A/N: I have a hopefully wonderful treat for you all! I was hoping to get this up before now, but I have been very busy with various things. I hope that I have not kept any and all who have taken a liking to this story waiting too long. I'd better stop rambling and let you read the next chapter. Happy Labor Day!!
Disclamier: You all know I don't own Phantom. *sigh*
Thanks to studpidamericanidioms91, sprinkledwithpearls, and citywolf27 for being the first three reviewers of this story!
And now for the next installment of A Visit From the Past....
Chapter 3: Back To Where It All Began
Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Hurry up, or we're going to be late! The carriage is waiting out front!"
Raoul sighed. Christine had been overly excited all day about returning to the Opera House, seeming to bring it up in every conversation she had with him purposefully, as if she knew he was dreading it. He didn't know how she possibly could with all her babbling about it. Even the maids had seemed to become increasingly annoyed with her bouncy excitement throughout the last few days.
It reminded him of their childhood years. She had always been the impatient one out of them both, always having loved surprises if she hadn't known about them in advance. If she had, she would pout around until it was revealed to her, ruining the whole element of surprise. And she sure contained enough impatience for him now.
He pushed himself to his feet, looked over himself once, and then turned to his bedroom door. Knowing he would more than likely regret it later, he reached out, turned the knob, and pulled it open slowly.
He froze, stiff as a plank of wood. He found himself blinking several times, believing his eyes not to be working properly.
She was wearing a beautiful, elegant white evening gown that seemed to fit her figure perfectly at every curve. It was more than perfect for the occasion, which normally might have concerned him, but he was too blinded by how dreamy-like she looked. Could he possibly be asleep?
Christine did not see his expression at first, for she was studying his attire just as much as he was hers. He was wearing the typical evening wear for men - several white garments to help keep him warm in the chilly weather, a black tailcoat, with fancy black trousers and dress shoes. When she looked up at him, she caught sight of his slightly raised eyebrows and smiled.
"Shocked, are we?" she teased.
Raoul cleared his throat, slowly rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "You look beautiful," he managed to say.
"And you look very handsome, if I do say so myself." Her smile widened. She stared at him for a moment, and then remembered the carriage. She glanced down the long hallway, towards the front door. "The driver was getting restless. We'd better go before he takes it upon himself to take up the reigns and leave."
Raoul silently thought to himself that no sensible man would leave if they knew just how much he was willing to pay. He held out his arm for her to take, just as any polite gentleman would. "Shall we?" he asked.
Christine took his arm willingly and they headed for the door. She realized as they did that he hadn't smiled once in the last three days, not even when she had agreed to stay by his side all evening and not wander off on her own.
Could there be something that was bothering him? He had seemed fine throughout the day, but now that she thought back on it, he had seemed a little glum ever since the arrival of Madame Giry's letter. It made her feel slightly guilty, for she had been talking about the Paris Opera House almost nonstop. She had failed to notice his mood at all.
Until now.
She knew at once what he was feeling without having to ask: dread. He was dreading the moment that their carriage would arrive at the Opera House. She could feel the unmistakable waves of it emanating from him.
Mary and Anita were standing at the bottom of the staircase by the door, obviously waiting for them. They both had old rags in their hands.
"Good evening," they greeted.
"Good evening," Raoul said, nodding once. "Are you two finished with the dusting?"
"Yes, sir," Anita answered. "The others are just about finished as well."
Raoul did not smile. "Excellent. Seeing as Christine and I are going to be out rather late this evening, I'm relieving you from your duties tonight. Kindly inform the other maids once we've gone."
The two women looked at each other in disbelief; it was true that Raoul rarely ever gave the maids time to themselves. It was even more shocking to Christine that he was going to let them relax while they were to be away for most of the night. He usually gave them back-breaking work to do in his absence.
Then Anita nodded. "We shall."
"Thank you, and good-night," he said, towing Christine along with him to the front door. "We'll see you both in the morning."
