A/N: The person raping Christine was Raoul as explained in Ch. 4- An Unexpected Surprise. But the future Christine doesn't know yet and will later put two and two together later. Now this is my favorite chapter! Dark Erik does come into play and he's a bit frisky, shall we say? Hee hee.
My beta won't be able to edit this anymore so if anyone is interested in betaing this, then please tell me in a review or send me an email with "Beta- Promise" as the subject. Thank you and please don't forget to review!
Chapter 11- The Ghost's SeductionRehearsals were long and Christine was thankful that Roberts called for a half-hour break. Right away she told Meg about the dream she had the other night. When Christine relayed the details of the rape, she quivered as the images came flooding back in front of her eyes. In the morning her pelvis had been sore, as if she experienced the ordeal. But there was no evidence she could detect that showed it. Though stranger things had been known to happen so this wasn't out of the ordinary.
Meg frowned. "Were you able to get a look at the bastard's face?"
Christine shook her dark curls. "It was too dark. But I knew him."
Her friend couldn't suppress the audible shudder. "I don't know how you put up with these, but be glad it was a dream."
"Not quite," Christine said. "It's a memory and I was reliving it through a dream. But at the end was strange. Before I slipped away a name entered my thoughts. This is the first time I was able to learn a name and remember it afterwards. Perhaps it's a sign."
"What was it?"
"It was E—"
"Hey guys!" Stacey cheerfully announced before plopping down next to Christine. Glancing at their sorrow expressions, Stacey raised a thin eyebrow. "Why the gloomy faces?"
Christine looked over to Meg before returning her attention to the ballet dancer. "Nothing. I was telling Meg this bad dream I had last night."
"Oh. It's only a dream it's not like it's going to hurt you or anything so lighten up," Stacey reprimanded both. "Geesh."
"Yeah," Christine nervously laughed. If only she knew…
"So anyways I need to know, what's going on between you and M. de Chagny?"
Christine almost choked. "W-what?"
"You heard me. Since you showed up he's been hanging around rehearsals all the time, haven't you noticed?" At both of their open-mouth expressions, Stacey went on. "It's true. I believe someone likes someone and I need details."
"There's… for Heaven's sake Stacey he's my boss," Christine said. "There's nothing between us that isn't professional."
"Uh-huh sure." The dancer wasn't convinced. "He's looking over here right now. And by the looks of it, he's hungry for a Yankee."
"Just because he's looking over here doesn't mean he's directing it to me," Christine replied flatly, but turned around to humor her. Sure enough, Raoul was standing by one of the technicians across the stage, going over some orders about the lights when he glanced over and smiled at Christine.
She blushed a pale pink and returned to her friends, who were trying hard not to laugh. "You guys are mean you know that?" The brunette retorted.
"C'mon! He's completely nuts over you. Hey, think about the special attention you can get." Stacey winked and nudged Christine's shoulder. "If I were you, I would go over and provide a little sample."
Christine's face grew even redder and Meg burst out laughing. The singer shot her friend a deathly glare, which only made her laugh even harder. "Sorry Chris! But you have to see the look on your face."
"I rather not," she mumbled. Stacey chuckled and shook her head. "Okay maybe you won't do that, but I certainly would. The innocent trying to seduce Mr. Hot Manager, now that's something I would like to see."
"Enough please!" Christine sighed. "We're friends, period. Nothing more."
"Moral aren't we?" Stacey teased. "But seriously, I think he has it bad for you. Remember when the backdrop fell and how quickly he became irritated that you were hurt? Or how about when he was desperate to keep you here, even though Cat took over and the time when—"
"Okay, I get the picture. Maybe he does have a crush on me. So? A crush is harmless."
"Here that Meg? She thinks a crush is harmless." The two blondes shared a look and giggled. "Please, he's waiting to make his move. Things between him and Cat messed up real bad and he doesn't want an encore. So instead, he's going to lay low and wait for the opportune moment to strike."
Before Christine could object, Meg interjected. "I wholly concur with Stacey. Even my mother noticed some changes in him and they center around you, ma amie."
"Let's say hypothetically, you're right. Doesn't mean it will work out," the brunette pointed out. "Face it, I'm not as 'high class' as Cat's family."
