A/N: Well, I was able to quickly put with this chapter together before the full week sets in and I'll be crammed with work. Right now we're getting to some interesting points of the story and the research I've done was fascinating. So I hope you'll enjoy what I have in here. Please don't forget to review!

Chapter 3- Visions of Past Memories

"You okay?" Meg asked Christine as she drove home. "You looked like you seen a ghost when Brolin found you."

"It's nothing. I got lost and I ended up running into him." Christine looked out the window, watching the cars past by.

"Yeah if I saw him in the dark I would feel the same way," she laughed. "Well, to let you know he wouldn't have done anything to you. Despite he's a pig, drunk, and louse he can be a gentleman."

"Hmm." Christine leaned against the cool windowpane, thinking about what occurred in the opera house. She had to admit she was scared out of her mind, though she would consider herself the kind of person who doesn't scare easily. But something wasn't adding up right. She knew any logical person would have turned away, but there was something that kept her rooted. Like she had to go down there.

You're being silly, she told herself. That's impossible to feel drawn to a certain place. Or was it?

"Christine?"

"Yeah M--" Christine's voice cut off abruptly as she turned.

The car was gone. Meg sat on a cobblestone floor, about ten years younger, with long golden hair and no highlights. She wore a tutu of some kind and she looked at Christine with concern in her wide blue eyes.

"Christine, who is your tutor?"

She closed her eyes tightly and when they opened—Meg was back as herself, at the wheel of the car, and her highlights were present.

"Christine?" she repeated.

"Huh?" The brunette was still in shock momentarily before shaking her head. No. It can't be them. Meg wouldn't be there. Damn, I must be really really exhausted to come up with this.

"I asked you what was M. de Chagny like. You did see him, right?"

"Oh. Yes I did. Sweet guy actually. And young. Did you know he was young?"

"Well yeah." Meg shrugged. "Even though he doesn't show himself there are pictures on the TV and magazines. Not so much anymore. But you get the idea."

"I like him. I think Raoul might be the best boss I ever had."

"Raoul? So you guys are already on first name basis so soon?" she teased lightly. "You haven't known him for a day and so far you two are pretty friendly."

"Am not!" Christine protested. "He's my boss. Don't start thinking like that Meg. We're on strict professional terms."

"Yeah right." Meg smirked, eyebrows wiggling.

Christine shook her head, laughing quietly. She liked Meg. She really did. Christine was never the one to connect with people right away, with Heather as an exception and that was because they were roommates. But with Meg Garrison… she didn't need any help or an incident to get talking. They just sort of clicked once they met. Which was nice since she has someone to talk here.

I can talk to her. Maybe I should… no. She'll think I'm crazy and already I'm starting to think if I'm ready for the men with the white jackets. That… that was brought on from fatigue. Nothing else. I'm cool. Once we get back to the apartment, I'll finish unpacking and hit the hay. Then tomorrow I'll wake up and began working. There's nothing for me to start freaking out over. I'll just pretend that last night didn't happen and I didn't see anything out of the ordinary. There. That's all I have to do. That's all I can do.

xxXXxx

She fainted, her body no longer able to keep her going after she poured her soul into the outstanding performance. The last she remembered from blacking out was the standing ovation and the feeling he was proud.

When she finally woke, she found herself in her dressing room along with the opera doctor, her maid, and a handsome stranger standing over her.

The doctor begins to mutter something, she couldn't understand what, but her eyes never left the stranger's. He seemed familiar from somewhere… but from where? She searched his boyish blue eyes looking for some hint of recognition and finding none. At least nothing she remembered recently. Finding her voice, she asked,

"Monsieur, who are you?"

He smiled, kneeling beside her and taking her petite hand in his. "Why, I am the little boy who went into the sea to rescue your scarf!"

The moment melted away and soon she's alone in her room, staring at the large mirror. The most heavenly, comforting voice floats all around her and through the walls. It beckoned her to come. She found herself unable to resist its Siren's call…

Then there's blood. Blood! Everywhere she looked the putrid stench stings her nose and there's no escape from it.

And the screams! She ran but no matter which way she goes the agonizing screams followed her from the poor souls.

She found herself once more alone in a dark, cool room. She heard two voices calling her name and pleading for help. She turned to a man. A man, nothing more than a shadow, clad in black. She begged him to help but he remained rigid. She cannot see his face as he cruelly laughed, mocking the suffering taking place.

"Angel of Music" she cried. "Angel of Music I gave you my soul!"

