Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.
Phanatic: Thank you soooo much for giving my first words of encouragement. With all the great stories out there, I appreciate the time you took to read mine! I hope to live up to expectations . . .
Chapter Two
The stone gargoyles guarding the entrance were haloed by the moon's light. The folds and cracks of their faces glowed with a luminescent sheen. Christine could see her breath swirling in the winter night's sky. Inside, she was burning. The Opera Populaire was housed in a stone temple that was once filled with laughter, music and joy. It was the elite theater for modern Paris. In its grandest splendor, the theater was a demanding presence. Now, with the entrances and windows were closed off with rotted boards that stank of mold and decay, it seemed as though it coward from embarrassment. Christine took her gloves off to touch the granite columns she used to climb on as a child. It might have been the hardening of her heart, but she thought it felt hollowed, lifeless. This theater molded her life beyond her control. For the first time in a long while, she felt at peace with herself. She finally felt at home.
The boards were easy enough to pull away. The stories of the Phantom still frightened the people of Paris and the building was left to perish along with its infamous ghost. The rancid smell of decay wafted from within. Gagging, Christine folded a handkerchief over her mouth as she squeezed her way into the crevice she made for herself. Once her eyes accustomed to the darkness she was surprised to see that, inside, the great hall was still magnificently preserved in its original splendor.
The red velvet tapestries were draped with the utmost care and precision. The bronzed statues gleamed. Christine took for granted that, even in the dead of winter, there was heat in the air. Once she felt the warmth returning to her fingers, Christine's heart beat with fervor. She always knew that there was a chance that her Angel did not make it through that night. Although he painted himself as a monster, Christine knew that he was still fragile and vulnerable. It gave her hope. Everything was still maintained, and she knew of only one person that would have taken it upon himself to serve as the groundskeeper.
Admiring her reflection in the polished marble floor, Christine made her way up the sweeping staircase that led to the entrance of the auditorium. The familiarity of it all caused an odd tingle that radiated from the back of her head to spread over her body. Giddy, she took her time reminiscing as she traveled to the double door entry. The brass lion knockers seemed as though they were still determined guardians protecting the theater against unwelcome intruders. Her long fingers had barely touched the overstated gold handle when Christine pulled back hesitantly. When she opened this door, she knew there would be no going back. Trembling, it was the vision of Erik that reassured her. She could remember the warmth of his body. The memories of him played vividly in her mind. Christine could remember his musky scent as he held her close to him. She opened her eyes. Resolute and steadfast, Christine firmly grasped the ring trapped in the mouth of the beast and pulled with all the ferocity she had.
The fluttering of hundreds of moths filled Christine's ears as they swarmed around her. She couldn't help but shrillingly scream as they weaved about on her skin and through her hair. Beating her dress and hair with her handkerchief, she twirled and ran away from the door, still shrieking. After they had flown away, she heartily laughed out of relief and mild humiliation. Christine was shocked to see that, in stark contrast to the lobby, the seating area was filled with cobwebs and covered with dust. The stage remained charred and Christine saw that little, if any, had been done to restore it. Again her guilt set it as she stared at the remains of her beloved theater. The chandelier had crushed the middle seating area. The crystals were still scattered across the floor. The once grandiose stage curtain was tattered and hung limp on the rafters. Though she half expected it, a small part of her was stunned to see the opera house like this. She never before saw the aftermath of her performance.
Christine solemnly left the room and carefully shut the door behind her. Tears welled in her eyes and she found herself gasping for breath. She ran back to the alcove that oversaw the atrium. A cold sweat beaded on her forehead. "Perhaps," she thought to herself, "It's better this way. I shouldn't have come here. I don't belong here anymore. Maybe I wasn't supposed to come back." She left the balcony and began descending down the stairs. She whispered to herself, "I am not ready for this." Just as her foot grazed the last step, Christine heard an organ start playing from the theater hall. Her heart began beating rapidly once again as she felt a surge of warmth flow through her. Though her first instinct was to leave, curiosity got the best of her. Christine found herself once again making her way back to the auditorium.
