Revised Version

Chapter 2

Remembering the Past

Christine, the countess of the De Chagny Estate, put down her cup of tea, smiling. It was the first time she had seen Meg since Raoul's death, and to her pleasant surprise, found that she had taken over Madame Giry's place in the opera, instructing ballet. Madame Giry had become the boxkeeper in the stead of a staff member who had mysteriously quit.

"That's wonderful," Christine replied, truly happy and excited for her. "When did you take over?"

"It was a little after you left. It kept me from missing you too much--but I still miss you terribly, of course! I'm so glad to find you well. I'm sorry I couldn't make the funeral. Things at the opera got very hectic, and I really felt guilty for not being there--"

"It's alright," she said emotionlessly, cutting her off mid-sentence. She didn't like to talk about Raoul's death very much. Where his love had filled her heart was a dreadful emptiness, which tempted her to think of the past.

"You know," she began again, "once I have my child—which is soon—I want to pursue my career in opera again. It is very boring to sit around here all day. That is all I've done ever since Raoul died."

"We'd be very glad to have you back," she said happily, her eyes lighting with child-like joy. After a few moments of happy silence, she hesitantly added, "Carlotta has not been easy to work with ever since...the accident, as you know."

Christine nodded solemnly.

Meg sipped her tea, looking at Christine. "Even before his death, she was unbearable. Afterwards, she became even worse."

Christine sat silently as Meg tried to smile. She knew Meg was trying to avoid the main subject, to keep her from thinking about it once again. It was too late, though—it had begun to happen the moment she mentioned the accident. Flashes of that night, first vaguely, but then clearly and crisply, and then too vividly, as though she was there at that present moment, passed through her mind.

Yes, Christine remembered that night perfectly. It was the one that haunted her every day in the back of her mind. The 'accident' they had been talking about had been Piangi's, which devastated Carlotta.

Oh, that wretched night! Christine thought. It was the night she chose Raoul and not the Phantom. The night Raoul and she got married. The night the Phantom killed Piangi. The last time she saw the Phantom, except in her dreams and in the shadows. The night she performed in Don Juan Triumphant as the leading role, and the Phantom assumed the role of Don Juan, since Piangi was indisposed, thanks to the work of a certain stray Punjab lasso. The night she kissed the Phantom and broke his heart once more, and more deeply. The night she never felt the same again. Oh, she had never been able to fully look Raoul in the eye without feeling a sense of shame or fear again, without seeing the Phantom hiding in the shadows, watching jealously, even though she was aware that she was probably just imagining him there. She was never able to sleep at night without a light to make her feel protected, as if a small candle would keep the Phantom at bay. She was never able to go out alone again, either; at least, not comfortably, without feeling that she was being watched. It was that night that changed her most drastically.

"Christine?"

Christine snapped out of her tormenting memories, and smiled apologetically at her anxious friend. "Sorry."

It was then the door opened.

"Countess," Mrs. Chambers addressed, "a man called for you just now. He wouldn't come in because he wanted to see you alone. The name he gave was O.G."

Christine frowned. "O.G.? Do you mean Oliver Gauntwood, Raoul's cousin? He did recently move to France... but then why would he wish to see me alone? He never travels without his sister, Olivia. And that would be odd of him to call, especially since I am supposed to see him tomorrow. Is he still here?"

"No, he's gone, and no, ma'am, this was not Oliver Gauntwood. This was a completely different sort of character. He dressed very darkly, and had a white mask which covered most of his face. He had a very strong presence, very... mysterious! That's the word! Very mysterious. He seemed somewhat ill, too. He said he was an 'old friend'."

"Christine," Meg said, turning to Christine quickly, "O.G. means--"

"Opera Ghost," Christine said faintly, realizing too, turning as white as a ghost herself.

"It can't be," Meg whispered, looking out the window blankly. "He disappeared four years ago."

