Behind Closed Doors

"We're at the airport; we'll be home by seven thirty, eight at the latest, traffic being good." Raoul's voice was crackling over the poor connection. Christine glanced at the clock. It was only four in the afternoon, but by the time they had completed all of their airport checks, gotten to the car and driven the long journey that time would have passed.

"That's fine. I'll meet you at home." She said, stapling two pieces of paper together and slipping them into a tray.

"Can't wait to see you again." He said good-humouredly. She smiled.

"Same to you. I'll see you later."

She put the phone down and shifted her mouse to dispose of the screensaver, leaning her chin on her hand as she opened her documents folder to print off a form. Moncharmin and Richard could handle tonight, but there seemed to be at least a dozen small but essential tasks to be done. She spent a good hour on the computer, sorting out various bits of paperwork and authorising a request from the costumes department to hire another seamstress.

Her stomach growled and she realised that she'd missed lunch entirely. There had been some sort of disaster in the booking office that she'd had to sort out. Christine went in search of a snack, knowing that the chef would be putting on a full dinner for them that night. She'd brought a little food with her, leaving it in what was referred to as the 'common room'. It was a fairly large room where the performers could gather between rehearsals. It boasted a small kitchen area and comfortable chairs, a television in the corner and a CD player/radio. On the days when rehearsals were going badly or if only a certain group of performers were being used, the others tended to come here to relax or prepare. There was a group of chorus members there when Christine entered, as well as a few dancers.

Christine went to the kitchen area and took down a packet of cup-a-soup, tipping the red powder into a clean mug as Meg appeared, bending down to the refrigerator for her salad.

"Hi Mrs de Chagny."

"Hello Meg. Haven't you had lunch yet?"

"No time. Mum's been practising us all day. She's a complete slave driver." Meg moaned. "You couldn't fire her, could you?"

"I'm afraid not."

"Didn't think so. Worth a try, though." Meg sighed, sitting at the table to eat. Christine smiled and reached across to the plug to turn on the kettle. And then she cried out as a painful jolt shot through her and sparks flew from the socket. She fell back, banging against the table as Meg and several other people in the room jumped up.

"What happened?" A few people asked frantically as Meg touched Christine, checking she was alright. Christine blinked hard and glanced over at the plug. It had fallen apart as she'd pulled back and she saw that the wires were exposed and a small piece of metal jammed into the socket. She must have touched it, causing the electric shock.

"I'm fine. Really…" She said, straightening up. "How long has that plug been like that?"

"I used it yesterday and it was fine." Gabrielle piped up.

"It must have been the ghost!" Someone said quietly. Christine frowned and they fell silent, remembering her furious outburst. One of the male chorus members stepped forward, looking a little pale.

"I… It was me. I'm sorry, I was just in a rush yesterday and I broke it, and I was going to tell someone but I was already late for rehearsal and…" He stopped talking, clearly expecting Christine to start screaming at him. But she merely shook her head.

"I'll ask one of the caretakers to sort it out. You'd better put it to one side, with a notice." She said quietly, pushing a curl behind her ear before turning and leaving the room.

She was in the corridor when she heard footsteps and a small, pale hand touched her shoulder.

"Mrs de Chagny? Are you sure you're OK?" It was Meg, looking anxious. Christine nodded, but didn't smile.

"Yes, of course I am. I just… oh, I don't know. I just wish something could go right for a change."

"Things are a bit crazy right now." Meg agreed sympathetically. Christine shook her head.

"I don't know… I suppose I've been spending too long here again. What with Raoul being out of town and all these ridiculous rumours, I just seem to spend every waking minute in my office trying to sort everything out."

"You should take a holiday." Meg suggested, smiling. "Get away from here and forget about everything."

"That sounds like a dream come true. I just wish it were possible at the moment." Christine sighed, glancing at her watch. "I'll talk to you later."