Darkness once more evaded and there she kneeled by a bedside, an elderly man lying in bed, barely holding on. He coughs violently, his body convulsing as she watches helplessly.

"I promise I'll send him to you Little Lotte. And then you will sing like the angel you are," he tells her, before he draws his last breath.

Christine woke up, sweat dripping down her face. Breathing heavily, she ran her fingers through her tangled curls, trying to calm her raging nerves.

Those screams! The blood! Everything was too much.

"Oh God!" she moaned, throwing the covers off of her. Christine got up and walked over to the window to gaze out into the peaceful night. No foul play no danger.

She pounded a fist into the glass, leaning her forehead against it.

They were back. She had no doubt in her mind. And the worse of it was not only did she see herself like always, but also she saw Raoul. He was the handsome stranger who claimed he rescued her scarf from the sea. And the man… that dark man whose face she can never see. He was there as well with her, while those two beings were calling her out for help.

"Why now?" she whispered brokenly. Closing her eyes, Christine stayed in that position for a few minutes before returning back to bed. These are supposed to be gone! Gone! I was done with them!

Drifting back to sleep, she knew when morning came she would have to make a call home. There was no other way.

xxXXxx

The next morning, Christine nervously sat on the couch, waiting for Meg to come out. She wanted to ask her first before she made any impulse calls. The door opened and she jumped up as the bedraggled blonde came dragging out.

She yawned loudly, stretching her arms over her head. Catching Christine, she smiled. "Morning. How was your first night? Good I hope."

Christine returned her smile. "It was needed after the long flight."

"I can imagine. So what do you want for breakfast? I know I said I didn't have much, but I'm sure I have some bagels lying around."

"Bagel sounds fine."

Meg nodded. Before she went to go to the kitchen, Christine blurted out. "Meg, do you think I could use your phone? To call a friend."

"Yeah. You live here now so be my guest. As long as it doesn't kill me when I get the bill."

Christine laughed. "I promise it won't be long."

As Meg went to search for food, Christine reached for the handset on the coffee table. She knew quite well Heather was in bed, but she would understand once she explained the emergency.

She quickly dialed her number. On the third ring she answered.

"H-hello?"

Christine felt bad waking her, but too late now. "Heather it's me."

"Christine?" came the sleepy response. "Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"I know and I'm sorry but—"

"Well I'm pretty much frickin tired and you had your eight hours' sleep already so one of us will be perky. But I'm sure you had your reasons so out with it Dawson."

"Okay, I don't know how to begin this, but last night I had… I had… oh Christ. They came back."

"What? Oh my God…"

"I know I know. I needed someone to talk too and you're the only person who knows."

Heather was more awake now. "Chris. I'm so so sorry! Okay, tell me everything. Spare no details."

Christine relayed her entire dream, of course not skipping anything of importance. Her voice was kept so low that Meg couldn't overhear. That was the last thing she would want to happen.

Like she knew, Heather listened intently to every word she said. She could picture the short dark-haired girl, her face scrunched in thought. Heather never judged Christine or anyone else, plus she had a great ear to listen. And right now that ear was needed big time.

They met back as freshmen at Juilliard. They were roommates and right away Heather introduced herself and wanted to know everything there was about Christine Dawson. At first, she wasn't sure if she wanted to confide her whole life story to some girl she met, but Heather made her feel comfortable and not that she was worth for some juicy gossip. As Heather like to put it, "I don't like to gossip. But I do spread the news as it's told."

But if Christine told her something that was strictly confidential she knew it wouldn't be leaked out. Heather expected the same courtesy from her and so they became fast and good friends.

Christine from the start admired and envied the outgoing girl. She had the type of carefree attitude that she longed for. Heather didn't take crap from anyone, not even from her own friends. If one were to say something to her that she didn't like or about someone, that person would receive an earful. And if one were to be completely hard on themselves then Heather would have her say and make that person laugh. Christine owed Heather for bringing her back to the world of music. She was her harshest critic and had her input for hiding such a gift.

"You have talent, Chris. I don't understand why you would want to hide it from everyone else," she told her once.

She knew what happened to her parents' and when Christine told her excuse about how it brought too many painful memories, Heather had this to say:

"They died, big deal. Continue singing for their memory. That's what they would have wanted you to do. They would want you to share your voice than sit around blubbering all day."

Her witty comments always made Christine rethink her decisions and for the most part Heather was always right.

But hiding her voice wasn't the only secret she had kept from her. Heather only found out when it had become too graphic for Christine to handle.

