Disclaimer: I do not own the lyrics to "Breakaway". They belong to Kelly Clarkson and only Kelly. I'm just borrowing them because they fit in with the story.
A/N: Thanks again you all for the reviews and I'm glad to see I picked up some new readers as well! I hope you all continue in reading this. Also, too in the scene with Carlotta in Il Muto after she runs off stage she cries out something. Now I could never figure what she said so on the subtitle in the movie it said it was "Mother!" But that doesn't seem right to me, so if anyone knows could you tell me in a review so I can fix it? Thanks!
And another big thanks to my beta, Megan, for doing such a terrific job!
Chapter 8- Breakaway
Christine hated going back on her word, but this time it was different. Meg was her friend (even in this time) and she trusted her to keep her promise. Megan Gary would so there would stand the reason this one would as well. Madame Giry would never know and she was okay with that.
Rehearsals continued on as Christine wandered over to watch the performers practice. She found a group of the ballet dancers sitting on the stage complaining about their aching limbs. Madame Giry was nowhere in sight that Christine could tell.
"I don't feel so stretched out anymore," one commented. "My legs hurt and so does my feet. I hate it."
All the girls murmured in agreement. Christine smiled with amusement at their "stretching" and saw what was the problem. They weren't holding it out long enough (And with girls dancing their whole lives you think they would, she thought) and they really weren't putting much effort into it.
Smirking, Christine went over and stood in front of them. Making sure she was in eyesight for all of them, she spread out her legs and held her arms straight out. Winking at Meg, she leaned towards the right with her left arm poised over her head and the right hanging across her stomach. She counted to fifteen and repeated the same movements by switching the position of her arms on the right.
The girls stared at her sudden participation. A couple pointed, whispering to each other and laughed. Meg smiled broadly and copied Christine's movements. Annette joined in after a while and soon they all followed suit.
Christine stretched out her left leg as she went down on the right. Using her left arm for support, she faced the back raising her right arm as high as she could reach. The girls mimicked her and did the same on the other side.
These were the stretches Christine did every morning and before every show. It loosens her up and figured the same could apply to these girls. The last thing she was going to do would be a bit… humorous and probably horrifying.
Lying on her back, Christine brought her legs into her chest and then grabbing her right ankle she pulled it out as far as she could. She did the same on the left and already the girls were giggling at the new position. The next one would be scandalous.
Christine brought her feet together, still lying down, with her knees pointing out. She held onto her thighs as she opened both legs out. She remembered when she first done this, she felt she was giving birth, but it did the muscles justice. The girls gasped at such boldness and refused to follow suit.
Meg, wary of this, did it anyways to back up Christine who didn't seem to mind the brazenness that she displayed. Then Christine brought her legs back together and stood up. The rest did as well.
At that moment, Antoinette walked in just in time to witness the final stretch. Her jaw fell ungracefully and then her countenance narrowed disapprovingly.
"Girls!" she snapped. "Enough of this! Christine, I wish to speak to you. Meg, I'm placing you in charge. Start your warm-ups or I'll extend the rehearsal time. Christine!"
Christine followed the older woman out and glanced back at Meg who tried not to look at her. Something's not right.
Once they were out of earshot, Antoinette turned on her. "Christine, I asked you before not to speak a word to anyone, especially my daughter."
Christine gulped. But Meg promised! Meg Gary always did… drat Giry!
"She told me everything about you. And… I'm glad you did." Her voice softened up, as did her face.
Christine did a double take. "Wha, what?"
"Excuse me from earlier of not asking about your situation. I knew something dreadful happened to you, I could tell in your eyes. Something like that you shouldn't hold back on since the Vicomte is related to someone you know. I'll do my best to keep him away from you… and Christine."
The brunette felt tears swarming. "Thank you Madame Giry. So I take it you're not mad?"
"Of course not child, not unless what Meg told me isn't true. But I doubt that. She also told me about an Erik."
