Author´s notes: People, I cannot risk replying to you… ff. net rules, you know. Anyway, thank you for your wonderful reviews. If you want replies, I´ll have to email you.
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Chapter 15 – Look-alikes and lyric changes
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Meg was in a good mood, whistling Don Juan once more. All was going well… well, except the fact that at last, Gaston managed to corner her and question her about all she knew. Apparently, he was interested in this whole affair… for what reason, only God, Christine and Meg knew.
"You must know something, Meg." He insisted. "You are her best friend!" he added when she remained tight-lipped.
But by then, Meg was angry with him. Jason Isaacs look-alikes be damned! She should have gone for the original! "Yes, I am her best friend! Maybe you should consider courting her if you want answers to your questions! But I wouldn't, if I were you… you´d get pujabbed for sure!"
And she stalked off. He apologized to her later on, insisting that he didn't mean to insult her or hurt her. Meg forgave him, knowing that would heighten her chances of getting closer to him… and controlling him better. He was cute, but he could mess with things.
Meanwhile, Christine had slammed her door in a desperate Raoul´s face and slept in the ballet dorms alone, since no ballerina wanted to sleep in the same room as her. Except for Meg, and she was busy - surrounded by the ballet rats, she was being interrogated instead of Christine, who they didn't dare approach.
The next day, Christine decided it was time to make a routine journey to the cemetery. It was Sunday, after all, and she didn't have lessons until the evening. After she woke up, she immediately had a laugh when she found her mourning dress.
"Yep, boobtastic it is." She noted, observing the low-cut bodice. In the future, she wouldn't have dared to put this on, but in the past, a bit of futuristic attire was needed.
She slipped past Raoul, who was snoring so loud it might wake the dead, and immediately paid the elderly driver the sufficient price for the journey. When she returned to the carriage with the flowers she had gone to fetch, she almost burst out laughing right then and there. The dark cloak of the "mysterious driver" was so obvious, she would have to be blind not to notice it.
Nevertheless, she tried to hold back laughter as she asked him to take her to her father´s grave, her giggles remaining silent. She wanted the Wandering Child scene… it was romantic, in her opinion. Anyway, she tried hard to keep a straight face as they rode to the Perros cemetery and left the carriage with a wicked grin on her face.
Remembering that it would look weird to start laughing on a graveyard, she began singing Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again. Funny blooper scenes played in her head, but she resisted the temptation to laugh. Finally, she arrived at the mausoleum and sat down on the stairs, waiting for her cue. And she didn't have to wait for long.
Wandering child
So lost, so helpless
Yearning for my guidance…
Christine fought a predatory grin like never before.
Angel, is that you?
Or do I dream?
Please tell me if you´re here
She was prepared – she invented the lyrics she had to change long ago, during those first weeks with Raoul.
Have you forgotten your Angel…?
Hell, no! Christine thought and continued with the normal lyrics.
Angel,
oh, speak!
What endless longings
Echo in this whisper?
The wind itself seemed to carry his reply to her.
Too long you´ve wandered in winter…
Far from my fathering gaze…
And another change. Christine thought
My heart never beats against you…
Fitting. Christine decided.
Don't resist!
How can I? Christine thought to herself, thinking that the world was suddenly very, very warm, though it was winter.
And my/your soul obeys!
Angel of Music!
I
come to you / Come to me now!
Embracing true beauty/ To embrace
true beauty!
Angel of Music!
My protector / Do not shun
me!
Come to me, strange Angel!
And then, Christine heard the familiar calling of:
I am your Angel of Music…
Come to me, Angel of Music…
The mausoleum doors were opened, the light inside was lit, and Christine was doing all she could to stop herself from running through that doors and getting to the snogging that had been denied to her before, thanks to Meg´s timely arrival. Perhaps she could get to do more, even…
"No! Christine, wait!" she turned sharply, just to see Raoul arrive, armed and ready. Christine rolled her eyes and quickly became angry.
"Raoul! What are you-?" she didn't get to finish the question – he pushed her out of the way, weapon drawn.
"Whatever you may believe, this man, this thing, is not your father!" And the idiot rushed into the mausoleum himself.
If Christine hadn't been expecting it, she would probably have had a heart attack when Erik dropped from the roof and appeared suddenly. Nevertheless, she took a step back as the swordfight, the infamous part of the movie, began.
Christine just watched it. It was as the fanfic writers had so often written in their parodies: Clash! Whoosh! But it was very cool to watch, and even Raoul managed some good moves. Christine, while no one but her and Meg knew, was a major martial arts fan. She adored swords above all else, from katanas to lightsabers.
She had played enough Star Wars games to know that these two knew their stuff. She almost cheered like one would at a hockey game when Raoul got his arm sliced… and quickly rushed to the scene when he knocked Erik´s rapier out of his hand, probably ready to deliver the final blow.
The weapon landed almost at her feet… and, boldly, Christine picked it up. She was mad now. And you should never make a professional Jedi Knight RPer mad. She approached Raoul from behind quickly and yelled: "Raoul, no!"
But just as he turned around, when she was supposed to say "No. Not like this." she whipped out the rapier, aimed and struck his forehead with the end of the rapier´s handle – the skull – with all her strength. It was possible that he saw stars for a moment, because even in her new ballerina body, Christine knew how to beat people up quite effectively, and then, he collapsed, unconscious. The skull left a rather nasty mark on his forehead… a skull-shaped red mark, in fact.
Panting slightly, Christine looked at the unconscious Vicomte victoriously, then felt eyes on her and her gaze moved to Erik, who was still on his back, and was seriously gawping at her. Christine frowned. "What? You don't live as a ballet rat without learning how to refuse overeager suitors."
Her eyes softened when he chuckled quietly – that actually sent shivers down her spine. She lowered the rapier and walked to him, extending a hand to help him stand up. He picked himself up without help, however, so she was left standing there and quite awkwardly lowered the hand… before she could do so, he took it, pulled her closer and smiled.
"Never awaken the wrath of an angel, that is what we must learn from this."
Christine laughed finally. Things were going better than she expected. "Yes, well, I didn't want him to mess with things today. Especially since you had taken the trouble to give me a ride here and prepare all this…"
"How did you know it was me?" Erik asked with a frown.
Christine laughed. "Erik, you are a genius in many fields… but mistaking a small, old, rather chubby driver for a tall, dark, graceful man in a black cloak is difficult… even for ingénues." She smiled mischievously. "And just what were you planning us to be doing after I would walk into that mausoleum?" she asked idly.
Erik smiled, but didn't reply. "Since there is nothing more for us here, whould you care to accompany me for a meal, Mademoiselle Daaé?"
"Certainly."
