((Thanks very much for your reviews! I wanted to apologize for complaining so much about my last two stories! lol My meaning was that I would rather people be truthful in a kind way instead of cruel. Again, thanks so much for your reviews! Feel free to comment on any specific part of the story that needs improvement, or any ideas that you have for the next chapters. I'm struggling with how to enter Erik, and when to enter him, etc.))
((-A tiny intro- This chapter will mostly reflect Christine's inner struggle with herself. I do believe that in all of us there is something that holds us back from doing what we truly want to do. Christine has an overwhelming longing to be purged of her chains and to experience life to its fullest. I like to imagine that part of Christine's struggle in the end of the Phantom of the Opera is that she feels that either way she goes, she will be forced to hold back a part of herself. Erik offered her a world of opportunity but he still expected her to be what he wanted her to be. I find Christine to be a fascinating character because I feel she is strong, even though she doesn't think so, and I can relate fully to that. People have taught her that she is meek and dependent. At least, in this story that's what happened. Inside of her, I see the opposite. Basically, it is a struggle within herself to figure out what she wants in life. It might be significant to the story later on and it may not. Who knows. For now, I'm simply writing down my thoughts.))
"Letters! Letters! So many letters!"
The rain poured down as if to drown the whole of Paris in freezing cold water. The balcony of Miss Daae's room on the upper floor was no exception, and neither was she. Laying on her side on the floor of the veranda she wrote sentence after sentence on a piece of yellowed paper. Her lip was now raw where she'd been chewing for the past few hours in concentration.
"I must finish them! I must!"
Her hair was soaked through, dangling limply over her face and shoulders, sticking to her skin and sliding down her neck. Her nightgown was just as pitiful looking, but she'd made sure to wear something of dark color to keep the fabric from being translucent. To uphold her modesty.
Modesty. And perfection. All her life perfecting herself had been almost as vital to her as the music that captured her soul. She'd known all her life that someday she would be a lady, and had prepared for that day for quite a long time. Perfection was an achievement that was more important to her than life itself. If she could not be perfect, how could she live? Sorrow would come upon her, and strangle the life out of her. But if she was perfect... If she was pure, sensible, well mannered, kind- hearted, and humble, then no harm could come to her. There would be no reason for anyone to hurt her. And if there came a point when she was still hurt, she would not feel it because she would know that she was perfect. And perfect people do not hurt.
She was sadly mistaken.
Because of her inability to hide who she was, a tremendously imperfect man had fallen in love with her, and had tempted her to feel things and experience things that she did not deem perfect. This was not right. This would not do. She had to follow what she knew was absolutely right, and absolutely ideal. She could not let go and fall into his trap.
Raoul was ideal. He also fell in love with her flawlessness. But he was perfect, and she was safe to fall in love with him.
But Erik was so...
Her breath had been very rapid much like her furious writing. Yet, now it slowed. It slowed until she felt better, more relieved.
"Oh, Erik..." she breathed.
A smile traced her lips, and even lingered a while.
What were these feelings that he inspired in her?? One moment she adored him, the next she hated him with every fiber of her being. Too often she thought of him and stopped what she was doing, simply to dwell upon that name. That simple sounding name that had been given to such a complex human. Complex in every way.
Her eyes opened again and she was startled from her trance once she saw her writing on the page. She whimpered, because the ink was smearing across the papers and she could hardly make out the words. But it didn't matter, she knew what these letters contained. And she went again to her work.
"Dense... Angry... Envious..."
She mumbled a word here and there while she wrote.
The floorboards of her room creaked after a door had opened and shut. Lillian... Christine ran her hand over her face and massaged her brow. The doors to the terrace were opened and left ajar while Lillian watched her mistress through the opening and pursed her brow.
"My lady..." she hoarsely called, "Are you well?"
Christine ignored her and continued writing, muttering about something or other.
"Christine.." now she spoke as a friend and, hesitantly, stepped out onto the balcony.
Immediately angry droplets of rain spattered onto her face and she had to lift a hand to protect herself.
"Christine." she spoke louder now, "Are you well?"
She touched her shoulder and then instantly pulled back. Christine was ice cold and shivering as well.
"Oh, m'lady! We must get you back inside. Come on."
And Lillian proceeded to help her up and stand her to her feet. Christine was very unsteady and her whole left side was numb. Christine leaned onto Lillian heavily and nearly toppled her over, as they both were about the same size.
"I can't, Lillian." the girl groaned, looking down at her papers, "I have to do this."
"What is it you're doing?"
Christine looked over and smiled a little, showing her gratefulness for Lillian's concern. It had been a long time since anyone had really been very close to her. She was thankful for Lillian in many ways.
"Oh, Lillian. It's nothing, really... Well, I suppose you won't believe me now... If it is so important that I am staying out in the rain until three in the morning." and she gave out a laugh that was sodden with disappointment.
Lillian sighed and wrapped her shawl around herself tighter while she sat down on the outdoor settee. She smiled compassionately at Christine, who had now knelt to the ground and gathered up all her papers. Christine shook her head, still saying things to herself that were nearly inaudible.
