12. Phantom of the Opera

A teenage girl could be heard sobbing as quietly as she could in the Chapel of the Paris Opera House. The place she would now call her home. It had been 6 months since her father had passed away and she missed him dearly. On this day in particular she was missing him because they would always spend the day together, just the two of them. They would visit her Mother's grave when they could and simply enjoy each other's company. As the young girl lit a candle for her Father and placed a Valentine behind his picture she held back her tears.

"Papa, I know you are safe in Heaven. I leave a Valentine with your candle and hope you receive it in Heaven. I love you Papa." She said feeling the tears forming in her eyes once again. She gave the picture a watery smile and turned to leave the Chapel.

She didn't want to face the other ballerinas in the corps, especially when they were no doubt going to yell at her for being out so late…again. It was well past the time that Madame Giry wanted her dancers in bed but she couldn't force her feet to lead back to her bed. She needed to do something to relieve the anguish that was growing in her chest, as if in an attempt to smother her. She had lasted so long during the day, planting a beautiful smile on her face, laughing with the other girls, listening to their mindless chatter and joining in where it would be considered appropriate. She needed to be nice to these girls, even when inside she was bitter at how little they knew of her suffering. Even her best friend didn't see the fake smile, the forced laughs, didn't notice anything wrong with her. The one girl who should have known her better than the others fell for it with the rest of the girls and staff.

She made her way to the wings of the stage and stood there timidly. Deciding whether or not she dared to walk onto that stage and sing her feelings out of her body. Deciding whether or not she was worthy enough to even set her feet on stage with the intention of doing something other than blending in with the other dancers.

"What could be so wrong with wanting to sing…" she tried to convince herself, "plus, it isn't like anyone is here or awake to listen to me or watch me right? No one would ever have to know." She spoke quietly to herself. And then a thought struck her, her father would want her to. Even if the Angel of Music wasn't going to come, he would want her to sing for him. Honor him on this day with her voice.

Finally, timidly, she tiptoed onto the stage possessing a grace that only a trained dancer could achieve. She positioned herself in the middle of the stage and took a singer's stance. One that her father had painstakingly taught her when he found the gift she had been graced with.

"Her father promised her he would send her the Angel of Music… her father promised her…" she whispered to herself, fighting back the tears that threatened to overflow.

In her mind a lone violin began to play the opening to one of her favorite songs. She forced the tears back and took on the emotion of what she was going to sing.

"Lascia ch'io pianga mia cruda sorte,
E che sospiri la libertà

E che sospiri,
e che sospiri la libertà

Lascia ch'io pianga mia cruda sorte,
E che sospiri la libertà

Il duolo infranga queste ritorte de miei martiri sol per pietà,
de miei martiri sol per pietà.

E che sospiri la libertà"

Her voice lifted and gently sang the words that had touched her. Some would even argue that this girl had a better voice, as untrained as she was, than La Carlotta. As the last note disappeared into the theatre the young woman curtsied and looked to the heavens. She was about to say something when she heard clapping.

She looked around frantically, wondering just who had heard her sing out here. No one was supposed to be awake. Her heart was a flutter with panic and she wanted so desperately to run but her legs wouldn't move. She was paralyzed.

"Brava," the mysterious person said to her, "you did well, though you lack the flexibility at the moment to make that piece as beautiful as it has the potential to be." He continued quietly.

She simply stared out into the theatre trying to figure out where the voice emanated from. Quickly her fear was replaced with anger.

"Who are you to tell me whether or not I made that song beautiful?!" she almost spat, "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and no one was supposed to behold that performance" 'on this plane at least' she finished in her head.

"Who am I to tell you?" the voice asked quietly, "I see you no longer think you need the help of the Angel of Music, Christine. I shall take my leave of you then." The voice responded angrily.

'The Angel of Music?! Can this be? Father sent him to me finally?' Christine's mind was a mess of thoughts. She fell to her knees at the thought that she would once again be alone.

"Please wait! Ange, please. I meant no harm!" she begged him, "I simply didn't expect to be heard, and in my fright I lashed out!" Christine pleaded with the bodiless voice.

When no one responded to her and the time after her plea stretched even farther Christine got up numbly and went to return to her bed in the corps. She knew she would have to deal with the consequences eventually, but she was too worn to care.

