Stand and Watch It Burn: A Voice Which Calls To Me

"If you come within three feet of me with that paint can, Liam O'Neil, I will punch you in the mouth."

"Threatening me with violence? Now that's the Christine Daaé I adore!" Liam's merry cackle echoed throughout the auditorium as he retreated a few steps in surrender. "I suppose is serves me right for putting all that wild brown hair in danger with all this sticky blue paint. It'd probably take days to get it out, especially with your unruly forest of curls."

"Joking!" He amended quickly at the sight of Christine's fierce glare as she self-consciously touched the ends of her long curls with her fingers. A few of the other boys painting and building set pieces beckoned to him from the stage, so Liam threw Christine his charming grin and marched back to do his work.

She had to admit, the set pieces were coming along nicely. Liam and the twenty or so paint crewmembers were doing a good job. It was fascinating to watch them turn dreary old wood into a gleaming decoration.

Of course, the fascination wore off after the first half hour or so of watching. Now, Christine had put her feet up against the row of seats in front of her as she studied the intricate detail of the ceiling above her. Well, this was fun. Why exactly had she come? The weekend was a time to enjoy being free from the prison-like walls of the academy. Yet, here she was on a Saturday morning, all because she couldn't ever resist the amusing persistence of her best friend.

Almost on cue, Liam's hearty chuckle sounded throughout the room. Christine couldn't help but smile fondly as she watched him nearly spill a dash of red paint on a white set-piece. He was unique, that one. It wasn't just his fiery red hair and freckled complexion that made him stand out. He had a certain sense of mystery about him visible to no one but Christine, despite his irritating immaturity at times. Christine would never hesitate to give him a call whenever she was upset, and he always responded with just the right amount of concern and understanding before cheering her right up. He had a certain appeal...nothing that attracted her romantically to him, of course. Their relationship had always been platonic. Honestly, they could have been born brother and sister.

The more she thought of it, the more she realized that had she had an ounce of Irish blood in her, she would have seriously suspected of their relation. Liam was always terribly protective toward her, and she toward him to a lesser extent. He had acquired many girlfriends due to his natural flirtatiousness and charm. However, he made sure to check out every guy that took a serious interest in Christine. She had considered that trait of his more irritating than endearing, until this very moment.

My, she must be incredibly bored. Even her mind wandered to far pleasant places than where her body rested. After several moments her eyes slid shut and the loud voices drifted off.


The water glistened in the distance as the bright golden rays of the rising sun illuminated the night sky. A faint breeze gently carried her long unbound curls into its caress, but her brown eyes were focused on some invisible point of interest far beyond the shore. In the air lingered a faint echo of some unrecognizable sound, lulling her to shut her eyes. The murmur grew louder into a slow hum. For an eternity, it seemed, she hummed along with it to some unforgettable tune. "You're late," she spoke softly, her voice was almost lost in the wind.

"I was here long before you," answered a deep, familiar voice.

There was a pause as the figure stood beside her, staring out into the glittering ocean just as she was.

"Do you hear it?" She asked, her voice sounding far off.

There was no response; her father simply turned his head to watch her intense gaze.

"It's always here. It never leaves. Sometimes I scream just so I can't hear it anymore." Her voice cracked with some faint emotion as terror filled her eyes. "Can't you make it stop?"

He turned from her to stare out into the sea once more. "You know I can't do that, angel."

She grimaced. "There are no angels in my life."

"Do you have such little faith in my promise? Have you forgotten?" He inquired sadly.

She didn't answer, only slowly walked to the shore line. "When will it stop? Doesn't it understand that it's killing me? When will it stop?"

"When you embrace it."

"I hate you," she hissed. "How can you tell me to embrace something alone that was ours? How can you think I could do it? How could you leave me? I hate you!"

A long few moments of quiet followed and he sighed. "It's late."

"I don't want you to go." She was only mildly surprised when tears fell down her pale cheeks. This is how their meetings always ended. Sometimes they would just sit and watch the ocean. Other times she would become angry, but at the end she always was left in tears.

She ripped her gaze away from the far-reaching sea for the first time, turning her pleading eyes on him. "I need you..."

"You have me," was his only solemn answer. "I'm with you anytime you let those notes spill from your mouth." He tapped his head and backed away a few steps in retreat.

"Don't you have any parting mysterious advice?" She called back through her tears.

He turned away and continued his walk away from her. "Don't talk to strangers?"

She snorted. "That's the

"Christine!"

What?

Christine? Christine! Chris


"Christine..."

