For days after the kiss, Christine and Erik drifted through life in a kind of haze. Neither one wanted to admit that soon they would have to figure out what to do with their lives, whether or not to stay in France. Christine especially didn't want to lose the precious moments she had with her Erik. Even though it was only that one kiss, she desperately wanted something more to happen. Every time she looked at Erik her lips tingled, and she felt that pulling sensation in her stomach that, once upon a time, Raoul had given her with his kisses. The same pulling sensation she'd felt when she kissed Erik in his lair. The sensation that made her realize she loved Erik, and not Raoul.
But as Madame Giry was fond of saying, all good things must come to an end. And for Christine, the day came far too soon.
She was downstairs, working in the shop, when she heard someone shouting in the street. Curious, Christine rushed outside. A young boy from the opera--Christine thought Buquet may have been training him to take over one day--was fiercely staving off the attempts of the crowd to help a woman who seemed to have collapsed.
"Oh, Mamselle Christine!" the boy yelled when he saw her. "Come quickly! Madame has fallen!"
Christine rushed to the prone form, elbowing through the growing crowd. She gasped when she saw who the woman was. "Madame Giry!"
"She insisted upon finding you herself, Mamselle," the boy said, his tone anxious. "I tried to make her stay, but when Madame decides something..." he trailed off, and Christine gave a wan smile.
"I know. It is all right. You may return to the opera if you wish," Christine told him. She knew Giry would never speak of something that had weakened her so in front of a gossipy opera brat, no matter how trusted he was.
"Thank you Mamselle," he nodded, and hurried away.
Christine didn't watch him go, she was more concerned for the mother of her best friend. Madame Giry was not a woman prone to fainting fits, or to hysterics. Whatever was wrong--and something most certainly was wrong--was very grave indeed. Christine fished out the small vial of smelling salts the doctor had left, in case she needed to rouse Erik and found him in too deep a sleep. Almost as soon as she'd uncorked the camphor and held it under Madame's nose, the older woman jerked awake.
"Christine Daae, get me out of this street at once," Madame Giry demanded.
A/N--Sorry it's been so long. Thanks to anyone out there who actually reads this, your sporadic reviews make continuing easier. Don't worry, I have an idea of where to take this now, so things should be updated more often. And by the way, if anyone out there would like to become a beta for me, I could use one...