A large lump rose in her throat. "S-she did?"
The woman nodded. "I admit his departure was shocking to say the least. I thought that your kind of relationship would have resulted into marriage. From what Meg said it sounded like the two of you were in love."
"Yeah." She sighed. "I thought so too."
"He didn't contact you in any way?"
Christine shook her ebony curls. "Not a word to me or anyone else. I guess he was tired of me."
"I wouldn't say that child and don't think it!" Antoinette scolded. "I'm sure he'll come back to you. A love like that cannot disappear."
"Does Christine have an Erik?" she asked.
Something flashed in Madame Giry's gray eyes before she shook her head. "I don't know any Eriks I'm afraid, my dear. And neither does she."
"Oh." Christine fiddled with her fingers and stared at the ground. I guess I know I won't be expecting any surprises.
"Is that all?" Antoinette questioned.
"Well, there's one thing. Do you know any stores that carries good fabrics?"
It was hard work but it was worth it at the end.
Christine sat back and admired her handiwork—a pair of black hip huggers with a matching halter top that she sewn in little gems around the O of the chest and the straps to tie it up.
Antoinette was surprised by her question and after she explained her need for "normal" clothing, the ballet instructor was leery about giving in to her request. After a few "please" she gave in.
"As long as you keep them hidden," she told her firmly. "And please do as I say."
Agreeing, Christine went to the shops right away and found all the necessary materials. Once she bought everything and found a sewing machine she set to work.
Christine knew her measurements and the pattern in mind so she was thankful she didn't need to rely on anything else. She worked non-stop taking a few breaks in between, and voila. A new outfit for herself.
She decided with the leftover fabrics she could make another one later. But for now this one would suffice.
She tried it on and sure enough it was the perfect fit. She admired the way in which the color contrasted with her pale flesh. She never was much into black before until Erik came along. Erik…
She smiled sadly and knew the reason she designed it was that she had him on her mind. So much for moving on, she thought.
But you never were came the inner voice.
Sighing, she took them off and went back to the hot wool dress. The temperatures were dropping and snow was starting to fall. She could hear the chorus girls chatter with delight.
Her head hung low. She longed to join in their mirth, but decided against it. She was still in character, even though she broke the rules a few times.
The extra material was packed away along with the sewing machine. She picked up the new outfit and folded them neatly. Checking once more that everything was picked up; she headed to her dressing room.
Hurrying inside, Christine locked the door. She wanted no interruptions or distractions. She walked over to the vanity, opened the drawer, and stopped.
The butterfly necklace looked up at her, almost pleading to be let out from its prison.
"Why am I letting it get to me?" she asked herself. Finding no answer, she set the clothes on top of it. She paused and then switched it so the necklace was on top instead. She grinned to herself. Better.
She turned on her heel with her back to the large mirror and paused. The tingling feeling of being watched consumed her. She glanced briefly behind her shoulder and only saw her reflection. Her brow furrowed and she tentatively moved closer until she was a breath away from the glass. Raising a hand, she touched the cool surface, staring hard as if peering through.
How come whenever I feel this I'm drawn to this mirror? She thought. Does Daae feel the same way as I do?
A crazy, yet absurd notion came to mind. What if there is something lurking on the other side of the mirror? She laughed to herself and shook her head. Impossible. That's only in the movies and this is no horror flick.
But it still didn't help ease her erratic mind, already conjuring millions of disturbing images of a madman busting through the mirror with the intent of doing harm to her. A Mike Myers looking fellow came to mind with a sharp knife in his wielding hand or a knife-finger nailed Freddy. She called herself silly and moved away from the mirror.
Her inquisitive brown eyes lingered on the mirror for a few moments longer before she looked away and diagnosed it as paranoia. She's been having that a lot lately since the Vicomte has been coming to the opera house in hopes to see her.
