Here we are! I absolutely loved this scene - it was so much fun to write - but after working on it for awhile, I began to think it didn't really fit with the characters. Now, I think it might have actually been the best choice to include it.
You can decide for yourself. :) It would have gone in Chapter 10 (and replaced much of that chapter as it now stands).
Thank you for reading and have a beautiful day!
Christine accepted the unexpected summons to the managers' office with trepidation. The chorus-members and the corps de ballet had been looking at her with suspicion all afternoon, and when she had inquired to Madame Giry about it, her foster-mother had said, with a sorrowful face, that she was bound not to tell her anything.
Something was very much amiss.
When she arrived, she was surprised to see that the room was full of important-looking, grim-faced men. The managers were there, the artistic director, and three men Christine didn't recognize, wearing the uniform of the Paris gendarmerie.
The only woman besides herself was La Carlotta, who regarded her with a triumphant smirk.
Raoul was seated off to one side, the only person looking at her with any sympathy.
"Bonjour, Signora, Messieurs," she said uncertainly, closing the door behind her. "Raoul."
"Christine," Raoul said, "Please do not think that this means-"
"-Mademoiselle," Firmin said, cutting him off, "We have here Inspector Dupin from the Commissariat of Police."
Christine felt a chill.
"Good afternoon, Mademoiselle," Dupin said. "I shall not waste your time. You have heard that this opera house has been plagued by suspicious and threatening letters?"
Christine hid a smile. "Good afternoon, Monsieur l'Inspecteur. I think there are few who have not."
"Of course she knows," La Carlotta cut in. "She-"
"-Signora," Dupin said, "if you would be so kind as to let me conduct this inquiry without interference. Now, Mademoiselle Daae, I am sorry to say there has been another note."
"When?" Christine said.
"Last night. The threats have grown outlandish enough that your managers have called upon me to investigate. This one, in particular, I am sorry to say, made extensive reference to you and your misfortunes. In particular, it demanded that you be paid a not inconsiderable sum of money."
"What? Me?" she cried.
"You can see why I called you here," the inspector said.
Christine's blood ran cold.
Of course, there had always been rumors. Many suspected her of being the Phantom.
But they could not place the blame for this new note, whatever it said, on her. Surely not…
"Have a seat, Mademoiselle," Dupin said. "Thank you. You should make yourself comfortable. Now, Mademoiselle, where were you yesterday evening?"
"I was here all evening."
"-You admit you were here?" he said.
She blinked, taken aback. "Yes; I often practice here. I was in my dressing-room."
"Is there anyone who can testify that you were there all evening? That you did not, perhaps, stop by the managers' office?"
Christine swallowed. "No." Well, only Erik, and his word would hardly be considered credible.
"Very well then." Dupin turned to another page in the notebook he had open before him."Mademoiselle, how much is your salary?"
"A hundred and fifty francs a month."
"They told me they were paying you ten times that!" Raoul exclaimed hotly.
Everyone, even Andre, looked at Firmin. He had the decency to look uncomfortable.
"Well, Monsieur?" Dupin said.
But Firmin's face gave them all the answer they needed.
Dupin looked back at Christine in obvious surprise. "That isn't very much."
"No."
"Especially not for a young woman who has made ticket sales higher than they were before the war."
"I cannot take credit for that," Christine said.
La Carlotta snorted. "Obviously not."
Everyone ignored her.
"Perhaps you grew frustrated?" Dupin pressed Christine gently.
"No."
"You wanted the credit. Anyone would."
"Naturally. But I am very happy here," she insisted.
Dupin looked down at his notebook. "I understand you lost your father when you were very young?"
Christine's stomach turned over at the thought of him going through her private tragedies. "Both my parents, yes."
"You have had to fend for yourself," he said.
"Yes."
"Perhaps you turned to methods that were not always strictly legal?"
Christine tried to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. "Monsieur, let us examine the situation logically. I-"
"-I beg your pardon?" Dupin drew himself up taller in his chair. "What is it you suppose I have been trying to do?"
