Chapter Eighteen – Another Mask behind You

The Paris Opera – Late July 2005

Christine hurries down one of the hallways to her private dressing room. It is four in the afternoon and though the opera starts at eight, André and Webber want their cast there early for pep-talks. She opens the door and finds an array of bouquets littering all of the flat surfaces in her room. Curious, Christine goes over to the table and reads the cards.

One is from the Prime Minister, another from the drama department at a local school. The list goes on. Christine pushes away some of the flowers on her desk so she can put her bag down when one catches her eye. It is a long-stemmed red rose whose thorny stem is adorned by a small black-silk bow, as well as a card. Christine picks it up and reads, "Your Angel of Music wishes you the best of luck." She sighs, silently wishing the production to be over so she can leave the opera for good.

"Christine!" Missy barges into the room, her face shining with glee. "Can you believe it? We're performing tonight!"

"I know," Christine says, a little more relaxed than Missy, "but don't you go wearing out your voice or mine with gossip. We need our vocals. Imagine how it'd sound if we both sounded as if we had laryngitis during our duet."

"True," Missy agrees. "Oh, André wants to meet with you and Pierre in fifteen minutes in his office."

"Thanks," Christine replies, taking the rose in her hands as she lies down on one of the recliners.

"Who's that from?" Missy asks quizzically, her eyes alight.

"Take a wild guess," Christine responds jokingly.

"Richard?" Christine shakes her head, wondering why Richard would leave such a dark and sensual flower when he himself is bright and cheery. "Erik?" Christine shakes her head for a second time, though she realizes that guessing Erik is much more logical. "Oh," Missy says simply, realizing that the only other person who'd have left it isn't one to be mentioned in public conversation in the opera house.

"Rather sweet of him, isn't it? Considering he's a known murderer and a madman." Christine inhales the sweet scent of the flower, its petals tickling the tip of her nose. After moments of awkward silence between the friends, Christine says, "I guess I'll go talk with André and Pierre now." She stands and gives Missy a quick embrace before heading off to André's office, rose in hand.

"Ah, here she is, our lovely Christine!" André takes Christine's hand and kisses it. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, thank you Monsieur."

"Bonjour, Christine," Pierre says to her, and the two share a friendly embrace before André clears his throat, calling them to attention.

"As you both know, tonight we show the world our talent. We show the city that this little Phantom scare isn't rattling us. We show everyone what we're made of. I am resting it on both of your shoulders to maintain a cool head throughout our production tonight, whatever happens. You are our leads and are therefore role models." He pauses, looking at Christine and Pierre with scrutiny. "Are you up for it?"

Christine nods, though she isn't sure that she is. She wonders how she can possibly go through the show without worrying once about an appearance by the Phantom. "Good. Now that's settled, go off and relax. I want you both in costume by quarter of seven on the button. You may go." Christine turns to leave when André captures her arm. "Christine, may I have a word?"

"Of course!" Christine goes back with André and he shuts the door behind her. "What's the matter?"

"It's not what's the matter, really. It's more what isn't, if you know what I mean." She shakes her head and André chuckles. "Allow me to explain. You're friendly with my son?"

More than friendly. "Well, of course, he's my coach. And he's very kind once you get on his good side."

"That is true. But have you noticed that he's been seemingly more upbeat lately? It's not like him." Christine nods in approval, but she secretly hopes he won't ask her why she thinks there's this sudden change in Erik's personality. "It's very odd. He hasn't been happy one day since his mother passed away six years ago. I near-to never see him smile. But these last few weeks he's been almost happy all of the time. It really strikes me as unusual because it started right around the time your grandmother was killed." Christine gulps, knowing the very reason why Erik's changed. She knows that André probably wasn't that much of a loving father to him, and now that he has her, well, she's sure it's changed him.

"I've noticed it too, but I don't know why. Maybe he's just excited. You know, for medical school?"

"I suppose," André replies, sounding as though he doesn't really believe Christine's words. "Well, you better go relax and then get ready. I wouldn't want you overwrought with my son's problems when you perform."

"Thank you, Monsieur," Christine says as she leaves the room.

"And Christine?"

"Yes, Monsieur?"

"That's a lovely rose." He motions to the rose she's holding, the one from the Phantom. "The person who gave it to you chose a rare beauty." Christine smiles at her manager and co-star and departs, heading back to her dressing room.

Eight draws ever closer and Christine's nerves start to go on-end. Around a quarter-to, Christine makes her way to the wing on stage-left with Missy just as one of the seating hostesses enters from a side door. Christine runs to her and asks her tentatively, "Is Monsieur Erik present?"

"No, Mademoiselle Landry. I'm afraid I haven't seen him. But Lord knows, the man has a way with sneaking around unnoticed."

Slightly put out, Christine asks again, nagging almost, "What of Monsieur Colville?"