She returned to her office and sat down, noticing with disgust that her hands were trembling and despising the fact that her first thought had been of how it must have been the Phantom who had caused the accident. The instantaneous pain had been overshadowed by the sickness in her soul and for the briefest moment she had imagined that she had heard laughter. It seemed that her every thought seemed to come back to this creature that was haunting her opera house and her mind. Especially since the previous evening, when she had ventured into Box 5.

Did I not instruct that Box 5 was to be left empty?

That voice! How cold it had been, how full of fury and how very dangerous… even if her nerves had not already been so tense it would have caused her to flee as she had done. She could not possibly pass that off as her imagination, as she had been trying to do when she had heard it in her office.

And then there was the matter of the eyes, shining from the deep blackness of Box 5.

Christine made a decision and took out her bag, pushing a few pieces of paper into it and reaching for her jacket. As she opened her office door, Moncharmin jumped back, clearly having been on his way to see her.

"Mrs de Chagny-"

"I'm going home, Mr Moncharmin. I'll be back on Monday and I shall be bringing Mr Philippe de Chagny, so I hope everything will go smoothly." She said calmly.

"Oh, I was… it's just that Mr Reyer is having a slight debate with Mr Mercier about-"

"Take care of it, please. I'll see you on Monday." Christine replied, moving past him determinedly. Moncharmin watched her go with an uneasy feeling swelling in his stomach.

Christine went straight upstairs and kicked her shoes off when she got home. Crawling onto the generously large bed, she lay on top of the covers and buried her face in the pillows. The sheets had obviously been changed earlier that day, smelling of flowery washing powder. Christine closed her eyes, breathing in the scent as she sank into the softness of the bed, settling down to sleep for at least an hour. After only a few moments a warm restfulness overcame her as she drifted into pleasant sleep, aware that in only a matter of hours Raoul would be back with her again.

He surveyed the elegant de Chagny home from the safety of His position. The sky was growing dark and no one could see the black figure stood amongst the large bushes and trees that were gathered around the house.

The gates were opening to give entrance to a sleek vehicle that slipped almost noiselessly down the driveway to the house. The doors flew open and He saw her hurrying down the steps as her young husband jumped out the car to catch her in his arms. There was a great deal of laughing between them, frantic kisses and embraces before she turned her attention to the second figure to have emerged from the car. He leaned forward in interest. This would be the other de Chagny brother, Philippe. This was the reason that He was hiding in bushes; a new face could cause no end of trouble if not properly anticipated.

The man was older than his sibling but just as handsome, with neatly combed hair and a moustache in contrast to his younger brother's short hair and smooth face. He greeted the manageress with a hug and a kiss on the cheek as they moved inside. He moved closer to the window of the room they had entered, a sitting room of sorts. The window was open and He slipped beneath it as the sound carried out to Him. They were discussing the flight and the business deal that the two brothers had been carrying out in America. They moved on to various different subjects, none of which interested him, but he waited patiently until they brought up the topic He was waiting for; The Opera Populaire.

"I told Moncharmin we'd be in on Monday." She explained. "You'll both be too tired tomorrow. It's a pity you can't stay longer though. But we can see the opera on Monday night, if you like, Phil."

"Yes, I'd very much enjoy that."

"I've booked Box 12." She said triumphantly, as if she had known that this would be his answer all along.

"Box 12? I thought you preferred Box 5?" The shadow outside the window stiffened curiously.

"I'm having a few repairs done on it. Besides, I've grown rather attached of Box 12. It's a wonderful view. Do you want some more wine, Raoul?"

Her husband accepted and they began to discuss the success of Romeo and Juliet. It was vaguely interesting but He was growing tired of their idle chit-chat. In fact, He was on the point of making His exit when something captured His attention again. It was the brother, asking,

"Christine, I don't understand why you never play your music anymore. You really were quite good."

"I don't have the time, Phil. I mean, I still practise the piano from time to time but… well; everything else is just too time consuming. I haven't picked up a violin in about five years."