"Monsieur, anyone can see if I had been making twenty thousand francs a month from blackmail, I would not be living in a tiny little closet of an appartement a thousand miles away from my place of work, that is almost too tiny for one person, and yet I share it with another girl - we don't have enough coal for the stove - I subsist almost entirely on beans and toast-" She broke off, realizing her temper would not make her more sympathetic.
Dupin eyed her suspiciously. "-That is a very fine gown, I notice," he said after a moment.
"It was a gift from me," Raoul said at once.
Christine felt herself go bright red, torn between anger and embarrassment.
"Oh," Dupin said. "You and Monsieur le Vicomte…?"
"Might we have a moment alone, Monsieur l'Inspecteur?" Christine asked.
"Anything you wish to say, you can say here," Dupin said.
Christine, gritting her teeth, looked to Raoul. To his credit, he nodded.
"Monsieur le Vicomte has done me the honor of making me an offer," she said at last, resenting having this dragged out of her - she knew it would be all over the gossip columns by the next day, and for some reason she hated to think of anyone, particularly Erik, hearing about it. "But I have not yet given him a reply."
"You have not accepted?" the inspector said.
"As I said, I have not given a reply of any kind."
"Surely you wish to have a household and family of your own?" Dupin asked in surprise.
"Certainly I do, but not yet. There is a great deal I wish to accomplish first."
"You are an ambitious woman," he said.
"Yes - I own it."
He sighed and wrote something down. "You would do anything for success?"
"Only things that were right, Monsieur l'Inspecteur."
"Indeed," he said skeptically. "But what about…. Writing notes? Making demands? Threats?"
"Monsieur, I am not a blackmailer or an extortionist. I have never harmed anyone, or threatened to."
"I am afraid your word does not tell me very much," he said.
"Then ask any of the employees here - they will vouch for my character."
"I am afraid the employees here know very little about you," Dupin said.
"You have been asking people about me?" she cried in outrage.
"Yes," he said. "They all tell me you hardly ever speak to anyone."
"Is being quiet and keeping to one's self a crime now?"
"No - but combined with the fact that I have heard from more than one employee that you are always sneaking off by yourself, for what ends I cannot imagine, it is curious."
Christine began to lose her temper. "Monsieur," she said, "I do not need to stoop to blackmail in order to achieve success. I am not just any woman - I am Christine Daae, the daughter of one of the finest musicians of the century! I would never betray his memory by committing the sort of despicable acts you are accusing me of! I shall succeed by my own merits, and on my own terms!"
This momentary outburst was meant with a bewildered look from Raoul and disdainful stares from everyone else.
"Mademoiselle," Dupin said after a moment, looking up, "I am sorry, but it is my duty to take you back to the station for questioning."
Christine gasped. "Monsieur l'Inspecteur, I entreat you - if it were to become known that I had been questioned by the police, I would be ruined. It would be the end of my career - I should never be able to make a good marriage-" She broke off as Dupin's subordinates took hold of her arms. "Stop it! Release me! Release me at once!" she cried frantically, leaping up.
Raoul sprang toward her. "Have pity on her, damn you!"
"Monsieur le Vicomte, I don't like it any more than you do," Dupin said, "But it is necessary."
"And you call yourself an inspector? The chief of police will hear about this!" Raoul cried.
"I'm sure he will," Dupin muttered under his breath, rolling his eyes. "In the meanwhile, Monsieur le Vicomte, I shall continue to do my duty as usual. Mademoiselle, I trust I do not need you to wear handcuffs?"
"Wait - please, no!" Christine cried, her voice catching in a sob. "There has been some terrible misunderstanding!"
"I am sorry to interrupt this festive occasion, Messieurs," a deep voice suddenly said from behind them.
Everyone whirled around. The officers were so surprised that they released Christine's arms.
A masked man was sitting in an armchair by the door, his legs crossed, one arm resting casually across the back of the chair, regarding them all with a pleasant smile. In one hand, he casually twirled a pistol.
Christine let out a scream of surprise. How did he get in? More to the point - how had he found out about this?
