A/N: Hey guys, I know it's been awhile but I promise now that I'm back I'll start updating my stories again. It might take some time though. Anyway, I wrote this one shot for FABINALIVES' Operation Imagine. This is the first time I've written for a guy's point of view so if Fabian sounds like a teen girl that's why. The story takes place in Paris and was inspired by The Phantom of the Opera soundtrack which I love very much. I hope you enjoy it. Disclaimer: I don't own HOA or The Phantom of the Opera or the music from the soundtrack.
Fabian's P.O.V
"It's definitely real, and from the right time period as well. It's quite possible this journal could've belonged to Gaston Leroux, careful analysis of the handwriting should prove it was either his or a really fantastic forgery." I concluded after examining the moleskine journal with a high powered magnifying glass.
"Ah, yes indeed. Thank you Dr. Rutter for offering your assistance on this matter. With the Palais Garnier giving its final performance tonight before undergoing repairs, it was most interesting to us here at the Louvre to verify that the theatre was in fact Leroux's inspiration for his most famous work." The chief curator for French history at the Louvre museum said as he vigorously shook my gloved hand.
"Well it isn't certain yet…"
"You're the most trustworthy historian the world over, it's practically a guarantee. And, because you came to Paris on such short notice all the way from Norway, the team and I have a gift for you."
"A ticket to see the live performance of The Phantom of the Opera at the Palais Garnier tonight? Thank you guys, it's really rather fitting though, isn't it?"
"Yes it is, quite by accident really. Here, take some money for a cab or the métro."
"I couldn't possibly…"
"Please monsieur, after what you've done for us earlier in the year with authenticating the heart of Louis Charles, locating the last letter Marie Antoinette sent to her cousin Catherine, and painstakingly restoring a centuries old vase, it's the least we could do."
"Fine." I say, accepting the euros.
Stepping into the open air of Paris it's quite easy to understand the lure of the city to artists and romantics alike. The historical beauty and bustling energy give the place an air of hope and attract aspiring artists like my cab driver.
"The names Clifford but you can call me Cliff, everyone does." I was greeted as I slipped into the newly hailed cab.
"So, where're you off to?"
"The Palais Garnier please."
"Ah, that's a beautiful theatre, the ceilings painted by Chagall are absolutely gorgeous. I'm a bit of an artist myself actually. I have some pictures on my phone if you'd like to see a sample of my work?"
And so I did when we were stuck in traffic on the Champs Élysées. One painting he showed me was an abstract portrait of his dog. I thought his "dog" more closely resembled a turtle, but it was abstract so I didn't judge.
Once we arrived at the theatre I paid my fare and bade the eager young artist good luck in his endeavors. Walking through the doorway of the crowded theatre I was immediately in awe of the opulent detail and luxurious murals. A crystal chandelier, one of many, hung gracefully from the ceiling surrounded by swirls of color. Apple red, forest green, deep purple, and dark gold outlined gorgeous patterns. Baby cherubs play lyres on the wall while curious fairies flit around them. It was truly a sight to behold and I felt a momentary pang that I didn't have someone special to share it with.
"I see you're admiring the place. I'd drink it all in if I were you, we'll be closing for repairs tomorrow and who knows how long that'll take." An usher spoke to me, drawing my attention.
"So I've heard. What are the repairs exactly, if you don't mind my asking?"
"Well the basement keeps filling up with water no matter how many times the cracks are sealed, it's like this place was built on a lake or something, and the roof could also use a patch or two. The chandelier by the stage needs to be rewired as well, don't tell anyone I told you this but it almost fell on someone last week."
"Huh, good to know I guess."
"I should probably show you to your seat Hon, the show's about to start." I handed her my ticket and followed her down the rows of red velvet seats until we came to mine which, just my luck, happened to be right under the chandelier. Perfect.
"Enjoy the show." She handed me a program and I sat down just as the lights began to dim.