"What about singing?" The husband said.

"Oh, Raoul. You know I haven't sung in ages; I'd sound awful. Besides, what's the point? It'd be much more constructive to put my time into getting the opera house organised." She said firmly. "I can't waste it on something so trivial when there are so many things going wrong."

"Is the Opera Ghost picking on you again?" The husband said in a teasing manner. She sighed heavily.

"Don't remind me."

"Opera Ghost?"

"Yes, it's some silly story that's floating around the Opera House. It started just before Buqet died and everyone's decided that there's a ghost taken up residence. And he's making life difficult for poor Christine."

"It's nonsense, Phil." She said in a decided manner. "Don't pay any attention to it. Just a few silly jokes by some bored stagehands. By the way, when do you want to have Sorelli to dinner? Raoul and I can clear out for an evening, if you want."

He had heard enough to keep Him occupied for that night. He turned and slinked into the velvet blackness of the night, thoughts running smoothly through His mind as He considered what He heard through the window.

Whilst Raoul was in their en-suite bathroom, Christine lay in bed, staring at the window. The curtains were swaying in the slight breeze. Christine frowned slightly, her hand tightening around the covers as that sickeningly familiar chill settled within her flesh. Even here, in the security of her home she felt as though she were being watched.

"Cold?" Raoul murmured as he slid into the bed beside her. She rolled over and smiled at him.

"No."

"Pity. I was going to warm you up."

"I could be warmer…" She said with a teasing smile. Raoul grinned and pulled her to him, wrapping her in his arms. She laid her head against him and sighed.

"I'm so glad that you're home. I hate it when you're away."

"Same here." Raoul said quietly, resting his chin on her head. "Hopefully I won't have to go away again for a long while."

She nodded but didn't speak. Because she was wondering why that feeling of fear hadn't completely vanished when Raoul had put his arms around her.

The opera house was a frenzy of excitement and activity when the three of them arrived on Monday morning. Raoul had a meeting later in the morning, but had decided to accompany his wife and brother. They were greeted at the door by an enthusiastic Moncharmin and Richard who whisked Philippe away to the theatre, with Raoul and Christine following in amusement. Raoul's fingers were wrapped around Christine's and she appreciated it. His warmth was a little help.

Whilst Richard tried to point out a particular piece of scenery, Christine noticed that Philippe's attention was instantly drawn to that of a tall and slender woman who was stretching on the stage. Her dark red hair was pulled back into a bun as she pulled herself up and extended her arms above her head. A moment later she noticed the man watching and lowered her arms, a small smile touching her pretty face. Neither of them made a move to go to each other, but the look between them was more than enough. Philippe turned to speak with Moncharmin and Sorelli continued with her stretches.

"G'morning Mrs de Chagny! Oh, and Mr de Chagny." Meg said, pausing to smile brightly at them. Christine returned the expression.

"Good morning Meg. Raoul, this is Antoinette Giry's daughter." She said, looking to her husband.

"Ah, of course. A pleasure, Miss Giry." Raoul said charmingly. Meg grinned and then jumped as her mother's voice announced that it would not be much of a pleasure to be practising until midnight if she didn't get a move on. She scuttled away, followed by the ballet mistress who smiled briefly at the couple. Raoul grinned, obviously entertained by the whole affair whilst Christine watched Carlotta who had just emerged from her dressing room and was making a beeline for them. Christine turned to her husband.

"I just need to run to my office quickly."

She left just in time to avoid Carlotta and her gushing attitude towards the patrons. A few latecomers rushed past her and Christine stood to one side before continuing on to her office. She unlocked the door and went to her desk, glancing through the envelopes that had been waiting at the main office for her. There was nothing of huge importance so she left them unopened on her desk before sitting down to check her emails. But as she turned the computer on, she noticed a black-edged envelope. Steeling herself for what it might contain, Christine slid a finger under the fold and lifted it, her heart in her throat.