A moment later, she realized the gun was now pointed at her head.
Well, that was interesting...
"Why so silent, good Messieurs?" Erik said, as the room became deathly still. "Haven't you ever had one of your sopranos taken hostage before?"
Christine managed to conjure a look of fear.
"Really, it's astonishing no one has thought to carry off La Carlotta," Erik went on. Clearly he was enjoying having a captive audience. "The world would be a better place. However, losing her would hardly qualify as a disaster beyond imagination, and I always keep my promises. Mademoiselle Daae, on the other hand… The Emperor would be very put out to have lost his favorite new soprano, don't you think?"
Why, this is daring of him… Christine thought. But if it is successful, they won't suspect me anymore… he is clever… Oh, but I wish he had not taken such a risk for me...
"This is the threat the note was referring to?" Raoul said.
"Evidently." The sarcasm in Erik's voice was withering. "Or would you like something more? Should I drop the chandelier on the audience?"
"You can't take her hostage-" Andre cried.
Dupin cut him off with a gesture. "-We must all do as he says," he said, scowling at Erik.
"Thank you, Dupin," Erik said. "How good to see you again. I have been watching your career with considerable interest. Now, everyone will listen to me. Mademoiselle will be coming with me. I trust she is sensible enough to cooperate."
"Don't!" Raoul cried. "Take me instead."
Erik laughed. "I thank you for the offer, but Mademoiselle is a good deal more valuable to me than you are. Now, if you want to see her alive, listen carefully, and if you please, no more interruptions. You will give us two minutes' head start once we leave this office. A carriage is waiting for us outside. From thence, I shall escort her to a secure location, where she will remain for the next twenty-four hours. I shall send proof that she is alive. In return, you will give me my salary. I left an accounts statement with the remaining balance in Monsieur Firmin's desk, along with a note, next to the rather alarming erotic photographs he was preparing to send to his extraordinarily unfortunate mistress. Ah - but I see you have found all of the above already. How very efficient of you, Dupin. Well, then, nothing remains to be done. Mademoiselle Daae?"
He held out his hand to Christine with a graceful unfurling of his fingers, beckoning. Mechanically she walked over to him.
"Please," she said. "Don't hurt me!" Not for a moment did she suspect he would harm her, but it was best to keep up the charade.
"Oh, no, my dear," Erik said. He turned to the group. "Certainly not before tomorrow. However, at the end of that time, if my salary is not given to me… well… "
"No!" Raoul cried, as Erik swept his cloak around her. "Free her!"
Erik smiled. "It is in your hands, Monsieur le Vicomte. If my salary is supplied to me by tomorrow mid-day, perhaps I shall give her back. I understand she is very valuable to this Opéra just at the moment - and especially to you."
"-How dare you?" Raoul cried.
Smirking, Erik ignored him. "Or who knows," he said, "perhaps I shall keep her. She is a pretty little thing - don't you think so? She would make me a charming Phantomess."
That's going a bit too far. Christine elbowed him in the side. He ignored her.
"No!" Raoul shouted, distraught, as they went toward the door. "Have you no pity?"
Erik merely laughed.
With a swirl of his cloak, he swept Christine out the door and slammed it shut behind them.
The sudden silence was deafening.
Christine stared at him in shock.
"Make haste," he said. "This way, quickly." And they were running down a hallway, taking twisting turns until even she had forgotten where they were.
"Erik!" she cried. "What is the meaning of all this? How did you know…"
His face was grim. "There isn't time to explain. That damned Vicomte of yours won't give me two minutes."
"He is not 'my Vicomte'. Erik, I am grateful for this… and you have been very brave… but you should not have risked your safety for me." Her heart was pounding with excitement. What a romantic adventure this was turning out to be. Was it possible he felt something for her?
"I have done nothing illegal," he shrugged. "I went into an open office and pointed a gun at a woman who was perfectly aware that I had no intention of actually harming her; if the other persons present assumed differently, well, what is that but an unfortunate misunderstanding?"
"Yes, that is all very clever of you, but what if they imagine you actually are the Phantom - did you think of that?"