"Oh ye of little faith." Stacey smirked.
"Be serious! There's no way Raoul would—"
Christine's voice trailed off as soon as Meg and Stacey began to grin. Gulping, Christine tilted her head up and gasped. "Raoul! Hi!"
"Hi Christine," Raoul answered and sat beside her. Looking over at Meg and Stacey, he nodded to them.
"We'll let you two be. We have to do some stretches before rehearsals starts up again," Meg told them, poking at Stacey to get up.
"Err, yeah. You know how Mme Garrison can be," Stacey replied weakly. She stood up and winked at Christine before scampering off.
She fought the urge to go after and strangle them, but found her legs not cooperating at the moment. She cast another smile to Raoul before making her feet an interesting study.
"You did great this morning," he said breaking the awkward silence.
"Oh? Um… thanks. Though I think I was little off-key." Idiot.
He looked at her in surprise. "Nonsense! I've been watching and you were spectacular."
Christine couldn't help but blush at his comment. "Thank you," she squeaked softly.
Ever since Meg and Stacey brought up his possible infatuation with her, Christine wasn't sure how to act anymore. She liked him, yes, she came to terms with that long ago, but would he still be interested in her if he should find out what torments her night and day? And that dream the other night… somehow that person that raped "her" was someone familiar. An uncomfortable feeling settled in her stomach and right now she wanted to be far away from him as possible!
No! What are you thinking about? Raoul was not that man in your dream! He would never hurt a hair on you you know that! So what if you saw him before in your visions? That doesn't mean he's the one from last night. It could be that man of darkness. Yes… that had to be him! But who the Hell is Erik? And why do I want to be with him so badly? This doesn't make any sense at all. Damn it all!
"Christine?"
"Hmm?" She shook her head, casting away her thoughts. She was being silly to think Raoul had anything to do with her dream.
"I was wondering if you would like me to show you around my city?"
His question grabbed her attention. She did a double take. "P-pardon?"
Raoul shifted nervously. "You know… on a date? If not, then I understand and I apologize if I made you uncom—"
"NO!" she exclaimed, startling him with her outburst. "I mean, I would like that very much Raoul. But with opening night around the corner, I'm not sure if M. Roberts would give me the time off."
Raoul considered this and then smiled brightly, his blue eyes twinkling. "Don't worry about Roberts. Everyone's been working hard and I think a day off would do wonders."
"A day? You mean a whole day?" Christine gasped, astounded. Could he even do that?
Well, duh, Christine. He does own the place, that sardonic voice mocked her.
"Yes. That is unless you want to work." His tone took on a playful note.
"I suppose a day wouldn't hurt," Christine replied shyly. "Yes I would do like to go out with you M. de Chagny."
His smile, if possible, grew even wider. "Terrific! I'll talk to Roberts and everything will be set. How does tomorrow around eight sound? Or is that too early?"
"Eight's perfect." Christine couldn't believe it! She was going on a date with Raoul! Oh, she was going to kill Stacey and Meg for being right. After she brags about the date first, of course.
"Good. I'll see you then." Raoul walked off, enthusiasm and excitement showing through his gait.
Christine was in awe over what happened that she didn't notice her friends' return.
"So what did he say?" Stacey was the first to jump the gun.
Christine glanced up at them and beamed. "He asked me out!"
Both squealed with delight and pulled Christine up for a hug. "I knew it!" Meg cried.
"What do you guys have planned?" Stacey asked.
"He's going to show me around Paris." Christine couldn't stop grinning. She was excited. Her! Of all people, she was the one Raoul wanted.
"How much I envy to be in your place," Stacey sighed, shaking her head. "I'm going to be straightforward with you Christine, but I'm now living through your eyes. Do not disappoint us with the details."
She laughed. "I promise I'll tell you right away when it's over." Meg squealed once more and crushed her friend in her embrace again. "I told you Christine. Didn't I?"
"Yes you did Meg." Christine was elated and anxious at the same time. Tomorrow's going to take forever to come, but she was looking forward to next step in her relationship with Raoul. How long had she hoped this would come? I can't wait to call Heather! She's going to die after I tell her this.
