A/N They Meet! What ho!
"Why is this such a surprise?" Christine asked pointedly, narrowing her eyes at Philip, "And why do you look more surprised than confused?"
"I…well!" Philip turned to Nadir for help. The Persian gave him a weary glance before carefully telling Christine that he'd told the Comte all there was to know regarding the history that the Opera House held for them all. She nodded along to his confession but said nothing.
The look she gave Philip was one of very careful analysis.
"I'm quite sane, you know…" She told him in little more than a whisper.
"I know you are, Madamoiselle!" Philip quickly defended himself, daring to step towards her but she retreated from him almost fearfully which baffled him – baffled Nadir too, "Christine?"
"I loved Raoul, I did. I'm not going back to an old lover, you must understand!"
"I do – Christine-?" Philip tried to qualm her sudden skittishness but young Ms Daae was as nervous as a horse surrounded by wolves. Her own confusion blatant.
"He was the other side of the world to me! But he didn't give me my voice" She rounded on Nadir in peculiar desperation, "Nadir!"
Nadir glanced up at her.
"I need my voice," she pleaded, her hysteria waning as she avoided Philip's gaze at all costs, "I – I…I need m-my voice."
"Then go, Madam." Nadir assured almost without hesitation, hiding how utterly astounded he truly was. Christine Daae was indeed in the very deepest part of the ocean of grief and searching for a reprieve. Unfortunately, it would appear, her thoughts were of Erik and how he might be able to help her. Be her angel of music and whisk her away. A little girl's desires – a grown man's opportunity.
Nadir felt he had to tread more carefully than ever. It scared him.
Christine would jump into Erik's arms without thought to soothe the pain because Erik was the main sauce of comfort for far too many years Pre-Viscomte De Chagny. Seeking that Angel again was a dangerous business indeed and Christine couldn't see that. Not yet.
Erik would be far too bloody arrogant and selfish to realise it.
Christine rushed past them then, all but in tears, racing towards the Opera House.
Philip made to follow her in her distress but Nadir caught his arm.
"Wait," he told him firmly, "Let her go. Let her be for this evening."
"What?" Philip demanded, "My brother just about gave his life to save her and now he's dead. The least I can do is make sure she doesn't end up going the same way she would have done were he not there! It is my duty, Sir!"
Nadir shook his head,
"Christine Daae would have been perfectly able to get herself out of that situation albeit slowly. If anything, your brother and I were a complication. Let her go, he won't hurt her. I can give you a thousand promises on that."
"Then why do we fear him so very much?" Philip asked sceptically, still in a mild panic that was visible in the bluish veins that strained at his temples.
"It's letting her go, that's the problem, Monsieur." Nadir explained, "He's been alone all his life; letting go of the one person you love and who can save you from eternal damnation is a difficult thing."
"You know this?"
"I can only imagine. That man's been in Hell for a very long time."
"He's poison to Christine, then! We must stop this madness!" The Comte made to move again but Nadir still had a firm grip on his arm.
"Monsieur!" Nadir said desperately, eyes tight shut, willing the Comte to understand, "If she feels she needs him, then why deny her, her healing. He may be poison, he may not – she can find that out on her own. For now, you and I must be vigilant and keep watch and inform Monsieur Angier."
OoOoOoOoOoooOOO
Christine raced up the steps to the grand door of the Opera House but they were locked. No amount of pushing, shoving, knocking or calling amounted to having them open for her. There was no show on that night either so a chance of a later entrance was beyond her.
She had thought of using the Rue Scribe as entrance; the way she and Raoul had escaped but thought better of it.
In fact, the more time went by, the less inclined she felt towards trying to find him. At the time of her mad decision, Christine had been suddenly overwhelmed with grief. Such an emptiness that she needed to fill and the only person she could remember who was capable of doing such a thing was her Angel turned Man – Erik. The Phantom of the Opera.
But she was beginning to calm now, the need growing less violent until at last she was calm. She abandoned her mission and instead, in the cool evening, completely unprepared and under-dressed, she made her way to a nearby park where dwellers still roamed. Fine gentlemen and gentleladies in suave evening attire; top hats and blossoming dresses that appeared to bloom at the waist. Top hats that made the shortest men look far more agile and much taller.
Paris was the city of light and class. They nodded, bowed and greeted each other as she passed them and they passed her. No one seemed to pay any mind to her being a woman alone and lacking in fashion. That, or they did but they recognised her as the great Daae and therefore daren't question her.
Perhaps, she thought, amusing herself, I might start a trend. If this one works, I might very well start coming to the park in my nightdress.
