Authro´s notes: Being in rather a hurry, I have no time for replies... and I may stop with them at all in chapters, mostly because of this site´s rules. Never fear, though - I shall reply in my profile, if I can. Anyway, my machine was damaged, sorry for the long time between updates... it won´t happen again, I presume.
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Chapter 12 - Rings and roses
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Christine was nervous.
So nervous, in fact, that she kept pacing back and forth in her room in the de Chagny mansion. For three months, she had out of the Opera Populaire. It had been interesting, since she learned a whole lot of new things, but also pretty bad, because she had a tendency of getting very nervous every evening.
This was the night of the masquerade – the one thing she had been looking forward to the most. She would finally get back to the Opera, get away from Raoul and hopefully force him to abandon the futile attempts to get her to accept the engagement ring. Not that the ring wasn't pretty or that the fortune wasn't tempting… or that he was that bad-looking, either. He was a pretty, well, maybe not good-looking guy, but a cute guy, she had to admit. She had come to understand why some people defended him. Nevertheless, choosing him over Erik was simply unthinkable to her. The wealth and title minus the husband would be fine…
She glanced at her mirror again. she was fully dressed in the pink dress she remembered from the movie. Naturally, she had several roses on her – one in her hair, one stuck behind her belt (of sorts) and maybe another one elsewhere, she didn't know. Meg didn't have the time to write that day, and she was anxious to meet her friend again. she even remembered that Meg wanted to introduce her to a new "find" of hers. That would be interesting.
Having three months time to plan her next move, Christine knew precisely what she would do once le Fantôme de L´Opera would make his personal appearance as the Red Death. Hopefully, it would be suitable – she planned it from every angle, and it seemed full proof. No engagement ring meant no problem, she reasoned. After all, he wouldn't go psycho if she´d behave as if she was overjoyed to see him, which she would be, no question.
Thus far, everything was going fine. Even Raoul´s presence was more bearable when she knew she would soon get away from him. She stayed purely for the sake of Don Juan getting finished properly – if she would have returned earlier, she could have messed up. Plus, only the Queen of England probably had a better wardrobe than her now.
Admiring the dress from every angle – something she rarely did – she deemed herself ready and went downstairs, where a positively gawping Raoul escorted her to the carriage. Overall, Christine was satisfied with how she had handled things. As the Opera Populaire came into view, she decided that she didn't mess anything up and there was little that could go wrong tonight.
Finally, she accepted Raoul´s hand to get out of the carriage, but released it the moment they entered the main hall. There was no idea who might be watching. Raoul seemed to be just about to ask her for a dance, but a brightly white-clad blonde pushed her way through the crowd, beaming.
"Christine!" Meg called happily, beaming and pulling Christine away from Raoul. A moment later, they got lost in the crowd and got some drinks. Meg frowned a bit. "I hate the song. It´s just way too catchy for my taste." She noted, as another chorus of "Masquerade" made contact with their eardrums.
Christine laughed. "After three months, I'm glad to hear even that. Anyway, you kept bragging on about some new find of yours…" she added mischievously. "May I see him?"
"Oh, it´s a very long story… well, a complicated one, anyway." Meg said with a grin. "It was right after that Il Croak incident, Buquet and all, and people were going nuts downstairs. And I got away through the orchestra pit, with the help of… ah, there you are!" she beamed at someone behind Christine.
Once Christine turned, she had to use a lot of willpower not to gawp openly or grin. Yes, she understood why Meg was so giddy. "Pardon the intrusion, ladies. You must be the famous Mademoiselle Christine Daaé, of whom Meg has told me so much?"
Christine smiled. "I don't know about the famous part, but I am Christine, yes, Monsieur."
She had finally gotten used to getting her hand kissed after three months of life with the aristocracy. "Enchanté, Mademoiselle. I am Gaston Leroux, at your service." Her eyes widening a bit, Christine nodded politely. "And I was wondering if the wonderful lady over here would care to dance with me, if you don't mind."
"It is alright." Christine said with a nod, as he gestured towards Meg.
"In a moment." Meg called and pulled Christine away.
"Where did you get him?" Christine hissed, genuinely astonished.
Meg grinned. "Oh, he´s like Nadir, really. Always lurking somewhere around here… anyway, I think he´s a quite good compensation for O.G., no?" and with that, she left her friend standing in the middle of the crowd.
Shaking her head, Christine took another drink and sipped it quietly, carefully avoiding Raoul and rejecting all dance offers, for the time being. Waltz wasn't a problem, but she rather kept observing the scene, laughing occasionally at the more funnier situations or costumes, smiling when some particularly dashing-looking (or seemingly good-looking) men came to ask her for a dance.
