Hi all! Many thanks for the reviews! I hope this chapter has a nice balance of fluff and suspense!
As they are performing a musical in this, I will make some references to songs and such. It won't affect the story if you're not familiar with them. One thing I don't like doing is writing too many song lyrics within a fic. I'll do it on occasion for effect but don't expect it often.
Read and Review!
Christine had always considered herself a practical person, doing what had to be done without procrastination or hesitation. She had been poor most of her life, depending on first her father's meager income as a guitar teacher and later Mrs. Valerius' social security check for the basic necessities. Though her father and guardian were loving people, they were not college-educated, and Christine had been forced to climb her own way through the world. Often she had spent her hours studying and working while her peers were out dating and partying. Her father had often referred to her as an "old soul."
Yet, even with years of reason and levelheadedness, she walked into the theater for the third time knowing very well that she would spend several hours talking with a disembodied voice. In her grief, she refused to dwell on the strangeness of the situation, nor did she consider any potential danger. Whatever the voice was, it had come to her assistance. Someone cared about her. Someone wanted to help her.
As Christine entered through the front double doors, glancing at her windblown reflection in the glass, she was immediately met by Meg. "Christine! I didn't see you leave last time. Where did you go?"
Christine blinked once in surprise, awakened from her reverie. "Huh? Oh. I went home early. I was tired that night."
Her friend gave her a puzzled look but nodded. "Oh! How is everything going? Are you doing okay?"
Christine attempted to meet her friend's eyes. "Yeah. I'm fine. No new test results have come in or anything."
Meg nodded. "Hopefully everything will work out."
"Yeah," murmured Christine, staring off into space for a moment. Her eyes inadvertently glanced around the building, though she wasn't sure what she expected to find.
The two girls silently made their way to the back of the stage, immediately hearing an anxious female voice come from one of the corners. An eighteen-year-old brunette named Melissa was talking frantically to some of the other stage crew, her brown eyes wide with excitement.
"I went back there to look for some felt for the costumes!" she exclaimed, motioning toward one of the rooms. "Something jumped out in front of me! I nearly had a heart attack."
"Like an animal?" asked one of the guys.
"No! Like a person, I think. But it was too dark to see anything!"
"So maybe it was an employee," remarked Charlotte, keeping her distance from the crowd. "Why is it such a big deal?"
Melissa threw her a scowl before turning back to her captivated audience. "It looked like a giant shadow, and its eyes were glowing like a cat's." The others looked at her skeptically. "I am dead serious!"
"Did it say anything?" enquired Meg, eager to be in on the fun.
Melissa shook her head. "I didn't stick around to find out! Nearly twisted my ankle running out of there!"
"That is freaky," murmured Meg, returning to Christine's side. "But she could be making it up. Melissa can be kind of dramatic about things."
"Uh-huh," replied Christine with disinterest, as everyone else continued to chatter and speculate about the occurrence. She only looked up when Mr. Remy entered. The older man set his briefcase down with a sigh and looked around the stage tiredly through his thick glasses.
"Okay, everyone. Listen up!" He attempted to break through the noise. "Got a little good news on the budget. And a couple of the professional actors are going to be here by next week. I have some quick printouts of who they are. Don't be afraid to ask them questions."
Christine stayed in the background as the rest of the crew gathered around Mr. Remy, feeling unneeded and invisible. Why they had placed her in position of understudy was really beyond her. It almost seemed like a cruel joke.
Her clear blue eyes darted to the exits. No one would even notice if she left now.
With a quick glance over her shoulder, she jogged down the stage steps and into the corridor. The hallway was nearly vacant, except for an elderly janitor sweeping the floor. Christine dodged into the lounge that she had entered last time, fondly remembering the expensive plush furniture and vibrant floral decorations within the room. She was slowly beginning to learn her way around.
"Hello?" she whispered, glancing around in the dark. Her heart pounded with anticipation, and she quickly quashed any feelings of fear.
For a moment there was silence, and Christine again feared everything to be a product of her imagination.