She returned to her bed without making a noise which meant no ballerinas would be able to rat her out in a moment where they needed to get all of the attention off of themselves. As she approached her bed she saw a single rose laying on her pillow, a black ribbon wrapped around it to attach a note. Christine opened the note:

Christine,

It was a pleasure to finally hear you sing. If you wish to receive my help in improving your voice meet me tomorrow night in the theatre once again. We shall start your lessons at that point in time. Simply speak my name and I will be there. Happy Valentine's Day.

Angel of Music

She gently laid the rose on the bedside table that she shared with the girl next to her, and tucked the note under her pillow. And for the first time since her Father died, Christine was eagerly awaiting the next day.

It had been four years to the day since she had first encountered her Angel, the Phantom of the Opera as he was more widely known. Only two months ago she had found out that her Angel was the same person as the Opera Ghost who had been terrorizing the Opera House for years. It was also right around that time that Raoul had returned to her life.

For four years her Angel had helped her recover from the bitterness of loss, and the pain of loneliness. He had been nothing but kind to her. And then… she hated to think about it, her Angel had begun to hurt people. He cared for no one but himself. She was just a prize to be won by him. All her Angel wanted was to steal her away from Raoul, her childhood sweetheart.

'But, he looked at me with such love in his eyes, such hurt that I could never inflict upon another person. But I had hadn't I?' her mind told her.

Today was, once again, Valentine's Day, the day on which she had first met the Phantom, under the guise of being her Angel of Music. He spoke to her with such emotion in his voice, such sadness, such sincerity. How could she shun her Angel as she had been doing simply because of his face? But it wasn't just his face anymore, it was his actions. The murders that he had committed.

Christine paced her dressing room. She should have been running her lines and trilling the songs that she needed to prepare for tonight's performance. It was the opening night of the Phantom's, her Angel's, opera. But all she could do was think about her Phantom. She was worried about his safety. Raoul was going to kill him.

'Calm yourself Christine' she told herself. A knock, hard and cold, rapped on her door.

"Little Lotte," the voice called, and Christine could barely hold back a cringe. She had grown up so much since she was Little Lotte. He needed to stop clinging to the past. Nonetheless, Christine opened the door to her sanctuary.

"Raoul," she forced a smile on her face so that he wouldn't see her confusion, "how nice to see you."

"Lotte," he continued not sensing the worry that was in her aura, "I have reservations for us at one of the new restaurants in town. I thought we would go to celebrate our first Valentine's together as being affianced." Raoul grinned to her and she bit back a scoff at the idea. She had a show to prepare for.

"Raoul, I hate to say but I can't." Christine responded to her childhood friend, "I have a show to prepare for. Remember? Tonight is the premiere."

"I expect you to be ready in the next fifteen minutes to go there with me Lotte." Raoul continued on like he hadn't even heard her. She hated it when he did that. Like her thoughts didn't even matter.

"Raoul!" she let annoyance color her voice a bit, "I told you I have a show to prepare for! My art comes first. No matter the circumstances. I have to give a show worthy of the money these people are paying to see it." She continued on and Raoul's grin drooped a bit.

"Christine, you will listen to me. An outing would be good for you, to get your mind off of the stress that is surrounding you. I have already cleared it with Monsieur Reyer and Monsieur's Andre and Firmin. They have given you leave for the afternoon to come with me." Raoul reiterated as if she was only worried about their reactions.

"Raoul! I said no!" Christine said a bit more forcefully, "Now I would appreciate it if you would leave me be to rehearse on my own for this performance."

"I will be back for you in fifteen minutes Little Lotte. You will see that I am right about getting your mind off of everything once you get dressed and ready to go." Raoul grinned once more and walked away down the hall to prepare his carriage. Of that she had no doubt.

Christine closed the door forcefully, only barely resisting the urge to slam it shut as he walked away from her. How had she forgotten about Raoul's behavior? If anything he was the one who cared nothing of what she thought. Raoul never seemed to give her a chance to say anything, and if he did, he didn't hear what she was saying. Raoul simply thought that if her mouth was moving she was going to willingly go with whatever he had proposed. Like some kind of mindless doll. A shudder raced over her spine at that thought. And then like some chord was played, all she could feel was a fury, cold and hard like the stone she was surrounded by.