Fighting her way through the cobwebs, she headed towards the orchestra pit. There was no one sitting at the organ. Puzzled, it took her a moment to realize that it wasn't the organ standing before her that was playing. The music emanated from below the stage. She knew of only one other instrument like it in the opera house and even had the opportunity to hear it being played by her mentor. "He is here," she thought to herself, once again feeling ecstatic at the thought of seeing him again. Christine dared not follow the entrance to the lair from the stage. It was too risky and Christine didn't trust herself enough to avoid the traps Erik had guided her through. She instead chose to go through the leading lady's dressing suite, a safer, more reliable route.
The key sitting in the door lock still had the tassel attached. Christine was able to turn it with ease. Not to make the same mistake, she thrust the door open and furiously ran to a corner of the hallway. She had to softly laugh at herself when she saw that nothing was flying out. The dressing room, like the lobby, was still in pristine condition. The velvet on the chaise lounge was still soft as she ran her fingers over the arched support of the chair. The mirrored doorway that guarded the entrance into the caverns remained sealed. Hearing the music echo off the walls, Christine pushed the mirror aside to the right to reveal the passageway to Erik's lair.
Her fingers once again trembled, but Christine pushed past her fear to follow the music. The music was especially haunting as she tried to make her way through the unlit corridor. Encased in darkness, Christine tried not to think of the grime on the wall as she felt her way down the winding walkway. The organ continued to play, but it did not have the warmth that she was accustomed to hearing. She thought that, perhaps, she did drive Erik to madness. She would not be able to tell how Erik would respond to her. Chances were he wouldn't have even known of her arrival. Christine was sure that in the past few years many intruders had tried to roam the theater. There were probably traps she wasn't aware of.
Fearing that she might unwittingly set one off, Christine thought better of walking any further and ran back up the stairs. She was careless and did not retrace her steps exactly. When she reached one of the platforms, she yelped as her foot caused a stone to sink lower. A loud thunk radiated through the caverns. The music abruptly stopped. Panicking, she tried to run even faster, but as soon as her foot lifted off the stone, the floor gave out from under her.
Christine started tumbling down a slide and landed into a room void of light or warmth. Flustered and confused, Christine reprimanded herself for not knowing better. Her eyes saw green spots flashing around the room. Once her eyes acclimated to the darkness, she saw a tiny sliver of white light peaking out from the bottom of the far wall. She quickly crawled to the corner and felt the ground become damp and muddy. Christine tried pulling the ground away from the wall using her hands, but the coldness made her fingers stiff and rigid. With each pull and scrape, the tips of her fingers felt emblazoned with sharp tingling and prickles. It did not seem to matter how much Christine was able to shovel away, the mud and water quickly replaced the dirt she unearthed. It wasn't long before the light disappeared completely.
Determined, Christine tried to force herself through the wall. Lying on her back, she kicked the stones in hopes of dislodging them. Her face grew hot and Christine found herself growing tired. Manic set in and she could feel the walls closing in on her. Her breathing became labored and Christine could feel sweat from her brow dripping down her face. She knew she couldn't continue at this pace. When she couldn't kick anymore, she slowly crawled back into the middle of the room where it was dry.
Alone and afraid, she lay down on the floor and wept softly to herself. "I'm going to die here," she quietly sobbed to herself. Jean's little round face kept coming to her mind and she began to regret coming to this God-forsaken place. Her exertion came over her and she felt herself shake in spite of herself. The sweat was soaking into her clothing. To keep herself awake, Christine began to sing to herself. When she heard someone walking outside, she screamed out, "Please, it's me, Christine!" Staggering to the wall, she continued, "Let me out! I had to see you. Please, please, get me out of here. I only wanted to know if you are all right. I didn't mean to intrude."
A bright light erupted from the wall where a brick had just been removed. Not being able to see, she covered her eyes with her hands. Christine saw the silhouette of him for a brief moment before she noticed a cloud of misty white smoke enter the cell. Christine suddenly felt nauseated. She began to cough hysterically. She became so lightheaded that she retreated back into the room and collapsed on the floor in a daze. Her eyelids became heavy, but Christine tried to force herself to remain alert. Her body could not resist and Christine finally surrendered to the effects. Darkness came over her as she faded into a forced sleep. The last thing she could remember before her eyes shut was the feeling of a cloak skimming over her body.