Disclaimer: I do not own any of the lyrics to Faust.

A/N: Thank you again for your kind words. EC fans never fear! You should be happy with this chapter as well as RC fans for a couple tender moments. Updates will be slow for the next couple weeks because of midterms and studying. Grr…. The dreaded studying. Thanks again to Halley for such a wonderful job and please don't forget to review!

Chapter 13- Opening Night of Faust

"I'm going to fire his ass the next time I see him. I swear, no more of this shit. I can't have it anymore!" Raoul exclaimed, clenching his fist and shaking his head. "God, keeping him on was one the dumbest things I could have done."

Adele looked on in surprise. And mostly for his language. Usually he kept himself in check, hardly swearing, but he was…pissed to say the least.

"M. de Chagny, you know Brolin. He'll come back with some excuse to his disappearance. I know we'll be better off without him, but the theatre needs him," she tried explaining. "No else can move as quick as he can with the sets."

"True but we'll find someone else with that talent. I should have fired him when he almost killed Christine! I don't care if he claims he was nowhere near it, the fact was he was in charge and has abused that privilege more than I can count. His ass is toast, Adele, quite literally."

She frowned. Since he came in this morning, Raoul was nothing but in an irritable mood. And finding out that Brolin was gone only fueled this behavior. The steam was practically coming out of his ears!

Adele smiled softly, and tried to get into a discussion that would pacify him, if not, erase the temperamental mood. "Speaking of Christine, how was your date? You know, I was very proud of you for taking the initiative."

Raoul shrugged but his face was no longer tensed. Adele held a silent victory inside.

"The date was great, except when Christine fell ill, but she said it was her sinuses. Other than that, we had a good time, though I wished the evening had ended differently."

"Why?" Adele asked, confused by such a statement. If the date was a success, surely there wasn't a rejection?

"My car that's what." He opened up a drawer and handed a handful of pictures to the ballet mistress. "Take a look and see why I'm so pissy."

Curious, she peered down at the pictures and gasped. "M. de Chagny! What on Earth happened to your car!"

"My thoughts exactly when I dropped off Christine, but take a closer look to the driver's seat."

She did, her face paling at the recognition of the scrawl. Glancing up at Raoul, he nodded smugly. "That has to be no one else, but our good pal the Phantom. Though how it managed to rip my Porsche to Hell I don't know. The insurance company is going to get kick out of this if I tell them a ghost did it. So now, I'm sticking to a group of vigilantes. Though, I'll be damn to know why I would be attacked like this."

Adele set them down and gravely stared at him. "Monsieur, I think you should take this seriously."

"I am. It's my frickin car!"

"No sir." She shook her head. "The message. Perhaps, it might be for the best… for the both of you if you take a break."

"A break? Adele, if you think I'm going to believe some insane message, then you have me all wrong. I won't take this crap understand? And I won't be told whom I can see by some deranged phantom!" He glowered. "If I want to see Christine, again, I will. In fact, I think right now I'll go out and asked on another date. You hear me, you son of a bitch!"

"Monsieur!" Adele cried, aghast at his boldness. "If he hears…"

"Let him! I don't give a shit to what he thinks! This is the last straw, Adele. The last straw!" He stood and ran out of the office.

Adele collapsed into the nearby seat, shock and fear running through her. She had feared that this would happen… she wanted to believe he wouldn't… but looking at the pictures of the damaged vehicle, this was only the beginning.

No, she thought. First was Catarina Giovanni. This… this will lead to more.

Reaching into her pocket, she produced a cell phone. Meg had insisted on her owning one in case for emergencies so she could reach her. Gazing up at the pictures, her gray eyes flickered back to the electronic device. She should have told her… but she was afraid. Oh too afraid of the consequences. If she had broken her silence, then much of this could have been prevented. But she had another chance…

At the last second, Adele replaced the phone back into her pocket. No… Not yet. She will wait for another day when she'll confess all she knew to the innocent in the matter. Until then, there will only be silence.

xxXXxx

Like Cat, the news of the Chief of Flies disappearance spread like wildfire. The only difference was that this was nothing new. Many assumed Brolin would reappear, like he usually does, from an intense trip of booze. All except Christine.

Learning about her connection to the theatre and to its resident ghost, Christine was more wary wherever she went. By no means did she want to have another rendezvous with the Phantom, a past love or not. All of her earlier warm feelings about "Erik" were gone, leaving only fear in its path. After what she could gather from Meg and Raoul, he was a dangerous man when alive and more so now when he's dead. She pitied him for the abuse he had went through, but that didn't excuse him for murder, kidnapping, or extortion in her opinion. And if he were madly lovesick for her, then like the previous Christine, he would stop at nothing for her to succeed. And that meant eliminating any contests.