The maids took one look at each other and then burst into uncontrollable laughter. The next thing Christine knew, they were rushing up the stairs, each wanting to be the first to reach the landing to deliver the unbelievable news to the others; she laughed as Raoul opened the door and stepped out into the black night at his side.
"You know, I'm really starting to like those two," she admitted. "They are quite an inseparable pair."
"I'm glad." His voice was flat and emotionless. He avoided her gaze all the way to the carriage, and even when they were seated inside, he seemed to find the passing scenery more interesting than sharing his thoughts with her.
"Are you alright?" Christine whispered. He had seemed so deep in his thoughts that it seemed rude to break his concentration on them. But his glassy, unfocused eyes had been what had caused her to voice her concern.
Her question seemed to bring him back to reality from whatever world his mind had entered. He looked at her with a pained expression. His eyes swam with mixed emotions, ones that Christine could not pick out easily. All she could see was pain written all over his face.
"Raoul?" Her voice was filled with sudden panic. He was sitting directly across from her, and she shifted herself close enough so that she could touch his hand. "Say something."
He took her hand in his. "I. . . " He seemed not to be able to look directly at her. His gaze dropped to the floor as he sighed in defeat. "Just promise that you will stay with me tonight. Please."
Christine's brows stitched together in confusion. "I already have. . . You made me promise." Didn't he remember? "Is there something wrong?" she tried gently.
He slowly stroked her hand with his thumb. "I guess I'm just nervous," he said. "You and I both know that there will be dozens of people waiting for your arrival. You'll be like a queen returning to her throne." He tried his best to smile up at her.
Christine noticed how much effort it took him to do so, and knew at once that he was lying to her. Maybe not completely, but he was not being fully honest with her either.
What was really causing him to be so nervous? Had she overlooked something? Something. . .
And then it hit her like a ton of bricks.
She wanted to smack herself in the forehead for not figuring it out sooner. How could she have been so oblivious? She had had a nightmare about him, for God's sake! That should've made her realize. . . .
Perhaps she shouldn't have told Raoul about her dream. He had seemed almost more upset about it than she had, which was just proof of her suspicions. She could simply have told him that she'd seen a spider. It would have explained her scream, and why she might have looked as white as a sheet.
And she could have at least tried to keep the letter from his eyes for a while, just long enough to figure out how to break it to him. She could have had a whole day to plan it out.
And why had she received the letter on such short notice? Shouldn't Madame Giry have known how Raoul would react? She had said something about speaking to him about it first. But Christine knew there was something odd about the way she had gone about suggesting it.
Before she could think of any comforting words to say to him, the carriage came to an abrupt stop. She saw Raoul suddenly jerk to life.
"I suppose this is it then," he said, running his hands nervously over the front of his tailcoat. "The time has come for the return of the famous Opera star who has stolen my heart." He opened the door, stepped out into the cold night air, and held his hand out for her to take.
Christine took it without hesitation and stepped down onto the hard ground. All around her men and women of all ages swarmed around the carriage. Some were in such a hurry that they took no notice of her or the young patron at her side. Others stopped, gawked, and asked things like, "Are you Christine? Christine Daaé?" and "Is that really you? Are you the famous Miss Daaé?" She heard her name press against her ears from all sides.
Raoul, suddenly annoyed, took her hand and shoved through the enormous crowd, not bothering to apologize for those he caused to stumble to the side into others, who shouted many different insults at him. He barked back to the driver to wait at the entrance for them after the performance had ended.
"Raoul, Raoul!" she screamed at him over the roar of the impatient crowd. "Stop! You'll hurt someone!" She yanked her hand from his. He looked back at her with furrowed brows. The frantic look in his eyes did not go unnoticed.
He sighed with frustration. "If you are not willing to go in, then we will return to the carriage and take our leave," he announced simply.
She knew exactly why he was acting like he was. "We aren't leaving. At least, I am not. You still have the choice to go if you so desire to. No one is keeping you here by force," she pointed out. "I invited you to be with me tonight, and if you no longer wish to be, then I see no further reason why you should be here." She cocked an eyebrow in an almost challenging manner and waited for his reply.