Little did she know another already was.
xxXXxx
"To Christine Dawson one helluva lucky gal," Stacey toasted, raising her glass of lemonade. "Let's pray for more future dates and early dismissals."
Raoul had been in such high spirits that he ordered Roberts not only for the day off the next, but cut rehearsal short for today as well. Stacey and Meg would not stop bugging Christine that if she hadn't said yes they would still be on stage sweating with blood.
"Now you can definitely tell your friends back home that finding romance in Paris is true," Meg remarked.
"You guys," Christine shook her head, laughing. "What if I've said no?"
"Then I would kick your stupid arse all the way back to New York," Stacey replied. "Why would anyone want to say no?"
"Just testing. I never realized until now how much of a slave driver Roberts is," Christine commented, taking a drink from her Coke.
"If he had it his way, no one would be leaving the theatre. I could see it as a Twilight Zone episode," Stacey responded.
"Yeah. Or what about the Phantom?" Meg added. "Could you imagine the past coming to life?"
Christine didn't reply, but took another sip of her soda. Meg noticed this and mouth "sorry" once she realized what her words meant to her. Stacey didn't pay any attention to the awkward silence that fell upon the table. "Well, girls, as much as I like to continue to hang with you, I have a hot date to get ready for."
"It's only four thirty," Meg said.
"Yeah but I want to drop by and visit Jamie. Since she broke her toe, she's been under the weather. Poor thing. Hasn't had much luck lately, huh?" Stacey chuckled slightly while getting up. "I'll talk to you later."
"All right. Tell Jamie we said hi and hope she feels better," Meg called out to her friend. When the dancer was gone, Meg shook her head and looked at Christine. "Look, I didn't mean to imply—"
"It's okay. Really," Christine insisted. "Forget it was ever said."
Meg nodded, concern written in her eyes. "If you say so. God, I can be an idiot at times."
Christine smirked softly and took another mouthful of her drink. "Look on the bright side. We're out early."
"Yeah thanks to your boyfriend, girl. Didn't I tell you he liked you? And you were saying how he wouldn't notice you. Shame."
"You were right, yes, but I seriously thought I wasn't his type. I don't have good luck when it comes to men. Ask anyone and they'll say Dawson is a dunce."
"It can't be that bad," Meg told her.
"Oh yeah? Twice I was cheated on and a few times I was dumped because I wouldn't put out. I mean how dumb is that? I have my own integrity that I want to live to and I'm not going to jump into bed with a man on a first date. Or any date unless I know he's the one."
"And do you know if he's the one?" Meg asked.
Christine shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe some heavenly light and a choir of angels singing, 'Alleluia', or time stops and bam. Love at first sight."
"Did you get any of that with M. de Chagny?" The blonde couldn't resist, a light thin brow rising.
"Maybe, maybe not. But I'll wait and see how it goes." Christine smiled. "He's sweet, nice, caring. And he has this way of making you feel safe and comfortable, no matter how much of a fool you may make yourself look like. And his eyes. Have you ever noticed how deep they are? So full of thoughts and emotions you could get lost in…"
"Sounds like you have it bad. Real bad." Meg winked. "Aw!"
"Don't get any ideas Meg. I like him but I doubt I'm in love—" Christine was cut off as a blast of artic wind shot through the brunette, her glass blown off the table spilling the contents everywhere.
"W-what t-the H-hell was t-that?" Christine's teeth clattered, as she held herself.
The blonde did the same, rubbing her hands up and down her arms. "I'm not sure. But let's go home."
"O-okay." Christine jumped up and hurried behind Meg. Something wasn't right about that wind. They were the only ones hit by it, Christine had noticed. No one had been affected.
Running briskly past the café, neither saw the pair of golden sparks glowing dangerously in the bushes.
xxXXxx
This is more like it. A hot shower is the cure for stress.
Grinning to herself, Christine turned on the water letting the flow run on her fingers until reaching the desired temperature. She lifted the tab so the water could pour from the spout overhead and quickly shed off her clothes, throwing them into a small heap on the floor.
