Dark Dreams: A 'Phantom of the Opera' story

Title: Dark Dreams

Character pairings: Christine/Raoul, Erik/OC

Disclaimer: I don't own Phantom of the Opera, that belongs to Gaston Larox (sp?), the music to ALW, and the movie by the director guy.. Who's name has slipped my mind.. But I own Arielle. If you want to use her, ASK first.

Author's note: I'm basing this story more off of the movie rather than the book.. cuz.. well.. I'm not quite done with the book yet. The story starts right after Joseph Buquet's death in the movie. And it's in Arielle's POV, so first person. It's not one of my best stories and it's not really complete yet, so bear with me. And I APOLOGIZE if the story border-lines on the mary-sue, but I'm trying my best to make Arielle seem believable. Since she shares some of my personality, you'll just have to have faith that she'll turn out concrete. So, with much hope and pleasure, I present to you the first enstallment of 'Dark Dreams'. Enjoy, my lovelies.

My heart thudded in my throat as I edged my way behind one of the stone, snow covered gargoyles, to hide my self.

Gods, What had possessed me to come out here in the bitter cold snow, and on the roof no less! I was merely dressed in my usual attire for our performances: A white high collared, buttoned up shirt, coal-colored dress pants, and a black dinner jacket. With shinny heels. Which had been light and cool in the stuff heat of the theater, but it wasn't enough clothes to wear outside in the Parisian winter snow.

The gathering blanket of snow seeped through my heels and made my feet seem like solid blocks of frigid ice, but I dare not cross the terrace to go inside. For HE was there. I had caught a glimpse of the infamous Opera Ghost. The Phantom of the Opera. I was petrified with terror.

Like a living shadow he had been, enclosed in the darkness with his white mask glowing in the moonlight. He didn't seem like he had seen me, or if he had, he didn't care.

For some reason, his mere presence stirred something inside me. A raging curiosity and intrigue. I had never been so close to the man in the snow-white-Mask in my 4 years at the Opera Populaire. He seemed like a magnet to me, compelling me to take a closer look at him. The Phantom appeared to be romantic and full of mystery... I let my mind wander, but my common sense reigned in these rampant thoughts and feelings and replaced them quickly with alarming fear and protective anger. He had tried to hurt to hurt Madame La Carlotta, for that I ALMOST thanked him, but he had crossed the line when he had threatened Christine and killed a man I had known, however begrudgingly. He was dangerous and a threat to my home.

'But why is he out here, in the cold night' I wondered silently, but suddenly the sound of voices brought me out of my reverie.

It was Christine and our patron, Viscount Raoul De Cangy. It was no surprise to me to find them alone together, as it was common knowledge that they had a special relationship together.

Well, it was common knowledge-except to a certain Masked Phantom.

Then a thought caught me by surprise by it's sudden sting and concern.

The phantom had feelings, however obsessive and perverted as they were, for Christine. He loved her, her angelic voice, and porcelain-like-features. Christine had told Meg and I such things this morning. I had growled in response, of course. But this was now..

An overwhelming wave of pity and sympathy washed over me towards the Phantom. My fear and anger towards the masked man melted away in just a moment's time.

'Mon Dieu.. What a horrible feeling! To know that the one you love, loves another.. That poor man..' I thought with a hand to my heart as I tried to imagine what the Phantom was going through emotionally, hearing his only love confess her own love to the handsome Viscount. I could sympathize completely. I had gone through many one-sided-romances.

'Say you'll share with me,

one love, one lifetime,

Say the word,

and I will follow you

Say you love me,

That's all I ask of you...' Two voices, the exact example of true, pure, love, blended together in the night.

But even the presences of such love and happiness, I felt my heart break. Not for myself or for Christine or Raoul, but for the Phantom.

Soon the voices faded away with the sound of hurried footsteps. But despite this, I didn't move. I knew the Phantom was still there.

His thick boots crunched in the snow as he moved from his hiding place from behind the gargoyle, I saw him from the corner of my eye. Though I couldn't make out the exact words he started to sing, the melody was soft and heartbreaking, full of sorrow and betrayal.

Without my consent, my eyes started to blur with un-shed tears. Slowly, cautiously, silently, I peeked my head around the statue I was hiding behind. The Phantom was kneeling on the ground, with a single crimson rose in his hand that had a black satin ribbon tied around the stem. His signature. His sign of love for Christine- tossed away like nothing.

As if it were my offense instead of the Phantom's, I clenched my hand tighter around the handle of my violin. How could Christine have been so careless as to through such a beautiful gift away! How this must have been the salt on the wound to the Phantom...

I watched in sympathetic concern as the phantom's song took a darker tone and he crushed the rose in his hand until only fragments of the lovely flower remained, like drops of liquid rubies on the snow.

Suddenly, the Phantom ran at the statue I was hiding behind. I leapt back under the statue, in fear that he had seen me.

"YOU WILL CURSE THE DAY THAT YOU DID NOT DO ALL THAT THE PHANTOM ASKED OF YOU!" the deep baritone voice of the Phantom of the Opera declared into the night from the top of a gargoyle above me.

The power in his voice caused me to inhale sharply and I pressed myself even further underneath the statue. Something in his voice told me there would be much blood shed in our Opera Populaire...