Three Months of Elysian Peace (?)
The beloved love square makes its entrance! YAY! I hope you guys like! P.S. - I don't own any of the characters, yadda, yadda, but dude, I totally own the cool new-and-improved story-line.
LOVE SQUARE!
Your Obediant Servant, A.O.W.
Did they really have to hide it? Why did she insist on keeping their engagement secret? If Christine truly had faith in and loved, she would not be afraid to let the world know of their love.
Raoul had been feeling more distant from Christine now that they were supposed to be closer. She had distanced herself from him, spending all of her time down in the chapel, playing the piano. What was she working on? He needed to know what she was doing.
Raoul was excited while he sat, looking at the plans for the Masquerade Ball that they were planning to greet the new year. He had yet to ask Christine to the ball. He might as well ask her soon.
He rose from his desk. He would have to go find her, but now he never really knew where she was. Christine seemed as if she was slowly slipping through his fingers, whenever she looked at him, he couldn't see her actually looking back at him. Her eyes were always distant now, away in another place.
What had happened to her? What had happened to the Christine that had been so excited to run about on the beach? What had happened to the Christine that had always been happy, her face vibrant, those blue eyes had always been so alert but now they were distant and distracted.
Raoul opened the door to Christine's room, seeing only Meg inside. She was dressed in her tutu, just coming back from practice with her mother. It looked as if she was reading one of Christine's notebook. Christine didn't even let him read them. She looked up suddenly when she sensed his presence.
"Raoul!" she exclaimed setting the notebook down quickly. "What are you doing here?"
"I'm looking for Christine," he said, walking into the room. Raoul had seen Meg so much more often than Christine, and every time he saw her, she looked more and more beautiful. Meg looked older and more beautiful than ever, her long blonde hair was hanging loosely around her face, making her grey eyes stand out.
"I haven't seen her at all today," said Meg, rising. "Why, is something wrong?"
"I'm just worried about her, plus I have to ask her something," said the Vicomte, trying to pry away his eyes from Meg's face. The once innocent face that was now so seductive. "I should go to find her."
"Wait," said Meg, placing her hand on his shoulder as he turned away. He turned back to her and saw so much care in her eyes. "Are you sure there isn't anything wrong? I hardly see Christine anymore. When I do see her, she doesn't even hear me. Sometimes she doesn't even come up to sleep. I'm worried about her."
"So am I," replied Raoul. Before he knew what he was doing, Raoul was leaning closer and closer to Meg. Finally, their lips touched, and Raoul embraced Meg tightly, drawing her body to his. The embrace lasted a long time, when Raoul pulled away.
God, what had he just done? He needed to get away. He had betrayed Christine. He fled the room, ignoring Meg's calls from behind him. Raoul ran back to his office and locked the door. He put his head down on the desk and began to cry.
He had betrayed Christine – but hadn't she betrayed him, too? She had been pushing him away, and it just so happened that Meg was there to comfort him. Raoul still deeply loved Christine, but he was getting all of the affection that he wanted from Christine from Meg. What was he to do? He couldn't tell Christine. Ever. It would break both of their hearts. Meg surely wouldn't tell anyone of what had happened. She knew the consequences.
His heart told him not to answer the door when Meg came, but he opened the door. He peered through the crack to see if he hadn't been imagining her there, but there she was, staring up at him with tears in her eyes. Damn her! Why did she have to cry? He was going to leave her out there, but what if someone saw? He couldn't let anyone see Meg Giry standing outside of his office door crying.
He stepped back to open the door for her to come in.
"I'm so sorry," she bawled as soon as Raoul had shut the door and turned to her. She flung herself onto him, which just made it all the more harder for him. He hugged her and kissed her forehead. "I know that you love Christine, but I…"
"It was my fault," said Raoul softly. It was all his fault. But, Meg looked so beautiful when she cried. "Look, you mustn't tell anyone of what happened, even Christine. Especially Christine. Promise you will never tell."
"I promise," said Meg softly. Raoul never saw Christine, and had no intent to hurt her, but with her pushing him away constantly, there was no reason but for him to try to move on. He could try, but he knew that his heart would always truly lie with Christine. That's why he wasn't going to break the engagement.
What had he gotten himself into with that one stupid act?
Christine sat in the shallow darkness of the chapel, admiring the rose petals that she had collected from the roof. She had put them in one of her notebooks and let them dry. She now always help her hair back in the black ribbon that had once wrapped around the rose's stem.
Christine knew that she had barely seen Raoul. Things had become so different lately. She felt the pull of the Phantom of the Opera more than ever, and she never wanted to leave the chapel. She hadn't eaten or slept in days, and her parents' candle was running low.
All she could think of was her music. Every time she believed that she was finished with her opera, she found a flaw. It had to be perfect for him. She hadn't felt Erik's presence, yet she knew that he could hear her, deep down below the Opera House.
If Christine stopped and listened, sometimes, deep in the night, she could hear Erik's organ playing melodies. She listened intently as the notes changed, Erik stopped and revised chords, working on that opera as intently as she was hers. Christine could his inspiration and determination in the air. It was contagious.
Her thought frequently drifted back to the night on the rooftop. She could imagine Erik hiding behind one of the large statues, watching as she got engaged to Raoul.
Raoul. She hadn't spoken to him in about two weeks. Christine had convinced him to keep their engagement secret, but she didn't know how long it would last. Not only the secrecy of their engagement, but the engagement itself. She needed to speak with him. She knew that he wouldn't understand what she had been doing, but she needed to assure him that she would still be there for him
She had decided.