Stepping inside, Christine exhaled deeply once her body hit the steaming power. Already the magic was doing its wonders, her muscles loosening and relaxing. Outside, she could hear Meg on the phone and laughed softly. After coming back from the café, both had been slightly shaken up. Christine knew the only way to calm herself was a shower while Meg took up phone therapy with another dancer at the Garnier. To each their own, she thought, running her fingers through her wet curls.
She picked up a bottle of shampoo, pouring a small amount into her hand, and proceeded to massage her head. While rinsing out her hair, Christine couldn't help but think back to the café. Meg said it would be best if both pretended it never happened while they cool their nerves. But Christine wasn't able to. It wasn't easy for her to ignore, unlike Meg. Trying to forget her visions was an act she tried when she was younger, but it didn't help. And neither was this.
She had felt that wind before, she was sure of it. Squinting hard as the water fell on her face, Christine remembered the suspicious cool air back at the Garnier. Before she had convinced herself it had to have been the AC going haywire. Though, at the moment, she was rethinking that notion. But how is that possible? How can the same wind be felt outside and in the theatre? There's no logical explanation, unless…
As much as she hated to say it, what if there was some paranormal activity-taking place in the Garnier? Could that have unleashed her visions again? If so, why target her? And did that force been responsible for Cat's death?
If I wasn't ready for the asylum before, then now I am, she thought wryly. When that wind went through her, she felt its power, sadness, fury, and… jealousy. Could wind be jealous? No. Animals and humans, yes, and…
"Ghosts," she murmured, suppressing a shiver. And once more back to ghost meaning the Phantom. Everything points back to this unknown specter that it was beginning to frighten her. Could Stacey… everyone be right that the Phantom favors her? Why? It didn't make any sense to her at all. Ghosts don't exist, plain and simple, yet this one was hell-bent on making her the lead. "I'm losing my mind," she said. "Ghosts, Phantoms are not real. Not real."
Through with her hair, Christine reached for her loofah and body wash. When the sponge was full of the peaches scent, she lathered it over herself, humming.
And then there had been that dream. Erik. Who was this Erik? He obviously had some importance to her past life, which she could figure, remembering the helpless plea. Rape. She had been raped, but by whom? Not Erik. No, Erik would never hurt her. He would rather kill himself than lay a hand on her that she was positive. And how did she know? She didn't, she just did. A feeling. A comforting feeling, knowing she was safe whenever Erik would be near.
The mere thought of this enigmatic name brought a flood of warmth and relief. Erik. It was a nice, strong name. Probably suited the body of this man. Strong and powerful, gentle and kind. An angel…
Shaking her head, Christine started to rub down her arm when a dark shadow moving caught the corner of her eye. Freezing, she dropped the blue puff. The shadow flicked to the left and right, her pupils following the movement. Tentatively, she took hold of the end of the shower curtain, her heart thumping loudly in her ears.
Licking her lips, Christine pulled it back violently… and found nothing. The heat from the water filled the bathroom, steam clouding the glass medicine cabinets over the sink. It was empty save for her and her clothes. Water started to drip onto the floor from where she had her head hanging out and came back, returning the curtain to its proper place. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing, she firmly told herself. All these thoughts and talks of spooks were taking its toll on her weary mind. After Faust I'm going to take a nice, long vacation. A road trip sounds good and I'm sure Heather would be more than happy to come with. Maybe Meg too…
Picking up the loofah, Christine finished cleaning herself and then rinsed it out. Hanging the loofah back on the faucet, Christine stayed inside longer; the heat was too nice to leave so soon.
Facing forward and up, the droplets splashed on her as a chill flew down her spine. Ignoring it, she closed her eyes and began to hum another song.
The chill returned, but this time it was pressing on her shoulders and slowly down her backside. Trembling, Christine twisted her back. There was nothing. Frowning, she turned around so the water could warm up her cold back. Once more she returned to her thoughts.
After this I'll call Heather to tell her about the date and gloat about it. Um, practice lines, pick out an outfit for tomorrow, and…
The thought didn't finish as a rush of icy chills came back, but this time she felt it caressing her cheeks, down her throat, and in between the valley of her breasts. Her body jumped forward, driving into the invisible hands.