The storm was letting up, but the darkness and wind would remain. Christine rather preferred it that way. Darkness had always comforted her, and eased the tension in her mind and body. But now she had an awful headache that would not go away, and she was complaining to herself aloud as well.
Lillian clicked her tongue and patted the seat beside her. Now, the rain had reduced to a mere drizzle and was causing ripples in the large pool of water at their feet. Christine gladly sat down, dropping her papers back to the ground, and leaned her head stiffly onto the back of the couch. At once, her headache began to leave.
"What is all this about, Miss Daae? You've been out here, three nights in a row, simply writing! But writing like a maniac no less. And it worries me. You are in no condition to continue this idiotic routine! You'll catch your death in weather like this! Have you forgotten that spring is full of storms?"
Christine pressed her fingertips to her temple and drew them down along her jaw, then let them rest in her lap, "No, I have not forgotten."
Her voice was raspy and weary, and Lillian again scolded her.
"Christine, I will lock you downstairs if you don't let some sense into your head! I don't understand why you're doing this to yourself. What is it that you are writing that is so important to you?" Lillian placed an arm around her dear friend and pressed a kiss to her cheek, "You are like a sister to me. I've never had any sisters. If you become insane I doubt I'll ever have a chance at getting another one."
Christine smiled and chuckled a bit, but then sighed as her somberness eventually returned, "Lillian... I am not perfect."
"That's no surprise. I never thought you were." Lillian joked.
Christine did not look comforted by her light-hearted jest, "I... I always thought I was exactly as a young woman should be."
Lillian lifted an eyebrow and shook her head slowly, "That's a bit vain, don't you think? No one can be perfect."
Christine was quiet for a moment, and then continued, "Well... I suppose... Yes, yes it was rather vain. But I don't feel that way anymore. I haven't since I left the Opera. I've been trying to be myself again. But now, all I want to do is dream."
"You always dreamt, Christine, from what you've told me of your past. Especially when your father was around." Lillian replied.
"I was a child, then. Of course I dreamed. But after he passed away... I lost all hope of ever achieving any of my goals."
Lillian smiled, "But then you met someone who let you dream again."
Christine swallowed and nodded, running her fingers through her sopping hair. Oh, yes. He'd let her dream, and he had encouraged it. Erik was able to make her dreams come true, and he even reminded Christine of her father sometimes. Especially when he spoke of how wonderful she would be someday, admired by everyone who knew her and living a wonderful life. He told her how stunningly beautiful she was, and he marveled at the beauty in her voice, which far exceeded her lovely appearance. There was so much he wanted her to be, and she wanted it, too. That was how they'd bonded so quickly. They had the same interests, the same needs. The one thing they lacked was a common understanding of one another. There was a barrier between them. And a large part of that barrier was her inability to stop being what everyone else wanted, and to allow him to show her who she truly was.
A woman.
A kind but spirited and beautiful young woman.
"He let me do more than dream. He helped me explore the depths of my soul, to see who I..." Christine stopped, and realized something, "To see who I really was."
Christine stood and paced a bit, chewing on her thumbnail as she did. Lillian also left her seat to look over the balcony at the Paris streets below. The street below glittered with water and reflected the moon and its bright stars.
"My, Paris is so majestic." Lillian whispered, "I haven't been able to enjoy a scene like this in quite a while."
"Yes, yes of course." Christine replied.
Lillian leaned her chin onto her hand. Her mistress was a very perplexing woman.
Who was she, really? Well... Christine was a young, needy girl who wanted a husband who would take care of her. She wanted to bear him many sons and live a content, joyful life that was just the same everyday as it was the day before. She aspired to being what every young lady wanted to be at this point in life.
But then, she also was quite capable of doing what she pleased. She was very talented and possessed the ability to stun everyone with her voice. Whoever this man was that she so often spoke of, he must've been very talented himself. Lillian only knew a little about him. Christine never liked to openly talk about every little detail, but she gave just enough in order to paint a picture for Lillian.
"Tall... Mysterious... Dark and handsome. That must've been what he was like." Lillian remarked.
Christine couldn't help but give a mocking laugh, "Oh, no, my friend. He was far from handsome..." she then stood next to Lillian and wrung her fingers, her voice at a hush, "Lillian... Is it... wrong... to want to be free?"
Now this was odd coming from Christine's mouth! Lillian squinted and scratched her temple with a finger. She was a maid, and that wasn't necessarily a very limitless life. But she had never felt as if she were kept from achieving her dreams. In her mind, she could be anything she wanted at any time, despite the circumstances. Life was one long road, and so it was easy to become bored. There should be at least some sort of thrill about it. And that was exactly what she told Christine. Lillian didn't, and had never believed in the idea that women were subordinate and had no other point in life than to be delicate fopette's in society.
Christine was a bit surprised. Lillian had always seemed to be, in her eyes, very much like her. But obviously, that was not true.
