Chapter II – Resurrections
The rest of the day seemed to float by in a haze. Christine bathed, picked out her outfit and matching accessories, changed her mind on her outfit, which lead to new accessories, fiddled with hairstyles for far too long and before she realized it, she heard the great Grandfather clock that had been in the de Chagny family for generations tole out a warning that she had fifteen minutes left before Raoul would arrive.
I'm sure he's already here, pacing and moaning to his sister... Christine thought bitterly as she started lining her eyes with dark kohl
"I just don't understand why she would want to go!" Raoul exclaimed to Patricia. He cut a sharp figure in his emerald jacket, his golden hair oiled and pulled back. He knew he wore his hair slightly longer than what was fashionable, but he liked it none the less.
Patricia sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position on the settee. She would not be attending tonight's festivities. She was far too old, mature, for such social events. Instead, she limited her outings to strolls with girlfriends in the park or intimate dinner parties with people she actually could stand to be around for more than five minutes. "I think it was silly to hide the whole ordeal in the first place..." She murmured as she bent to pick up the orange tabby cat that had silently slunk over, looking for some affection.
"I couldn't agree more..." Christine's voice answered from the top of the stairs. Immediately both of the de Chagny siblings turned to face her, and she could heard their sharp gasps of surprise.
To say she was a vision would be an understatement. She wore a tight gown made entirely of a red crushed velvet, so dark it was almost black, which only made her dark hair and eyes stand out all the more. The way the dress clung to her made her movements look fluid, as if she was gliding. The neckline was daring, scalloped and low enough to show her delicate collar bones, and the long sleeves exposed her shoulders. Christine chose only to wear a pair of Ruby earrings Raoul had given to her last Christmas to accent her outfit.
"Shall we go?" Christine asked shortly as she wrapped her snow white fur around her neck.
Not a word was spoken the entire carriage ride. Christine refused to meet Raoul's eyes and instead fixed her view out the window, although it was much too dark for her to really make anything out. It was very silly of her to still be mad about his lie from earlier, but yet, she found she was. She knew he honestly had wanted to keep from upsetting her, in all of the time that had passed they had brought up the opera house and that night enough times to count on one hand, but that didn't help lessen her anger in the least. The fact that she knew he was miserable with himself for being caught in a lie did make her feel a little better, however petty it made her.
Soon, she saw the golden lights and heard the commotion of the other carriages and she knew they were there. She felt her stomach tighten. Had two years really passed? Perhaps this was a bad idea. Could she face this place? What was the Opera Populaire without...him?
"Christine, no one is forcing you to do this..." Raoul's tone was barely above a whisper but Christine jumped like he had yelled.
"O-of course not...I want to go." Her reply sounded weak even to her ears, and she finally turned her head from the window and caught Raoul's intense gaze. He was trying to read her, and she was determined to hide her nervousness.
The outside had not changed much. You could see the lighter gray of the new stones, they clashed terribly against the old weathered stones that survived the fire. Christine turned her brown eyes to the sky and squinted against the darkness, trying to see if those menacing gargoyles had survived the renovation. Are you looking for gargoyles, or the flutter of his cape?
As soon as she walked inside, she had to put nearly all her weight on Raoul's arm to keep from fainting. Here was her home! Yet...different. What had once been almost gaudy with all its golden opulence was now transformed. The floor was a stormy gray marble, polished to a mirror shine. The grand staircase remained, but the carpet was now a rich navy blue. The ceiling had been painted with a biblical scene, a trend that seemed to flow over from Italy and Rome.
"I have to go say hello, will you be alright for just a moment?" Raoul whispered in Christine's ear. She did not take her eyes away from the scene before her as she gave him just the tiniest of nods.
She accepted a glass of champagne and made her way further into the ballroom, her eyes jumping from one detail to the next. All of those golden statues were gone, and in their places, angels carved entirely from stone. Christine moved closer to inspect one. Each crease and crevice was perfect, every single feather in their wings looked lifelike. It was their faces that captured Christine's interest, for on every single statue, a black silk blindfold covered their eyes, and yet, their expression were still so easy to read. Sorrow.
