A/N: I hope you all love this chapter. It's not meant to be a Raoul-bashing. I simply portray the events below as what might logically occur after Christine's return. The more reviews, the sooner an update! Thank you all for your continued support of this story!- Jess
One might have believed, and not without cause, that the Opera Ghost had finally been allotted a bit of happiness, some long-awaited peace. Yet, as all that I loved in life fell under God's whimsical and merciless manipulation, Christine Daae proved to be no exception. I was still to be punished for the blood of the Almighty's children. The darling girl might have hoped that my resentment, my battle, with Him had come to an end following her promise. Sadly, our struggle was beyond her control.
The flock of admirers, and more specifically, the attentions of one Vicomte Raoul de Chagny, were beyond my own efforts to hinder. Yes, that simpering youth that had first appeared to bask in the glow of his childhood friend's glory, and last met my gaze as he drunkenly returned to the arms of some syphilitic whore; had managed to weasel his way into the serene glow of Christine's company.
Her sweetness knew no bounds- her acceptance of my face and affections being the bearers of this truth- and she could not deny the flattery of a addle-brained and- though I hate to say it, sincere- boy. Though I had witnessed his dalliance, or rather the overture of his whoring, the Vicomte had raised holy hell when Christine had disappeared following her triumph in Hannibal. From my various 'listening posts' scattered about the opera in a strategic manner, I was all too aware of his complaints to the management, his nightly rapping upon her dressing room door, and his many accusations that her friends- such as Little Giry- were hiding a beau from his possessive eyes.
Daily, I fought the irresistible urge to strangle the life out of his insufferable neck. I doubted Christine would find such actions more than unappealing in the man she had to whom she had given her hand. From eavesdropping and purposeful wandering about the theatre , I'd learned that the beautiful, pampered boy had made nightly excursions to the dormitory Christine shared with the rest of the corps de ballet. He'd positioned himself in an uncomfortable wooden chair to hold his impatient nightly vigil, until he finally succumbed to sleep upon realizing that she would not be making an appearance. The poor boy was most likely exhausted after drowning his lust and frustration in the arms of some high-class prostitute. I wondered if he called out my beloved's name as he found his release betwixt a stranger's legs.
When Christine finally resurfaced, he was the first to track the girl down, to interrogate her regarding her whereabouts for the last fortnight.
Listening from behind the mirror the evening following our excursion to Sainte Chappele, awaiting the time of our next music lesson, I caught the heated snippets of a conversation between the two childhood 'sweethearts'. No doubt, the Vicomte, having caught Christine departing from the evening's rehearsal for Il Muto, followed her to the sanctuary of her dressing room in order to ask his prying questions. I was more than a little annoyed by the gall of his inquiries, speaking to her as if she had been unfaithful to him by failing to notify him of her activities.
The dressing room door rattled in its frame as they entered her room, causing me to start in surprise. Nonetheless, I did nothing to betray my presence.
"Raoul, I was exhausted after the performance, I needed to take some time to myself, to rest, to recover. It's not as if I had known they'd pluck me from the chorus to sing in La Carlotta's place. I was overwhelmed. It's not as if I were kidnaped!"
"I was overwhelmed with worry, Little Lotte," he intoned, reaching out to brush her cheek. To my satisfaction, she casually brushed him off, and plopped down resolutely before her vanity table.
Of course he was 'overcome' by concern- it was my opinion, that he was actually consumed with the thoughts that she might be enjoying the company of another suitor. Though he had failed to even notice her presence at the Opera Populaire prior to her transformation into a singer of unequaled talent and beauty, the Vicomte presumed he had exclusive rights to her favors.
"You could have at least been considerate enough to leave word with me, rather than leave me waiting like a fool. . .I stood outside the theatre for almost an hour, believing you were just taking your time to prepare for dinner-"
"I told you that I had to decline your invitation! Did you think that I was simply teasing you! Do you think that I must give up my lessons, and my own interests just to placate your whims?"
There was something very enticing about her anger. To see that innocent ingenue ablaze with emotion- especially in the form of rage directed at my rival- sent a sinful thrill through my every pore.
"What exactly is it that you are hiding, Christine?"
"Nothing! Nothing!" As she rose, rounding on him in a spurt of irritation, her skirts caught on the chair she had occupied, knocking it to the floor. The clatter, as it crashed to the floor, brought about a silence I was sure Christine relished. In that instant, all I wished to do was rush through the glass that served as my camouflage and comfort her in the enclosure of my arms.
Raoul must have felt some iota of remorse for his harsh words, and his demeanor softened as he picked up the tumbled chair. "Christine, forgive me, it is just that your actions, the gala, everything. . .it all appears quite suspicious. Days after taking on the duty of patron to the Opera, I see you standing onstage, your voice raised to the heavens. I had expected to hear La Carlotta that evening. I am quite confused as to your sudden turn of fortune."
Though certain that Christine did not yet sense my presence behind the mirror, she leaned against the glass, shoulders heaving in tired frustration. "I am sorry you were disappointed by my performance."
He took her biting comment straight to the heart. I grinned. "No, to the contrary. You were wonderful. But how is it that an unknown chorus girl assumes the role of diva in a matter of days? And your voice. . .yes it has always been lovely, but definitely not the voice of the same girl with whom I shared childhood picnics!" He forced out a laugh. Christine only glared at him in unconcealed irritation. "I would dare to say you have a wealthy benefactor."
At that suggestion, she did emit a sound of humor. "That's preposterous, Raoul. Really, you must stop imagining things which have no basis in fact!"
"Oh, but they do, Christine." He was angry. Again. "Yes, after your performance at the gala, you must have rushed off to the arms of this unknown patron of yours. Did you thank him for asserting his influence on the managers in his bed?"
"You bastard! Get out!" With that, Christine landed a sharp slap to his perfect right cheek. I doubt anyone had ever treated him in such a manner. "How can you question my virtue? You barely know me anymore. If you honestly knew the details of my life, you would be on your knees begging my forgiveness.
"Mademoiselle, I will return when you have the decency to tell me the truth!" The Vicomte retreated then, slamming her dressing room door in a grand display as the jilted lover.
As soon as he'd departed, Christine knelt before the mirror, collapsing in the tears of insults she did nothing to deserve. It was time to act.
"Christine. . ."