The contrast of the water and the contact on her flesh made Christine shiver. The feeling sensually crawled down her stomach to soothingly rub her hips.
"Oh God," she whispered, her hand went out to hold onto the wall for support.
The imaginary digits softly, yet deftly trailed further to the inside of her thighs, a gentle breeze kissing the skin…
Christine whimpered, squeezing her lids tight as the burning flame flared through her trembling form. And to her dismay, the sensations ascended, re-trailing its seductive path until she felt the cool touches on her face. Lips parted, Christine took a shaky breath as the touch drifted in a feather-light caress across her mouth and jaw.
It was too much. She needed him now!
Christine reached out and felt… nothing.
Startled, her eyes shot open and to her horror she was alone in the shower. She could have sworn another was in here! A hot rush of guilt flooded her flushed cheeks and Christine quickly went to turn off the water. But she couldn't get rid of the haunting touches. Even as she stood, naked and cold, she longed for that feeling. Dear Lord what the Hell is wrong with you? It was probably the air and you're making it out as some lover.
She grabbed her towel and proceeded to dry herself off until the skin felt raw. That's for those sinful thoughts, she thought.
Tying the towel around her waist, Christine pulled back the shower curtain. Glancing up, her terror-stricken brown orbs widened. No…
On the steamed up medicine cabinets was that scrawled spidery script:
"FatE LiNkS THEe tO mE FoRevEr aNd a DaY"
Christine screamed, scrambling to get out of the tub, hitting her toe. Losing her balance, she fell as the lights began to flicker on and off, the floor quaking underneath.
She screamed again as she struggled to get up and ran to the door. Grabbing the handle, she pulled but the door didn't budge. Panicking, she tugged fiercely on the doorknob, but the door remained locked.
"MEG!" she shouted. "Let me out! Let me out damn you!"
The door rattled yet it wouldn't move. Tears springing to her eyes, Christine looked over her shoulder to see another message beginning to form. "LET ME OUT!"
Finally the door gave and Christine collided into Meg.
Stunned, the blonde gaped at her ghastly white friend. "Christine what's wrong?"
"Why didn't you get me out?" Christine cried, fear overpowering her senses. "Why didn't you help? WHY? I screamed and you… you…"
"What are you talking about?" Meg interrupted.
"You didn't HEAR me?" Christine practically yelled. "YOU DIDN'T HEAR ME?" And burst into hysteric tears.
Meg crawled over to her and firmly grasped her shoulders. "What happened?" she gritted between her teeth.
"H-He's here," was Christine's choked response.
Frowning, Meg stood up and walked into the bathroom. Scanning the small room, she found nothing but as her eyes settled on the cabinets, the color drained from her face.
"I lOvE YoU"
xxXXxx
Christine was deeply shaken by the ordeal that it took Meg forty-five minutes to calm her down. When she did, the singer ended up back in a fit of tears. Meg waited for her to get it out of her system until she was ready to talk. Eventually, the brunette took a few deep breaths and recounted the strange occurrences in the shower.
She told her about the shadow, about the chills that were running down her body, and then finally leading up to the message left on the steamed glass.
"And worst of all Meg is that I was enjoying the feeling!" Christine cried shamefully. "I never wanted it to end, but I knew it was wrong. I knew this wasn't right and I couldn't break it. I can't get that touch out of my head! Even now, I can feel the gentle caresses and I want it to go away!"
Meg nodded sympathetically, squeezing her hand. "But it's over now, Christine. You're okay."
"Yeah until next time!" she declared, as more tears flooded down her cheeks. "Meg… something is terribly wrong. I know he's going to come back! He won't ever stop!"
"Christine, listen to yourself!" the blonde reprimanded gently. "Look. We don't know exactly who is doing this. We only think it could be the Phantom."
"It is the Phantom!" Christine shrieked. "How else can this be explained? He wants me! He wants me Meg and I don't know why!"
Meg held her tongue about the other message. It would only upset Christine further and right now having her become hysterical won't solve anything.
"Wait…" Christine looked up at Meg with her tearing eyes in realization. "I have to see that portrait."
"What?" Meg stared at her like she grew a second head.