"Lillian... These letters..." she stooped down to pick one from the pile and show it to Lillian, "Are my imperfections, dreams, and mistakes. I wrote them to myself. I had intended to throw them out onto the wind once I was finished. I am tired of trying to be who I am not, but I have no choice. Who I really am is a reckless person." and she let the thin piece of parchment fly away into the night, "And I need to let that go."
Lillian bent down and pulled the rest of the papers into her arms, attempting to read out loud the vague words, "Deceitful... Jealous..." she paused, and then read more, "Dense and angry... Dense and angry? Christine, these aren't you."
Christine glanced over as tears trickled down her face to join the puddles below, "Yes... I am exactly those."
Her voice was a mere whisper, full of shame and guilt.
"I found out who I really am when I met Erik." she sniffled and pulled a paper away from Lillian to let it glide with the wind, "I am all of these, and more..."
A soft sob escaped her and she continued to pluck the papers from Lillian's arms until all but one remained. When Christine made a gesture to grasp it, Lillian stepped back and tugged it away from her.
"No." she weakly denied her access to the paper, "This one is not to be tossed away."
"Why?" Christine tried again to take it from her, "Please, hand it over."
"Christine, these are your dreams! You never told me that you wanted to teach children..." Lillian was in awe of all of the little hopes that Christine was going to carelessly throw away, "You aren't telling me that you wish to let these go, are you? There is so much here you are capable of, if you only would give yourself a chance..."
Christine snatched the paper away and tore it to shreds, stamping it into the balcony floor until she'd let out all her frustration, "There is no such thing as a chance, Lillian. Not for dreams, not for love, not for me! I was born to be a lady of beauty, poise, and perfection. Dreaming is for those who are not happy."
"But then, you're really not living." Lillian countered, "Life is an experience that is supposed to be worthwhile!"
"No one set that rule." Christine whispered, shoving the strips of paper off of the balcony with her foot.
Lillian walked to her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "No. Because it is not a rule. It is a decision you can make. You aren't free, Christine. You are tied up. You are preventing yourself from being who you really are. And until you realize it, you will be disappointed in yourself all your life. And your dreams will pass you by and you will never appreciate those who try to save you from yourself."
"I want so terribly to be..."
Lillian prodded her, "To be what, Christine? To be what?"
Christine sniffled again and looked out into the darkness, "To be someone else. I have a vision of the Christine I want to be, and a vision of my true self."
"I don't think you know what your true self looks like. Especially if you think you are all of those awful things: dishonest, uncaring, selfish, and angry. In my eyes, those are a perfect description of what you want to become. If you were absolutely as perfect as you could be, you would think only of yourself, and then you would hate yourself again for being selfish. Oh, Christine. My poor, poor girl. Who taught you that it was a bad thing to want more from life?"
And Christine couldn't answer. No one had told her that. She had assumed it. Christine smiled at Lillian and squeezed the hand on her shoulder, then went back into her bedroom and told her to leave the room. She was to change into something warm and then she would sleep.
A bit later Lillian arrived back at the room with some hot tea. Christine sat upright in her bed against the pillows, looking a bit calmer than she had been on the balcony. She stared in a trance-like way at the wall ahead of her. There was a mirror directly across from her bed, and as she distractedly sipped her tea, she thought that it resembled the mirror in her dressing room quite a lot.
Lillian stayed with her for the rest of the night, watching after her incase she was to catch cold. All she could think about that night was how unhappy Christine was, and so suddenly, too! Christine hadn't given any clue about her underlying sadness. But now it all seemed to make sense. Christine hadn't let the Opera incident go yet, and she was struggling with her inner feelings. As was mentioned before, Lillian knew hardly a thing about what had happened. But she knew enough to understand that this Erik fellow had been a large part of her life for a long time. She also knew that Christine was a fiery and impassioned woman concealed beneath her fake persona. This also answered the question of why Christine was not accepting Raoul's proposal. She was battling with herself. She wanted to marry him because it was expected of her. Who wouldn't want to marry someone as dashingly handsome and thoughtful as he? But inside of her, she felt unsure about it. Christine knew it would be the wrong thing for her, but she couldn't admit it.
Christine eventually went to her small little library on the first level and spent the rest of the night reading until she fell asleep in her jade colored arm chair with the book open-faced on her lap.
The morning came and went, as did the afternoon, and evening was approaching. It seemed fitting to Christine that she should pay Raoul a visit. It was time to talk to him about her troubles. Lillian was kind and wise, but it would be easier to talk to Raoul, who was a much closer friend. And he would help her, without knowing, to figure out her answer to his proposal.
The horse-drawn carriage waited for her outside and she quickly grabbed her coat before heading out the door. The night was still cold and damp from the many storms that had preceded. She stepped into the carriage, giving orders to the driver to take her to the de Chagny residence.
The rest of the ride was quiet and peaceful.
"Christine! My God, you look awful! Please, come in."
Christine gave him a half smile in reply to his cutting words and let a maid take her coat.
"Yes, I've had a rough couple of nights."
"I should say so! Are you ill?" Raoul questioned, instantly replacing a blanket around her shoulders, defeating the purpose of taking off her coat.
