Heyla folks. This is the first story I'm writing under this section, so please be kind. In point of fact I do not accept flames. If you think my story can be improved, tell me how but DO NOT just write that it's 'crap' or 'junk' and not tell me why. It really bothers me when people do that.
On another note, I just saw the movie last Sunday. IT WAS THE BEST!!! How can people criticize the music? I mean granted there is NO comparison to Michael Crawford but I quite liked Gerald Butler.
Anyway I came up with this story while I was watching the movie, and it's basically a rewrite of the last few scenes. I meant to write it earlier but I had a LOT of homework this past week. Hope you all enjoy!
One more author's note, an important one. For the songs in this chapter sometimes the characters are singing at the same time. Christine's singing is italicized, Erik's is bold, and Raoul's is underlined. If two characters are singing at once the lines they say simultaneously will be right under each other with a / at the end of the first line. Hope it's not too confusing, but then you should be familiar with the music.
Disclaimer: I will own Phantom one day! But until that day I must be satisfied with the cd's and posters.
A Different Spin on Things
Christine restlessly turned over in bed, carefully listening for sounds outside the door. There were none. She waited a few minutes more before creeping out of bed and fetching her cloak, which she slipped on over her dress. She hadn't changed into her nightclothes at all, just tugged the covers up over her shoulders and turned her face to the wall so that when Raoul came in to check on her he would think she was asleep. She knew Raoul thought that he was keeping her safe, but she felt like a prisoner.
She slipped open the door and poked her head out carefully. Raoul was seated on the floor, leaning against the stair post, quite clearly asleep. Christine slid the rest of the way out of the room and as quickly and quietly as she could she ran down the stairs. She didn't stop moving until she reached the stables.
"A carriage, Monsieur," she said to the stable-master, tossing the man a small bag of coins. As he walked off to order her carriage, something on the table nearby caught Christine's attentions. A vase of red roses sat on the table, as out of place in the stables as fish in the sky. Gently, almost reverently, Christine cradled one of the roses in her palm, inhaling its sweet, intoxicating scent. She knew without a doubt who had put the roses there.
Calmly she walked out of the stables to find her carriage waiting for her. She climbed inside and settled herself down.
"To my father's grave," she ordered quietly. Of course the order was rather ridiculous, how was the carriage driver supposed to know where her father was buried? The graveyard at Perros went on for miles. But the driver merely snapped the reigns, and they started moving.
As they traveled Christine stared unseeingly at the scenery around her, her mind miles away and wrapped in a storm of emotions. Everything that had happened, all her thoughts and feelings of which she had been so sure now revealed to be as frail as lace. She needed to sort herself out, she needed to grow up, to stop being the lost, scared child and become the independent woman. She desperately needed guidance and the only place she could go to get some peace of mind was her father's grave. She clung to the hope that perhaps his spirit would guide her to making the right choices.
She shivered a little in the cold, the biting wind rubbing her face raw. Unconsciously she shifted her position so that the driver was blocking the worst of the wind. She closed her eyes, her mind traveling back to the roses in the stable. She tried not to smile at the thought that her angel was still watching over her, that despite everything still cared for her. She had a good idea of who was driving the carriage but she kept her thoughts to herself.
They finally reached the graveyard, the driver taking her to the entrance gate closest to her father's grave without direction. With a murmured thank you, Christine stepped down from the carriage. As she opened the gates the driver snapped the reigns again and drove off. Christine began to walk. This may have been the closet entrance to her father's grave, but she still had to walk a ways. As she walked she began to sing, her tangled emotions and renewed grief translating itself into music.
You were once my one companion
You were all that mattered.
You were once a friend and father,
Then my world was shattered.
She continued to walk, weaving her way through the graveyard, her feet tracing the path by memory. Christine was by now, completely wrapped up in her song, wrapped up in the feelings of grief and confusion behind it.
Wishing you were somehow here again
Wishing you were somehow near.
Sometimes it seems if I just dreamed
Somehow you would be here.
Wishing I could here your voice again,
Knowing that I never would.
Dreaming of you won't help me to do
All that you dreamed I could.
Her eyes traveled around the graveyard, taking in the cold gravestones and stone angels. In the distance she could the bell tower. She shivered again, but not from the cold. It must be so lonely in the graveyard.