Christine would dodge him and make up excuses for his invitations to dinner or anything else if he caught her. But for the most part, she didn't have to brush him off on her own. True to her word, Madame Giry made sure that Raoul wouldn't get as far to her dressing room or any places Christine might be at. The aristocrat was desperate to spend time with Christine and even though he would leave, it was obvious that he refused to believe of her constant "headaches".
You think by now he got the hint, but I guess this guy can't take "no" for an answer. Boy, he is sure in for a rude awakening.
Deciding to no longer reflect on the matter, Christine left in search for Meg. She needed some girl talk with a best friend.
Erik was highly exasperated with the opera's new patron. The hardheaded boy could not follow simple instructions or hints!
He slammed his fist against the stonewall, ignoring the stinging pain and dampness on his skin. He was thankful that little Giry and Antoinette were helping him, even if the former doesn't know it, but it wasn't enough. It only seemed to fuel the fool to continue to seek out Christine's company.
"What your pretty face and fancy lifestyle isn't enough?" he questioned to the unseen Vicomte.
He just finished spying on the Vicomte as Antoinette once more told the befuddled lad that Christine was tired and she requested no visitors. The Vicomte was crestfallen but he was persistent as to why he could never see her whenever he comes.
Loyal Antoinette shrugged and told him it was her wish and there was nothing she could do but respect her demands. This rejection crushed the boy's ego and it made Erik overjoyed with triumph. How good it felt to turn those hopeful and petty blue eyes into pools of sadness and humiliation. He probably couldn't figure out why this one girl was resisting his charms while any other female would fall at his feet. Erik knew and no money in the world could buy his precious angel.
But Erik still wasn't happy that he vowed to come back the next day. Upset, he went over to the costume room where she spent the most part of her day at and to his dismay she wasn't there.
He didn't have much time to wait for the throbbing of his hand brought him back to his senses and reluctantly he returned to his lair. He cast a longing look to the mannequin he had made from his own hands a couple years ago and shifted his attention to the doll's outfit. A beautiful satiny gown covered the petite doll with a frilly lace veil on top of the brown curls. He wanted his love to wear it on their wedding day and many nights hasn't passed when his dreams didn't have the dress in them. How long would it be until it comes true? Will it ever come to pass?
He tore himself away from the lifelike doll and began to clean his bloodied hand in the lake. While he wrapped a bandage around his hand, Erik began thinking about the latest chain of events taking place in the Opera Populaire. Besides the annoying Vicomte, Erik sensed something wrong in Antoinette's brood.
About a week ago, the blonde ballet dancer seemed to be more aware of her surroundings than ever before. During Hannibal little Giry was in awed over the handsome Vicomte and now… Now, whenever she sees him those adoring eyes turned into bitter hatred. He couldn't fathom as to what happened to her once childish attraction to the Vicomte. He never realized that harmless Meg could possess such negativity towards any being!
I wouldn't be surprised if it had to with Christine's relations to the fop, he thought. Then again, he had to admit of his surprise when she rejected the pretty boy. He knew that such human relationships were one of a kind and the ones people seek in their companions. Old friends would want to spend all their time together catching up, but not Christine. She was holding back. Good. It made it possible for him to swindle in and win her affections.
As he pondered, the caverns were suddenly filled with Carlotta's heavily accented voice. He covered his ears, wincing, but to no prevail could he block out the hideous sound. His disgust turned into anger since the bumbling fools refused to obey orders. He wanted Christine to perform as Countess but part of him knew it would have been pointless. She wasn't singing and even if those managers did try to push her to do the role she most likely turned them down.
Sighing, he hoped that it wouldn't be long until the Christine he fell in love with returned. Oh how he missed listening to that heavenly voice, singing to him and only him. Erik had to use his own imagination in order to hear her voice for she hasn't sang and hearing only Carlotta was quickly sending him closer to the asylum. He wasn't sure if he could put up with that inferno racket much longer before he cracked. And his lair was situated underneath the stage so the latter would occur soon if he didn't do something.