"Raoul... Really, I'm quite fine. I haven't been getting much sleep is all." and she let the blanket fall from her shoulders and handed it to Raoul, "I would like to take a stroll around the park, if you don't mind. My carriage is outside."
The de Chagny boy nodded and followed her out, and they soon were headed to the park.
Inside the carriage, Christine was very quiet, and so Raoul bit back his numerous questions. She seemed in worse spirits than she had been the last time he'd seen her and he was very anxious to know the reason for her coming to visit.
So, after a while, he finally had to speak.
"Christine..." he approached with caution, "I... Well, I was wondering. Have you made any attempts at a singing career yet?"
Christine shook her head with a smile, and said nothing.
It was quite an awkward situation. She had never been so quiet.
"Christine..."
She nodded to him once more.
"Please tell me what is bothering you. I'll do anything to help, to ease your troubles."
"I have no doubt of that, monsieur." and her voice was very happy.
He decided to drop the subject until they arrived at the park. And it was no time before they did. The de Chagny lifted her from the carriage and began to walk with her, hand in hand, along the path around the park. They walked like that in contentment for quite a while until Christine broke the fragile silence.
"I want to be free."
Raoul glanced over and chuckled gently, then looked back up at the stars, "Of course you do. And you are. You are finally free from his power."
Christine's cheeks grew slightly hot at the mention of Erik, but it soon passed and she replied, "No, Raoul. I mean... Free."
He looked over again, "I don't believe I follow."
"Well." she sighed and watched their feet as they walked, "I want to do what I wish to do. I want to be more than what is expected of me. Better than what is expected of me. I am so sick of trying to be who I am not."
"Then don't be." he replied gently, "You don't have to be anyone but yourself. I would rather it was that way." and he smiled, stroking her face with a gloved fingertip, "You are the woman I love when you are Christine Daae."
This was true. Raoul knew the woman inside, and that was who he loved. He adored everything about her and would give the world for her. Her uniqueness was what set her apart from all of the other eligible young ladies that vied for his hand.
"But, Raoul... Is it wrong to be who I am? To want excitement and things normal people do not want and to even be very flawed?"
"Your flaws make you who you are. I wish for you to be exactly as you are, nothing more, and nothing less. Simply you. And I want you to have excitement and do things that are out of the ordinary, because it is what makes you happy."
"Then..." she stopped and held his hands tightly in her own, biting her lip and then forcing out her next words, "You will not hate me for refusing your proposal because of that very longing?"
He suddenly became very speechless, "Christine... I... Well, no... I could never hate you, but..."
"Raoul. If I were to marry you, I would never know true freedom."
He knit his brow and shook his head in disbelief, "No... No! That's not true! I have every resource at my disposal. Whatever you want to do we can do! I have the means."
Christine looked away and replied, "Your family. They do not approve. Despite all you promise I will have to compromise myself and who I am in order to be your wife. They expect certain things, and if you and I elope, they'll cast you out of your family."
Raoul sighed and tipped her chin up, not unlike a certain other person long before, "There is nothing I won't do for you."
But Christine knew better. He loved his family almost more than they loved him. Over time he would grow depressed and homesick, like her father had. And then she would feel guilty and would have to leave. Then where would they be? Their efforts would have been all for nothing.
"I don't know why I didn't see it before." she whispered to herself, but he managed to hear her.
"What? What didn't you see before?"
"It would be impossible for you and I to be together, in any situation. We didn't need my career or my status or the Angel of Music to cause friction between your family and us. It has always been there. Perhaps I should become a nun..."
"Christine, please."
"Oh, I didn't mean it, Raoul. There would be no point. I wouldn't be free then either."
The de Chagny was at a loss for words. There was nothing to be said that could change her mind. Christine was simply too stubborn for him to get through to her.
"If you don't mind, Christine... I'll be walking home tonight."
"You're leaving? Again? Running away from your problems?" Christine replied.
He turned around and looked her in the eye squarely, "That's all you've ever done, Christine. And if that is a part of who you are then perhaps I don't love you. Not if you're running away from me."
And she was left in the park, alone and even more downhearted than before. In a whimper she expressed all of her complete and utter despair. Her legs buckled and she fell to the ground, sitting on her knees and crying into her hands.
Was she wrong?
No, she didn't think so.
The world was wrong, and she was absolutely right.
"Animals... They are so wild, so untamed. They are born with the knowledge of only what they need, and they choose from there what they will do in life. Granted their life is very simple. They are not, after all, human. What stops us from being as carefree and wise as they are is our endless contradicting. We must control everything, yet we long to be loosed from that control. If only the human race could finally distinguish what it wants. Until then, our true selves are forced to sleep, and we damage and change ourselves because of our impatience. We commit murder in our rage, accuse others of ruining our lives, become selfish in our pain and destroy all that is lovely. We are truly ourselves when we learn to live life despite our pain, to love instead of hate, and to wait patiently until mankind finds an answer. Because inside the human spirit is goodness and tolerance. And that is truly what we are."
"Oh, Papa..."