Passing bells and sculpted angels
Cold and monumental,
Seemed for you the wrong companions,
You were warm and gentle.
She recalled those years as a child when she lived with her father. Her life had been so simple back then, nothing like the confused tangle it was now. But the simplicity had ended when she was seven, and since then she had had to carry around this heavy burden of grief. She was tired.
Too many years fighting back tears,
Why can't the past just die?
Wishing you were somehow here again,
Knowing we must say goodbye.
As her song rose to its finale, Christine finally came upon her father's grave. Her voice rose in entreaty. She finally shed the cloak of grief that had shrouded her for so long.
Try to forgive, teach me to live,
Give me the strength to try.
No more memories,
No more silent tears.
No more gazing across the wasted years.
Help me say goodbye.
Her song died away and Christine was left staring at the cold memorial in front of her. She had come here hoping to be shown what to do, hoping for some kind of sign. She bowed her head in defeat.
Violin music started up, quietly at first then rising gently to enfold her comfortingly. For the first time in months Christine felt a thrill of hope, and almost laughed in relief as a familiar voice began to sing.
Wandering child, so lost, so helpless,
Yearning for my guidance.
Christine raised her voice once more, in a tremulous reply.
Angel or father? Friend or phantom?
Who is it there, staring?
Have you forgotten your angel? Her angel sang in response. Christine all but fainted from joy.
Angel! Oh speak! What endless longing,
Echoes in this whisper.
Too long you've wandered in winter,
Far from my far reaching gaze.
Wildly my mind beats against you,
Yet your soul obeys/Yet the soul obeys.
Their voices rose together and blended as perfectly as Christine remembered.
Angel of music, I denied you/
Angel of music, you denied me Turing from true beauty/ Turning from true beautyAngel of music, my protector/
Angel of music, do not shun meCome to me strange angel/
Come to me strange angel.
Christine began walking forward. She had wanted an answer and here it was, gently drawing her forward on notes of heaven-song. But it wasn't long before the song was shattered, as a voice yelled her name from behind her. She turned to see Raoul racing up the stairs towards her. But a dark shadow plunged off the monument behind her, almost faster than the eye could follow. In the space of barely a second the two men had drawn swords that clashed together with a ring of steel on steel. Christine was too surprised even to cry out in alarm. She could only watch in terror as the two men she cared for so much fought their deadly fight. Watch as Erik always seemed to have the upper hand; would seem to disappear before reappearing behind his startled opponent.
At one point Erik slashed Raoul's arm, and Raoul let out a cry of pain. But Christine could tell the wound wasn't that deep. Erik seemed to have numerous opportunities to overpower and kill the man, he never did. He almost seemed to be playing a game of cat and mouse.
But it wasn't long before the game ended, when with a surprising maneuver Raoul managed to disarm his opponent and Erik hit the ground on his back. Raoul moved in to kill his opponent, but paused as Christine screamed out in pure terror.
"NO!" Raoul turned to look at her, his sword not moving from its threatening position. Christine was shaking her head, her eyes wide. "Not like this," she pleaded. "Not like this."
Raoul turned to glare down at his opponent, a look of pure loathing on his face, a look that was being returned in full measure. But deferring to Christine's wishes he sheathed his sword and walked away from the fallen Erik. He walked back to his horse, which was standing a little ways behind Christine.
Christine's eyes met her Angel's, his pleading, her own filled with tears. She didn't want to leave him here. She took a hesitant step forward.
"Christine," called Raoul. Christine stopped, clearly hearing the slightly alarmed warning in his voice. If she didn't leave with him, Raoul would finish the fight. He would kill Erik.
Christine walked over to Raoul and mounted the horse behind him. As the galloped for the gates she turned to keep Erik in sight until they rounded a bend and he disappeared from sight. Choking back tears Christine buried her face in Raoul's back. Misinterpret ting her action Raoul gently tried to sooth her.
"It'll be alright dear. I'll keep you safe." At the moment Christine couldn't decide whether or not that was what she wanted. She had come to Perros hoping to find answers, but instead was leaving feeling more wretched and confused then when she had arrived.
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