Christine rose from the piano, making her way up the stone stairs for the first time in three days with the intention of having human contact. The light from the candles backstage and the light pouring in from the windows hurt eyes. Once her eyes adjusted once again to the light, she made her way toward Raoul's office. She hoped he was there.
Christine made her way through the Opera House, clutching her notebook closely to her chest. It was almost perfect.
Christine turned down the hallway and saw Meg coming out of his office. She watched as Meg took a quick glance around and took off in the opposite direction. What had she been doing?
Christine pushed away her questions and slowly entered Raoul's office. She peered in and looked around. His office had become much more disorganized, papers lying around on the floor. She spotted a big poster that read "Bal Masque" with a masked woman on the front. They were planning a masquerade ball? Why hadn't Raoul told her?
Her blue eyes focused on Raoul. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes were glazed and red. Christine had only seen him that way once before – when he heard the news that she had to move with her aunt. He looked dreadful.
When he finally sensed her, he looked up and smiled broadly at her, his face instantly brightening.
"Christine!" he exclaimed, rushing to embrace her. She enjoyed his fresh scent, and how warm he was to her cold body. He then put his hands on her shoulders and fixed his eyes intently on hers. "I was so worried about you. We all were. No one has seen you for days. I missed you."
Christine smiled softly when he kissed her forehead.
"Just working on a little something," she said. "What happened to you?"
"Just worried about you," he replied. His next words oddly desperate. "Christine, you know that I'll always love you. You know that, don't you?"
"Yes," said Christine, hugging Raoul. She could feel his radiating, powerful, yet desperate, love.
"Let's go to supper tonight," said Raoul, still smiling. Christine couldn't help but agree – her stomach was growling for food. He was energetic and told her to get ready, and he would go order his carriage. Christine ran to her room and got dressed and freshened quickly.
She retied her hair up with the black ribbon – her decision had been set in stone.
It had to be perfect for her. His opera had to be perfect for Christine. He knew that she would fall in love with it. He had made it for her, and it would be the final step in making her love him. The furthest he got away from the organ was to pace when he couldn't think.
He paced now, coming up with the perfect lyrics to his most powerful song. Far in the distance, he could hear the chapel piano playing. It had to be Christine. She had become lost in her work, too. He could hear stop, change a note or chord, and then continue on, occasionally singing softly to the music.
Then, listening to her sing, the lyrics and notes came to him. They were perfect. He sat back down at the organ and quickly jotted down and played notes, creating the perfect lyrics for his masterpiece. This was the one song that would drive her to him, and make her forget that damned Vicomte.
Christine would hear the melody, and know what was happening. He wouldn't force her to come to him – he had to let her come on her own will. That would prove that she really loved him. He knew that Christine would come to him. He had to just allow her time. The way that she had looked into his eyes, caressed his face, she had to love him. And when Christine chose him over the Vicomte, that would be his ultimate revenge.
Unless, of course, if he got in the way. Then, things might change.
The Phantom spent hours working on that one song, not realizing how the time had flown by. He sat in the dark, feverishly writing down the notes in the dark red ink. Christine could never resist coming back to his kingdom – he knew. He could feel her need for it.
"Erik! Erik!" came the cries. Christine? He rose from the organ and walked down to the edge of the lake. He peered across, and saw Christine standing there, searching for him. How had she found a way down to him?
It didn't matter – she had come to him. He stepped into his gondola and pushed himself across the lake, drawing closer and closer to Christine. She looked more beautiful than ever, her skin was radiant, her blue eyes glowing in the darkness. He pulled the boat as close as he could to her, and got out.
"How'd you find a way down here?" he asked, ushering her into the boat. She sat in the front without question.
"I found a spring in the mirror in the dressing room," she said quietly. "I remembered it, so I searched for it. Then, I made my way down here."
He smiled at her. She was an intelligent one. As he watched her as they made their way back to his home, he noticed the ribbon that held her hair. It looked like the black ribbon he had given her on the rose. As he pushed their way across the lake once again, he remembered the first time that he had ever taken her there. The faithful night when it had all begun.
He helped her out of the boat, and she turned to him, holding something in her hands.
"Here," she said. She grabbed his hand and opened it. In it, she had placed petals. Rose petals. Were those the petals from the rose on the roof? Did that mean that the ribbon from the rose too? He looked into her eyes, searching for an answer. She spoke softly: "Yes. I went back searching for the rose, but all I found was the petals and stem. I took them and saved them and the ribbon also. I wanted you to have them."
He looked at the petals and walked up to his bed and set them next to his music box. He would cherish them. She did still think of him. He looked back at Christine, standing near the organ. She did still love him. He walked back down to her and took her hand.
"Christine, I love you," he said softly. Her eyes looked so beautiful, and he could see all of the love in the world in those eyes. But there was sadness, also. She put her head to his shoulder, and he held her. His dear, dear Christine. But what were they to do about the Vicomte?
"What about the Vicomte?" he asked softly to her hair. "What are we going to do?"
"Keep going as we are," she said, looking up into his eyes. "We can't let him suspect anything. If he ever found out anything, he would try to hunt you down and kill you. I can't risk that. I have to keep him happy."
A double-edged sword. To keep the woman he loved, he would have to let her go with another man. Anyway to keep Christine, but what if she did truly fall in love with the Vicomte. What was he to do then? Could he trust her with his heart any more?
"Trust me. Please," she begged him.
"I do," he finally said, stroking her luscious dark brown hair. "I do."
He knew that she couldn't lie to him. Even if she did fall in love with the Vicomte, he could be taken care of in one swift motion. Then, she would still be his.
So be it.