The stage lit up and the show started with an auctioneer selling items from the Opera Populaire. The scene changed soon and haunting music reverberated around the theatre as the Phantom of the Opera caused a disturbance during a rehearsal of Hannibal. As leading lady Carlotta declared she wouldn't put up with the Phantom's activity at the opera house and left the production, one of the actresses near the back caught my attention.
"Christine Daaé can sing it sir." As the young woman playing Christine stepped forward I felt that I knew her. I couldn't see her face well from where I was sitting, but I couldn't help but feel that we've met before. Her every move, every gesture sparked recognition in me.
"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye." That voice was so familiar, it spoke of picnics in the attic, of whispers in the dark, and secrets between friends.
"There will never be a day when I won't think of you!" Can it be? Can it be Nina? It couldn't be, but every bone in my body said yes.
"Please promise me that someday you will think of...of...of me!" The crowd cheered as she held out the high notes at the end. How come I never knew she had such an amazing voice?
Lost in thought, I hadn't noticed the scene had changed again until Raoul spoke to Christine. "Christine Daaé where is your red scarf?"
"Monsieur?"
"You can't have lost it, not after all the trouble I took. I was just fourteen and soaked to the skin!"
"Because you had run into the sea to fetch my scarf! Oh, Raoul. So it is you!"
"Christine. Little Lotte, let your mind wander..."
"You remember that, too?"
"'Little Lotte thought,' Am I fonder of dolls...'"
"Or of goblins or shoes..."
"Or of riddles or frocks?"
"Those picnics in the attic? Or of chocolates?" Raoul asked her if she remembered.
"Father playing the violin..."
"As we read to each other dark stories of the North..."
"'No, what I love best', Lotte said,' is when I'm asleep in my bed and the Angel of Music sings songs in my head!'"
"The Angel of Music sings songs in my head!" Raoul repeated.
Soon, Raoul left and the Phantom/Angel of Music sang to Christine. The mirror opened up and revealed the "Angel". Christine stepped inside as he beckoned her and the mirror closed behind them. A veil of mist flooded the stage as the haunting tune of The Phantom of the Opera played while Christine was ferried across the underground lake.
Enraptured by the performance, I didn't realize the production was halfway over until the lights came up for intermission. The first thing I did was check the program for her name.
Cast In order of appearance
Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny ... Jérôme Paradis
Carlotta Giudicelli ... Josephine Wilson
Christine Daaé ... Nina Martin
So it is her. It's been eight long years since I last saw her. She may not remember me, but I remember her.
I strolled back to the main lobby to stretch my legs and took in everything around me, the sights and the sounds. People of all different origins were mingling around speaking to each other in different tongues. I caught snippets of English, Spanish, some German, and of course French here and there.
"Puis-Je emprunter un euro, Papa? S'il vous plaît?" A young girl asked her father which I roughly translated to: Can I borrow a euro dad? Please? I'm not quite sure that's what she said though, my French is still a bit rusty from high school.
"Oui, ma petite Cherie. Attendez! Je vais aller avec toi."
Leaning against the wall, I noticed a woman in an old fashioned scarlet gown and cloak, circa early 1900's by the look of it. She had dark hair that fell just above her waist and draped herself over the Y shaped marble staircase, gazing forlornly off into the distance. I was about to approach her when she suddenly came to life and began to dance around, gracefully twirling and leaping past the steps like she's walked them every day of her life. She stopped suddenly by the banister and fell to the ground in a heap, but before I could take a step a man clothed all in black reached out to her and they began a partner dance together. They waltzed effortlessly through the crowd and soon vanished right before my eyes. No one around seemed to have witnessed the entire event. It was just like I'd imagined the whole thing, two phantoms of the Paris Opera re-appearing for a final dance together.