Christine did not listen to Meg. The subconscious, faint, dim melodies that always played around in her mind suddenly became quite loud, and quite clear—louder and clearer than they had been in years, if not stronger—and fully overpowered her already haunted mind: The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind... I am your Angel of Music... Christine... Christine...

She was sure she could feel his breath upon her neck. The room was clouded, and she could once again see his lair, as she could only when she dreamt at night. The lake, the candles, the organ playing, and his face, that horrid and terrifying face, all becoming real and clear and appearing before her. His voice was drawing closer to her... closer...

"Countess? Are you alright?" Mrs. Chambers inquired, getting no response from the woman.

Your chains are still mine! You shall sing for me! she recalled him say at the Masquerade Ball, the night she and Raoul got engaged. His angelic, yet deceiving, voice drew closer still...

"Countess!" Mrs. Chambers cried worriedly, shaking her.

Christine regained control of herself again, taking in a ragged, sharp breath very quickly. She was once again in her study with Meg and Mrs. Chambers, not in the world below the Opera Populaire, and she heard no music (at least, not as clearly—she still heard faint whispers of her name in the wind that was blowing in from the window). She shivered, and the tingling sent more chills up her spine. How real it had been! Yet, she was safe, and the Phantom was not here. Christine sighed in relief and relaxed in the chair.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Chambers," she said, trying to smile to get her and Meg to relax their too-worried faces, "but I am feeling a little sick. Perhaps I need rest. After all, I am journeying tomorrow to see Oliver and Olivia. Meg, you will like him very much. He is a somewhat like Raoul, from what I recall. Very handsome. Perhaps he might even make a suitable husband for you...?"

Meg blushed and smiled. "He'll more likely make a suitable husband for you. But we'll see."

Christine smiled, but only outwardly. For the rest of the night, she could not get rid of the Phantom's longing, commanding, seductive voice--she never had been able to all these years--or that terrifying vision, and no matter how hard Meg tried, Christine could not be brought back to her former cheer nor could she fully pay attention to Meg. Meg eventually gave up and decided to go to bed; Meg was staying with Christine for a few days, as she was accompanying her to the Gauntwood mansion.

"Good night, Christine," she said, taking her hand gently and giving it a comforting squeeze. Christine faked a smile once more for her sake.

"Thank you. Sleep well. Don't forget; tomorrow you meet your future husband, so you should get a lot of beauty rest..."

Meg laughed. "I doubt a good night's sleep will make me attractive. But we'll see tomorrow, won't we?" she replied, a modest blush showing on her child-like face, and then she went to bed.

Once she was gone, Christine sighed, singing softly and unconsciously, "Will he always be there singing songs in my head... will he always be there, singing songs in my head..."

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dis/claimer: Olivia and Oliver Gauntwood are mine. You hear me? MINE! That means you can't use them without my permission. Also, Frances is mine. And Mrs. Chambers. The rest basically aren't for now. This dis/claimer pretty much goes for the whole story. Yeah.

A/N: Wow, four people thus far are reading this story! Now I feel the pressure to make it good. Right now, it's actually all written, but I have to edit it, which is a PAIN because I'm a perfectionist to the max—seriously, for "The Scottish Opera", I edited the first chapter (prose) more than 5 times before I said, "ok, it's getting late, I should get off". Um, I'm trying to prevent this from becoming "Mary-Sue" (blech), and I'm trying to keep it as realistic as possible. If I start heading down Mary Sue Lane, review and STOP ME!!! Please. Um, this is based off the movie, and whatever small amount of knowledge I know from the book which I never read.

Ok, I'm doing this in an attempt to procrastinate doing my History homework (it's all POLITICS, ugh), lol. Don't worry, it'll get done, I won't fail out. I hope.

Lady Wen: Yeah, it's been 4 years, actually. When I first wrote this chapter, I assumed a 10 year age difference between Christine and the Phantom, but I actually prefer thinking he is older now, mostly because it fits in with the Lerouxesque feel I'm trying to incorporate into this story.