Broken Through Time
Summary-
What would happen if the past and present collided and a young woman was dropped into a time she was not born into? What if she felt she belonged there more than in her own time? When the time comes, will this woman allow time to fix itself and place her back into her own time, or will she fight time and stay where she belongs?
Chapter Three-
Meg quickly walked down the hall way towards Christine's old room, her Christine's old room, with one of her old dresses in her arms. Her mother had told her to help the girl, Christine, dress for the day. Her mother had suggested she use one of the dresses in the armoire in her Christine's old room, but Meg refused. Just the thought of putting that Christine in a dress that had belonged to her Christine made Meg feel as if they were trying to replace Christine with her.
No, Meg would not allow that. So she was going to put the girl in one of her dresses, and then maybe try to convince her mother to move the girl to a new room. That room belonged to Christine, her Christine, not this girl who shared not only Christine's likeliness but her name as well.
Meg stopped when she came to the door of Christine's old room, she took a breath to steady herself before lightly knocking before opening the door, her mother had told her to expect the girl to stay silent. Meg looked towards the bed and saw that the girl was sitting up staring at the mirror on the wall as if in a trance. Meg glanced at the mirror, before turning to look back at the girl and jumped in shock to see the girl had turned her head to look at her.
Meg gulped as she looked into the girl's guarded, yet curious shocking blue eyes. Meg took a shaky breath before holding out the dress to the girl, who slowly moved her eyes from Meg's face towards the dress, allowing Meg to breath. "Maman asked me to help you dress." Meg said, the girl looked back at her before she looked down and begun to slowly got out of the bed. "Maman told me to inform you that she has taken your dress to the seamstress, to see if it can be fixed." Meg said and watched the girl nod, showing she had heard Meg.
The girl silently slipped out of the night dress and Meg absentmindedly noticed that the girl's boobs were bigger than not only her's but also Christine's, and most of the dancer's boobs. Meg shook her head before helping the girl into her slip and corset. When Meg pulled the strings on the corset tight, she heard the girl give a little gasp of pain causing Meg to stop and look at the girl who had her head bowed. "Is it too tight?" Meg asked but the girl gave no answer, not even a nod or a shake of the head. Meg left the corset like it was, even though it was not even close to being it's normal tightness, and helped the girl into the dress.
Once the dress was on the girl, Meg tried her hardest not to glare, but she couldn't help it. The dress was tight on the girl, but not too tight, and heightened all the right curves on the girl, and even made the girl's boobs look even bigger than they were. Meg saw the girl's left hand fiddling with the dress's skirt, obviously uncomfortable. Meg turned her head from the girl, softly clearing her throat. "Maman asked that I show you around, only if you feel up to it." Meg said and was shocked to hear the girl's voice.
"I would like that, thank you." The girl said softly. Meg swallowed, not only did this girl share Christine's likeliness and her name, but also her voice too? What else did this girl have that was Christine's? Did the girl also sing like an Angel too? Like Christine? Did she have anything that belonged to her and not Christine?
Her boobs, Megs mind whispered darkly. The girl's big boobs were the only thing that she owned that did not belong to her Christine.
\'~'/
Christine silently followed the girl that had helped her into the dress she wore now, slip and all. Christine noticed that the girl had never given Christine her name, sending a clear message to her. And that message was that she was not wanted here. Christine felt a tear slide down her cheek, but quickly whipped the tear away, she wouldn't let them see her cry.
She didn't pay attention to the tour the girl was giving her. She didn't need to, this was the Opera Populaire, she knew every nook and cranny of the place, even most of the secret passages that ran through out the Populaire. Now the only question she needed answers to was: when was she? Because she obviously wasn't in her time, the gas lights and no electricity confirmed that.
With a silently sigh, Christine turned her attention back to the girl she was following. She was a pretty little thing with long blond hair, that had been curled, long legs and a posture that showed she had grown up doing some type of dance, most likely ballet. Christine also remembered that the girl had beautiful pale blue eyes. The girl stopped and turned to look at her, Christine saw the girl's eyes widen when she noticed Christine was watching her. "It is almost time for rehearsals." The girl said, "I shall lead you back to your room." Christine shook her head, not really wanting to go back to that room right now, it brought back painful memories. "Well, if you don't wish to go back to your room, I guess I can bring you with me to the rehearsals, but you must stay out of the way." The girl said, reminding Christine of her mother.
"Yes, of course." Christine said softly and dropped her eyes to the floor before following the girl towards the auditorium. As soon as they entered, Christine heard everyone stop and felt them stare at her. She chanced a glance up and noticed they were indeed staring at her, but everyone looked at her confused. Christine noticed the girl had begun to move towards the woman from the other night, Madame Giry, and quickly caught up.
"You are late, Meg." Madame Giry said and the girl bowed her head.
"I am sorry, Maman, I was showing her around as asked and did not realize how close it was to rehearsal the time was." The girl, Meg, said and Christine felt as if the girl was trying to push the blame onto her.
"I see," Madame Giry said sternly, "Get to your spot, Meg." Meg nodded then quickly left Christine with Madame Giry. The two silently stared at each other before Madame Giry turned and motioned for Christine to follow her. "Come, Christine, you shall stand with me in the wings." Christine silently nodded and followed Madame Giry. But before they could reach the wings, they were stopped by an older gentleman with a graying hair.