No scrawled letter fell out. A piece of thickly folded paper was tucked inside. Christine pulled it out and unfolded it curiously. Of all things, it was sheet music. She frowned, examining it. The paper was new and the music was handwritten. She didn't know the tune at all and there was no composer noted. Why on earth had he given her this? She traced the notes and looked around to see if anything else had been left. Nothing caught her eye and she looked back to the music before slipping it back inside the envelope and putting it in her bag before going to find Raoul.

Philippe had invited Sorelli out to dinner that night, so Christine and Raoul ate at home. Raoul couldn't help but noticed that she was somewhat distracted and commented on it as they finished their meal. She shook her head vaguely.

"I'm fine. Just thinking about the opera house."

"Well, don't. I forbid it." He said jokingly. She smiled and shrugged.

"I don't know… I just worry about what's going to happen."

"With the opera?"

"Among other things." She folded her napkin, placing it on the table in front of her. "There's been so many articles lately about… well, all sorts of things. And I've not been sleeping well. Sometimes I just feel like I'm going insane, Raoul."

He watched her across the table. She was holding her wineglass and staring at the liquid within, lost in her own mind. There was a lost, desolate expression her delicate features and it made his chest ache for her.

"Tell me, Christine. What is it that's made you so… upset?" He asked quietly. She glanced up at him before looking back to the tablecloth.

"I wish I could tell you, Raoul. But I don't even know what it is, myself."

"Couldn't you just tell me what happened when I was gone? Because something did happen, didn't it?" He moved around the table to clasp her hands in his. "Something happened and you don't want to tell me about it. But I wish you would."

"Raoul…" There were no words. No possible way to explain what had happened. She could have told him about the letters left by a ghost with glowing yellow eyes, but she could not explain the horrific fear that she felt deep inside her soul. She couldn't even explain it to this man, whom she loved more than anything in this world.

Christine shook her head.

"Nothing happened. I just feel… different. Strange."

"I think I know why." Raoul said, stroking her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. She looked at him in surprise, feeling slightly ill.

"You do?"

"Christine, it's been nearly ten years." He said gently. "It's bound to have affected you."

The nausea was replaced by a wave of grief. Ten years…

Papa…

With an ache of guilt she nodded and felt tears rise in her eyes at the rush of memories of her departed father. She had almost forgotten that the anniversary of his death would be the following month. Suddenly she was able to picture him perfectly in her minds eye, sitting in the cosy chair by the fire, reading a tattered book with a furrowed brow, his dark hair gleaming in the inconsistent flicker of the light that came from the flames. She could almost the waves crashing on the other side of the windows as she remembered running to him, smelling the familiar scent of his clothes as he lifted her and began to talk to her in his gentle voice. How could she have nearly forgotten him? The man who had raised her by himself, who had been with her in nearly every moment of her childhood?

A tear trickled down her cheek and she felt a warm hand wipe it away. She opened her eyes and saw Raoul watching with a face that must have reflected her own pained expression. She couldn't help letting out a small moan of sadness at the memories. This tiny anguished sound caused Raoul to reach over and hug her tightly as she wept into his shoulder, her tears dampening the cloth of his shirt.

"We can go and see him. Next month." He whispered. Christine pulled back to look him in the face and then nodded, sniffling in an ungraceful manner that usually belied her character.

"Yes. Yes, we must go." She said in a constricted voice. "Raoul, I just miss him so much…"

"I know you do." He said, going to hug her again. She accepted his embrace willingly, wishing that the warmth of his body could heat the cold emptiness within.

A/N: Hello dearies. I know that this chapter is very much filler, but never fear! For Chapter 11 shall hold much excitement, suspense and actual meetings of Christine and Erik. Yes, I know, it's absolutely shocking!

Anywho, usual love must be sent to my Angel of Beta – TheAngelCried. May she live long and beta.

Read, review and feed my addiction. A Review Whore needs her fix.

Love

Katie