Thanks to those who reviewed! Like I said, this was purely just a random idea that I felt like doing. I do hope you enjoy it, though.
Christine strode as quickly as she was able through the winding corridors of the Opera Populaire, panic contorting her young face. She silently berated herself. How could she be late again? For the third time this week, she had overslept and arrived at least ten minutes after rehearsals had begun. Madame Giry would surely scold her. Monsieur Reyer would definitely not be pleased.
Brushing her brown curls from her perspiring brow, she picked up her pace, her shoes echoing against the marble floor. She prayed that no one would notice her absence. Christine didn't know why she had been so completely exhausted lately, though her lessons with her Angel definitely had taken a great deal of energy these last few months.
Of course, it was well worth it. She smiled to herself as she thought of his captivating presence. How wonderful it was to have a being from the heavens, sent by her dear father, to guide her voice to greatness! After she had believed it to be a fairy tale for so long, the Angel of Music had finally come to her. Of all the young singers and musicians, he had chosen her! There were times it seemed so impossible that she believed it to be a dream.
Her peaceful thoughts were suddenly interrupted when she noticed a man staring at her from a corner of the corridor. Partially hidden in the shadows and dressed in elegant formal attire, the gentleman seemed to follow her with his yellow-hued eyes as she made her way down the hall. Tall and dark haired, she found him rather attractive though perhaps quite a bit older than herself. She shifted uncomfortably in his intense gaze and nodded her head in a polite brief greeting. It was rather rude of him to stare so!
He just continued to watch her, and she almost thought she saw a flicker of fear in those strange golden orbs. After an awkward moment, he nodded his head in return. Quickly, she cast her gaze to the ground and concentrated on getting to rehearsals, flying into her dressing room to change into her costume. She muttered under her breath as she worked to remove the difficult corset and undergarments, for the costume did not call for them.
As she brushed her hair back and placed on her stage make-up and jewelry, her mind drifted to her Angel again. What could he have meant when he said to leave all matters to him? Could he really give her prima donna status? The thought was rather overwhelming. Sometimes he frightened her with his words, for he seemed to hold such amazing power over the events around her. Of course, there was surely no need to be scared. He was from the heavens, sent by God and her father to help her. It was almost sinful to think bad intent of him.
Christine lingered a moment longer in her dressing room to see if he would call to her. The Angel did not, and she rushed out of the room and to rehearsals. She winced to see that the rest of the cast was already present and braced herself for a scolding from the ballet mistress. As discreetly as possible, she slunk upon the stage and stood next to Meg Giry. Her blonde friend smiled at her.
"Am I in dreadful trouble?" asked Christine, attempting to catch her breath.
Meg laughed lightly. "No, Christine. You are in luck today. La Carlotta has been complaining all morning of a sore throat, and we are starting quite late. Hopefully Maman will not even notice that you were gone."
Christine breathed a sigh of relief and smiled as the boisterous prima donna raved that conditions were much too dusty upon stage for her to sing properly. She threatened to leave if the floor was not immediately swept. The other performers and stage hands quickly rushed to her attention, used to handling Carlotta's frequent temper tantrums. Meg rolled her eyes and turned back to Christine. "Christine, I have heard an interesting rumor."
"What would that be, Meg?" asked Christine, distractedly smoothing out her costume.
"They say that the current managers may be retiring soon. It is rumored that the Opera Ghost has driven them out."
"I am rather tired of hearing about the Opera Ghost," replied Christine. "If the managers are retiring, it is because they are sick of La Carlotta." She and Meg giggled but were soon shushed as rehearsals were finally about to begin. The orchestra started, and La Carlotta began to sing the first aria, her shrill soprano voice filling the entire room.
Just as Christine positioned her arms and legs to perform the first movements of her dance, she noticed a figure standing against the wall, quite a ways from the stage. There was no doubt that his gaze was focused directly on her, and she felt her muscles tense. Wherever she moved, his eyes followed. Squinting, she recognized him as the strange man from the corridor. Who on earth was he? Some of the older and more experienced dancers like La Sorelli had admirers, but no man had ever approached Christine before. Who would notice a quiet and common chorus girl? She was not even one of the better dancers, quite far from it actually.
"Christine!" Madame Giry exclaimed harshly. "You are not concentrating, child! You have been lagging behind in every single step so far."
She blushed crimson with shame and shifted her gaze away from the figure. "Oh forgive me, Madame!" she exclaimed. "My mind is just exhausted today. I promise that I shall try harder." Madame Giry shook her head in exasperation and turned to speak to another dancer.
Truthfully, the presence of the strange man was forcing her out of step. She was flattered yet at unease at the same time, not able to peel her eyes away from him.
Needless to say, Christine was eternally grateful when rehearsals ended two hours later. Madame Giry had scolded her on three more occasions, and she was beginning to wonder if she would be removed from the upcoming opera for her carelessness. The cast muttered under their breaths as they walked off the stage, complaining over how useless the entire rehearsal had been. Carlotta had not stopped ranting once, and the orchestra had seemed to be out of tune all morning.