Raoul stared at her for the longest time, as if he could not believe she was standing there. Then he took one sweeping look around at the tightly-packed crowd of people and sighed again. Why was he so weak when it came to her? The answer was quite obvious, even to him: He loved her with all the fiber of his being. "Onwards to the doors of the Opera House," he said unenthusiastically.
Christine could tell his tone was purposeful, but she let it go. There wasn't any good reason to start another heated argument - or "discussion", as Raoul liked to put it - in public.
It took some time to weave their way through the remaining people. It seemed like more and more unfamiliar faces were staring at her as she continued the slow journey towards the entrance. She did her best to ignore them and their comments, along with other various things people were shouting at her over the bubble of excitement that now had them all on their toes to see over all the heads and top hats. The pushing and shoving began at the top of the steps leading up to the doors, and Raoul seemed to be willing to fight to the death for their spot.
Christine was surprised that he did not lash out at a man who pushed another into his side, causing him to stumble and lose his grip on her hand. When she found him again, his face was red with anger and annoyance.
"Are you alright?" she asked breathlessly.
Amazingly, he brushed himself off and smiled down at her. "I'm fine. Let's get in there before anyone else arrives." He took her hand again; this time he made sure to keep her safely at his side as they forced their way through the congested traffic by the door.
Once they'd squeezed through, she let out a breath of relief. "Where do you think they're all . . . coming from?" She was momentarily stunned by forgotten beauty of the entrance hall.
Raoul followed her gaze and laughed in surprise. "Unbelievable! After all this time, it looks just the same. . . ." He trailed off, looking around in a daze of disbelief. It might as well have been yesterday that he had brought flowers for Christine after her first performance in the spotlight.
They could not treasure its entrancing beauty for long; the people kept on piling in, pushing their way around them. Some threw them looks of pure dislike and others whispered things that neither Christine nor Raoul would ever resort to saying. They continued on at a slow pace, but were suddenly distracted by a cry of delight.
"Christine!" a familiar high-pitched voice squealed. "You came!"
Meg Giry came dashing through the crowd and caught Christine in a hug. She laughed, hugging her friend tighter, and then looked up to see Madame Giry making her way towards them at a much slower pace. Christine flashed her a smile over Meg's shoulder.
It was only when her mother reached them that Meg finally pulled out of the hug.
"You'll have to excuse my daughter," she said. "I told her there was a chance of you not showing up at all -"
"Oh!" Meg grabbed Christine's left hand to stare at the ring on her third finger. "It's beautiful!"
"She deserves the finest," Raoul said, standing up straight and fixing his tailcoat to suggest that the ring was not the only fine thing that belonged to her.
Christine laughed. "You'll have to excuse him. He's had a bit too much to drink this evening. He doesn't know what he's saying."
"I have not had a drop of anything, thank you, my dear Christine." He flashed her a smile, and Christine could not help but smile back.
"The managers have booked a box for you this evening, free of charge," Madame Giry announced. "We had better get in there now, while we still can. They would like a quick word before you take your seats." She began to walk back through the crowd, Meg just behind her.
Raoul held out his arm again for Christine to take. "Shall we?" he asked.
Christine took his arm, put a smile on her face, and took his arm. "I see you've taken up a change in mood," she noted.
"I might as well act like I'm having a great time," he whispered back. "Otherwise, it's a waste of a night."
They followed the Girys' through the clusters of people until they found them standing with the two managers, Richard and Andre, down by the first row of seats.
"Miss Daaé! How lovely it is to see you again!" Andre shouted above all the other conversations various people were having around them. He took her hand and quickly kissed it.
We were hoping you'd attend tonight's performance," Richard intercepted, not even allowing a heartbeat of time to be wasted. "There is much we need to discuss, as you probably already know."
"Pardon me, gentlemen," Raoul interrupted, "but I would like to take our seats before we discuss any business. The curtain rises in fifteen minutes, does it not? Would you care to accompany us to our box?"
Christine saw the nervous looks the two exchanged at his suggestion. Andre turned to Madame Giry and gave her a look that was undoubtedly a signal.