He made up his mind and decided to hunt for Christine. At least getting an eyeful would calm the raging nerves to kill anything in his path. He decided to try her dressing room and she still wasn't there. She might be with little Giry, he mused. But he didn't have much time to think on it. Glancing down to the ground, his heart immediately stopped beating.
Footprints were imprinted in the dust of the dirty floor and they were not his.
"Christine I'm so sorry that I told Maman!" Meg cried once Christine entered their room. "I didn't mean to break your promise so fast! I thought… I was doing the right thing because Maman knows so much that happens here and she might help and—"
"Meg! Calm down. It's okay. Please don't freak out," the brunette said soothingly as she sat next to the guilt-ridden blonde. "Your mother was glad you did and me for telling you."
"So you're not mad?"
Christine shook her head and placed her hand over hers. "No I'm not so don't think that I am."
"How can you not be? I went against your word!" Meg sobbed.
"Meg I did as well! Your mother didn't want me to tell anyone about myself and I did. To you. Don't be upset."
Meg sniffled and lowered her eyes. "I wanted to help. I miss her so much!"
"There, there. I understand. I miss my Meg too but you don't see me blubbering over it. I bet she would have wanted you to be strong instead of lamenting over something you can't control."
"Do you really think so?" she asked softly, hope rising in her voice.
"Absolutely! Because that's what I want my friend to do."
Meg let out a small smile and hugged Christine. "Thank you. She's lucky to have such a wise friend like you," she spoke sincerely, thinking of the other Meg. "Though I'm afraid Christine and I aren't that meaningful."
"Yes you are. Maybe not in the way like I am or Megan, but in your own way you too are."
"It's strange for me to hear you say such things. I keep forgetting that you are not my Christine."
"That's all right. I see you as Meg Gary, though her brazenness is more apparent and you're far from that."
Meg raised a light golden brow and smirked. "She's not chaste?"
"She is! I didn't mean it in that way," Christine rushed through.
Meg laughed. "I'm kidding of course! I've been meaning to ask you, but how do you like Il Muto? You've been watching us rehearse all the time."
"It's funny," she replied. "Something I never expected to see in this period anyways."
"Yes but the rich loves it. Raoul is going to attend, you know that right?"
Christine sighed. "I'm afraid so. He's the patron after all. But I don't think it will be that bad with you, Madame Giry, and the so-called Opera Ghost butting in. But it won't last long if he's anything like my Ray. When there's something he wants he keeps going until he gets it."
"Well, that won't happen I can assure you. The Ghost has always had a liking to Christine so you're well protected if he's involved."
"Wait a second. I thought you were afraid of him?"
Meg nodded like crazy. "I am! But he can be a gentleman when he wants to be, if you can say that about a ghost. One of the stagehands tried to grab me once and the Phantom scared him so badly that the poor soul apologized for his rude behavior! He does that sometimes for us girls."
"Meg, do you have any idea how silly that sounds? Ghosts don't exist and I'm not saying that because she believes in that. That stagehand probably got a scare from another. A follower-of-the-books-in-proper-behavior kind of guy."
"But he does exist! Maman is acquainted with him! She's the only person he entrusts to handle his affairs!"
Forget it girl. Superstitions never leave. Slouching, Christine slowly shook her head. "Never mind."
"Like I was saying before, are you going to attend the opera tomorrow evening?"
"I might. Will I be using Box Five again?" Half of Christine didn't want to experience the ordeal again, but another half was anticipating the thrill once more.
"Not unless you wish to sit with Vicomte."
"WHAT!"
"The Vicomte bought it for his use," Meg repeated.
"Isn't that against the Ghost's orders?"
"It is. But the Vicomte pressured the managers to sell it to him so once and for all show there's no Ghost. Messieurs Andre and Firmin were more than willing to oblige in hopes this defiance will end this 'silly nonsense'! Such stupidity they're using."