Poor Cat. She was in the way and never had a chance.

Was this how it was going to be for the rest of her life? She wondered. Would this ghost follow her no matter what? Christine shuddered at the possibility of a fellow costar meeting an unfortunate end if "Erik" thought Christine would be in danger of not winning a role. She couldn't have that on her conscious and no one will ever believe her of the homicidal Phantom at her side.

She wasn't aware of what he did to Raoul's car, but was caught by surprise when Raoul came flying down to the stage asking her out for dinner that night. Who was she to say no? But, she wasn't sure if Raoul wanted her company after the unusual display she had on the Champs-Elysées. Yet he seemed so desperate with those big puppy eyes, she couldn't resist.

After all, Christine liked Raoul a lot. And it didn't matter that he bore the same resemblance to the older de Chagny. She knew that this de Chagny wouldn't lay a hand on her or any other woman. And if she were to break up with him, Christine was positive he wouldn't lock her away. But that little persisted voice kept telling her to say no. So she did what she wanted and that was to have dinner with Raoul.

And no Phantom could stop her.

xxXXxx

Opening night was a couple days away and Christine couldn't have been more excited. Her debut in an opera… it was a dream come true! And then there was Raoul…

The singer and owner's relationship was striving to new heights to both of their glee. Christine never thought it would be possible to find a Hollywood romance, but sure enough she did.

Raoul was a gentleman, which was plainly seen on the day they met, but he had been the first to bring up about taking it slow. He didn't want to ruin this, and frankly, neither did she. So like a couple of teenagers with their first boyfriend and girlfriend, they spent time respectably with each other and always ending with a sweet, chaste kiss.

Christine was happy and didn't mind the steps they were taking. If ever, it was the best direction.

They told each other everything about past relationships. Raoul was a bit embarrassed by revealing some intimate facts about him and Cat, but Christine was a good listener and understood how he felt. She knew because she was in a similar position, though she didn't let it get that far. But she knew the woes of a broken heart and could relate to the suffering that went along. She only hoped that she could give him the sort of love he deserved.

He also felt the same about her. Raoul was upset when Christine related about her last boyfriend, a struggling journalist, who cheated on her twice. He claimed to have loved her, but even she could see through his lies. Though it happened later when she was able to think clearly after it was all over. Raoul couldn't understand how any man could do something so horrible to a woman, especially Christine. She was too dear and a wonderful being to even think of hurting. But life had it surprises and even the best of people get burn the most, which was a sad reality.

Luckily, the two found each other and were determined to take the hurt away from the other.

If only Raoul knew the extent of Christine's problems besides boy trouble…

Dressed in a scantily clad dress and robe, Christine emerged from her bedroom in response to the glorious music reverberating around.

The apartment transformed into a home full of exotic treasures and beautiful intricate designs on the cavernous walls and floors. The air was cold but she could not feel it. The music warmed her soul, calling to her…

Christine followed the strange melody until she was in a room unlike anything she'd ever seen. The walls were almost black as night, the ground covered in a carpet of crimson. Richly colored pillows were set accordingly on a settee; the scent of foreign spices filled her nostrils. But nothing in the room could compare to the greatest beauty that was set before whoever enters.

A majestic organ stood out, the pipes crawling towards the ceiling. And the sounds emanating from the grand instrument was full of emotions—anger, sorrow, passion, lust, and love.

Christine stood in awe, her body coming alive to the notes that were pulling her to its source. She had never heard anything so… vibrant.

The keeper of such magic, sat with his back to her, shrouded all in ebony from what her eye could see. Christine did not make any noise, not wanting to disturb him or cause the song to an abrupt end. Transfixed, she stared at the musician's back, the muscles bunching and flexing at every stroke. His arms were wide and muscular leading to his long, slender fingers barely touching the keys.

Eyes glued to those graceful skilled digits, she felt her heart within her breast thump wildly. Without seeing his face, she felt the stirrings of desire in her belly from simply observing. The hot flood rose to her flushed cheeks at her irrational thoughts racing and her loose behavior. What was wrong with her? How dare she think of…

His playing ceased, the dexterous hands in mid-air. The only sounds now were her ragged breathing, now quickening in apprehension over what he might do.

Slowly, he turned on the bench, his jet-black hair glistening from sweat and the faint candlelight. Her hazel eyes widened and darkened as she watched a droplet fall from his forehead to his damp chest. He wore underneath the black cape a white cotton shirt that parted to show his flesh from the throat to upper torso. Thick, black curly hair covered the exposed pale skin.