((Alright! Very sappy. Yes. I love sappy stuff!! Still not sure on where Erik will come in, or when he will, or what is going to happen, for that matter! ;-D Throw me your ideas and I'll try to weave them into the story! R&R please!))
((-A tiny intro- This chapter will mostly reflect Christine's inner struggle with herself. I do believe that in all of us there is something that holds us back from doing what we truly want to do. Christine has an overwhelming longing to be purged of her chains and to experience life to its fullest. I like to imagine that part of Christine's struggle in the end of the Phantom of the Opera is that she feels that either way she goes, she will be forced to hold back a part of herself. Erik offered her a world of opportunity but he still expected her to be what he wanted her to be. I find Christine to be a fascinating character because I feel she is strong, even though she doesn't think so, and I can relate fully to that. People have taught her that she is meek and dependent. At least, in this story that's what happened. Inside of her, I see the opposite. Basically, it is a struggle within herself to figure out what she wants in life. It might be significant to the story later on and it may not. Who knows. For now, I'm simply writing down my thoughts.))
"Letters! Letters! So many letters!"
The rain poured down as if to drown the whole of Paris in freezing cold water. The balcony of Miss Daae's room on the upper floor was no exception, and neither was she. Laying on her side on the floor of the veranda she wrote sentence after sentence on a piece of yellowed paper. Her lip was now raw where she'd been chewing for the past few hours in concentration.
"I must finish them! I must!"
Her hair was soaked through, dangling limply over her face and shoulders, sticking to her skin and sliding down her neck. Her nightgown was just as pitiful looking, but she'd made sure to wear something of dark color to keep the fabric from being translucent. To uphold her modesty.
Modesty. And perfection. All her life perfecting herself had been almost as vital to her as the music that captured her soul. She'd known all her life that someday she would be a lady, and had prepared for that day for quite a long time. Perfection was an achievement that was more important to her than life itself. If she could not be perfect, how could she live? Sorrow would come upon her, and strangle the life out of her. But if she was perfect... If she was pure, sensible, well mannered, kind- hearted, and humble, then no harm could come to her. There would be no reason for anyone to hurt her. And if there came a point when she was still hurt, she would not feel it because she would know that she was perfect. And perfect people do not hurt.
She was sadly mistaken.
Because of her inability to hide who she was, a tremendously imperfect man had fallen in love with her, and had tempted her to feel things and experience things that she did not deem perfect. This was not right. This would not do. She had to follow what she knew was absolutely right, and absolutely ideal. She could not let go and fall into his trap.
Raoul was ideal. He also fell in love with her flawlessness. But he was perfect, and she was safe to fall in love with him.
But Erik was so...
Her breath had been very rapid much like her furious writing. Yet, now it slowed. It slowed until she felt better, more relieved.
"Oh, Erik..." she breathed.
A smile traced her lips, and even lingered a while.
What were these feelings that he inspired in her?? One moment she adored him, the next she hated him with every fiber of her being. Too often she thought of him and stopped what she was doing, simply to dwell upon that name. That simple sounding name that had been given to such a complex human. Complex in every way.
Her eyes opened again and she was startled from her trance once she saw her writing on the page. She whimpered, because the ink was smearing across the papers and she could hardly make out the words. But it didn't matter, she knew what these letters contained. And she went again to her work.
"Dense... Angry... Envious..."
She mumbled a word here and there while she wrote.
The floorboards of her room creaked after a door had opened and shut. Lillian... Christine ran her hand over her face and massaged her brow. The doors to the terrace were opened and left ajar while Lillian watched her mistress through the opening and pursed her brow.
"My lady..." she hoarsely called, "Are you well?"
Christine ignored her and continued writing, muttering about something or other.
"Christine.." now she spoke as a friend and, hesitantly, stepped out onto the balcony.
Immediately angry droplets of rain spattered onto her face and she had to lift a hand to protect herself.
"Christine." she spoke louder now, "Are you well?"
She touched her shoulder and then instantly pulled back. Christine was ice cold and shivering as well.
"Oh, m'lady! We must get you back inside. Come on."
And Lillian proceeded to help her up and stand her to her feet. Christine was very unsteady and her whole left side was numb. Christine leaned onto Lillian heavily and nearly toppled her over, as they both were about the same size.
"I can't, Lillian." the girl groaned, looking down at her papers, "I have to do this."
"What is it you're doing?"
Christine looked over and smiled a little, showing her gratefulness for Lillian's concern. It had been a long time since anyone had really been very close to her. She was thankful for Lillian in many ways.
"Oh, Lillian. It's nothing, really... Well, I suppose you won't believe me now... If it is so important that I am staying out in the rain until three in the morning." and she gave out a laugh that was sodden with disappointment.
Lillian sighed and wrapped her shawl around herself tighter while she sat down on the outdoor settee. She smiled compassionately at Christine, who had now knelt to the ground and gathered up all her papers. Christine shook her head, still saying things to herself that were nearly inaudible.
The storm was letting up, but the darkness and wind would remain. Christine rather preferred it that way. Darkness had always comforted her, and eased the tension in her mind and body. But now she had an awful headache that would not go away, and she was complaining to herself aloud as well.