The next second, Madame Giry said, "Please, follow me, monsieur" and dragged both Raoul and Christine back to the entrance hall and up the stairs that led to the higher boxes. "You will have to forgive them for this," she said as they began the climb. "This was by no means intentional. It was the only box left unsold, and they desperately tried to trade, but of course no one would. . . ."
Christine almost lost her footing on the stairs when she realized just what Madame Giry was trying to tell them. Raoul put out a hand to steady her in concern, which she pushed away. Her heart began to beat rapidly in her chest, and she suddenly felt as if she couldn't get enough air. Was this really happening?
That's when Raoul seemed to understand, for his eyes widened and he stopped short, putting out a hand to stop Christine from going any further. "No," he said, shaking his head from side to side. "How could they even think -"
Madame Giry turned around and walked back to the two of them. "It is not their fault, monsieur. I myself tried as well, to no avail. I assure you, if there was anything we could do to change -"
"There's no need for that," Raoul said coldly, raising a hand. "We will leave now and save you the trouble." He put a protective arm around Christine and started to turn away.
"Wait, please, monsieur," Madame Giry pleaded. "We would love for you to stay."
A heartbeat of silence. "No," Raoul said without turning around. "You would love for my fiancé to stay. I forbid it." He waved his free arm in a dismissive manner above his head. "I cannot believe how much everything - no, everyone - has changed. I might have expected this from the managers, but I certainly would not have expected this from you, Madame. Good evening to you." He began the descent back down to the main floor.
Christine did not follow.
He finally looked back up once he was halfway down. "Come with me, Christine. You do not need this." He held out his hand, which she did not move to take. He sighed. "Did I miss something?"
Madame Giry moved to stand next to Christine at the top of the steps, who seemed to be frozen in time. "There are guards by the box, monsieur. They will leave you protected."
"I do not wish to be seated in box five, thank you, Madame, with or without protection," he said angrily. "If it were just me, I would most likely reconsider. But since I am not alone, I would die before I allow Christine to sit there. Even if I, and the guards, were to accompany her, it would not go as desired." He shifted his gaze once more to Christine, who had not moved once in the last few moments, and gestured to her still figure. "And as you can see, she is already scared out of her mind by the thought."
Christine seemed to find her voice then. "No, no. I'm fine. I would still like to see the performance." She saw Raoul's face go pale at her words. "If at any time you would like to leave, then that is what we will do. I promise you."
He closed his eyes, sighed heavily, and put a hand to his forehead. How could she possibly still want to watch the performance from the box that the Phantom had once requested to be left empty for his own personal use? Raoul had sat in it once, believing there to be no Phantom of the Opera, and what had happened? He had nearly been strangled by the Punjab lasso in the Phantom's rage! Of course, that had been because he loved Christine, but still! There was no physical evidence that proved him to be dead, so why should he allow Christine to sit there? It would be like condemning her to death at the monster's hands!
But they were already here. They had come this far, so why should he turn back now? Perhaps if the Phantom decided to show, he would finally get another chance to duel with him and end it all with a single thrust of his sword . . . which he lacked at the moment.
"On one condition," he finally said, holding up a finger. "I shall need to borrow a sword."
Twenty minutes later, they were seated in box five. The guards were almost unbearably close, to Raoul's liking. Christine seemed not to notice them, too focused on the prancing ballet girls on the stage. He did not watch much of the performance; the weight of the sword now attached to his waist seemed keep him alert. It seemed to weigh ten pounds, like an unwanted burden.
Before he knew it, the curtain had fallen, and people were on their feet, clapping like it was their job to do so. He followed suit, pretending like he had watched and enjoyed the show, blending in with everyone else.
Christine turned to him once the standing ovation had ended.
"Didn't you love it?" she asked, her eyes alive with a fire he hadn't seen in a long time. "It was just beyond amazing!"
"It was," he said with a smile. He bent to kiss her cheek. "But you are far more beyond amazing," he whispered in her ear.
Five minutes later, they met Meg and her mother once again in the entrance hall.