I followed the throng of people back through the doors into the theatre and sat down as the velvet curtains began to part for the second half of the show. The rest of the production was absolutely brilliant, though I disliked the kiss between Christine and Raoul after All I Ask of You more than I'd like to admit. When the time came for curtain call the cast received a standing ovation and the guy behind me let out an ear splitting whistle after every bow. Once the curtain closed and the lights came up, I resolved myself to finding Nina somehow and catching up with her. Of course I wasn't allowed backstage, but I caught a glimpse of her leaving the wing on stage right and called out to her, "Nina Martin where is your locket? You can't have lost it, not after all the trouble I took. I was just sixteen and scared out of my mind."
"Because you snuck into Victor's office to fetch it for me! Oh, Fabian. So it is you!"
"It is. You were amazing tonight Nina, how come you never told us you could sing like that?"
"Back then singing was just for the shower, I didn't think much of it at all." An awkward silence prevailed.
"So, how have you been?"
"I've been good, when I returned to America for senior year I started getting into acting more and eventually ended up traveling with shows across the country, and when I auditioned for the Phantom of the Opera I never expected to end up here. The siren call of the stage is hard to resist, performing just makes my blood sing and I know when I'm up there that this is what I'm meant to do. What have you been up to?"
"After getting a PhD in history I became a historian and have been finding and authenticating artifacts around the world. That's actually why I'm here tonight, a journal was found in someone's dusty old attic that may have belonged to Gaston Leroux. It contains evidence that this very theatre was his inspiration to write Le Fantome de L'Opera."
"I can see that. There's something about this place that feels, magical."
"Yeah. So Nina, um do you...would you like to uh take a walk through the city, with me?" I stuttered.
"Sure." She giggled.
We ended up traipsing through Paris in the dark catching up on the last eight years of each other's lives. After an hour or two we came to a stop on the Pont des Arts over the river Seine. With the moonlight reflecting on her hair and shining eyes and the Eiffel Tower all lit up in the background she looked almost ethereal, like a phantom or an angel. Mon ange. "Anywhere you go let me go too." I whispered.
"Say you'll love me every waking moment, turn my head with talk of summertime." She continued.
"And say you'll share with me each night, each morning." We sang together.
"Say you love me." She whispered as we slowly moved closer.
"You know I do."
"Love me that's all I ask of you." We softly sang in unison. I closed the infinitesimal gap between us to capture her lips with mine. The moment was absolutely perfect until a raindrop fell on her nose. We both looked up as it suddenly started pouring and were soon soaked to the skin, but that didn't matter. After years spent without her by my side I finally found my love, at midnight in Paris.
"You know, I've always wanted to be kissed in the rain." She said to me with that beautiful voice.
"Then allow me to grant that wish, my angel." My Angel of Music.
A/N: So, I hope you liked that. I know that Victor never took Nina's locket but I wanted that moment to be reminiscent of Raoul and Christine's reunion in the production and it's all I could think of. Also, if you were wondering about the Palais Garnier being Leroux's inspiration to write the book The Phantom of the Opera is based on, I read online (so who know's if it's true) that it was quite possible. The Paris Opera, as it is also known, was built on swampy land so the foundation was built over a water tank rather than a lake, and during construction of the building a worker was killed when a counterweight fell from the chandelier which may have played a part in inspiring Leroux. I have never been to Paris, though, so all descriptions are either from my imagination or what I could see from google images. If you wanted to know the French translations I didn't put in the story here they are in order: "Yes my little darling. Wait! I'm going to go with you." Mon ange: my angel. Since I've only taken a total of four trimesters of French I can't guarantee much accuracy. Also, if you want to listen to some good covers of the Phantom of the Opera soundtrack I would listen to Nick Pitera's one man phantom of the opera and Lindsey Stirling's phantom of the opera medley (she rocks out on violin), you can check them out on youtube. Also on youtube is the live production at Albert Hall from 2011, the video is good quality and has the whole show. Sorry for such a long author's note if you've read the whole thing, I just have a lot to say. ;)