"But if it doesn't work?"
"Then I cannot be certain. Maman believes that everyone should obey without questions or doubt, but his wrath is what I'm afraid of. If he is displeased (which surely he is) then it's unpredictable with what he might have planned. No one can mark his moves."
"Great. Then I'll watch from the wings. It's the next best view of the stage."
"Wear the butterfly!" Meg happily cried all of a sudden. "I love it and you should wear it often."
"I don't know…" Christine wasn't all together sure if it'd be the best to wear the necklace. Would that mean she moved on from Erik? Or would it be her hope that he will return soon?
"Please?" She pleaded her blue eyes glistening.
Christine took one look and lost. "Fine. I'll wear it. Only for tonight."
"Terrific! You shouldn't stop wearing it because of past actions. Wear it for the future!"
Wear it for the future. Which future is what I'm afraid of.
The show would start in minutes and Christine headed over for a last fast chat with Meg.
"Good luck. You'll do great!"
"Thanks. I'm so nervous. This is my first slight major role. I'm glad it's silent. My singing is as bad as Carlotta's. And I'm a chorus girl!"
Since the demands of the roles weren't carried out, Meg was placed as the Pageboy with Carlotta as the Countess.
"You'll do fine. Relax and have fun."
"I will." She winked. "Oh! There's my cue! Have fun Christine and don't laugh at me!"
Meg scurried off behind Carlotta to sit on the bed just as the curtain revealed the "lovers".
The Spanish singer began belching out her notes just as Meg glanced over to Christine, making a face that the brunette couldn't help but snicker. Whoever thought this woman is great has to be deaf.
Antoinette came up beside her and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry Box Five couldn't be reserved for you. The Vicomte insisted—"
"I know. Meg told me about it. I don't mind actually. I had sort of a bad vibe from it before and I didn't feel like the getting scared again."
Antoinette stared blankly at her and Christine chuckled uneasily. Watch your slang!
"But I'm sure it was someone playing a trick on me."
Antoinette didn't reply. She knew whom that "someone" was but wasn't going to comment. "Well, word to the wise my dear, be careful afterwards. The Vicomte will look for you."
Christine nodded understandingly. She knew it would be inevitable.
The older woman's eyes wandered to the adorning jewel atop of the young girl's chest and smiled. "I do not recognize that lovely necklace to be Christine's. I take it must belong to you."
Christine lightly tapped it, nodding. "It is. It's a gift from… a friend. Meg insisted that I wear it."
"I see why it's so beautiful. Your friend, he has good tastes I see."
Before the brunette could respond, Antoinette flashed her a knowing smile before leaving to attend to some of the corps costumes. There truly was nothing to hide from that woman.
"Serafimo! Away with this pretense!
You cannot speak but kiss me in my husband's absence!"
Christine shifted back to the show and giggled as they "kissed", absently rubbing the pendant. Her eyes wandered from the stage to scan the full house and then up to Box Five. Sure enough, Raoul de Chagny sat up there alone with a bored countenance.
She didn't mean to stare for so long, but he caught her attention and smiled. It sent chills down her spine and Christine averted her eyes away. She clasped the butterfly tightly trying to refocus on the opera.
Not following his orders for the opera, Erik was fine with that, but selling his box? He was NOT okay with that.
Those fools know better than to sell my box! And that boy is pushing my patience too far!
Tossing his cloak to cover his face, Erik walked out of the secret door to stand near the chandelier. Glaring spitefully at the pathetic crowd, Erik murmured, "The Phantom will make his displeasure known."
Christine silently applauded the singers as they finished the chorus when a booming, menacing tone echoing throughout the Opera Populaire:
"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty!"
Christine heard her friend gasp and cry out, "It's him! The Phantom of the Opera!"
Christine looked up to the ceiling and for a moment thought she saw a dark figure standing behind the extravagant chandelier. My mind must be playing tricks on me.