Quickly, Christine waved goodbye to Meg and rushed off the stage, eager to change back into her normal attire and out of the scantily clad costume. She had never gotten used to revealing her stomach and felt almost embarrassed walking down the corridor in the red and yellow slave girl outfit. As she turned the corner to get to her dressing room, a shadow suddenly stepped out in front of her. Slightly startled, she glanced up...and found herself face to face with the mysterious man of earlier. "Oh!" she let out a sharp cry of surprise.
The man flinched back for a second at her startled yelp before quickly gathering his composure again. He stood straight with his shoulders back, and she noticed that he was almost a foot taller than herself. His gaze was directly upon her, and it took her a moment to find her voice. "Pardon me, Monsieur," she murmured, beginning to find her way around him.
"Mademoiselle," he began in a slightly hoarse voice. His tone then gained confidence, and she turned back around to face him as he spoke to her. "I could not help but observe how extremely talented you were upon the stage. Truly one of the best I have witnessed in all my years."
She was startled at his voice. It was rather beautiful, almost unearthly, and...so very, very familiar. Christine blushed as she took in what he had said and looked down at the white marble floor. "Oh, Monsieur! Thank you for your kind words, but you must jest. I am no where near as good as many of the girls up there."
"No, Mademoiselle." His pitch became lower. "You are meant for much grander things. You must trust me when I tell you so."
His voice almost sounded commanding now, daring her to argue with it. She looked up at him with caution. "Thank you for your words again, Monsieur. How would you know of such things, though?" she inquired, eyeing him. "May I ask who you are?" Christine glanced around and was relieved to see that many other performers were going in and out of the dressing rooms. At least she was not alone.
He almost seemed amused by her interrogative tone, and yet...was that distant sadness in his eyes? "Forgive me. I am..." He hesitated a long moment. "I am Erik, a resident composer of the Opera Populaire. The last name is of no concern, as I wish to keep my privacy."
"I am afraid that I am not familiar with you," she gently replied. Somehow, though, she almost felt as though she did know him. That voice was so...unmistakable. It almost sounded like... No. That was ridiculous. "My name is Christine Daae," she finally stated softly when he did not ask. He seemed a gentleman of wealth by his attire, and she cautiously offered him her hand as she had seen the older girls do among aristocrats and men of fortune.
He stared at it in awe for several seconds, and she wondered if she had erred in her etiquette. Before she could draw her arm back, though, he took her small hand into his long, elegant one and slowly brought it to his lips. She watched as he closed his eyes upon making contact with her skin, holding her grasp a moment longer than necessary when he was done. "It is truly a pleasure, Mademoiselle Daae," he whispered, an unreadable expression upon his face.
Taking her hand back, Christine once again felt both flattered and at unease. His presence was captivating, and it was as if he saw right through her eyes and into her thoughts. His voice was truly mesmerizing. One could become lost within that strange timbre. Yet...she still had so little knowledge of whom he was. Slowly, she took several steps backward. "I...must go now, Monsieur," she quickly said. "I must change out of my costume." She turned and began to walk briskly away, but he called out to her again.
"Mademoiselle!" She whirled around at the voice that clearly commanded attention.
"Yes, Monsieur?" she choked out.
"I wish to ask you if you would join me for lunch after you change. We shall go wherever you prefer."
She felt a rush of uncertainty hit her. "I...am rather busy this afternoon, Monsieur. Please pardon me, but I do not know you very well."
His eyes took on such a sudden look of despair that it nearly broke her heart. Why was he so interested in her? She had never seen him before in her life! "Mademoiselle, we can go wherever you feel you are safe. I only hope to get to know you better, and I must insist that you join me."
Christine hesitated. "Please give me a moment," she finally said, darting into her dressing room. It was neither an acceptance nor a refusal. She shut the door behind her.
She had an admirer! The thought was slightly breathtaking, for she had never had a man interested in her before. A childhood sweetheart, yes, but that had been years ago. Many of the other dancers had courters and lovers, but Christine had always been shy and distant...lost in her own world of make-believe. On occasion, she would have feelings of envy toward the other girls as they walked arm in arm with their lovers. Ever since her Angel had come to her, though, she had found herself too occupied to care what the other girls did. He commanded her undivided attention.
As she changed out of her costume and into her dress, she wondered if her Angel would choose to talk to her at this moment. Perhaps he would tell her if it was acceptable or not for her to go out on a harmless luncheon date with this man. Often, her Angel was not pleased when she chose to go on outings, preferring her to focus on improving her instrument and resting in between vocal lessons.
Christine waited for several long minutes, but the voice did not come. Perhaps her Angel had decided she had worked sufficiently in these past weeks. If her Angel of Music did not care, then perhaps it would be fine to go on a short outing. He would warn her if anything were amiss, she was sure. Smiling to herself, she fixed her hair into small brown barrettes to keep it into place. Taking one last glance in the large looking glass, she quickly left the room to meet with...Erik.