"The portrait in the dressing room! That's the answer!" She was becoming excited. The portrait would confirm whether or not she was in fact… it was a long shot but she needed to try and with Meg's help of course. "Meg, do you think we can get to the theatre before it closes?"
"Why?" The dancer asked.
"Before you woke me up I either was or going to look at this portrait that was in Christine Daae's dressing room. Don't you see? That could be the clue I need!"
"What clue? Christine what on Earth are you talking about?" Meg was getting concerned now as her friend jumped up.
She ran over to the bathroom and pointed to the closed door, "This", and then to her head. "And these."
When Meg didn't answer, Christine went over to her falling to her knees to plead with her. "Meg, I can't do this if you don't help me. I know this doesn't make much sense right now, but trust me. Once we see that painting it will. Now, are you with me?"
Meg took one glance at her and sighed. "Fine. But after this we're coming back here and forgetting that any of this has happened."
"Thank you!" She cried and hugged her.
"And don't forget about your date."
xxXXxx
The girls rushed over to the Garnier and luckily it hadn't closed. Carefully, they snuck down the halls to the dressing room. Meg brought a flashlight with her and held the beam up to show the plaque.
"Are you sure about this?" she asked, full of uncertainty.
Christine took a deep breath. "Ready as I'll ever be."
The brunette opened the door and stepped inside.
"Damn, it's s-s-s-o c-c-cold! We should have brought jackets," Meg commented after entering. "Huh Christine?"
But she wasn't paying attention. Christine moved over to the vanity where she had found the portrait and let out a sigh of relief. It was there. "Meg! Shine the light over here!"
"Did you find it?" Meg came running over, the light revealing the tarp. "Oh my God…"
Christine took hold of it, struggling as she dragged it out, Meg guiding her with the flashlight. Panting, she managed to lift it a few inches above the floor and shuffle over to the settee.
"Ah," she groaned, dropping it. Hurriedly, she ripped off the tarp, piling it at her feet. The light beam shook as it shined on the painting, Meg gasping.
Christine blinked once and then twice. This can't be, she thought desperately. This has to be some kind of sick joke. But as long as she stared at the face, her terrors and suspicions were confirmed.
Sitting on a bench, was that same petite woman in a pale pink flowing gown from before. Golden curls were mounted on top of her head, a few strands framing the heart-shaped countenance. Her eyes were crystal blue and childlike, lips a healthy rosy pink curved in a secretive smile that was both alluring and innocent. She possessed a natural beauty, a paleness in her skin tone, but beautiful nonetheless.
Yet Christine recognized her. She knew her. It was she.
If her hair was that shade and was born with blue eyes, then one might think that was a deceased relative she inherited from. But she had no family, no history, or connection with anyone from France. And how in the world was there a picture of a woman exactly like her?
Reincarnation.
The dreams… the visions…
It was part of a past life.
Christine Daae's life.
The Phantom's student and his obsession…
His… I'm his…
"Christine?" Meg's voice echoed in the back of her mind. All she could do was stare. Stare at who she really was, whom she had meant too. The Phantom… He wants her… he was denied before and now… now…
"Christine!"
Meg shook her friend, bringing her back. "Christine. Did… did you see it? That's…"
"Yes it is Meg," Christine replied, her tone serious as the grave. "It's me."
"But how? Is that even possible?" the blonde hissed, her pupils wide. "No. This can't be. This isn't real."
"Isn't it Meg?" the singer asked. She looked at her friend, sighing. "It all makes perfect sense now. My fluency of the language, my voice, my love of the opera, Hell even coming here! And who brought me? Her great-great grandson."
"Okay this is eerie." Meg shook her tresses. "There has to be a reasonably logical explanation."
"No Meg. I am Christine Daae. Doesn't matter that we don't look the same, but the resemblance is there. We are the same."
Meg frightfully gazed at the brunette. The composed appearance and resigning tone wasn't right. She was almost like she was giving up…
The slap surprised both girls. Christine, breathing raggedly, gaped at Meg whose shaking hand was still held high.
"Stop it," Meg whispered. "Stop it Christine. Don't you dare, even for a moment, think that you belong to this… thing. It's not even human!"