Lillian clicked her tongue and patted the seat beside her. Now, the rain had reduced to a mere drizzle and was causing ripples in the large pool of water at their feet. Christine gladly sat down, dropping her papers back to the ground, and leaned her head stiffly onto the back of the couch. At once, her headache began to leave.
"What is all this about, Miss Daae? You've been out here, three nights in a row, simply writing! But writing like a maniac no less. And it worries me. You are in no condition to continue this idiotic routine! You'll catch your death in weather like this! Have you forgotten that spring is full of storms?"
Christine pressed her fingertips to her temple and drew them down along her jaw, then let them rest in her lap, "No, I have not forgotten."
Her voice was raspy and weary, and Lillian again scolded her.
"Christine, I will lock you downstairs if you don't let some sense into your head! I don't understand why you're doing this to yourself. What is it that you are writing that is so important to you?" Lillian placed an arm around her dear friend and pressed a kiss to her cheek, "You are like a sister to me. I've never had any sisters. If you become insane I doubt I'll ever have a chance at getting another one."
Christine smiled and chuckled a bit, but then sighed as her somberness eventually returned, "Lillian... I am not perfect."
"That's no surprise. I never thought you were." Lillian joked.
Christine did not look comforted by her light-hearted jest, "I... I always thought I was exactly as a young woman should be."
Lillian lifted an eyebrow and shook her head slowly, "That's a bit vain, don't you think? No one can be perfect."
Christine was quiet for a moment, and then continued, "Well... I suppose... Yes, yes it was rather vain. But I don't feel that way anymore. I haven't since I left the Opera. I've been trying to be myself again. But now, all I want to do is dream."
"You always dreamt, Christine, from what you've told me of your past. Especially when your father was around." Lillian replied.
"I was a child, then. Of course I dreamed. But after he passed away... I lost all hope of ever achieving any of my goals."
Lillian smiled, "But then you met someone who let you dream again."
Christine swallowed and nodded, running her fingers through her sopping hair. Oh, yes. He'd let her dream, and he had encouraged it. Erik was able to make her dreams come true, and he even reminded Christine of her father sometimes. Especially when he spoke of how wonderful she would be someday, admired by everyone who knew her and living a wonderful life. He told her how stunningly beautiful she was, and he marveled at the beauty in her voice, which far exceeded her lovely appearance. There was so much he wanted her to be, and she wanted it, too. That was how they'd bonded so quickly. They had the same interests, the same needs. The one thing they lacked was a common understanding of one another. There was a barrier between them. And a large part of that barrier was her inability to stop being what everyone else wanted, and to allow him to show her who she truly was.
A woman.
A kind but spirited and beautiful young woman.
"He let me do more than dream. He helped me explore the depths of my soul, to see who I..." Christine stopped, and realized something, "To see who I really was."
Christine stood and paced a bit, chewing on her thumbnail as she did. Lillian also left her seat to look over the balcony at the Paris streets below. The street below glittered with water and reflected the moon and its bright stars.
"My, Paris is so majestic." Lillian whispered, "I haven't been able to enjoy a scene like this in quite a while."
"Yes, yes of course." Christine replied.
Lillian leaned her chin onto her hand. Her mistress was a very perplexing woman.
Who was she, really? Well... Christine was a young, needy girl who wanted a husband who would take care of her. She wanted to bear him many sons and live a content, joyful life that was just the same everyday as it was the day before. She aspired to being what every young lady wanted to be at this point in life.
But then, she also was quite capable of doing what she pleased. She was very talented and possessed the ability to stun everyone with her voice. Whoever this man was that she so often spoke of, he must've been very talented himself. Lillian only knew a little about him. Christine never liked to openly talk about every little detail, but she gave just enough in order to paint a picture for Lillian.
"Tall... Mysterious... Dark and handsome. That must've been what he was like." Lillian remarked.
Christine couldn't help but give a mocking laugh, "Oh, no, my friend. He was far from handsome..." she then stood next to Lillian and wrung her fingers, her voice at a hush, "Lillian... Is it... wrong... to want to be free?"
Now this was odd coming from Christine's mouth! Lillian squinted and scratched her temple with a finger. She was a maid, and that wasn't necessarily a very limitless life. But she had never felt as if she were kept from achieving her dreams. In her mind, she could be anything she wanted at any time, despite the circumstances. Life was one long road, and so it was easy to become bored. There should be at least some sort of thrill about it. And that was exactly what she told Christine. Lillian didn't, and had never believed in the idea that women were subordinate and had no other point in life than to be delicate fopette's in society.
Christine was a bit surprised. Lillian had always seemed to be, in her eyes, very much like her. But obviously, that was not true.
"Lillian... These letters..." she stooped down to pick one from the pile and show it to Lillian, "Are my imperfections, dreams, and mistakes. I wrote them to myself. I had intended to throw them out onto the wind once I was finished. I am tired of trying to be who I am not, but I have no choice. Who I really am is a reckless person." and she let the thin piece of parchment fly away into the night, "And I need to let that go."
