soft laughter rang through the room. "You are not mad, Mme. Daae."
Christine took a step back, her eyes trained on the unmoving mirror before her. "I must be mad; I am talking to a voice without a body."
"Do not fear me, Mme. Daae, and do not try and search for me," the voice laughed and Christine felt her self blush in embarassment. "I heard that you were in search of a tutor."
"A tutor?" Christine echoed the words breathlessly. She felt her heart skip a beat with the sudden thought of this stranger, this voice without a body, being her tutor. "I am, but I have no money to spare. All that I make goes to making sure I can survive."
Soft laughter rang through the air, seeming to come from every corner of the room. "I do not wish for money, Mme. Christine."
"Then what is it that you want?"
"Just your company, nothing more."
Christine sat at her make-up table, staring at her reflection within the round mirror and even staring past that into the endless reflections of the mirror in her room. This was all too good to be true; a tutor sought her out and doesn't even want to be paid! It was starting to seem like luck was on Christine's side for once. "How do I know that you are the type of tutor that I need?"
"I can sing like the angels, Mme. Daae, or so I've been told." the voice whispered, seeming all too close to touch.
"Meg has been gossiping again." Christine muttered to herself. She sighed, pushing away any type of doubt or second thoughts that raced through her mind. "May I hear your voice?"
"No." The answer was short and harsh, nearly a slap to the face. Silence trickled into the room and Christine turned towards the mirror in a sudden wash of irrational fear, wondering if all had been lost. "Don't look like that, Mme. Daae, it is most unbecoming. Please, smile."
A soft smile crossed Christine's face as she listened to the voice. It had been ages since she had spoken with someone so comforting. 'Even if he can't sing,' Christine thought, 'it would be nice to have someone to speak with.' Christine stood and placed herself before the mirror and stared at her reflection; if she could not see this stranger, she might as well look at her reflection as if it was her tutor. "Where will we be having these lessons?"
"Than you agree to allow me to be your tutor?"
"Yes. Where will be having the lessons?"
"Here, in your dressing room."
"And how often shall we meet?"
"I must warn you, Mme. Daae, that I am a strict teacher. We will be practicing every night, unless something keeps me away or you are ill. You must also agree that nothing and no one will detour you from you lessons; your voice will become your life."
Christine took in a deep breath. 'Every night? Will I not be able to socialize any more? What am I thinking?! The only people I spend time with are in this opera house; I have no other friends. This will just make things easier, and I will be able to show Signora Giudicelli that I can sing!'
"Do we have a deal?"
That voice lured Christine from her thoughts as if it took her by the hand. She stared intently at her reflection, a new determination bruned in her mind. "Yes. I want a voice that will make even an angel weep."
A/N: So, its been a while since I've posted stuff on FFN. . I've just been so damn busy with life and such. Anywho, new story from me. Its yet another take on the POTO story, but I'm doing something different this time. Christine is more of a focus and I'm gonna make Erik a freakin' monster:D bwahaha