"Beautiful, no?" A friendly, yet unfamiliar voice, sounded next to her. Christine immediately dropped her gaze from the angel in front of her and onto the man at her side. He was a couple inches taller than her, but since she was only 5"4 that was hardly saying much, and he had a mess of red curls, twinkling green eyes and a look that reminded her of a someone who had just heard a joke and was not finished laughing quite yet. She took an immediate liking to him.
"Yes...magnificent. I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met, I'm Mad-" Christine started and raised her hand
"Mademoiselle Daae, your reputation precedes you." He finished for her as he bowed and lightly kissed her gloved knuckles. "I am Monsieur Harold Zidler, the proud owner of the new and improved Opera Populaire."
Christine felt herself blush at his knowledge of her. What reputation of her was talking about? Was it the mad, grief stricken child who was the mistress of a murderous genius? Or perhaps he knew her as the harlot who slept with the patron to steal the lead role? Maybe even he knew her because of her father's talent, although he appeared too young for that. "I'm pleased to make your acquaintance." She replied politely.
"Ah, I am the lucky one. To be meeting one the most gifted song birds of our time. Although, it seems this little bird allowed herself to be caged up before far too early."
Christine felt her blush deepen at his bold words, surely he knew why her career had ended? After all, he did buy the ruins her betrayal had left behind. She was unsure how to respond, all of the etiquette training Patricia had sent her to failing miserably.
Monsieur Zidler surprised her further when he gave a healthy chuckle at her obvious lack of response, "Oh Mademoiselle please do not look so horrified! I mean no offense! Come, let me show you more of my Opera House?" He asked as he offered her his arm, which she took.
Zidler showed her around the rest of the ballroom, pointing out the new electric lighting fixtures and more modern design. He bragged about how all the artwork was one of a kind, although he never mentioned his artist's name ("I'm not ready for my talent to be stolen from me"), and then he led her to the back corridors and the stage.
Christine felt as if her heart would stop entirely. There was the same stage she had spent nearly half her life. The same stage that she sang His opera on. The audience area had obviously been redone, and Christine immediately noticed the lack of a chandelier above. Her eye did catch on the patron boxes, one in particular. For a moment her breath hitched, watching for the tell tale sway of the curtains, or for the dark glint of his eyes, but there was neither. "Oh Monsieur Zidler, thank you for showing me this..."
"I am proud to show if off! If you look over here you can see how we managed to widen the wings..." The cheery man rambled on but Christine heard none of it, the music in her mind was too loud. It spoke of longing, pure, unbridled, all consuming passion, but then it also whispered of loving and the most devout devotion.
"Monsieur, do you think it would be possible for me to take a quick peek at the dressing room?"
With his back to her, Christine failed to notice the knowing smiling on the new manager's face, "Of course!"
Christine had to keep her hands clutched to her chest to control their shaking. Monsieur Zidler had led her backstage, which for the most part looked how she remembered, brown and cramped and boring, all the way to the Diva's dressing room before leaving her alone, "I trust you remember your way back..." were his parting words. With a deep breath, she opened the door and allowed the memories to overwhelm her.
This room was where she had stepped through that mirror and changed the course of her life. This was the room when her Angel turned into a flesh and bone man. But it wasn't this room. This room was decorated in yellows and creams, not garish pink, and instead of her blood red roses there was a vase full of wildflowers sitting on the dresser. And yet, the giant, gilded mirror remained. Christine walked up to it and placed her finger against the glass and felt her heart sink when she could see a gap between her finger and her reflection. It wasn't double sided. It was a new mirror. A real mirror. There was no spring mechanism. There was no masked man waiting to take her to his world devoted to Music. Suddenly, she felt tears sting her eyes.
"It really is over now..." She heard herself choke out.
"Christine!" An excited voice exclaimed, causing Christine to quickly wipe her eyes and whirl around. "It is you!"
Christine was barely able to open her mouth before arms were tightly around her neck, "Meg?"
The petite blonde pulled back, her smile wide, "You were the last person I expected to see here tonight! My God, you look amazing!"
