Disclaimer: Nothing in this story belongs to me, though I wish it did.
A/N: This phic is based mostly on the film version. This story is also mostly told in a flashback setting. The confession is present time, and after that, it's flashback for the bulk of the story.
Summary: What if things had gone very differently the night of the Don Juan Triumphant performance? E/C
Also, a huge thanks to sing for me from PFN for beta reading!
Chapter One
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned…" Her voice wavered unsteadily as she spoke. Sapphire eyes were locked ahead of her, unmoving, lifeless. Unshed tears brimmed her eyelids, coating her dark lashes. Her curly, dark brown hair hung limp and lifeless to the small of her back. Her skin, though normally pale, looked sallow and sickly. Deep purple bags hung beneath her eyes. A simple black dress clung to her thin frame.
"Child," The priest replied. "God is forgiving."
"Father," Her voice cracked now, the emotion welling up inside of her threatening to burst out of her soul. "A man has lost his life at the will of my hands." Her voice rose no louder than a whisper. One single, stray tear finally fell, spilling down her colorless cheek. She could hear the priest gasp sharply at her confession.
"Explain this to me, child. Explain to me why you did this." His voice sounded grave and serious.
She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. "He was a deceitful man, Father. He was a liar, an extortionist…he did whatever was in his power to control me. That night at the Opera house…he held his weapon, preparing to destroy the one man I truly love…and as God as my witness, Father, I could not stand by and let him kill my love! If hell awaits me, then so be it. I will burn for the sin of saving my best friend, my love, my Phantom…" Christine's voice grew stronger with each word she spoke. She didn't wait for a response after she finished her confession. Quickly, she stood and ran from the confessional, exiting the Church. The Opera Populaire was not far away, and she longed more than anything to see Erik once more.
"Christine, hurry up! We're late already!" Meg Giry's voice rang throughout the dormitories. Christine hurried to finish tying her pointe shoes, knowing that Meg would wait for her. She was indeed correct. As she exited the door, she saw Meg standing there, tapping her pointe-shoe clad foot against the ground impatiently.
"You know what Mama will say!" She said with exasperation as the two girls hurried down a flight of stairs to the backstage area. All of the other ballerinas were positioned at the barre, warming up. Madame Giry shot the two girls reprimanding looks as they quickly took their positions and began warming up. Christine could hear Carlotta's voice ringing from the stage, loud and obnoxious.
As usual, She thought to herself with a slight grin. Oh, how she wished that witch would lose her voice! Christine longed to be the prima donna, the diva…she wished, for once, to shine. If nothing else, it would make her late father, who she was sure was watching over her, proud.
"Attention, attention please…" Christine's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden stirring of people around her. Her eyes traveled up to see the owner of the Opera house, Monsieur Lefevre. Two unfamiliar men stood beside him.
"To clear up any previous rumors, I will be leaving the Opera Populaire." Chatter from the cast ensued, mostly with statements like 'I told you so!' "Messieurs Andre and Firmin," He indicated the two men. "Are the new owners of the Opera Populaire. They have recently amassed a fortune in the junk business."
"Scrap metal," Monsieur Andre corrected him. Monsieur Lefevre raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
"Indeed. Gentlemen, I hope you are successful with the Opera. If you need me, I will be in Australia." With that, Monsieur Lefevre turned and left the Opera Populaire for good.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we would like to introduce to you the new patron of the Opera, Vicomte Raoul de Chagny." Monsieur Firmin spoke to the cast. A man with blondish-brown hair that hung to his shoulders stepped forward. He was young and handsome. Christine's eyes widened as they locked onto him. He nodded a hello to the cast and expressed the joy he and his family received by supporting the arts.
"Meg," Christine whispered. "It's Raoul…the boy from my childhood! My childhood sweetheart of sorts…Of course, he wouldn't remember me now…"
"Nonsense," Meg said. "He's bound to remember you." Christine shook her head quickly. Madame Giry motioned for the girls to get on stage. Rehearsal needed to continue to fully prepare the cast for the night's performance of Hannibal.
"My, my, the dancers here are very talented," Christine heard the voice of one of the new managers - whose she could not place, for she hadn't learned to match the voices with names yet - say.
"The little blonde one is exceptional." The other said.
"That is my daughter, Meg." Madame Giry stated.
"And the brunette!" Christine glanced over, seeing the taller of the two, Monsieur Firmin, pointing at her.
"That is Christine Daae, Monsieur."
"I suppose she is of no relation to the Swedish violinist?" Firmin asked.
"His only child. She's lived and trained here since she was but seven years old." Madame Giry replied.
"Oh, only interested in the ballet rats!" Carlotta shrieked, noting the managers and their interest in the ballerinas. Christine rolled her eyes. It was typical Carlotta to pitch a fit when the attention was not, for once, on her.
"Madame, no!" Andre said. "We would be most delighted to hear a preview of the aria from the third act, if you would grace us with your heavenly voice."
Well… Christine thought. Groveling already. She shook her head as Carlotta stepped forward and began to sing Think of Me in her high-pitched voice, over-dramatizing each note. Just as she reached a certain note in the song, a drape of scenery that hung above the stage came crashing down, landing on the back of Carlotta's gigantic dress. The diva shrieked and crashed to the stage, where she promptly threw another fit.
"For three years these things happen to me!" She yelled. "And until they stop - I am gone! Do you hear me? Gone!" She demanded her dog and stomped from the Opera house.
"Oh, for Heaven's sake!" Firmin shouted. "We'll have to refund tonight's show and everything! Can anything else possibly go wrong?" He said in an exasperated tone.
"Messieurs," Madame Giry stepped forward. An envelope, made of yellow parchment, was clutched in her hand. "The Opera Ghost welcomes you to his opera house and reminds you that his salary will be due at the end of each month."
"Opera Ghost? His opera house? Salary? What are you going on about?" Andre said.
"The Opera Ghost, Messieurs. Surely you have heard of the Phantom of the Opera." Madame Giry raised her eyebrows.
"Yes, yes, go on about this 'salary'." Firmin stated.
"Monsieur Lefevre paid him twenty thousand francs a month. Perhaps you can afford more, what with the Vicomte being your new patron. That would surely please him." The small woman stood firmly rooted to her spot as she spoke.
"I had hoped to make that announcement public tonight. He would have been joining us for the performance, but because of the incompetence of your stagehands, there will be no show!" Firmin shouted, his face turning blood red.
"Christine Daae could sing the part, Monsieur." She offered.
"A chorus girl?" Andre asked in disbelief.
"She's been studying. Just listen to her." Madame Giry finished, motioning for Christine to move forward. Her eyes were as wide as saucers.
Is this finally my chance to shine? She thought to herself as Monsieur Reyer began the music to Think of Me once more.
She began softly, almost shyly. Her voice sounded unsure, even. After a moment of her soft singing, she glanced at Madame Giry. The ballet mistress motioned her forward. Feeling a sudden burst of confidence, she did step forward. Her voice grew stronger with each note. The song echoed throughout the opera house, and she could feel the eyes of the cast upon her. She finished the song a few short moments later.
Brief silence followed; Christine swallowed hard, fearing that she sounded a lot worse than she thought she did. The silence was finally broken by clapping.
"Bravo! Bravo!" Monsieur Andre said, patting the brunette on the back. Sighing with relief, Christine bowed her head.
"We will need to have the dresses altered for Miss Daae!" Monsieur Firmin shouted. "The show will go on!"