Three Month's Pause
Chapter 4: Jealous Love
A/N: Thanks to all of the reviewers; new and old! My sister (Alda Rethe) and I hope you'll review this last chapter!
MeghanKatherine: Thanks for being such a loyal reviewer and supporting us from the start!
Kiwi Anime: Thanks for the lovely review! I'm pretty sure you'll have some critisim on this chapter; my sister and I find it kind of choppy. But, you'll see.
Lindaleriel: Good for you! A Raoul supporter - one of the few. Thansk for reviewing. I think you shoudl still write a story of this type -there are so many possibilities of what can happen in the 'lost' three months.
Maidenhair: Another loyal reviewer! Well, we're glad you like this fic. And yes, my sister and I are both girls. Ahem, yeah.
Born2drama: A new reviewer! Thanks! We hope you'll review this (last) chapter.
Oh, and forgive me for the bold font transitioning phrases. I just write whatever I fancy in there, sometimes. Just to, erm, amuse myself.
Christine opened the door. "I'm ready," she announced grandly.
Raoul greeted her with an admiring smile. "Oh, Christine, you look like a goddess!" He straightened, looked her up and down, gently took her hand and kissed it. "Flowers for the deity," he said presenting her with the roses.
The Phantom glowered.
Stupid boyought toknow better. Compliments went to Christine's head, as evil as that sounded. But it was true. It was not good, for it gave her a false sense of security and made her try less to succeed. He knew this, it was why he rarely gave her them.
But he had to admit, if only to himself, that Christine looked stunning.
Like an angel.
Like the Angel of Music he knew she could become.
Christine blushed prettily. "Oh, Raoul you are too kind," Christine said, managing not to observe the color of the roses. Ordinarily, she would've immediately noticed the roses were red and panic, relating them to the Phantom's affections. However, at the moment she was too flattered to notice anything but Raoul's brilliant, pleased smile.
"Would you like to come in?" Christine continued, opening her door. "I have some rather delicious chocolates. From Spain, you know."
"From one of your many supporters, I suppose?" Raoul chuckled.
Christine's sudden fame at the Opera Populaire had earned her a great number of admirers, which bothered him only slightly. He knew he had Christine's affections, but popularity could go to a singer's head. He hoped that his Little Lotte would never turn into a La Carlotta. He walked into Christine's dressing room, casting her a warm glance.
The Phantom of the Opera watched the foppish boy enter the dressing room. As Christine shut the door behind him, he let out a furious cry.
That was it. This was it! He could no longer just sit idly by as the Vicomte stole Christine away. He must act!
The Masquerade Ball was a few nights away and a ploy was brewing inside the Phantom's head. There, at the ball, in front of everyone, he would remind Christine, the aristocrat, and all at the Opera that the Opera Ghost was still in charge and meant to be feared.
He readied himself, about to leave for there was much to do before the ball, when he decided to do one last thing.…
Inside the Dressing Room:
Christine showed her beau to his seat in a pale chintz armchair, taking the exquisite flowers from him. She pointed out the golden box of chocolates on the side table next to his chair, "Help yourself to some, Raoul. They are rather too rich for me."
Christine momentarily busied herself with putting the budding blossoms into a vase. She arranged the roses delicately, fanning them out evenly, with measured concern.
Raoul smiled at Christine's lovely hospitality. She was such a sweet, caring, beautiful girl. He didn't sit down yet, waiting for Christine to complete her task and take a seat first. It was the gentlemanly thing to do. But he did help himself to a chocolate.
Outside...
With silent ease the Phantom removed himself from the shadows, straightening to his full height. He touched the dressing room's door, grazing a gloved hand against it, knowing Christine and that boy were on the opposite side of it. Doing God knows what. He trusted Christine, but not the Vicomte. Yet if that fool touched her...
The Opera Ghost left the dormitories, leaving the thought unfinished. His bloodlust needed no more fueling.
Inside!
Raoul then checked his pocket watch. "Oh, Christine! If we do not leave now we will surely be late! Come," he took her gently by the hand, "we don't want them to give our reservations away, do we?" He opened the door.
"Oh, no. Of course not," Christine said, brightly, slipping her hand into his. She smiled at him ardently, as they walked through the door and down the corridors towards the waiting carriage. "So, tell me, where have we the reservations?"
Outside!
The Phantom reappeared far above and away from Christine and Raoul's current position. He knew that they would eventually leave the building to indulge in the happiness of the lucky people, but did not wish to witness the sickening sight of his angel with another again that day. He roamed the wooden catwalks above the opera stage submerged in thought. Then he heard a noise. He froze, slipping into the obscure side of a walkway. The noisemaker made him break into a dark smirk.