She thought about it more and more until she made herself giggle out loud. She covered her mouth, suddenly embarrassed and looked round to see if anyone was watching or had heard her. One man had apparently taken note and was staring at her from across the pond, his legs crossed idly with a top hat pulled low.
She smiled at him and lifted a hand in apology and continued on her way. Upon glancing back, the man had vanished. She wondered if he had been there at all. Perhaps she was going mad.
She shook her head, berating herself for being so foolish.
As the sun began to sink and darkness became more apparent, making things more difficult to see, including the path, Christine finally turned and started hurrying back.
Passing the same little pond as she had done before, the man was back, one leg crossed idly over the other as before and was watching her hurry past.
She waved, bidding him a good evening but he did not respond. Instead he rose carefully and started making his way around the pond towards her.
It brought Christine to sudden halt. A sickening fear began to rumble in her gut and she began to calculate her chances. Only now had she begun to realise that she and the stranger were about the only ones left. Everyone else had gone home, it would seem.
Before the man could make a full circled turn towards her, her name was called out. Upon seeing Philip jogging hurriedly towards her, Nadir not far behind, the stranger continued on as if having never intended to come near her in the first place.
Nadir appeared to eye the man up, slowing slightly in his brisk walk to Philip and herself. The man seemed to eye Nadir up just the same but no conflict or interaction appeared to take place until they passed each other, the moment blowing away with a gentle, cool breeze.
"Are you alright? We came straight to find you after we discovered the Opera House was closed and you weren't back."
"I'm fine…for the most part…" she looked past Philip and Nadir at the back of the retreating man who dared to take a glance behind him at her, "I'm a little shaken, I must admit."
"Yes well…I can't say that a night time stroll was your brightest idea." Philip jested with a serious undertow.
"I agree with the Comte Madam…" Nadir was nodding all the while following Christine's gaze, "Do you know him?"
"Do you?"
Nadir blinked at Christine in surprise. He then shook his head solemnly,
"I don't know…I didn't get a good look at him. Still, best keep your wits about you, Mademoiselle, it's not safe to wonder alone around Paris at night."
Christine accepted this simple fact though in correlation with what just took place, it didn't make much sense. Christine felt vulnerable and slightly disturbed but at no point did she feel threatened – even as the man began his approach.
They traipsed back to their lodgings without so much as pin-drop of hassle. Upon entering the hotel lobby, the receptionist got to his feet.
"Ms Daae? You have a gift, Madam."
Christine paused a moment, staring at the small package in the palm of the man's hand. In his other hand, he held a note,
"The note is for a Monsieur Kahn…" the receptionist glanced at Nadir uncertainly. Nadir paid him no mind and moved to retrieve both artefacts from the young man as Philip and Christine looked on.
Christine, upon receiving the little gift, weighed it in her hand, gauging how precious its contents might be.
"Well?" Philip urged her, "What's in it?"
Beside them, Nadir let out a groan.
"What?" Christine enquired but Nadir only rolled his eyes, looking at Philip a moment before urging Christine to do the same.
Christine undid the small package to find a little box. Opening the box, she found a little round key and beneath it a note.
My door is always open, my Angel.
"The key to the Opera House's front door…" she muttered in awe. All she had to do was go in, stand centre stage and Erik would find her.
"Who on Earth would send you that? Certainly not the manager?" Philip exclaimed, appearing to find the thought amusing. But Christine remained silent.
It was indeed the Ghost that had been watching her, who had approached her but whose plan was thwarted.
Realising this, Christine couldn't quite place how she felt about it. Her initial anticipation of dread and doom over the discovery never came – just as she had felt no threat in the park. In its place, however, came a rather gentle relief.
She turned to Philip and gave his arm an assuring squeeze but abstained from giving him a definitive answer. His face fell but a little but he asked no further questions. However, he appeared to be putting things together. Philip was far from dim witted.
"Care to tell us what made you moan in such a way?" Christine asked Nadir as she placed the key in the box and closed it.
Nadir glanced down at the note and shook his head despairingly,
"An errand I have to run first thing in the morning…"
"But my rehearsals!" Christine felt the hurt rise, her face growing hot under the disappointment. She could tell he had forgotten. He smiled,
"Ah of course. An excuse to get out of doing it."
OoOOOoOoOoOoO
Nadir had not forgotten a thing but he daren't tell her about his note and yet, he was sure the note and the key were of the same origin as his. But Miss Daae's hurt expression made him regret his words. She had such a childishness about her that never went away, simultaneously endearing and infuriating. He told her it was important and that he would be there but perhaps a little late. This seemed to satiate Christine's sulk enough.