Lillian bent down and pulled the rest of the papers into her arms, attempting to read out loud the vague words, "Deceitful... Jealous..." she paused, and then read more, "Dense and angry... Dense and angry? Christine, these aren't you."
Christine glanced over as tears trickled down her face to join the puddles below, "Yes... I am exactly those."
Her voice was a mere whisper, full of shame and guilt.
"I found out who I really am when I met Erik." she sniffled and pulled a paper away from Lillian to let it glide with the wind, "I am all of these, and more..."
A soft sob escaped her and she continued to pluck the papers from Lillian's arms until all but one remained. When Christine made a gesture to grasp it, Lillian stepped back and tugged it away from her.
"No." she weakly denied her access to the paper, "This one is not to be tossed away."
"Why?" Christine tried again to take it from her, "Please, hand it over."
"Christine, these are your dreams! You never told me that you wanted to teach children..." Lillian was in awe of all of the little hopes that Christine was going to carelessly throw away, "You aren't telling me that you wish to let these go, are you? There is so much here you are capable of, if you only would give yourself a chance..."
Christine snatched the paper away and tore it to shreds, stamping it into the balcony floor until she'd let out all her frustration, "There is no such thing as a chance, Lillian. Not for dreams, not for love, not for me! I was born to be a lady of beauty, poise, and perfection. Dreaming is for those who are not happy."
"But then, you're really not living." Lillian countered, "Life is an experience that is supposed to be worthwhile!"
"No one set that rule." Christine whispered, shoving the strips of paper off of the balcony with her foot.
Lillian walked to her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, "No. Because it is not a rule. It is a decision you can make. You aren't free, Christine. You are tied up. You are preventing yourself from being who you really are. And until you realize it, you will be disappointed in yourself all your life. And your dreams will pass you by and you will never appreciate those who try to save you from yourself."
"I want so terribly to be..."
Lillian prodded her, "To be what, Christine? To be what?"
Christine sniffled again and looked out into the darkness, "To be someone else. I have a vision of the Christine I want to be, and a vision of my true self."
"I don't think you know what your true self looks like. Especially if you think you are all of those awful things: dishonest, uncaring, selfish, and angry. In my eyes, those are a perfect description of what you want to become. If you were absolutely as perfect as you could be, you would think only of yourself, and then you would hate yourself again for being selfish. Oh, Christine. My poor, poor girl. Who taught you that it was a bad thing to want more from life?"
And Christine couldn't answer. No one had told her that. She had assumed it. Christine smiled at Lillian and squeezed the hand on her shoulder, then went back into her bedroom and told her to leave the room. She was to change into something warm and then she would sleep.
A bit later Lillian arrived back at the room with some hot tea. Christine sat upright in her bed against the pillows, looking a bit calmer than she had been on the balcony. She stared in a trance-like way at the wall ahead of her. There was a mirror directly across from her bed, and as she distractedly sipped her tea, she thought that it resembled the mirror in her dressing room quite a lot.
Lillian stayed with her for the rest of the night, watching after her incase she was to catch cold. All she could think about that night was how unhappy Christine was, and so suddenly, too! Christine hadn't given any clue about her underlying sadness. But now it all seemed to make sense. Christine hadn't let the Opera incident go yet, and she was struggling with her inner feelings. As was mentioned before, Lillian knew hardly a thing about what had happened. But she knew enough to understand that this Erik fellow had been a large part of her life for a long time. She also knew that Christine was a fiery and impassioned woman concealed beneath her fake persona. This also answered the question of why Christine was not accepting Raoul's proposal. She was battling with herself. She wanted to marry him because it was expected of her. Who wouldn't want to marry someone as dashingly handsome and thoughtful as he? But inside of her, she felt unsure about it. Christine knew it would be the wrong thing for her, but she couldn't admit it.
Christine eventually went to her small little library on the first level and spent the rest of the night reading until she fell asleep in her jade colored arm chair with the book open-faced on her lap.
The morning came and went, as did the afternoon, and evening was approaching. It seemed fitting to Christine that she should pay Raoul a visit. It was time to talk to him about her troubles. Lillian was kind and wise, but it would be easier to talk to Raoul, who was a much closer friend. And he would help her, without knowing, to figure out her answer to his proposal.
The horse-drawn carriage waited for her outside and she quickly grabbed her coat before heading out the door. The night was still cold and damp from the many storms that had preceded. She stepped into the carriage, giving orders to the driver to take her to the de Chagny residence.
The rest of the ride was quiet and peaceful.
"Christine! My God, you look awful! Please, come in."
Christine gave him a half smile in reply to his cutting words and let a maid take her coat.
"Yes, I've had a rough couple of nights."
"I should say so! Are you ill?" Raoul questioned, instantly replacing a blanket around her shoulders, defeating the purpose of taking off her coat.
"Raoul... Really, I'm quite fine. I haven't been getting much sleep is all." and she let the blanket fall from her shoulders and handed it to Raoul, "I would like to take a stroll around the park, if you don't mind. My carriage is outside."