He laughed dryly. "Yes, that would be a catastrophe." Suddenly he stopped, scanning the wall. After a moment, he pressed on a faint indentation in the smoothly wallpapered surface. To her astonishment, a panel swung open, revealing a passage beyond.
Christine stifled a scream.
There was no reason, no reason at all, he ought to know about the secret passages in this building...
He really was the ghost. He hadn't just scared Buquet. He had caused all those catastrophic accidents - one of which had nearly killed her.
She was in the power of a dangerous madman. He had a gun, she was alone with him, and no one knew where they were.
"It is you!" she cried.
"Christine, do not be absurd. Any fool can put on a mask."
"No! It is you!" She felt numb. "There are only two copy of the blueprints; one is at the Imperial Archives and the other went missing years ago - everyone could see it must be in the hands of this person who calls himself the Phantom…"
He understood at once from her expression that he could not deceive her any longer. "Inside," he said shortly. "If they see us out here conversing, they'll imprison us both."
She dared not disobey.
The panel swung shut behind them, plunging them into darkness.
He struck a match, the sound loud in the silence, and then they were awash in flickering orange light.
To her surprise, he stood perfectly still, staring at the ground.
"I suppose I always knew that you would realize it eventually," he sighed.
She could see his face, his mask only in silhouette.
"In fact," he went on, "I think in your heart of hearts you have known it for a long time. When one is as clever as you, one can only suspend disbelief for so long."
"Is that all you have to say?" she cried.
"What else is there to say?"
"Tell me why!" she cried. "Why have you been doing these terrible things?"
"I don't see that I owe you any explanation."
"Oh! No! Of course not! You never thought enough of me for that - that was all a ruse too!" She began to weep. "My God - I have been so stupid! I did not even see that you were actually kidnapping me!"
"What?" he cried.
"Oughtn't we to hurry?" she said scathingly. "There isn't any time to waste when one is abducting defenseless young women!"
"You cannot actually suppose I would really kidnap you?" he cried, aghast.
"Why not? The Phantom is - you are - capable of anything! Blackmail - extortion- I suppose that was all you."
"Yes, it was," he confessed.
She gasped with horror.
"-But Christine! - There was a reason for it!"
She felt a flicker of hope. "What?"
"Christine, I cannot explain to you, but... the... circumstances in my life..."
"No, that will not do! You must tell me more if I am to believe you. I want to believe you..."
"I cannot tell you any more than that," he said miserably.
"Why not?"
"I am afraid it is... difficult to explain."
"Don't be utterly ridiculous!" she scoffed. "You think me a fool!"
"Never!"
"I was right all those months ago - you really are nothing but a scoundrel!"
"Is this really what you think of me?" he said.
"It is!" she cried.
They regarded each other in silence for a long time.
At last he spoke.
"In a moment," he said, "I shall lead you out the other end of this passage. We will be in the stairwell just above the entry hall. I imagine our friend the inspector will find us before long - he is not entirely with brains."
"Find us?" she echoed dumbly. She had not been expecting this. "But you said-"
"-Well, I changed my mind. Now-" He jerked the cartridge open and the six bullets jangled to the floor. "-you shall be able to tell our friend the inspector, if you wish, that you managed to wrest the weapon away from me - that you removed the bullets from the gun - that I am now defenseless and unarmed." Unarmed, that was, except for the cyanide tablets he always carried with him. He was determined never to be locked up in a cage again. "You will be the hero of the day, and the Phantom will never trouble this Opera again."
"But-" Christine stared at him. "Why?" she asked at long last.
"Because I have grown tired of this charade. I am getting too old for this nonsense. I have hidden under the opera house for twenty-three years - I am tired of living like an animal in a burrow. You may end all of that, easily, this afternoon."
She stood frozen.
"What?" he said, as her silence grew long.
"Please - do not put this in my hands," she pleaded.
"Why not? You have the chance to rid the city of a dangerous madman. I should think that would be a great honor." He laughed bitterly.
"Unless you suppose me to be entirely without feeling, then you know perfectly well I cannot see it in that light."