"Good evening, Christine."
Her heart seemed to calm immensely at the sound. She flicked on one of the lights and made her way to a velvet couch. Not to her surprise, the fluorescent lighting revealed nothing out of the ordinary. She was the only one in the room. "You're here," Christine stated, her voice quivering slightly. She cleared her throat. "I...memorized a lot of the lines like you told me to. The songs are kind of difficult, but I was hoping..."
"I will help you learn the music, as I've said I would. Do not worry about that."
Christine nodded eagerly. "Thank you, sir. I'm still not sure why you want me to learn it, though." She looked down at her slender hands. "They ignore me when I'm out there."
"You will understand everything in time. I assure you, though, that they won't ignore you one day. They will adore you!"
She smiled and looked up. "Thanks," she replied softly. "If nothing else, though, I just want to make Mrs. Valerius happy."
"You will make her very happy, Christine." The voice paused. "I think it's time to begin." The mysterious piano played a string of chords. "Some warm-up scales first?"
"Yes. But will anyone hear me and come in? What should I say to them?"
"It's not unusual for people to practice roles or receive lessons," the voice replied sharply. "Let's begin."
She quickly nodded and stood up straight, feeling a sudden emotional sting at her instructor's harsh tone. A strong need came over her to please him and to earn his approval. Christine did the scales to the best of her ability, up and down with the patterns of notes. It almost hurt to sing such a range after many years of keeping silent, and she sighed in frustration after her voice cracked at a high note.
"You will simply have to strengthen your voice," it stated firmly but gently. "Practice brings a higher range and precise pitch."
She nodded. "I know. It feels kind of hopeless."
"It is not hopeless," the voice retorted back. Christine jumped slightly. "Do you intend to put effort into this or not?"
"Yes! Of course I do! I'm sorry..." Her lip quivered slightly, and she pressed her nails into her palm.
"It is fine. We will start with a simpler piece. Sing through it once, and I will help with improvements. The songs are not that difficult." Her shoulders relaxed at his calmer tone. It seemed as if his voice had complete control over her emotions.
Christine took a breath and went through Magnolia's part of Can't Help Lovin' Dat Man. She tried to match her voice to that of Kathryn Grayson, who had played Magnolia in the 1950s film, but her voice came out weak and off-pitch. As she sung the last words, Christine lowered her head to gaze at the floor. "I'm sorry," she murmured. "That was terrible."
"Your timbre was fine. Everything else will come with time."
He continued to instruct her on everything from pitch, to range, to tone. Christine found herself to be childishly fascinated with his extensive knowledge, wondering briefly if he was some kind of professor. She absorbed every word he said and stored it in the deepest corners of her mind, forgetting all else but his voice, her voice, and the small lounge that held them both. Having nowhere else to look, she simply kept her gaze on the ceiling while he was talking-as if the voice came from a heavenly being from above. And as far as she was concerned, perhaps it did.
"That is enough now," he finally said, breaking her from her trance. "You were adequate today."
She shook her head quickly in an attempt to clear it and glanced at her digital watch. Nearly four hours had passed! "Oh! It's late. I didn't even notice." The voice said nothing. "Thank you so much for this. I'll be back on Thursday. But I have to start work soon. I'm not sure of my schedule yet."
"You'll do what you have to," it enigmatically stated. "But before you leave, check the corner next to the door. You may find something you want."
Christine turned and glanced over. "My purse! How did it get there? I thought it was stolen!" She slowly picked it up and strung it over her shoulder, before looking back into the empty room. "Thanks," she said softly. Receiving no reply, she turned off the light and made her way out. Everyone else had already left.
But she certainly wasn't alone.
Nadir was beginning to wonder if his old friend was even still there. He hadn't sensed the shadowy presence as of late, and perhaps his masked friend had decided to take off before Buquet's body was discovered. Or maybe he had occupied himself with something else. You could never really tell with Erik. He was damn unpredictable.
He decided to stay for one more week and see if anything new came up. Still, Erik probably knew it wasn't wise to stay so close to a murder. It was Nadir's belief that he was long gone.
