A fan-fiction

Written by:

Chelsea Wilson

Music… he thought, I can hear music…

A strain of violin floated out to his ears as he opened his heavy eyes. He was greeted by blackness and a musty smell that almost smothered him, making it hard to breathe.

" 'If you ever find a moment…' "

Riku, straining, lifted himself up on his elbows, trying to see something, anything. He needed a light to bring him out of the darkness. Like usual.

"Wrong, wrong, wrong!" roared a voice off in the dark distance. "Are you deaf? What have I taught you? Tell me! Because I certainly didn't teach you that!"

A timid, woman's voice came from where the man's voice was coming from. Riku stood and tried to walk a few steps, "I must n-never strain on the higher notes in an aria-"

"So where did you learn to sing that way? I told you to never listen to the directors." The man's voice became soft, comforting. "Only listen to me. Only me. I know your voice better than anyone."

Riku tripped in the darkness and fell on a hard, wooden-feeling surface and plunged head first and toppled noisily on the floor.

He grunted in pain. "Real smooth, Riku. Real smooth."

"Excuse me? What are you doing here?" Came the woman's voice, slightly shocked.

Riku jerked his head up, a lamp light illuminated the small room that held a mirror and a changing screen. A pair of red pointe shoes lay across a small stool in front of the mirror.

"This is my dressing room. I'd like to know why you're in it."

He slowly looked up to where the soft voice came. A beautiful woman with long, spiral, curly blonde hair stared down at him expectantly with large, crystal clear blue eyes. Her skin was a pale, shade of a porcelain and glowed radiantly, almost like an unexplainable force inside her made her glow.

Riku found himself blushing painfully, caught off guard, admitting to himself that she was beautiful and he had no idea what he was doing here, which made the situation he was in even more uncomfortable.

He stood brushing off his clothes, then stopped his hands and gawked at his clothes. "What on earth?"

"I beg your pardon?" The woman asked, clutching a sheet of music to her chest.

"My clothes!" Riku's normal attire was replaced magically with a suit and an ice blue ascot at his neck. On his hands he wore white satin gloves with buttons on the sides.

What was going on? Where was he? Was he sent back in time?

"Please tell me why you are in my dressing room, sir! I've already had visitors for tonight," She slammed down her sheet music on the antique vanity and glared at him, "My next performance is tomorrow night, so if you'd be so kind as to leave my dressing room, I would greatly appreciate it."

"Uhhhh. Sorry. I uhm, don't really know where I am." He awkwardly bowed at his waist. It seemed like the right thing to do. He looked about himself at the lit room, "Wasn't there someone else in here with you? I thought I heard him yelling at you?"

Her face blanched as she balled her fists at her sides, restraining herself. "Sir, I would appreciate it if you left!" Her bare feet stomped on the old, wooden floor to the large door, flung it open with her left hand and pointed with her right out in the dark hallway. "Right away!"

Riku didn't move as he stared at her, making her feel uncomfortable, "What is your name?"

Her blue eyes seemed confused as she watched him warily. "Christine Da'ae, sir."

"What year is it?"

"What year? It's 1886." Christine moved forward, asking, "Are you alright?"

No, not exactly, Riku thought as he blankly stared at Christine. "Where am I? What city?"

"Paris. You're in the Paris Opera house," Christine said, with a small twinge of an accent that Riku hadn't noticed before.

Riku jammed a hand through his silver hair and pursed his lips together. "Oh brother."

"Do you need help?"

"No! I'm fine." He jerked the ascot from around his neck and stuffed it into his black jacket pocket as he strode out the door. "Sorry for the trouble."

"Goodnight, sir." Christine said, holding the door handle in her hands, confused. The light shone behind her, making her a dark shadow in a doorway of the year 1886.

"Yeah whatever," He waved a hand as he walked briskly through the darkness, now realizing that the darkness he was in was a dark stage with the curtains shut tightly. The opera house was quiet and still. You could hear a pin drop.

Where was he supposed to go? More importantly, how was he supposed to get back?

How did he get here?

"Why am I here?" He shouted off into the darkness of an empty, black stage in frustration. He put his hands in his pockets.

All he could remember was sitting on the island in the sunshine, with Kairi and Sora by his side, wasting the day away…

So what happened?

Here he was, in 1886, the Parisian Opera House, dressed in some weird drab and not having the slightest idea where to go or what to do next.

"Monsieur," came a voice behind him.

Oh now what?

"What is it?" He turned around.

A small ballerina with dark blonde hair and brown eyes stared at him expectantly. "What are you doing here on stage? The show's far past over. You need to leave."

"Great idea. Where to?"

"Home?" She replied. She tilted her head to the side and blinked, "If you don't leave, the Opera Ghost will find some way to make you." She raised her eyebrows, "And I'm sure, monsieur, it won't be a pleasant way."

"The opera ghost?" Riku scoffed and laughed, "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm afraid so. And he doesn't take pity on old men, either."

"I'm not old!"

"But you are! Look at your hair!"

"It's naturally this color!"

"Whatever you say, sir. But all the same, I suggest you leave immediately."

Without a word, she walked off stage and into the shadows of the blood red curtains.

There he was, alone again.

Riku sighed, looking around at his new surroundings, at a loss. He could try to find a hotel? Some place he could go to straighten out his head, figure out a way to get back home. If there was a way, which he prayed to God there was. He didn't think he could stand living over a 100 years before he was even born.

A small creak was heard behind him. He turned and watched as Christine, in a navy blue shawl and plain, floor length, light brown dress scurry out her door and down the long, gaping hallway.

She looked suspicious…

So he decided to follow her. Something about the way she reacted when he spoke of the man that "wasn't" in her dressing room made him uneasy. She was hiding something, he just didn't know what. He did know it had to do with that mysterious voice and he was going to find out what.

He walked after her quietly.

A cold, uneasy feeling settled over him following Christine. There was something not right about this. Riku wasn't one to turn back in the face of danger. It was rather the opposite actually.

He took a quick breath and continued his small mission…

To be continued...