"What do you mean?"
"I find your actions reprehensible - but you also… you gave me music. Not to mention you may have saved me from being imprisoned this afternoon. After all we have shared, I…"
He scoffed. "What have we shared? Nothing."
Christine thought her heart would twist up inside her.
Suddenly, he threw open a panel in the wall and pulled her through, swinging it shut behind them.
She stopped, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her along with him.
"Come, quickly," he said, and then they had rounded a corner and were suddenly at the top of the grand staircase, with sunlight pouring in through the windows. "Any moment now, those two fools who run my theater ought to stumble upon us. You had better decide what you mean to do, Christine Daae."
Just as he spoke, those two fools materialized at the bottom of the stairs, led by Inspector Dupin and accompanied by a frantic-looking Raoul.
"At last," Erik muttered wryly. "Really, I almost had to chase them. It is a good thing I was not actually kidnapping you, or they would never have found you."
"Unhand her, you demon!" Raoul cried, starting to charge forward, his hand moving to his side.
"Make your choice," Erik hissed under his breath.
"I already have," she said. "May God forgive me."
Hope surge through Erik. He snatched back the pistol from where he had stuck it into her waistband, brandished it with a flourish, and pointed it at Christine's head.
"By all means, Monsieur le Vicomte," he cried triumphantly, "keep reaching for that revolver you have concealed in that hideous jacket. I assure you, I can pull this trigger before you reach it!"
Raoul froze at once. Firmin kept running, but Dupin seized a fistful of his jacket and pulled him back. Christine saw that he, too, had a gun in his hand.
"You will notice," the inspector cried, his voice echoing through the hall, "That you are not the only one with a weapon! There is no escape! Now, is this sorry chapter in the Opéra's history going to end in a sensible resolution and justice being done, or is it going to end in bloodshed? Tell me, Monsieur!"
"Will you do one last favor for me?" Erik murmured to Christine. "I shall never ask anything of you again, Christine."
She nodded ever so slightly.
"Then, if you would be so good, pretend to fall down the stairs. It will distract them."
He started to back away from her, his footsteps as slow and deliberate as a tiger's. As he went, he suddenly shot out a hand pretended to shove her. She feigned a scream and pretended to grab for the railing. Calling on her ballet training to keep from overbalancing, she teetered forward, and crumbled onto the stairs, rolling gingerly.
Soon she began to whirl round, wincing as her ribs hit against each step, one, two, three, four, til she had lost count. It was a convincing feint; she heard a few gasps from below.
As she went, she heard the sound of gunshots and Erik's retreating feet.
Finally, she landed like a rag doll on the entry hall floor.
Instantly a pair of arms had encircled her and pulled her to a sitting position.
"Are you well?" Raoul said, his expression full of concern, his face inches from hers. "Christine... Great Heavens! Thank God you are safe!"
The managers, the inspector's assistants, and even La Carlotta were standing over her with anxious expressions. Inspector Dupin had, it seemed, run off in pursuit of Erik. Somehow Christine doubted he would catch him.
"He did not hurt you, did he?" Raoul asked.
She collapsed into his arms. She didn't care what it made him think. She needed the closeness of another human being.
And perhaps… Perhaps if he thought it meant something, she would not mind.
He was a good man. She was tired of being alone. And most of all, she was tired of enigmas and riddles. Raoul couldn't keep a secret to save his life, and while before she had always thought that a rather dull quality, now she begin to think it was, in fact, admirable.
Through the gap between Raoul's arm and his side, she looked back up the stairs. It seemed her distraction had worked - Erik was gone. She would never see him again.
"Perhaps we should send for a doctor," Raoul said.
"No," she said. "He did not harm me. But Raoul… I was so very afraid…" Her voice caught in her throat.
She had planned on pretending to cry. After an ordeal like that, she reasoned, she ought to produce some tears for the sake of verisimilitude. But now that the moment was upon her, she found she didn't have to pretend.
He had not harmed her, it was true - but he had hurt her beyond words.
Erik…
End of deleted scene