Due to this feeling, Christine raged in her room. Well, as much as she could without ruining her voice which she had been intentionally saving for tonight's grueling performance. As if on instinct Christine suddenly stopped in front of her mirror and quietly sang: "Angel of Music…" Then she scoffed at the thought that the Phantom would be there for her, she had hurt him horribly. She had betrayed his trust, he had betrayed hers too. But she had gone one step worse and taken advantage of his trust in her and invaded his most closely kept secrets. Secrets that she was in no way ready to know.

Christine sat on her bed and put her head in her hands. She wanted to be comforted by someone, someone who would listen to her, someone who would care about what she wanted to do. Tears came to her eyes as she thought on what she had done. She had hurt the one person who had taken away her pain. The one who had given her something to live for. The one who had once saved her from the bitterness of despair and the pain of loneliness.

She couldn't cry now. Not so close to the time of a performance, it would ruin her voice. So in response to her impending tears she stood up, straightened her back, pulled back her shoulders and sang. The same song she sang so many years ago on this very day. A song about sorrow, a song about pain, and how it would end sometime soon. No longer was the melody simple and childlike. It had ornaments in all the right places, her dynamics were carefully controlled and because of her training she knew if her Father were here to hear her he would be so very proud of his little girl.

"Brava, Christine." A voice said softly… sadly. "You have learned well."

"I was taught by the best." She replied simply, the same level of soft. "Are you there in the mirror Phantom?"

"I heard you call for me Christine…" he continued sadly, bitterly, "was it just to torment me with what I cannot have?" he bit out, but the normal venom was lacking slightly.

"Phantom, would you open the mirror please," Christine asked him quietly, hesitantly. She heard a heavy sigh and the mirror moved across the frame silently.

Standing there, in his finery, stood the Phantom of the Opera. He was the same as she had seen him months ago in his lair. His presence was commanding, and powerful, and tinged with sadness and bitterness. The same bitterness that she knew flourished in her spirit so many years ago, before she met this man. As if entranced Christine walked towards him and she found herself laying her hand upon his mask as she gazed into his eyes. As soon as her hand made contact with his mask the Phantom hissed and took a step backwards fear coupled with mistrust blazing in his eyes. That stung Christine more than she ever thought it would. Yet she tried once more moving deliberately slowly, making sure he knew that she wouldn't remove his mask or hurt him, or invade his privacy again without his permission.

The Phantom watched her with interest and reasoned that if she was trying, on her own, again, he shouldn't refuse her. No one ever willingly touched him, no one ever had. And for this beautiful creature to want to touch him, even if it was only his mask, who was he to refuse her? Christine's hand made contact and then her other hand made contact with his other cheek, the uncovered one. Christine simply stood there staring into his eyes, watching as they flickered between so many conflicting emotions. She watched as the Phan… no her Angel, made decisions about her.

"Christine…" he whispered and he made to move a bit closer and place a hand on her face.

"Christine!" a voice called loudly, and Christine watched as the moment was broken, the trust she had received was shattered and his eyes became hard once more. The Phantom made no move to push her away or touch her at all, he only disappeared back behind the mirror again a scowl on his face.

"Christine!" the voice called again, the voice belonging to Raoul, "I came to get you. The carriage is outside.

Raoul opened the door not bothering to knock and she looked at him absolutely furious about his lack of respect. His glowing grin made her stomach turn. Anger made its way to her face, no not anger, rage. Seething rage appeared on her face for the first time in her life. She had gotten him to trust her again for the first time since she went down with him to his home. And this buffoon had ruined it!

Raoul sees the look on her face and he continues to smile.

"What is it Christine? Having some issues figuring out what it is you wish to wear to please me?" Raoul said playfully, "Or do you not have the right accessories to make the outfit complete Little Lotte?"

"Get out." she hissed to him through her teeth.

"What Little Lotte? I didn't catch that." Raoul's eyes shone in amusement.

"GET OUT!" She yelled at him. "Get out of my dressing room you insufferable pigheaded imbecile! I don't want to see your face again for the rest of the day do you hear me?!" She continued to yell at him. Acting like the diva that everyone has accused her of being.

"Christine, what's wrong? What has happened?" Raoul moved closer, and she hissed once again and backed away from him venom in her eyes as she poised to strike him should he move closer to her.