Christine's throat ran dry as she soaked in the image he presented. Her Maestro…

"Christine," he purred in his liquid velvety voice, forcing her to look into his burning amber eyes.

Covering most of his face was the black porcelain; he used to conceal his secrets from the world and her. His lips were firm in a scolding manner, yet his eyes betrayed the lust that was transpiring between them.

Unconsciously, she licked her lips, an act that didn't go unnoticed by his penetrating gaze. Pushing up, he stood in full height, the cape pooling at his feet. It was then she realized, how taut he was, which only fueled to arouse her further.

Her flimsy outfit wasn't helping much in her state or his as he took a step forward, his hand held out for her, the two fiery orbs gleaming behind the false façade. "Christine," he whispered again, that voice and eyes beckoning her to come.

An unseen force caused her to move, to go closer to the deity of music. Tentatively, her petite hand fit into his palm, and the realizations of her succumbing to him stoke the flames that were rising in those dark eyes. "Mine," he growled, pulling her fully to his form.

His other hand wrapped around her waist, holding her place in case she tried to escape. But that was the last thing on Christine's mind.

"Mine," he repeated, his grip growing tighter to show the young woman who was in charge. "No one can have you, Christine. No one."

"Yes," she heard herself reply. "I belong only to you… Erik."

Victory danced in his irises as a primitive possession suddenly took over as he crushed his lips to hers, brutally devouring them with his raging ardor.

Jumping awake, Christine feverishly scanned her room for the delusional man she dreamt of seconds ago. Relieved she was alone, Christine sighed (though slightly disappointed), but there was no way she would be able to go back to sleep. The images of the man and knowing where that passionate kiss would lead left her strung up and mourning for something that wasn't going to happen.

All at once, shame and guilt overwhelmed her at the meaning of her thoughts. She was caught up with her dream she had forgotten Raoul. She was beginning to think she loved him and here she was having erotic dreams of another man. Specifically, a ghost of a dead man stalking her.

But what was worse, she knew she wanted him. She was practically mindless in his hold and would willingly do whatever he wished.

"Damn you," Christine cursed, though not sure who it was directed towards. "Why can't you leave me be? I can never be yours. Never."

She received no response, and probably for the better, she thought. Tomorrow would be opening night and Christine hoped that from now until then she could keep her sanity intact.

xxXXxx

"Nervous?" Meg asked, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

"Hardly," Christine replied, fixing her wig for the last time. "God, I look ridiculous! I don't remember Mom looking like a rag doll."

"Nonsense. You look good for a blonde, well… you know," Meg finished sheepishly. "Ready to woo Paris?"

Christine laughed. "Watch out France. The American girl is in town!"

Both began giggling just as Jamie came flying in the dressing room.

"Whoa, Jamie, slow down. You don't want to break your toe again now do you?" Meg teased.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Ha-ha. By the way, Christine, this came for you."

Jamie handed her a fully bloomed crimson rose. The thorns had been removed and in place was an ebony silk ribbon tied around the stem. She exhaled the lovely fragrance from the flower, her face beaming like a child's.

"Did it say who's this from?" Christine asked the ballet dancer.

Jamie shrugged. "There was nothing but the rose. Mme Garrison gave it to me and said this was for you and that's all I know."

"I bet it's from Raoul!" Christine squealed. Holding the petals under her nose again, she smiled lopsidedly. "How romantic!"

"Or a secret admirer," Jamie added; only to quiet from Meg's glare.

Christine shook her head, her wig falling to the side. Annoyed, she pushed it back up and said, "No. I'm sure it was from Raoul."

"Whatever," Jamie grumbled.

Christine rolled her eyes and gazed adoringly at the rose. It was so perfect, so red and beautiful. It had to be from him. As she continued to stare at it, her eyes became glossy and distant…

After another splendid performance, she found a gift from her Angel on her vanity.

The reddest of roses lay innocently with the usual black ribbon, once more assuring her how pleased he was…

"Um, Christine?"

Jamie cocked a brow in her direction. "I hope she's not breaking down."

"She's not," Meg said softly. "Jamie, you should go and rehearse some more before curtain call."

"But—" she protested.

"Go Jamie!" Meg barked, harsher than what she had meant to.

The ballet rat glared at her before walking away, mumbling under her breath. When she was gone, Christine began blinking, holding her hand to her head. Looking up, she frowned in confusion in the absence of Jamie.

"I sent her away," Meg told her. "Had another trip down memory lane?"

"Ye-ah," Christine admitted, shaking her head to clear her mind of anymore possible visions. "Meg… the rose is not from Raoul."