"What a splendid show!" Christine said. "You were amazing up there, Meg!"
"I wouldn't have been if my ballet instructor hadn't made me practice so much," she insisted, looking up at her mother. "I swear I could do the steps in my sleep!"
They all laughed.
"Well, Madame," Raoul said, handing the sword over to her. "It seems that I will not be needing this tonight. But, in the future, if you let Andre and Richard book our box, make sure it is a different one. I would hate for this to become a regular occurrence."
"Of course," she said, taking the sword from him.
"I believe this is where we say good-night then, Christine," he said. "It's getting late."
Christine hugged both Meg and Madame Giry. "I hope we'll see you again soon. Please tell the managers to send a letter stating when they wish for me to come and discuss the business they spoke of. I'm dreadfully tired, anyway, and I would not be fully aware of what I would be agreeing to if I were to speak with them now."
"Don't worry, we will," Meg assured. "Good-night, Christine."
"Good-bye, Meg."
Christine and Raoul watched as they disappeared into the crowd.
"Are you ready to leave then, my love?" Raoul asked, tightening his arm around her waist.
"More than ready," she replied, resting her head on his chest. "But I need to use the washroom before we leave."
"Don't take too long, Miss Daaé," he whispered in her ear. "I'll wait here for you."
Christine took the stairs slowly. There was a washroom just at the top of the stairs. Hopefully, it would not be too crowded.
But when she opened the door and stepped inside, it was deserted.
She crossed the room to one of the sinks and looked into the mirror. Her hair looked a mess to her, but it was honestly not all that bad. Perhaps it was just because she was tired. She hadn't slept well because of her excitement in coming back to the Opera House. To her, it had been more than worth it. Now she could go back to Raoul's manor and sleep the night and morning away to catch up on sleep.
There was a small click sound that seemed to come from the door, which caused her to glance at it with a frown. "Raoul?" she called. "Is that you?"
There was no answer.
The door knob seemed to be calling to her, pulling her closer to the door. She couldn't fight the pull. She went unwillingly to the door, not even daring to breathe. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
She was released from the pull when she was within a foot of the door. She reached out and turned the knob. Fear began to rise in her when she tried several times to open the door and it would not budge.
The door was locked from the outside.
How odd, Christine thought. Shouldn't it lock from the inside? That's how she remembered all the other washrooms to be. Why should this one be any different?
She tried to compose herself. There was no need to panic; Raoul was just down in the entrance hall. When she would not return, he would surely come looking for her. All she had to do now was wait.
There was no reason for her to think her recent nightmare had somehow become real.
A small squeak, followed by the sound of running water filled her ears. She froze. There was someone else in the room with her!
Christine wanted to start screaming and bang on the door until her fists were raw and her throat was on fire. But curiosity got the better of her.
She turned around slowly, holding her breath. She wanted to close her eyes about halfway, but she had the sudden feeling that if she did, she would never open them again.
Water was rushing from the faucet, the left knob at a different angle than the right. She slowly walked to the sink and turned it back. It was quiet then, save for Christine's heavy breathing.
Then she had the sudden feeling that she was being watched. She dared herself to look up at the mirror in front of her. Nothing else could be as weird as a faucet acting of its own accord, right?
Just behind her, over her shoulder, stood a figure dressed all in black, save for the white half-mask upon the right side of his face. Christine's mouth fell open in a soundless scream.
"Hello, Christine," a dark, seductive voice greeted. Christine swore that the figure's mouth had not moved, but who else could have said anything? They were the only two in the room, and the voice had been male. "It has been a long time . . . far too long, don't you think?" His voice was inside her mind now, echoing around, refusing to leave.
He began to walk towards her, his black cloak swirling out behind him to reveal the Punjab lasso that lay beneath, secured to his belt.
That's when Christine fully opened her mouth to scream.
MWAHAHAHA!
Sorry, but I absolutely love cliff hangers (and I also hate them when they're really good, too)! So tell me what you think. Was this worth reading? I personally think it's the best chapter so far. Hint: Reviews only take a minute and they = future chapters!