"Miss Christine Daaé?" The man asked in a confused tone as he quickly walked over to them. Christine looked around before noticing he was talking to her.
"Oh, no, Monsieur, I do believe you have mistaken me for someone else. I am Christine Dexler." She told him softly.
"Oh, I apologize. You look almost identical to-" The man started before shaking his head and bowed to her, "Once again, I apologize." He said before quickly leaving.
"Come, Christine." Madame Giry said and Christine once again began to follow Madame Giry. Once they had gotten to the wings, Christine sat in a chair that Madame Giry motioned for her to sit in and began to think. Daaé? Why was that name so familiar? Where had she heard it before?
Christine sighed as she absentmindedly watched the rehearsals, listening more to the orchestra then anything. A silent tear fell from her eye before she could stop it when a memory of her in this same spot watching her father play in the orchestra as her mother preformed Elissa from Chalumeau's Hannibal. They had been a happy family then, she had two loving parents who cared for not only each other but her as well. Her mother would teach her the Opera's at the same time she was learning them as her father would practice his part in the orchestra. They would laugh, dance, and sing.
But then that fateful day came and changed everything.
It had been Christine's 12th birthday, and she had begged her father to take her to the beach to watch the waves. Her mother had gotten called to the Opera House for an emergency meeting, but had promised to meet them there. Christine and her father had been on the way to the beach, singing happily to the radio, sometimes purposefully out of tune while others right on key. And that was when it happened.
A person fleeing from the cops had run the red light and T-boned them on the driver's side. The driver had instantly died in the crash, she had received some bumps and bruises, while her father had sustained a fatal wounded to his chest. The ambulance had quickly gotten to them but not quick enough, her father had died on the way to the hospital.
For weeks after the funeral, her mother had refused to believe that her husband was gone and would never be coming back. She had convinced herself that he had just left for a little while and that he would return for them, for her. Her mother had taken up drinking and verbally abusing her. It had started out small and only when she had been drinking, but it quickly grew over the years. Her mother blamed her for the death of Gustave, and Christine blamed herself as well. If she had not begged her father to take her to the beach he would still be alive.
The feeling of someone watching her quickly brought Christine back to the present. She looked around but saw no one looking at her, yet she could still feel the eyes on her. Suddenly Christine felt like she had to get out of there. With a quickly glance to Madame Giry, who was busy watching the ballet dancers, Christine slowly stood up and began to carefully and quietly walk away. But she did not walk towards the backstage doors, no, she made her way over to where she knew was a secret door. She glanced around and noticed no one was paying attention to her and quickly slipped through the secret door and into the tunnel it connected to.
As she entered the tunnel, she felt the sensation of being watched grow. Whoever was watching her was in the tunnel with her. Suddenly she felt her breath quicken and the need to run over come her, but instead of leaving the tunnel as one might have done, she took off down the tunnel. She didn't have to look back to know that whoever was watching her was following her, she gasped when she felt someone grab her and harshly pull her to them. She closed her eyes but did not try to struggle out of the person's grip, because from the grip she could tell that whoever the person was was strong.
"What are you doing back here, Miss Christine Daaé?" The person, a man, angrily hissed in her ear. Daaé. There was that name again. Whoever this woman was, she seemed to have left an impression here. "Or should I call you Victomtess Christine de Chagny?" De Chagny? That had been her mother's name before she had marred her father.
"I," Christine started still panting, "I believe you have mistaken me for someone I am not, Monsieur." Christine finished.
"Lies!" The man hissed before forcing her to spin around. Christine's breath caught when she found herself staring into cold, hard amber eyes, she barely noticed that the right side of the man's face was covered by a pure white porcelain mask. She watched as the man's eyes widened a little in shock before going back to the cold mask they had been before and pushed her a way from him. "You are not her." He said and Christine couldn't tell if he was sad or relieved to find out she was not this Christine woman.
"No, I am not. I am me." Christine said.
"And who are you?" The man demanded as he glared at her.
"Christine Dexler." Christine said and a second later she found the man's hand around her throat, but did not choke her.
"Do not lie to me woman." The man hissed dangerously at her, his eye promised death if she dared to disobey him.
"I am not. I am Christine Dexler and I am 16 years old. My father died when I was twelve leaving me with my mother who began to abuse me and blame me for my father's death. I ran from her and wound up here, I do not know how I got here." Christine told him staring him in his eyes, willing him to believe her. She felt his grip on her throat tighten a little before he released her with a toss in the direction they had come from, causing her to stumble to the ground.
"Leave." He ordered. Without a word, she scrambled up and ran from him knowing that if she did not, she might not live to see tomorrow. As she ran she heard what sounded like a cry from a wounded beast, she turned to look behind her but saw no one behind her and her body began to slow down.
Don't stop, not yet. Keep going. The voice in the back of her mind whispered to her. She picked up the skirt of the dress she was wearing and began to run again. She followed her instincts as she ran through the tunnels, not really knowing where she was going, but knew her instincts would never lead her wrong.
