Raging Fire

Hullo. No, Chris and Erik are not the reincarnates of Erik and Christine. They are simply two people obessesed with PotO. Aaaaand, to be perfectly honest, i haven't a clue where the name Destler comes from. Everyone uses it so i decided to too. And, i really like it. SO yes, now read...and review if ya like ;)

Chapter 2: Oh My Goodness!

The opera concluded and Chris was swept backstage amongst all the cast and crew. It soon became too much for her to handle, so she rushed off down a lonely corridor to find a quiet room to think. She realized that this was not a dream, and she had to figure out what was going on. She soon came upon a small chapel, where she sat down on the cold stone floor, despite her flowing white dress. What the heck is happening? she asked herself.

"Christine...Christine..." a female voice called down the hall to her. Chris turned to the door in time to see the shadow of someone coming down the small staircase.

"Christine..." echoed a male voice, hardly heard. A shiver went down Chris's spine and she felt chilly.

A blonde girl, one of the dancers, appeared shortly and asked where she'd been hiding. Suddenly, it hit Chris when, where, and who she was. "Who is your strange tutor?" asked the girl.

Chris smiled and expertly replied, "Father once spoke of an angel, I used to dream he'd appear. Now as I sing I can sense him, and I know he's here." Chris was in The Phantom of the Opera. She wasn't sure why, and she wasn't sure how, but she didn't care. She was living out one of her dreams.

- - -

"Christine, wake up," whispered Erik, shaking her shoulder gently. After they talked for a while last night, she fell asleep on the day bed and he just left her there. Now today, her parents were coming for dinner and he just prayed that she would be back to her old self again.

"Is it time for rehearsals?" she asked groggily, not opening her eyes yet.

"Rehearsals? What rehearsals?"

She opened her eyes and sat up. "Oh," she said dejectedly. "I'm sorry, I thought I was back home. Where am I now exactly?"

"Toronto, Ontario in our home. Don't you remember Chris...tine?" Erik was really beginning to worry about her. It was like she had amnesia, but she did remember things, only they were things that had never happened to her; it was as if she were remembering someone else's life. He decided to get to the bottom of things by questioning her. "What is your name?"

"Christine Daae," she replied, quite sure of herself.

"Your parents?"

"My mother died when I was a baby, and my father was a violinist in Sweden. He died when I was near eight years old."

"How old are you now?"

"I have just recently turned sixteen," she said.

"Where do you normally live?" was his next question.

"The Opera Populaire in Paris, France. I am a dancer and chorus girl there under the guide of Madame Giry. I have lived there ever since my father passed away." This was getting weirder and weirder, especially when all of this information clicked in Erik's mind.

"Does Madame Giry have a daughter named Meg?" he asked her.

"Yes," she answered, surprised. "How did you know that?"

He smirked, "Just a lucky guess. Alright Chris, you can quite playing around now. If you're going to pretend to be someone else, at least pick somone that I won't recognize."

Christine looked confused. "I do not understand what you mean, I am not pretending to be anyone."

Erik sighed. "Fine. Just, do whatever you want as long as you're ready by the time your parents come. I hate being alone with them; they still think I'm a pedophile." He stalked out of the room, leaving Christine alone to think.

She decided that the best thing to do would be to pray. So, she got down on her knees and prayed. I haven't a clue what is going on Lord, I just pray that you will help me get through it. She finished up her simple prayer and wandered around the room, looking at the bookshelves that were packed full of books, music, and other assorted items. She ran her finger along the titles of several cd's and read their titles aloud.

"Moulin Rouge, The Sound of Music, Cats," she had discovered the Destlers' soundtrack collection. She kept going along the list until one title in particular caught her eye. "The Phantom of the Opera. What is this?" She pulled it off of the shelf and came face to face with a picture of what appeared to be herself!

- - -

After singing Angel of Music with Meg, Chris found her way back to her dressing room. She took her place at the vanity and waited for Raoul to show up. She couldn't wait to meet him, and maybe tell him what she thought. It's not that she was a 'Raoul-basher', she just didn't particularly like him. And then, as if on cue, the door opened and a blonde man walked in.

"Raoul!" she smiled at him, and then began the Little Lotte sequence of the musical. She had to admit that she did like one thing about him; the way he said 'chocolates'. It was so adorable! When he said that it took all of her will power to keep from giggling like a little girl.

They talked for a few moments more, and then he said, "And now, we go to supper." Chris always hated this scene in the movie (the movie was her favourite, and so she was pleased to discover that everyone she had come across thus far had been their movie versions), because Raoul just wouldn't listen!

"Raoul wait!" It was no use, he closed the door and she was left alone to fume at him. Men, she thought to herself, and then looked around for her fancy nightclothes. Chris smiled to herself as she tied the robe. She knew that in mere seconds, the Phantom would appear in all his masked glory.

- - -

Christine dropped the case on the floor and backed away. Unfortunately she wasn't watching where she was backing, and knocked over a lamp. It crashed to the floor and made her shriek. Erik came rushing into the room to see what was the matter.

"What happened?"

"I-I..." she started.

"You..you?"

"I..." and then she fainted in a heap on the floor. Erik picked her up and carried her off to their bedroom, where he laid her on the massive bed. Then, he went down the hall and picked up the phone. He punched in a number that he had found earlier, and waited for someone to pick up.

"Hello," said the voice on the other line, "Butler's Psychiatry, how may I help you?"

"Yes, I would like to book an appointment for my wife with Dr. Butler please."