With a gasp Christine Daaé's eyes shot open as she nearly fell off the row of seats onto the floor. Her back and elbows ached as she tried to sit up and gain her bearings, only to be met with darkness. Her gasps slowly settled into heavy breathing as she waited for her eyes to adjust. What had happened?

She had only now realized that her face was dampened with tears, but in her present confusion and terror she didn't bother wiping at them. Her eyes still had not adjusted to the darkness, and the rough carpeting underneath her back told her that she had somehow fell to the floor. Involuntarily, her breathing began to quicken once again as the pain in her arms prevented her from pushing herself up. Where was she? Why couldn't she feel the breeze anymore? Where was her

"Christine..."

Her breath instantly caught in her throat and she immediately shut her eyes. Pull yourself together, she chided herself.

Liam! She had been watching Liam! Oh, it was all starting to come back! She was counting lighting fixtures on the ceiling...She must have fallen asleep. It was a dream...just a dream. Where had everyone gone? Why was she lying on the floor near the isle alone in the dark?

Ignoring the stabs of pain in her upper shoulders and wrists, Christine pushed herself up into a standing position, eying the pitch black auditorium warily. Had that voice been in her head?

She wiped at her tear-streaked face and immediately spotted the silver glimmer of her cell phone on the floor. Without hesitation she picked it up and flipped it open, the bright blue light giving her the illumination she needed at the moment before she dialed the memorized number. "Liam?" She was surprised at the trembling in her voice.

- "Sleeping Beauty's finally awake, I see?" - Liam's cheery voice answered.

"Where are you? Where did everyone go? Why—"

- "Calm down, Chrissy. I called your aunt before I left. I would have waited with you there but I had somewhere to be. Annette should be there to pick you up in about a half hour." -

With a short thank you and a bid goodbye she hung up the phone, absentmindedly straightening her tangled curls. A half hour? What was she going to do for a half hour? The cafe would surely be closed, and she certainly wasn't going to roam the darkened hallways. Also, it was pretty freezing out, so she didn't find liking in the idea of waiting outside for her aunt's car.

She felt odd staying in the auditorium, though. An unknown fear coursed through her as she peered around the enormous room. She remembered the deep, melodic voice she had awakened too moments earlier. She shivered involuntarily. Her hands were shaking, she realized distractedly as she gazed at her trembling fingers.

The faint memory of her father's voice had already faded; she could barely even picture his face anymore. It was the song he had hummed as he joined her by the shore that lingered in her mind, as it always had. It was a Swedish lullaby he sung to her when she was young often before she went to bed.

Now, for the first time in a while, the tune in her head offered a little bit of comfort and she softly sung it aloud as she approached the stage.

She found her way to the light box and turned on a row of soft-colored lights to make things more visible, not knowing what she was going to do.

Do you have such little faith in my promise?

The words entered her head from out of nowhere, and the beautiful song that she barely realized she was still singing stopped silent. His promise.

Which one? She asked herself bitterly. The one where he'd never leave me? Or the promise that he'd send me a guardian angel?

Her eyes slid shut as his words from her dream echoed in her mind. She hadn't dreamt of him in so long. Without pictures, the image of his gentle but worn face almost was a faded shadow in her memory of what he once was. She had practically forgotten the melodic sound of his voice...his voice...The one thing they both had cherished during her youth…The one thing that would send her heart souring. How could she have let it fade away? How could she have let it die?

Even now, as she sang his words...it wasn't the same. It wasn't him. It was dead...devoid of all passion and emotion.

She was vaguely aware that she was sobbing now? She barely even recognized the sound of her own cries as they echoed throughout the auditorium.

Do you have such little faith in my promise? Have you forgotten?

"Stop." Her voice was weak and the word was practically lost in her sobs as her father spoke in her head.

She had forgotten. He promised her to send her a guardian angel...an angel of music. All he ever wanted was for her to embrace her voice. Instead, for years, she purposefully neglected it...out of spite, selfishness, and hatred. She had let herself lose all inspiration. And now it was as if the memory of her father was truly lost.

"Christine..."

This time, she couldn't control her sobs even as the low and melodic voice she remembered hearing earlier resonated throughout the room. Instead, she shut her eyes tighter and clutched her knees to her chest as she leaned against a backdrop.

Christine's shudders only ceased when the entrancing voice began crooning a soothing and unfamiliar lullaby, the calming sound seemingly coming from everywhere at once. Even the silence following the song seemed a thing of perfection, and Christine, now feeling eerily calm, halted her tears and stood up. Taking one long look at the empty darkness around her, she nodded at no one and exited the room as if in a trance.


A/N: What's the verdict? Christine's a tad angsty, right now. Give her time. She'll get over it.

Tell me what you think, please?

la M.R