The de Chagny boy nodded and followed her out, and they soon were headed to the park.
Inside the carriage, Christine was very quiet, and so Raoul bit back his numerous questions. She seemed in worse spirits than she had been the last time he'd seen her and he was very anxious to know the reason for her coming to visit.
So, after a while, he finally had to speak.
"Christine..." he approached with caution, "I... Well, I was wondering. Have you made any attempts at a singing career yet?"
Christine shook her head with a smile, and said nothing.
It was quite an awkward situation. She had never been so quiet.
"Christine..."
She nodded to him once more.
"Please tell me what is bothering you. I'll do anything to help, to ease your troubles."
"I have no doubt of that, monsieur." and her voice was very happy.
He decided to drop the subject until they arrived at the park. And it was no time before they did. The de Chagny lifted her from the carriage and began to walk with her, hand in hand, along the path around the park. They walked like that in contentment for quite a while until Christine broke the fragile silence.
"I want to be free."
Raoul glanced over and chuckled gently, then looked back up at the stars, "Of course you do. And you are. You are finally free from his power."
Christine's cheeks grew slightly hot at the mention of Erik, but it soon passed and she replied, "No, Raoul. I mean... Free."
He looked over again, "I don't believe I follow."
"Well." she sighed and watched their feet as they walked, "I want to do what I wish to do. I want to be more than what is expected of me. Better than what is expected of me. I am so sick of trying to be who I am not."
"Then don't be." he replied gently, "You don't have to be anyone but yourself. I would rather it was that way." and he smiled, stroking her face with a gloved fingertip, "You are the woman I love when you are Christine Daae."
This was true. Raoul knew the woman inside, and that was who he loved. He adored everything about her and would give the world for her. Her uniqueness was what set her apart from all of the other eligible young ladies that vied for his hand.
"But, Raoul... Is it wrong to be who I am? To want excitement and things normal people do not want and to even be very flawed?"
"Your flaws make you who you are. I wish for you to be exactly as you are, nothing more, and nothing less. Simply you. And I want you to have excitement and do things that are out of the ordinary, because it is what makes you happy."
"Then..." she stopped and held his hands tightly in her own, biting her lip and then forcing out her next words, "You will not hate me for refusing your proposal because of that very longing?"
He suddenly became very speechless, "Christine... I... Well, no... I could never hate you, but..."
"Raoul. If I were to marry you, I would never know true freedom."
He knit his brow and shook his head in disbelief, "No... No! That's not true! I have every resource at my disposal. Whatever you want to do we can do! I have the means."
Christine looked away and replied, "Your family. They do not approve. Despite all you promise I will have to compromise myself and who I am in order to be your wife. They expect certain things, and if you and I elope, they'll cast you out of your family."
Raoul sighed and tipped her chin up, not unlike a certain other person long before, "There is nothing I won't do for you."
But Christine knew better. He loved his family almost more than they loved him. Over time he would grow depressed and homesick, like her father had. And then she would feel guilty and would have to leave. Then where would they be? Their efforts would have been all for nothing.
"I don't know why I didn't see it before." she whispered to herself, but he managed to hear her.
"What? What didn't you see before?"
"It would be impossible for you and I to be together, in any situation. We didn't need my career or my status or the Angel of Music to cause friction between your family and us. It has always been there. Perhaps I should become a nun..."
"Christine, please."
"Oh, I didn't mean it, Raoul. There would be no point. I wouldn't be free then either."
The de Chagny was at a loss for words. There was nothing to be said that could change her mind. Christine was simply too stubborn for him to get through to her.
"If you don't mind, Christine... I'll be walking home tonight."
"You're leaving? Again? Running away from your problems?" Christine replied.
He turned around and looked her in the eye squarely, "That's all you've ever done, Christine. And if that is a part of who you are then perhaps I don't love you. Not if you're running away from me."
And she was left in the park, alone and even more downhearted than before. In a whimper she expressed all of her complete and utter despair. Her legs buckled and she fell to the ground, sitting on her knees and crying into her hands.
Was she wrong?
No, she didn't think so.
The world was wrong, and she was absolutely right.
"Animals... They are so wild, so untamed. They are born with the knowledge of only what they need, and they choose from there what they will do in life. Granted their life is very simple. They are not, after all, human. What stops us from being as carefree and wise as they are is our endless contradicting. We must control everything, yet we long to be loosed from that control. If only the human race could finally distinguish what it wants. Until then, our true selves are forced to sleep, and we damage and change ourselves because of our impatience. We commit murder in our rage, accuse others of ruining our lives, become selfish in our pain and destroy all that is lovely. We are truly ourselves when we learn to live life despite our pain, to love instead of hate, and to wait patiently until mankind finds an answer. Because inside the human spirit is goodness and tolerance. And that is truly what we are."
"Oh, Papa..."
((Alright! Very sappy. Yes. I love sappy stuff!! Still not sure on where Erik will come in, or when he will, or what is going to happen, for that matter! ;-D Throw me your ideas and I'll try to weave them into the story! R&R please!))