Author's Note: Welcome to Verbis Evestigatus, a slightly alternate universe fic of the POTO genre. Although no stranger to original writing, this is my first "phan" fic, as well as my first fanfiction. Having recently seen the2004 POTO movie, I have finally been hit with the Phantom Obessession. A little slow on the uptake, I know, but better late than never. :-)
This fic follows the timeline of the Paris Commune, beginning in 1870. To help ensure historical accuracy, for my purposes I am backing up the Phantom/Christine situation one decade from its original setting in 1881.
The characters and relationships of this fic may be altered from their original parts in either book, musical, or movie. Their personalities, however, will remain in sinc with those of their published counterparts. Speaking of which...
...to the disclaimer!
Disclaimer: Having been denied both my birthday, Christmas, and wonderful-human-being present, I still have not been granted the legal rights to any of the characters within any POTO medium. I suppose I'll just have to stay good and keep asking...
...but for now, on to Verbis Evestigatus
P.S. Please regard this as an introductory chapter. It is considerably shorter than the length I am planning on for the majority of the oncoming updates.
...and now, really, truly, on to the story!
Chapter 1
Safety.
A word defined by the warmth of a mother's embrace, the longevity of a friendship, the arms of a lover. An unchanging assurance of protection against the cruelties of life. It is in safety we hope, placing our faith in fear's ultimate antipode.
And it is because of that fear that we run. Fear that retrogresses us into our frightened childish selves. Fear that seems to make us forget our stability of station and accomplishment. Fear, whose right hand man is Doubt, cripples our maturity and summons the uncertainty within ourselves. Fear that unleashes us to search for a remedy to our most rudimentary need…
To be safe.
The need for shelter during the rain of altercation and adversity. We search for a blazing fire to ward off danger, to warm our cold and trembling selves. We trust in our beads, our chants, our crucifixes. We dutifully perform every step of caution to ensure our security. It is the origin of superstition. It is why we put our trust in material values. It is why we hope. It is why we pray. Anything to escape the darkness. And sometimes it is to the darkness we run…
Never has there been a more aesthetic feeling of repose than to be cloaked in the protective blanket of promise. We yearn to find the allaying release that only comes when we are ensconced in the deepest of sleeps. When conditions arise beyond our foresight or control, we cast hope to the guarantee of a constancy that is transcendent beyond all circumstances. An aegis of faith guarding against the fiery arrows of Fear and Doubt. It is in this safety which we place our faith.
And during our time of need, every one of us holds an ace in the hand life dealt us. Those guardians delegated to be the keepers of our confidence, our trust, our hope. A snug blanket, a loyal pet, a veiling mask…Havens offering their invincible walls of refuge as a place to retreat to…
A place to run to…
A place to hide…
But safety itself is never safe.
Those barriers constructed, those defenses raised, those walls built with the mortar of familiarity, the steel of routine, and the bricks of amenities are so easily destroyed by the thrust of a glance, the turn of chance, the vicissitudes of the unexpected.
Such a hole Risk pierces through the torpor of security. Suspicion drenches the former fires of friendship with the iciness of strained civility and caution. The chains of trust are snapped by the crushing blow of Betrayal. But all these offenders bow in deference to the greatest raider in the sabotage of our havens…love.
The trigger pulled to fire the canons of Risk, Suspicion, and Betrayal, Love demolishes our fortresses of solitude. It rips down our so arduously constructed barriers of security. The flaming arrows of passion can melt the icy walls of our hearts. And when we have been stripped of our defenses, we are at our most vulnerable and no longer safe.
So it is safer to stay away from love.
It is safer to run.
It is safer to hide.
It is safer to stay safe.
For safety, in all its manifestations, is the treasure we are constantly searching for. We seek it in every negative turn of events, in every time of need, in every season of fear. We trust it as the constant stronghold of hope. It is in those things that we consider to be safe that we depend. Safety, above all things, is our light of confidence and courage in times of despair and darkness…
It was a word Christine Daaé had never known.