They bid each other good night's and parted ways. The young receptionist sat quite puzzled all the way through and would puzzle away until his shift ended. Puzzling over how odd the receivers of these things were and why they'd refrained from the truth of the odd man in a lonely mask.
Of course Nadir's note was of no relevance to any errands he had to run. It was from Erik.
Why is the older De Chagny boy not dead?
I was under the impression that the Siren had him.
Alive to get in my way again.
Damn you.
Kind Regards
E
"'Kind Regards'…" Nadir repeated to himself as he sat in a chair by the fire, a brandy in his right hand, the note in his left. He'd written several notes in response but not of them seemed to do it. It would appear that the note, despite how badly Nadir wanted to lash out and respond, was not meant to be responded too. He had decided that after his last and most lethal response was a simple;
Why aren't you?
No Regards Whatsoever.
He took a sip of his strong, oaky brandy and mulled over the coming days. Christine seemed unperturbed by the Phantom's rather forward gesture.
He was amazed by Erik's keenness to have her simply walk back into his life. He supposed it was inevitable but he had practically given her the key to his house.
A quite rap on the door drew his thoughts back to the present and he got up wearily to stand near enough to the door to hear who might be on the other side,
"Who is it?"
"My apologies, Monsieur!" Came Christine's gentle little voice, "May I come in?"
Nadir opened the door instantly to find the young soprano fully dressed and clutching the gift which Erik had given her.
"Mademoiselle?"
"Monsieur, I'm sorry to be calling at such a late hour but Philip is asleep and I have much to talk to you about."
Nadir stepped to the side and allowed Christine access into his humble little hotel room, the receptionist either too big a fan, far too trusting or asleep. Nadir sniffed, offering Christine a seat before taking one himself, back again, by the fire.
"What did your note say?" She asked him instantly.
He should have known that she would have known Erik would send him a letter too.
"Is it about Philip? You cast him a nervous glance – is he in danger?" she pressed. Surprising Nadir with her powers of observation. Daae certainly wasn't dim.
"It was and no. I don't believe he is in any immediate danger but he might very well be in the line of fire…"
"What does that mean?"
"Well, you know Erik, Madam. He'll simply remove whatever's in his way."
Christine gave him a frustrated stare,
"My past experience of that doesn't work in his favour, Monsieur…"
"This is true…" Nadir answered calmly, thinking about how to reassure her with only his intuition, "Madam, everything will be fine. He's learned a lot since those days, Erik has. He won't risk your love again. I'm sure of it."
"My love…would he dare to assume that? And what if he does? You know him better than the rest of us – you know he's short tempered and insane."
Nadir laughed without thinking but even Christine's dark face couldn't make the smile go away,
"Yes, I'd dare to think a lot of things about Erik, he's insane, indeed, mademoiselle. Fear not."
Christine crossed her arms and thought for a moment, her brow neatly unknotting itself,
"He gave me the key to find him…why would he want anything to do with me three years later?"
"Probably the same reason why you would."
"But I'm not the one with a broken heart…"
"Are you not?" Nadir raised his eyes and Christine went suddenly crimson, she fluttered and stumbled for a time while he waited patiently for her to simply let herself be. Eventually she stopped trying to explain and looked sheepish.
"I do love him, Nadir…I did….just…"
"I understand, Madam. Now we know. Perhaps you and Monsieur Erik are not so different after all. But," Nadir grew suddenly serious, "He's still got his frightful rages and obsessions that never end. It's a part of him and won't ever change. It makes him dangerous. Whatever questions, resolutions and resolves you have in place, I will be there every step of the way – this isn't to be taken lightly."
"I never once thought this a light adventure for a second."
"Good."
Just then, a knock on the door drew them suddenly to silence. Both heads turned to the door in dismay, both thinking the same thing.
"Erik?" Nadir called accusingly, squinting at the door as Christine prepared to make a dash for it.
"No, Monsieur, the night porter. A gentleman has dropped off a note, he has said it is urgent."
"Wearing a mask, I presume…."
The night porter on the other side went suddenly quiet for a time before answering,
"Yes, Monsieur. Quite frightening…"
"The door is open, boy."
The door creaked open and a timid and dark haired, young man with incredibly sharp features shuffled in to give Nadir the note, paused for a second at the sight of Christine Daae and acted momentarily star struck. She smiled at him and he at her and then shuffled out in a stupor.
Nadir chuckled,
"I imagine he's your greatest fan. He's a lovely boy. Very quiet. I get on quite well with him."