But the dangerous hint of the unknown Opera Ghost caused her to tremble. My God! What if Meg is right after all? But it can't! It can't! But who else would be that pissed off?
As she contemplated all this, another voice popped into her head. Something about that dark voice seemed… comforting. I must be loosing my marbles! How can I find a threat to be comforting?
The music started up again as soon as Carlotta came back from the wings, hoping to make the audience forget the intruder.
"Poor fool he makes me laugh! Ha ha ha coac-k!"
Christine's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widen, at the prima donna's untimely mishap.
Carlotta tried once more and ended up in a fit of more "co-acks".
Even though it was hilarious, Christine couldn't bring herself to laugh at her misfortune like the others. This could end Carlotta's long running career and damage her reputation as a respectable singer. Though there wasn't much to work with "respectable", nonetheless it would destroy her persona and make her the laughing stock in Paris.
"Mother!" the diva shouted as she ran off the stage. The performers were all confused and unsure what to do and all were running off in opposite directions as the curtains closed.
The managers came out, both looking quite perplexed and worried.
"Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize. The performance will continue in ten minutes time with the role of the Countess will resume with Signora Carlotta Giudicelli," announced Firmin. "The Signora is feeling better and it was only a lapse."
"Meanwhile, we will like to give you the ballet of Act III of tonight's opera," followed Andre.
Both bowed and hurried off so the ballet could begin.
Christine looked out to Box Five and to her horror she found it empty. Feeling frightfully ill, Christine took off just as Buquet chased after the Phantom.
Christine pushed her way through searching for Meg or Madame Giry. She knew Raoul would come here to see if she was all right and probably confront her on her constant rejections.
Taking a handful of her skirts, she moved faster towards her dressing room. She grabbed her necklace for some comfort but not finding any.
Home free, she thought triumphantly as the familiar door came into view.
She laid her hand on the doorknob, turning it, only to feel another on top of hers.
Her eyes roved up the arm connected to the hand and into a very worried Vicomte de Chagny.
"R-raoul!" she stammered, fear gripping her in its iron like coil. "I-I didn't know you were here."
"Christine." One word, one name that could hold so many meanings from the way it's spoke. She heard it many times in many tones of anger, hate, and rarely lovingly. But the way Raoul just said her name it was full of concern.
"Madame Giry and your friend informed me on your lack of health. I hope everything is all right."
She mechanically nodded unsure about the direction he was heading.
A relieved smile broke across his features and his worries lessened. "Good. I hope I'm not the cause of your illness. I would be crushed to know I was to be put the blame on it. I'm concerned about you being here, but the good Madame insisted you're in no danger whatsoever. Is that true?"
"N-no," she got out. "I am not."
His eyebrows furrowed and then relaxed. "Well if that's it—"
"It is."
Screams rang through the corridors and Christine watched as a mass of people rushed over to where the commotion took place. Soon it was she and Raoul alone in the hallway. No please!
Raoul scrutinized her carefully and finally released her hand. "Promise me one day we'll talk and no interruptions or excuses. I miss you Christine."
She didn't say anything and taking it as a hint, he left without another word.
Christine stood there for a few seconds letting the encounter sink in. She became light-headed and felt herself slipping into the oblivion. She felt a pair of arms wrapped around her waist, catching her. She gazed up and saw a shining scowling white mask before succumbing into darkness.
Christine woke a few hours later, her head slightly pained.
"Christine!" In seconds, Meg was at her bedside and holding her hand with worry etched in her small face. "Is it…?"
Groaning, she knew what the blonde meant. "No it's still Christine Dallas."
Meg's features fell but she bounced back with relief. "Sorry but I thought… well never mind. Are you all right now?"
"What happened?"
"You fainted. Maman and I found you here." An amused, wry grin was plastered on her rosy lips.
The brunette frowned, trying to remember what happened and then it hit her all at once. Raoul… the mask. It couldn't have been…?