For as long as Christine could remember, she had these dreams—visions actually. But hers were more based off in the past. As a child, she grew afraid of nighttime since it was then when the dreams would come. Some were pleasant but mostly they were terrifying and horrific, especially to a delicate mind of a child.

Her parents thought she had an over active imagination that kept her up at night. So when it came to movies and television shows, they were limited and strict to avoid any nasty nightmares.

But that didn't help. Christine continued dreaming.

They were all about her. Seen through her point of view, she witnessed a variety of tragedies. But the ones she enjoyed were always viewed with such brightness and fervor. There would be an older man playing on his violin and telling stories from around the world, some of which Christine even repeated to her parents. They never knew of their origins and thought their daughter made them up. And then sometimes when the older man would sing and tell stories, there would be another with Christine. She knew it was a boy but his face was hazy whenever she looked at him and she couldn't understand a word he said.

The odd thing about these dreams was that the speech was in a foreign language. Christine wasn't fluent in any other language, yet she understood what was being said to her. For the longest time, she couldn't understand anything that was said to her from the operas. In her dreams, yes. But that all change one day…

Her mother was going through her lines for Faust when Christine past by. She heard her mother struggle with some of the translation. Matilda would always translate the words so she could get a better understanding of the words and find the emotions she needed to act. While she worked, Christine walked over and at once spoke aloud the lines in English. Matilda was confused at first at what she was doing until she realized Christine was translating it to her.

She copied what the seven-year-old said and looked it up. Imagine the shock she felt when her daughter was right. Never was Christine taught French and yet she was treating it like it was a native language. She even could pronounce the words without any difficulty. When asked how she knew, Christine replied it was the dreams. This incident prompted the Dawson's' to consider that there was more to them than what they originally believed.

So she was sent to see a psychologist specialized in interpreting dreams. After the first session, it was known Christine was experiencing a past life.

Doctor Fulton explained to the worried parents of the different forms people have when recalling a past life. Christine was undergoing two of them—the intuitive flashes and the spontaneous memories. The former deals with knowing things that one shouldn't know yet do. This being about her out of the blue knowledge of French. The latter occurs in children, starting between the ages of three to five.

Christine, she concluded, was reliving a past life but the memories were broken up fragments not in chronological order. From what Christine told her there were happy moments, but mainly horrendous. Some that were so bad she couldn't dare speak of. But the one question that chilled the Dawsons' to the bone, was Doctor Fulton's asking of the man in her dreams.

The loving parents never knew that a man who was surrounded by darkness plagued her. His face was obscured from the child, but she was deathly afraid of him. Sometimes he would sing to her, a gentle lullaby to help her sleep, but for the most part he would do terrible deeds. And this was emphasized by the screams and sight of blood.

She assured the Dawsons' that something like this would eventually go away when the child becomes the age of ten. It usually fades away and becomes forgotten. But until then, Matilda and Charles wanted Christine to undergo hypnosis to find out "who" Christine believed she was and hopefully it would help end it.

But no matter what method was used, Christine could never reveal who she was or who was with her.

She was taken to many other doctors and the prognosis was always inconclusive. Whoever Christine was reliving wouldn't confess her name or what was taking place. It was odd that this vital information wouldn't be known. But the Dawsons' hoped that Doctor Fulton would be right that it would eventually fade away.

As Christine's tenth birthday came and passed, the dreams didn't cease. No one could explain the phenomenon that was taking place. It was at this time when Matilda died.

Her death was a blow to Christine and her father. Yet after her mother's death the visions stopped on their own accord. For eight years, she was free from the nightmares until the night Heather found out.

He was back. The man in her dreams, but unlike the others, this one wasn't seen through Christine's point of view. Instead, she saw herself watching a couple. The woman kept her back to her but the man she could see as plain as day. He wore a bright white mask, covering his entire right side, a contrast to the ebony clothes he had on. He was crying even as the woman seemed to be whispering something in his ear before kissing his forehead.

Then she handed over a small ring to him and Christine heard the painstaking words, "I promise".

"I promise" what exactly made Christine wonder, but once those words were said the woman vanished leaving her alone with the strange man. His mask was off, but like before his face was covered in the shadows. Christine thought for sure she couldn't have been seen while the exchange took place, but the man looked her right in the eye as an unsettling grin took over his pallor lips.

"You belong to me and me alone," he spoke, reaching out for her. It was at that point, his face was revealed to her.