An unsuspecting stagehand. How fortunate.
The Pretty Couple...
Raoul squeezed his childhood friend's hand, warmly. "It's this lavish restaurant, right in the middle of Paris. I've never dined there before but I'm told that the food is splendid." He smiled at her. "But we'll be able to find out together if that is the truth, won't we, Little Lotte?"
Christine beamed up at Raoul. She couldn't believe how much he'd grown since childhood. How much they'd both grown.
Time had been good to Raoul - he'd come together nicely. No longer was he the flushed boy who'd retrieved her scarf from the sea. Now a successful Vicomte and quite dashing; nothing could hold him back from his destiny. Christine couldn't keep the thought from her mind, 'If Time has altered him, what has Time done to me?'
Raoul led Christine out of the opera house, still holding her hand. Such physical contact between himself and this girl, which he was extremely fond of, made him dizzy with happiness. He helped her into the awaiting carriage and reluctantly released her hand as he got in on the other side. "To Allumer et la Nuit, please." He told the driver and with a bump they were on their way.
Killer on the Loose…
The Phantom watched the stagehand. The stagehand scratched his...bum. Twice. Then picked his nose. Disgusted, he decided that such a bizarre person shouldn't reside in the Opera Popularie, his domain. Silently, like a black panther, the Opera Ghost came up behind the stagehand retrieving his lasso from the depths of his cloak. The ignorant stagehand burped.
Back to the Beauties…Christine thanked Raoul when he helped her in, then settled herself nicely onto the cushioned bench-seats. It was quite comfortable in the carriage - Raoul had excellent taste. She glanced around as the carriage lurched to a start.
The Opera House looked magnificent, towering and distant, in all its glory. The majestic House visibly dwarfed the surrounding buildings. The sky, which had recently been gray with overhanging rain clouds, was teal and quite clear. Christine sighed happily; everything seemed right with the world.
Phantom-time!
The stagehand did not make a sound when the lasso was wrapped quickly around his neck and tightened expeditiously from behind. He could not see his murderer but felt the power and anger behind the hands that were holding the cruel, constricting rope. While he was still capable of thought and breath he realized that his murderer must be a man. He had never met a woman with such a strong grip.
Loosing the ability to stand, the stagehand sunk to the wooden floor, consciousness disappearing. Vaguely he noticed a figure step over him and kneel before him. The lasso around his neck tightened savagely once more and was then removed.
If the stagehand were still alive he would have heard the Opera Ghost mutter, "How I wish he were the Vicomte."
Once More to the Couple…When they reached Allumer et la Nuit, Raoul exited the carriage and rushed to assist Christine out as well. The restaurant was absolutely beautiful. The exterior was black, outlined in gold. Candles decorated the window seat tables. The name of the place was displayed at the center of the doorway in distinctive white, flowerycursive.
"Oh, Raoul it's beautiful." Christine couldn't help but gush. "I can't believe I haven't seen it in passing before." Christine wondered if she'd miss something so gorgeous and prominent as this restaurant, what things had she overlooked before? "Is it new?"
'It's not as beautiful as you,' Raoul thought at Christine's exclamation. But he did not voice this.
Instead he said, squeezing her hand warmly, "It's been open for a week, I believe. My parents went to the grand opening and said that it was just splendid."
A cold gust of wind made his tailcoat and her dress dance oddly. Holding her hand still, he placed the other around her arm, guiding her towards the door. "Ah, it is growing chilly. Come inside, it'll be warmer, I'm sure. And much more pleasant."
PrologueBitter and electric coldness gripped Erik as he surveyed what he had just done. No sadness or regret could be found in the Opera Ghost's eyes--just disappointment. The vulgar stagehand had been de Changy in his eyes, when he had choked him. But after the deadly deed was done he realized that he hadn't killed the aristocrat, much to his chagrin.
With almost child-like compassion, he slowly returned his lasso to its rightful place inside his cloak and then jumped down from the catwalk, landing on the abandoned stage. He walked into the shadows and headed towards the fifth cellar. This was a favored way of travel.
As he walked, his thoughts returned to his plans for his Christine and the Vicomte. Christine was betraying him with Raoul and he had to remind her who she was dealing with, the Phantom of the Opera, not only her Angel of Music.
'At the masquerade,' he decided, when everyone will be giddy and drunk with dance and happiness, I shall come. Give them a brief reminder.
The Opera Ghost is still there.
Inside your mind.
THE END
A/N: Well, for now it's the end. My sister and I might decide to make, like, more installments of this type, but this is it, for the time being.
We'll be much obliged if you lot reviewed!