"Front and center, mon chéri, as he promised you." Christine lets a small grin cross her made up face. She returns to Missy's side, waiting for the moment to come. Suddenly, at five past eight, the orchestra surprises the theater in its first notes, the renowned Phantom arpeggio. Almost immediately the stage begins to light up, the curtain rising, and it is alight with movement; the opera has begun.

Time passes quickly when you're on the stage, Christine soon realizes. No sooner had the music begun when she is singing Think of Me, and it seems as though it is only a few minutes before intermission begins. Christine hurries to her dressing room to replace her costume for Il Muto with her ball gown for Masquerade when she runs into Richard. "Christine, you were wonderful!" he shouts gaily, lifting her up and swinging her around.

"Richard Daniel Colville!" Madame Garnier's voice comes sharply. "What have I told you about being gentle with costumes?"

"Sorry, Madame," he says sheepishly, kissing Christine's hand. "Good luck, mon amour. You're doing wonderfully." Christine catches his arm as he prepares to leave.

"Richard?"

"Yes, Christine, what is it?"

"He…hasn't shown up, has he? They left box five open, didn't they? Is he there?" Her voice shakes violently.

"I haven't seen him and neither have any of the guards. You'll be fine, Christine. Don't worry about him." She nods as he wanders off to the theatre.

"Christine! You've wasted enough time! Get into the dressing room!" Act Two passes slowly, though Christine nearly faints during Masquerade, due to its alignment with the occurrence at the ball mere days prior to the show. Warm relief begins to feel its way around Christine as Don Juan commences.

Christine's heart races as she prepares for The Point of No Return. Her skirts make soft noises as she moves out onto the stage, preparing for André's entrance as Don Juan. But André does not appear. Out of the shadows to the side of the stage comes a man who looks very similar to the manager, but it is clearly not André Destler. It's the Phantom.

Nobody seems to have noticed, but Christine's body nearly quakes with fear and anticipation. Time seems to stop for Christine as the Phantom moves onstage and says in a quiet but nevertheless beautiful voice, "Passarino, away for the trap is set and waits for its prey!" Christine watches the Phantom as he moves even farther towards center stage ang begins to sing to her. She wonders why nobody's noticed the difference in men performing, but concentrates hard on not looking as though something's the matter. "You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish which 'til now has been silent…silent…I have brought you that our passions may fuse and merge! In your mind you've already succumbed to me, dropped all defenses completely succumbed to me."

Christine tries hard to remain calm as the Phantom extends a gloved hand to her. "Now you are here with me, no second thoughts, you've decided…decided…" Christine slowly reaches out and takes the Phantom's large hand with her own, and she thinks that she sees a smile cross his face, his eyes light up behind his black mask. "Past the point of no return, no backward glances. Our games of make-believe are at an end." Gently at first, the Phantom moves his fingertips to touch her sides, and the skin beneath her corset sears at his touch.

"Past all thought of if or when, no use resisting! Abandon thought and let the dream descend…" Now with greater passion, the Phantom's hands caress her middle, one finger teasingly fluttering across the bare skin of her neck. Then, with new feeling, he pulls her against him, harshly but passionately at once. "What raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us? Past the point of no return, the final threshold; what warm unspoken secrets will we learn beyond the point of no return?"

His hands slowly unwind themselves from Christine's body as she begins to sing. "You have brought me to that moment when words run dry, to that moment when speech disappears into silence…silence…" Christine turns, moving to the spiraling ladder on her side of the stage, and the Phantom follows. "I have come here hardly knowing the reason why. In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining, defenseless and silent. Now I am here with you, no second thoughts, I've decided…decided…" Christine takes a few steps on the ladder and the Phantom stands on the stage beside it.

"Past the point of no return, no going back now! Our passion-play has now at last begun!" The Phantom touches her hand before going off to his side of the stage, his own ladder, and Christine continues to sing, maintaining her composure though her head is telling her to be nervous and scared. "Past all thought of right or wrong! One final question; how long should we two wait before we're one?" Christine steps onto the bridge at the top of the ladder and sees the Phantom mere steps from the same point on his side.

"When will the blood begin to race? The sleeping bud burst into bloom? When will the flames at last consume us?" The Phantom and Christine reach the center of the bridge and he takes her hand, spinning her around before pulling her against his body, moving his hands hungrily over her corseted waist and the pale flesh of her neck.

"Past the point of no return, the final threshold; the bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn! We've passed the point of no return." As they sing, the Phantom moves his hands all over her, hungry for more. His thumb passes gently beneath her breast and she shivers, wondering if he knows or not that that's her most sensitive spot. He traces his hands everywhere, claiming her for his own as the music turns slow and mournful.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime," he says gently, pulling himself away from her and taking her hands. "Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you want me with you here, beside you." The Phantom gently squeezes on her hands. "Anywhere you go let me go too! Christine, that's all I ask of…" and on cue, Christine pulls off the mask.

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