"Meg—"
"No!" She cried, grabbing Christine's shoulders. "Listen to me. And listen to me carefully," Meg spoke, her eyes boring into the soprano's. "You do not… do not owe him anything! You control your life! You decide what to do and whom you will be with. It's terrible that she didn't stay with him, but he cannot force you. You have to keep fighting him, Christine. You've been doing this for years. This isn't anything different. Just don't give up."
"Yes, I know, but Meg," Christine protested, "He's so powerful. Here… he can do anything since I'm within his domain. Back in the States, I could resist easily, but it's too hard. I can't do it!"
Meg hit her again. "Listen to the way you're speaking! This is not the Christine Dawson I know."
"I'm sorry but I can't ignore what's in front of me!" she shouted, her hazel eyes glaring.
"And what of me? And Raoul?" Meg spat. "Do you even care about him? God, Christine, the man practically fawns over you! No," she interrupted as Christine opened her mouth. "The Phantom is a ghost. You are flesh and blood. Breathing and very much alive. He cannot do anything to you understand? His life is over and yours is only beginning. If you give in, so help me God—"
"What are you lasses doing?" barked a gruff voice.
Christine jumped, as did Meg and dropped her flashlight. Spinning around, they saw the bulking figure of Joseph Brolin in the doorway. He looked down on them with suspicion creasing his brow. "You're not supposed to be in here."
"We… I lost my wallet," Christine lied, looking at Meg. Brolin shifted his attention to Meg for a confirmation.
"Yeah she did. Why is that against the law or something?" the dancer retorted.
"No. But I don't recall seeing any wallets," Brolin sneered, a smirk ghosting on his lips. "What you are really doing in here and especially this room? Don't you know who lurks around?"
"A doped up stagehand?" Meg muttered under her breath.
He glared at her. "Watch your tongue, missy, or I might stop behaving like a gentleman."
"You don't scare us," Meg said defiantly. "Come on, Christine. Let's go."
The brunette nodded, and left without another word.
Brolin watched them leave and grunted. "Crazy bitches."
Looking down on the floor and saw the forgotten flashlight. He bent down to pick it up and flashed it over what must have been the crux of the girls' argument.
Despite his high state, Brolin recognized the face as the dark-haired girl. He staggered back in shock, a cool draft surrounding him. "Son of a b—"
"Shh! It's not proper for a gentleman to speak like that."
The bulb in the flashlight died.
xxXXxx
The drive back was silent as both girls contemplated over the discovery. Meg felt awful for slapping Christine, but she had to do it. If the Phantom was there and heard her becoming susceptible to his intentions… she shuddered. She vowed that this wouldn't ever come to this again. Christine needs someone to keep her leveled and Meg was the gal to do the job. I bet if Heather was here she would have done the same, she mused. So at least I won't feel any guilt for smacking her. But this is far from over.
Pulling in front of the apartment building, Meg looked up to their window and trembled. He knew where they lived… If he were desperate to have Christine surely he wouldn't hesitate kidnapping her from her own home? That's crazy. A ghost can't kidnap a living person, Meg thought. Yet, he would find a way. She didn't know how she knew, but Meg just did like Christine. When there's a will there's a way and nothing could stop the Phantom. Isn't that her mother was always tried to stress over the years through her ghastly stories?
Glancing briefly at Christine, her sympathies went out to her. How unfair is it to know that you're fate was decided by some other person, and not any person, but a ghost who once was in love with your former self.
But she has Raoul, her mind screamed. She's in control of whom she wants and if she chooses this Phantom I'll slap her silly!
The dancer was about to say something, anything to disrupt the constant growing silence, but Christine's exhausted glaze was enough for her to close her mouth. And she felt the tiredness swept through her body. Tomorrow, Meg promised to herself. Tomorrow I'll say my peace and we'll go from there. This can't go on forever in the dark. She must know that. Tomorrow will be a fresh slate.
With that resolve in mind, Meg wished Christine a "good-night" as they separated into their respectful rooms. Inside and under the covers, Meg Garrison hoped for Christine to sleep in peace without any disturbances.
All was quiet throughout the city, except for one poor individual in the hands of a demon.
TBC…
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