"Do you know how you came to be in here?" Meg asked, interrupting her thoughts.
She shrugged. "I was heading to my dressing room when I ran into Raoul."
"The Vicomte? He didn't hurt you did he? If he did I will—"
"No! In fact it was the opposite. He was… concerned and sweet for my well being. He didn't accuse me of anything and he wasn't at all mad."
"Really? But if it was Ray?"
"He would have hit me. And even though we were alone for a short time he didn't react like Ray normally would."
"You were alone?" squealed Meg. "You were so lucky Christine!"
"Tell me about it."
"All right—"
"Figure of speech my dear."
"Oh. Then what happened?"
"He'd left. Well, before he wanted to know if I was in any trouble. I told him I wasn't and he left. I must have fainted afterwards but the last thing I saw was… forget it. He was on my mind anyways so I probably imagined it."
"Are you positive?" Meg didn't sound quite so sure, but she let it go.
"Yeah. Raoul might have seen me and put me here. Meg, did something happen last night? Everyone was rushing towards the stage when I heard the ballet scream."
Meg bit her lower lip before answering. "Joseph Buquet is dead."
"What?" Christine's jaw dropped.
"During the dance, he fell from the rafters. He was hung! It was the Phantom's doing I bet. He was so upset that his box was sold…"
"Are you sure it wasn't a suicide?"
Meg shook her blonde curls. "No. He was hung by the Punjab lasso—the Phantom's weapon."
"But what if it was suicide? He probably pinned it on the Phantom for some sick joke."
The girl sighed. "Christine, it was no suicide. Joseph Buquet was murdered by the Phantom's hand and now the managers are more fearful than ever. They're afraid they'll be the Ghost's next victims."
"This is all tomfoolery," Christine muttered.
"Believe what you want Christine Dallas, but I know it was the Phantom. And so does everyone else."
Sighing, Christine knew she wasn't going to win this battle. Not when the blonde dancer was high strung on the subject. "Will anyone miss him?"
"Probably not," Meg confessed. "He never was that popular with anyone, except with his stories."
"From what your mother told me he was a complete scoundrel, but I think I will miss him for his stories. They were pretty imaginative when you think about it."
"You have too much of a good heart," Meg commented. "Like her. Is there anything you want since you're up and all?"
"No thanks. I think I'll relax for a bit."
"Very well. I'll talk to you later." Meg squeezed her hand and walked out.
When she was gone, Christine sat up in bed, thinking over what her friend told her. It was a pity that someone died. No one deserves to die in that way even if he was a pervert and a drunk. Except Ray would be an exception in her mind.
Her thoughts wandered over to Raoul and his act of kindness and concern. Just because he looks like Ray doesn't completely mean he'll turn out to be a monster. Christine almost felt bad for the way she treated him, but it was only done out of protection for herself and Daae. There was still a chance that he was only putting up a front to hide his true nature. A nature of which she didn't want to be reacquainted with.
She shivered at the possibility of what could have happened if he did lash out at her. No! I don't care if he happens to be the incarnation of Joe Friday, I won't have nothing to do with him.
She reached out and touched her necklace. It was still around her neck, safe and sound. Christine stroked it while thinking of her coming to being here as coincidental. Perhaps she wasn't cast here to keep the Vicomte away from Daae, what if this was something that was trying to tell her about herself. She couldn't deny that it was odd that she was part of a past life the music connection was obvious. And this was an Opera house and she had no escape from it. Could this be a second chance of some sort? And if it was… will she be able to accept it?
"Only one way to find out," she mumbled. Shaking, she stood up and hustled over to the door. She opened the door and checked to see if she was alone before reenacting Meg's previous steps to the rooftop. That was where she found the burning desire to sing her lungs out for all to hear and she assumed it was the best place to go.
She kept looking back, making sure she was alone. She didn't want to explain to anyone what she was about to do.