"I said, get out Monsieur Vicomte," she snapped at him. "Or you will leave me no choice but to leave this Opera House forever."

Raoul backed up slowly, looking at her as if she was mad and left her room. She walked over to the door and closed it a little more loudly than she needed to. She then rested her forehead against the door and breathed heavily.

"Christine?" a certain voice murmured, "Why did you yell at him?" His disembodied voice couldn't help but linger a little longer, is surprise and confusion.

Christine turned to see the Phantom standing in her mirror with wonder on his face.

"Please Phantom I wish to be left alone for a while. I need to think." She responded to him, burnt out from her tirade. The Phantom nodded his head once and turned to leave Christine be. But before he could completely leave and return to his shroud of darkness Christine called to him.

"Phantom?" he turned and raised his eyebrow to her, a silent answer to her inquiry, "What is your name? Your birth given name." She specified.

"That is very private Christine…" he whispered, not quite mad, "why would you ask that of me? I left that name a long time ago." Bitterness crept into his voice once again.

"Please, it gets annoying when I can only refer to you as either The Phantom or my Angel of Music." She gently insisted out of practicality.

"As you wish Christine. My name is Erik. That is all you shall know for now." He turned to leave once more. Before he closed the mirror he looked back, "Merde. You will perform wonderfully tonight."

The mirror closed behind Erik as he left Christine's room and she smiled. Christine then turned to rehearse for that night's performance of Don Juan Triumphant.

Hours flew as if they were minutes and soon enough Christine was waiting in the wings to make her entrance in the middle of Act III for her duet with Don Juan. As soon as she saw Don Juan and Passerino leave the stage she strutted on and wandered around the table. Acting as if all she wanted was to grab a piece of fruit and roll it about in her hands while she waited for Don Juan. Yet, the entire time she was trying to figure out where exactly the guards were stationed. She was drawn from her search as she heard a familiar voice sing

"Passerino, go away for the trap is set and waits for his prey!"

Erik was going to be on stage with her! He was going to sing with her. As he entered with his verses he practically undressed her with his eyes, such was the intensity of his desire. He continued to approach her and ran his hands down her arms and captured her with his arms around her waist unabashedly. Erik was singing this to her. He was casting a spell that Christine was more than willing to be caught in. Then it was her turn, and she felt the words passing her lips burning with the truth of her hidden desires. In that moment she wondered what it would be like to have the Phantom as a lover. How he would treat her in comparison to the Vicomte. Erik had always protected her and helped her and guided her even when she didn't know where to go. And now she saw that she had not given her mind blindly, she knew what an Angel this man truly was even with all of his mistakes and scars and deformities. What man didn't have them? Erik's were just more honest, like he himself was.

As their voices intertwined Christine felt a joy that she hadn't known in so many years, here she was making music with the man she had come to love.

"Past the point of no return. The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn. We've passed the point of no return." The song finished softly and intensely. Christine's head was resting on the Phantom's shoulder and he was slowly, tenderly caressing her neck with his gloved hand. Then a different melody arose from him.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you'll need me with you, here, beside you." Christine turned to look at him love in her eyes and she was about to tell him yes! Always!

"Anywhere you go let me go too!" he pleaded with her, his eyes beseeching her to give him some sort of sign that he wouldn't be alone anymore, "Christine! That's all I ask of you!" he finished with a huge crescendo and tears clouded her eyes. For Erik to put himself out there, completely at her mercy, meant a great deal more than Raoul taking her aside.

"Oh Erik…" Christine breathed to him and tears rolling down her face.

Christine moved close to the Phantom and placed one hand on his cheek and kissed him lightly, innocently, knowing no other way to go about this, and yet conveying all of her love for him in that one kiss.

When she broke the kiss Erik had tears rolling down his face and he sang softly enough for her to hear, "Christine I love you."

"I love you too Erik, my Angel of Music." And with that he kissed her emboldened by her claim of love. At that moment the entire theatre went black and everyone began to panic. When the lights came up the Phantom and Christine had disappeared. Never to be seen or heard from again.

For this Valentine's Day both the beauty and the beast would be saved from the bitterness of loss and the pain of loneliness. Never again would they know those and anguish over them, for they had found each other and nothing, not even death would separate them.