Meg pondered what she meant as they both left the dressing room. Showtime.

xxXXxx

It was a full house that evening and Christine felt her nerves gathering. No matter how many times she had performed, she always got a little sick before going out. Eventually it will go away, but this time, Christine had other things on her mind besides her role.

He had sent the rose. Him! And Adele gave it to Jamie to give it to her…

Omgosh! Christine thought. Adele! But… that can't be. Could it? Does Meg even know?

Probably not, she mused. Though, was Adele in cahoots with the Phantom? But the Phantom was a ghost or… was he? No he is. How else could he have been with her in the apartment? It didn't make sense. Nothing made sense at all anymore. Yet, she had no more time to think about it. There was her cue and she strutted out on stage. Facing the audience, she put on her best smile and sang her first lines:

"Non, monsieur! Je ne suis demoiselle

ni belle, demoiselle, ni belle,

Et je n'ai pas besoin

Que l'on donne la main!" (1)

Her angelic voice swept across the theatre, drawing the patrons into Faust's world of love and betrayal.

Christine flung herself into the part. She was singing for her parents, for her friends, for Raoul, and for herself. She refused to acknowledge the other being that attached himself to her. She couldn't give in she couldn't let him win, like Meg had said. If she did, then he would have control over her singing. No… that will not happen. Not if she can help it.

Act II closed and Christine was quickly applauded by her fellow costars and backstage people as she rushed into her room to prepare for her biggest scene—The Jewel Song.

Once more she was off as Marguerite, the energy and bubbling excitement of the character flowing through her veins upon finding the box of treasures. Clasping her hands together in joy, she fell beside it and began taking the jewelry to put it on her. Finding a small mirror, Christine took hold of it and held it up for her to admire the dazzling stones decorating her throat and ears. Standing up, she gazed happily into the glass as she sang:

"Ah! je ris de me voir

si belle en ce miroir!" (2)

Dancing around on the stage, she continued to sing her surprise of the beauty she's seeing. Could this be her? Would he love her now?

"Ah! je ris

de me voir si belle dans ce miroir!" (3)

Prancing over back to the chest, Christine picked up a scoopful of more necklaces and held them to her breast as the music ended.

Everyone jumped up in a standing ovation to the newcomer, cheering and clapping. Christine, breathing hard, gazed out to them with a starry glaze. They loved her…

She stood up and bowed before scurrying off. I did it! Oh my, I did it!

xxXXxx

The final Act, in which, Marguerite is in prison for killing her child is visited by Faust and Mephistopheles to aid her in an escape. As Satan's messenger tries to get the lovers to flee with him, Marguerite denounces him and calls on the Angels for help.

"Mon Dieu, protegez-moi!

Mon Dieu, je vous implore!

Anges purs, anges radieux,

Portez mon ame au sein does cieux!

"Dieu juste, a toi, je m'abandonne!

Anges purs, anges radieux,

Portez mon ame au sein des cieux!" (4)

On her last line, Christine tilted her head up to the Heavens, creating the allusion of her everlasting plea. From above, a droplet fell, landing on her white cheek and dripped down to her dress. Christine raised her fingers to see what the warm, sticky feeling was and her eyes widened.

Crimson dotted her nails.

Staring back up, Christine's mouth fell open but no sound prevailed. Something was falling… falling right at her.

The singer playing Mephistopheles yanked on her arm, pulling her out of the way just as the object jerked in mid-air.

Swinging side to side was the body of Joseph Brolin; his pupils large from fright bore into Christine.

All at once the screams erupted in a deafening tone. On stage, the performers were scattering off in a panic, but Christine remained in her shellshock.

A noose… a noose was thickly coiled around his throat. Blood, both wet and dry, covered his temples, his hair, and his lips… And his shirt was ripped open, baring his chest and a grueling message with blood seeping out…

thE PhANtOM LiVeS!

Head spinning, Christine looked up towards the owner's box into Raoul's own drained eyes, and gratefully succumbed into darkness.

TBC…

The scene of the "Jewel Song" was inspired by Robert Englund's Phantom of the Opera. I'm not too sure if I like this ending. I might change it… so please tell me what you think! Thanks!

Translations:

(1) No, sir! I am neither a lady

Nor beautiful, not a lady, or beautiful,

And I don't need

For anyone to give me his hand!

(2) Ah, I laugh to see myself

so beautiful in this mirror

(3) Ah, I laugh

to see myself so beautiful in this mirror!

(4) My God, protect me!

My God, I implore you!

Pure angels, radiant angels,

Carry my soul to the bosom of Heaven!

Just God, to you I abandon myself!

Pure angels, radiant angels,

Carry my soul to the bosom of Heaven!