Christine felt her smile break out as soon as she saw her old friend. Her golden hair was done up in an elaborate bun and she had on a pale blue dress, and she was just as pretty as always. "So do you! Oh, how I've missed you! What are you doing here?"
Meg laughed, "Christine, I work here, I'm the new instructeur du corps de ballet! What are you doing here? I thought you and Raoul were happily living in America!" Meg replied.
Christine's brow furrowed. "Why would we be living in America?"
Meg's smile faded as she met Christine's confusion with her own, "I tried visiting you not too long after...well, after everything happened, but I was told that you two had married and moved to America."
Christine felt her face drop in shock. Who had told her dearest friend such an obvious lie? "I'm sorry you were so misinformed...Raoul and I aren't even married..."
"Wow, we have so much to catch up on. Come on, lets return to the party and you can tell me about everything that has been going on for the past two years!"
With a backwards glance to the large golden mirror, Christine followed her old friend out of the dressing room.
Christine and Meg spent most of the night catching up. So much had transpired for the both of them. Meg had traveled to Italy and spent a year dancing, which is where she met her current beau, Alessio Costa, a very accomplished poet. She came back after a year and that's when her mother told her they were fixing up the opera house and not too long after that Harold Zidler came knocking on door and offered Madame Giry her old job back, but retirement suited the elder Giry so the offered was happily passed along to Meg, who in turn happily accepted it.
"Has there been any word of..." Christine whispered at one point in their conversation.
Meg swallowed hard as she shook her head, "No...obviously everyone has heard rumors and people still avoid the shadows, and I heard no builder would dare touch the under parts of the building, but I haven't seen or heard anything. I think Maman would have told me..."
The pair continued to chat and catch up and sip on champagne and all too soon Meg was called away by another acquaintance, but Christine made sure to give her Patricia's address and a promise that she did live there and would love to see her soon. After Meg's departure, Christine scanned the room briefly for her fiance, although she did not put much effort into it, and wasn't too disappointed when she spotted him in a corner with some business associates smoking cigars and engaged in some riveting debate. Christine downed the rest of her flute of champagne and decided to visit one last familiar location.
Her feet carried her purely off memory and before she knew it, she was pushing the heavy door to the roof open and breathing in the crisp, cold night air. She inhaled deeply and let the door slam behind her.
"Ah, so the gargoyles remain..." She mused out loud to herself as she walked forward. She remembered being young and finding them so frightening. Now, they comforted her. She lowered herself at the base of one and sat on the cold stone, thinking back to the night she first saw her Angel.
She had been crying. The other girls were teasing her, calling her an orphan. She ran to the roof to get away from their cruel words. As she sat shivering with tears running down her face he approached her.
"Are they teasing you again?" The man was just a dark figure against the moonlight, and his voice was so deep, yet so soothing, she didn't even think to wonder how he knew she was being teased in the first place.
She gave a loud sniffle and nodded her head. He offered her his handkerchief. "People can be so cruel, no?"
"I just miss my Papa." She had sobbed.
"I know. I hear you in the chapel." His voice continued to wash over her and sooth her, like a salve on a burn.
"Are you my Angel? Did Papa send you?"
"Yes."
"How naïve..." Christine again spoke aloud to herself, amazed at how innocent and trusting she had been. And yet, here she was, fully grown, still sitting up on a roof, wishing for an Angel to appear and tell her everything would be alright. With an aggravated sigh she shoved herself off the ground and stormed over to the door, yanking on the handle and nearly stumbling back when it opened as soon as her hand landed on it.
"Oh! Pardon me..." Christine exclaimed as a nearly entwined couple stumbled out onto the roof.
"Watch it..." A female voice slurred.
Christine was glad for the darkness of the night because it hid the blush she felt sting her cheeks. She dropped her head and stepped to the side to let the amorous pair pass when she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She raised her eyes just in time to catch the eyes of the man. It was so very dark on the roof, but for just a moment she swore she recognized the way they smoldered...
"Come on..." The obviously inebriated woman purred as she tugged on the man's arm and before Christine knew it, they had walked by.
With a chill that had nothing to do with the cold, Christine made her way back inside and to Raoul where she told him she was tired and ready to go.