He sighed and unfolded the letter.
"Let's see what he wrote to me…oh," he looked up at her in surprise, "He sends his regards."
"He doesn't, Nadir, what does the note really say."
Nadir's surprise quickly dissolved and he grimaced,
"'She's as beautiful as when I first saw her.'"
"That's it?"
"For you, yes. The rest of it is for me."
"Oh."
"Oh."
Please. Stop deterring her journey back to me.
Twice she almost found me. Twice she found you first.
It's getting on my nerves.
OoOoOoOoOooOOOOooo
The next morning came without hassle and Christine made her way to the theatre whilst rubbing the remanence of sleep from her eyes. Nadir and Philip would still be asleep but she had gotten used to being up at the crack of dawn to simply breathe in the start of the day before rehearsals. Paris was now no exception.
It was astoundingly quiet at that time of the morning, it felt as if the world was still asleep. It gave Christine a peace such as she would never know in any other part of the day.
Fondling the key in her left hand, she was relieved that she didn't have to go through all the madness of trying to get into the theatre without waking anybody, including the manager, up.
The key slotted nicely into the keyhole for the great wooden doors and opening them was surprisingly easy for such heavy looking barriers.
She took in the foyer with a contented sigh before making her way to the stage doors.
She walked onto the stage itself, hearing the buzz of a hundred people sitting in the stalls, the boxes and the what-nots in her head. Standing dead centre, she took a deep breath and raised her arms, feeling her lungs open up. She did all the warm-up exercises that were required of a singer. She loosened up her lips, regulated her breathing and shook herself loose. That was her favourite part, loosening up her body by flinging it around carelessly. She giggled and her spirit got up from its knees to gaze out, as she did, at an audience that would soon be before her.
"That was a marvel to watch, my dear."
The smooth, angelic voice that held the world at its feet, a voice that when it sang sounded as haunting as it did liberating.
She spun around to find the Phantom of the Opera standing before her very eyes with a mask that was different from the one she burnt all those years back. This one was sadder – more typical of a masquerade ball mask than the one he had had.
Her voice caught and she froze. They stared at each other a long time before Erik took in a sharp breath and started to move again, not closer but around. Circling her.
"What were you doing just then? That…jumping. Wonderful, but for the life of me, I can't understand what for…"
Christine swallowed,
"Loosens the body. Allows me to be more free in my movements and, believe it or not, my voice."
"Do you feel free?"
"I do."
"hmm…" he nodded and stopped again, his eyes were so set on her that she felt she daren't looking away but he was looking into her soul and she was simply looking at him. His eyes never roamed from her own. Never once did they swoop down the length of her body.
"Your gala is soon…"
"Hardly mine, it's showcasing –"
"All the latest talent, I'm aware. I'm intrigued as to this new manager. He hasn't been managing for long you know."
"Yes."
"Yes, but he's got a few interesting ideas that only a young mind can fathom." He thought for moment, "I certainly would never have thought of such a thing and yet it's so abundantly obvious."
"What happened to Meg and Madam Giry?" Christine asked suddenly, unable to hold back the need for knowledge.
It appeared to catch Erik off guard for he faltered for a time,
"I don't quite know. Madam Giry was always very kind and yet, she and young Meg flew by night. This new Manager was quite distressed over their departure. He's quite a sensitive man."
Christine held back a retort for the irony of Erik, of all people, commenting as such was too much to ignore.
"It's a shame," he continued, "I never said goodbye to them."
Christine continued to watch him even as all his thoughts flew through his head and out his eyes, so focused on something on the ground. Following his gaze, Christine noticed the outline of the trapdoor he had hoisted them down through when he had kidnapped her. The Trapdoor Lover, as he was called then.
"Do…do…do you n-need any…assistance? In-in your rehearsals?"
Christine looked up in surprise. Erik was standing quite timidly before her with his arms poised curiously in the air, opening his chest to her. Christine was sure that were she to reject the offer, that open gesture would close instantaneously and never open again.
She thought about it, returning to the memory of her escapade the night before.
"It was you last night all a long? With all those notes and the key…"
His shoulders fell a little bit,
"Yes, my dear, it was indeed. I'm glad it came in use." He looked about him at the empty theatre before letting his eyes rest on her again.
She nodded only once, crossing her hands in front of her waist and establishing herself as the one in charge. If he was to assist her in her rehearsal for the big night once more then he would do it in her charge.
"Very well." She told him, delighting a wee bit in his apparent surprise.
And the plot thickens. Whatever will happen next?
Don't forget your reviews. Ta :)