Finally, she reached the door and opened it to greet the cool air. A light frost collected on the ground and over the majestic statues. It was a breathtaking sight—the beginning of snow was setting in and the silvery moonlight highlighting the crystals.
She crept closer to the edge, her breath catching at the lovely sights before her eyes once more. She closed her eyes and found the chill breeze comforting as another dusting of snow started to fall.
Here she stood, high above the city and almost to the Heavens, reveling in the solitude she found at last. It was so peaceful… it made her forget the worse times of her life. Here, she had no worries or fears. She was only Christine, a singer waiting for her song to take flight.
She knew Erik would have loved this. That was the only regret they had when in Paris. They never got around to visit the opera house, but now it seemed perfect to make up for loss time.
Exhaling deeply, Christine opened her mouth with words pouring straight from her soul:
"Grew up in a small townand when the rain would fall down
I'd just stare out my window
dreaming of what could be
and if I'd end up happy
I would pray…
Trying hard not to reach out,
but when I tried to speak out
felt like no one could hear me
wanted to belong here
but something felt so wrong here
So I prayed I could breakaway…"
Her brown eyes opened as her voice grew louder, the memories once so distant now came back in crashing waves. The good and bad clashed together and once again Christine felt the demons exorcising from her heart.
"I'll spread my wingsAnd I'll learn how to fly
I'll do what it takesTill I touch the sky
And I'll make a wish,
Take a chance,
Make a change,
And breakaway.
Out of the darkness
And into the sun
But I won't forget all the ones that I love
I'll take a risk,
Take a chance,
Make a change,
And breakaway…"
Tears glistened as her voice rang out, echoing from all around, a harmonious conflicting tone but slowly the pain faded away as she continued:
"Want to feel the warm breezeSleep under a palm tree
Feel the rush of the ocean
Get on board a fast train
Travel on a jet plane
Far away and breakaway…"
The soprano cried out in passion with the chorus, her soul feeling like it was being ripped from her body to soar once more in the clouds. Her body shook as the wind picked up, her curls flying all over, but it wasn't enough. The only time she felt this euphoria was when she was lost in Erik's hold, his sultry blue eyes burning with every ounce of desire and love whenever they were one. Her mind fixated on his face as she sang out with her whole heart:
"Buildings with a hundred floorsSwinging round revolving doors
Maybe I don't know where they'll take me but
gotta keep moving on and moving on
Fly away breakaway…
I'll spread my wings
And I'll learn how to fly
Though it's not easy
To tell you goodbye
I gotta take a risk,
Take a chance,
Make a change,
And breakaway
Out of the darkness
And into the sun
But I won't forget
The place I come from
I gotta take a risk,
Take a chance,
Make a change,
And breakaway…"
Christine's voice softly began to crack, but she managed to keep coming, as tears streamed down her pale face.
"Breakaway…"She choked back a sob as the last words, barely a ghost of a whisper, came out:
"Breakaway…"Christine collapsed to her knees, crying as the glorious pleasure caused the barriers to tumble and fall that she built around her heart. She was free from the bonds and ghosts of her past. There was no more Ray to hold her down.
"I'm free!" she whispered, the words hardly daring to be true. And she had the Opera Populaire and Meg to thank. If it hadn't been for Meg to bring her here she wouldn't have found the courage to truly sing from the depths of her spirit as Erik once done.
Though he caused her pain and grieve, she loved him more than ever and all she wanted was to have the feeling of being loved once more within her grasp. And it could only come from one being who understood her.
Her tears subsided as she stood up. She undid the clasp of her necklace and stared happily at the gleaming crystals. This was the only thing she had to think of him and it would do.
She brought the butterfly to her lips and kissed it softly, her quiet tears landing on it as she held it to her breast.
Christine remained like that for a few minutes before she returned into her sanctuary. As the door closed, the dawning of a new day shone brightly down at Paris.
TBC…