Christine was awoke screaming by Heather's insistent shaking. She couldn't remember the end of her dream. His face was so sudden that it was practically a blur, but the thought made her cringe and sob into her friend's arms. When she eventually calmed, Heather asked her what happened. She tried to brush it away by saying it was a nightmare and nothing more. But damn Heather's stubbornness.

She was able to get Christine to spill the next morning. It didn't take much but a few kind words and breakfast in bed for Christine to confess. She never told anyone of this, not even Mama Val, but she told Heather she thought they were gone for sure. She hadn't had a vision for eight years.

Heather didn't make fun of her nor did she tell anyone when Christine decided not to show up in class that day. The dream shook her to the very core and she wanted to refrain from the public's eye. Heather was a great sport in all of it and gave her space until Christine was ready to discuss it.

Heather was the second person for her to confide into and she could never ask for a better person to listen and keep it zipped. But that was it. After that ordeal, the visions didn't return.

Now it was six years later and they returned. Once more Christine thought they were gone forever, but it seemed it wasn't her luck to forget.

When Christine finished, Heather was quiet for a few minutes, and for a second she was afraid she fell asleep.

"No, no. I'm still here. Just thinking Chris."

"I can't believe it Heather. I simply can't. For six years I had peace. Six years! What am I going to do?" Christine sighed.

"I don't know. Maybe it would be like before and no more would come."

"I don't think so." Christine looked to see that Meg was busy reading the paper and she went back to the conversation. "On the way back from the Garnier, I had a vision/daydream."

"What happened?"

"The girl I'm living with, Meg, was in it. But it was her younger. She was talking to me about my tutor and then it was over."

"Tutor? You never had one," Heather commented.

"I know. But perhaps my past life did? God, I feel so weird talking about this."

"Don't. Have you read the papers and such? Most people get these."

"Yeah but not the way I do. Just lock me up and throw away the key."

"Quit it Chris. You're not crazy and I'm sure we established that long ago. Now let's break it down. The guy you saw. You said he looked like the owner right?"

"Precisely down to the smile and manners," confirmed Christine. "It's odd."

"But there could be a chance it was just a dream about handsome Frenchie," Heather teased.

"No! It was not and I'm positive he didn't influence my dreams in anyway. But I can't help but get this feeling we met before… you don't think there's a connection I'm missing?"

"I dunno. I'm no expert Christine so the only thing I can offer is advice."

"Right now I'm game for anything."

"It could have been a fluke of some kind. Now what you told me was pretty morbid so could there have been some kind of inspiration?"

"Well, Meg and the girls at the Garnier told me about their ghost. Apparently, the opera house is haunted by a Phantom and everyone seems to believe in him, excluding Meg. They even went as far to tell me that this certain hallway is off-limits."

"There you go! This Phantom thing probably encouraged your tired mind to come up with the dream. Not to get off topic but how's the city? I've been dying to know and all you been telling me was the next storyline for a Wes Craven film."

Christine laughed. "It's lovely. Meg promised me she would show me around. Most likely the shops. So is there anything special you want me to get you?"

"A Frenchman would be nice. Is that Raoul guy single?"

"I'm not sure and even if he is, I don't think he would appreciate me packing him to ship off to the States. But then again why would I want to give you him?"

"Ah, because I'm your best friend and you love me."

"Nice try," Christine smirked. "What about Trent?"

"Noncommittal."

"Ouch."

"Tell me about it. Get me whatever Chris."

"All right but you might be sorry."

"I'll chance it. Oh and Christine?"

"Hmm?"

"If anything should happen I'm a call away, got it?"

"I'll remember. Thanks."

"No problem. And also, when you do call me, please be aware of the time difference. If I have to wake up in the middle of the night for your sorry ass then I won't be responsible for what might occur when I fly over there."

"I'll keep that in mind. Bye Heather and good-night!"

"Night!"

Christine disconnected and stared at the phone. Heather could be right. It's probably some dream and nothing else. There's no need to worry about it.

"Hey Christine aren't you going to eat? We have rehearsals in an hour!"

"Coming!" She got up and glanced down at the handset. Fluke. That's it. A fluke.

TBC…

I just want to let everyone know that Erik is a ghost in here. The appearances he'll make won't be obvious in that you see him there, but the feeling of his presence. This story is mostly centered on Christine and what happens to her as well a little of Raoul. But don't be discouraged! I'm an EC shipper and like I said I have made this good for both sides. I don't want to give away too much of the ending, but please don't abandon this! Thank you and please please don't forget to review!