"Merci Monsieur, but I cannot." she said when they were persistent, "My escort has yet to arrive, and he would not be pleased to see me dancing with another." Then, they said they understood, but that they would come ask later, if they could.
The party went on, it seemed that nothing could ruin the night. Christine knew better, but she enjoyed the party nonetheless. When the signal came and all lights save one went out, she knew exactly where to look and as Meg rushed towards her, she was already moving towards the staircase, motioning to Meg to stop.
Meg did so, and seconds later, her mother grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away. Another moment later, her eyes nearly fell out; she was staring so much. She had imagined this to be grand and majestic, but this was too much.
On top of the stairs stood the Red Death, the image of glory, glamour, and, above all, total and utter hotness. If the rest of the females in the room weren't terrified and bound by the customs of the 19th century, they would have realized that drooling was in order. Meg and Christine knew this more than well, but were also aware of the fact that it would be utterly weird if they would do it.
"Why so silent, good Messieurs?" he asked with deep amusement, "Did you think that I had left you for good?"
Judging by the looks on the managers´ faces, the answer was yes. Meg almost laughed out loud, but didn't dare, since Madame Giry was nearby.
"Have you missed me, good Messieurs? I have written you an opera! Here I bring the finished score – Don Juan Triumphant!" The drawn rapier only emphasized the point that if they would refuse it, there would be hell to pay. "Fondest greetings to you all. A few instructions just before rehearsals start. Carlotta must be taught to act." As he messed with the diva´s feathered hat, Christine was almost choking with suppressed laughter.
"Not her normal trick of strutting round the stage." Piangi moved forward angrily, but the weapon pointed at him made him back off. "Our Don Juan must lose some weight – it's not healthy for a man of Piangi´s age. And my managers must learn that their place is in an office, not the arts." Looks of shock, outrage and above all, fear, on their goofy faces, the managers remained silent.
Christine drew a breath and straightened her face. It was her turn. "As for our star… Miss Christine Daaé." The Red Death´s gleaming eyes found her almost unnaturally quickly. Holstering his rapier, he continued to speak, but now seemed to refuse to look at her. "No doubt she'll do her best. It's true, her voice is good. She knows, though, should she wish to excel, she has much still to learn. If pride would let her return to me – her teacher…"
He got the wrong idea, clearly, when she disappeared, but it was a pleasing fact that the very sight of Christine seemed to disarm him, Meg decided, and continued to watch the scene. Hopefully, Christine knew what to do in this situation.
Christine didn't dare blink and hardly even breathed as she slowly began ascending up the stairs. She felt the gaze of many people directly on her, and it was hard to ignore. Focusing on the Red Death alone wasn't that hard, however, and she tried her best not to look pleased that it was he who was gawping now, and not at all suppressing it.
Stopping one or two stairs beneath him, it seemed a lot harder now that she was almost not breathing than when she was planning this in her head. But a tiny part of her mind that remained rational and wasn't calculating chances of a far more 21st century-ish making things up to him screamed at her to proceed with the plan… the voice was beginning to seriously irritate her.
With a trembling hand (the trembling and star-struck adolescent feelings annoyed her terribly), she removed the pale pink rose from behind her belt and handed it to him, hoping silently that he would get the hint, take it and get the hell out of there before Le Fop would get back. A loud YES! resonated through her mind when he took it and for a brief moment, her hand was in his. Then, like someone had switched the scene to the ALW movie, he turned and returned to the top of the stairs swiftly, bowed slightly to her and disappeared within the flames.
With the exception of Christine and Meg, who was doing a slight victory dance, gasped in shock. Too late did Christine realize that Raoul was back and close… not before he jumped into the pit, anyway. Too late did Meg move to stop her mother from disappearing… not before she turned to see no one standing nearby.
An unnatural silence fell, and Christine uncomfortably realized that all eyes were on her, most of them gawping as if she had arrived in the same fashion as the Red Death. Smiling nervously, she moved to the managers, who seemed like two gawping statues, and crouched to gently pick up the score of Don Juan Triumphant. She lined the music sheets up and looked at the managers.
"I…I shall take this to your office, if I may, Messieurs?" she asked, hoping that the situation would return to normal. Still, the managers just stared, but she was too irritated to interrogate them more. "I´ll put it on one of your desks."
Turning on her heel, Christine moved to walk out of the room, her footsteps echoing loudly. No one stopped her or edged away from her – they just seemed too shocked to do anything. Only when she was gone did the whispering and chatter start, as if little fires had been lit.