But it seemed that Erik was tired of the game of chase.
He had not left. And, for whatever reason, he had no plans to leave.
Nadir had just come back from a late dinner and was near the door of his motel room. Fumbling for the key in his pocket, he felt a familiar sensation overtake him. His stomach clenched with the knowledge that he was being watched. The Iranian froze in his steps and looked around at his dark surroundings. And then he saw it. The tall shadow standing feet away from him...two yellow dots following his movement.
"Erik!" he whispered in shock. The temperature plunged twenty degrees.
"Good evening, Nadir. You have certainly done wonderful detective work, finding me in this delightful little city." The eerie voice dripped with malicious sarcasm. "But I'm tired of this game now. Do you really want to die that badly?"
It took Nadir a moment to recover himself from the shock "Erik...What are you doing?" he hoarsely whispered. "You promised no more of this chaos! That man is dead, isn't he?"
The yellow dots grew larger with contempt. "What I do isn't your business, friend. Although you were the one to involve him in my affairs, weren't you?" Erik tsked. "I was hoping I'd never see you again, but apparently you've traveled across the ocean to visit me." He laughed coldly. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
"You know why I'm here, Erik! You lied to me! That ...that stuff is missing. You brought it here! I don't know how the hell you did it! But you managed to get it past every international checkpoint!"
"Calm down, Nadir," he replied, unfazed by the Iranian's anger. "I did no such thing. In fact, I've done absolutely nothing but make a living in this splendid country. Now go back to where you came from and leave me alone. Leave this place, or you will regret it." The shadow folded his arms.
Nadir glared. "Then why is it missing, Erik? I know you didn't get rid of it. That would be too damn decent of you!"
"I don't owe you any more explanations," the shadow stated with more hostility. "You find out where it's gone if you're so concerned. I suggest you leave now, though. Unless you really do have a death wish." The yellow dots became smaller, and the shadow backed up. "For your own sake, I hope this is the last conversation we have."
Before Nadir could say anything, the shadow was gone. He stood there shaking for a moment, before opening the door to his room, running inside, and locking it behind him.
A large part of him wanted to heed his friend's advice-to leave the city...to leave the country. Yet, Nadir knew he would do no such thing. The Iranian would be responsible for whatever happened, though he knew it would likely kill him in the end.
By allowing Erik to live so many years ago, he was already responsible for any disaster that occurred.
It was only later that Nadir wondered why Erik was so determined to remain there.
Christine lay sprawled out on the sofa with her feet propped up on the armrest and her hands folded behind her head, staring blankly at the stained ceiling of the apartment. Next to her on the table were several texts and a notebook, strewn aside several hours earlier. Though she knew she had two exams the next day, she continued to avoid studying. Her mind was lost in a fog, and she was in no mood to find her way out of it.
Looking up at the wall clock, she saw that it was one in the afternoon and sighed. Had she eaten lunch? She didn't really remember. As Christine sat up, her stomach answered the question with a growl of protest, and she started to get up and make her way to the kitchen, hoping there was at least a jar of peanut butter in the refrigerator. Two loud knocks at the front door startled her, and she turned back around and looked through the peephole before opening it.
"Christine Daae?" enquired a teenage boy in a blue uniform.
"Yeah," she replied, blinking in the afternoon sunlight. "Can I help you?"
"Yeah. I'm from Benson's Groceries. I've got a pretty big delivery for you."
Christine tilted her head and squinted in confusion. "I'm sorry. I didn't order anything. Maybe you should try my neighbor..."
The guy shrugged and looked down at his chart. "It's got your name right on it, and it's paid for. You wanna take a look at some of the items?"
Grabbing her green jacket from a hanger, Christine stepped outside to look into the dozen or so bags on her doorstep. She was surprised to see that they contained the items she and Mrs. Valerius normally bought. Several cans of Campbell's soup and a box of Kraft Macaroni lay in one sack. The rose-scented shampoo and soap she often used were sitting to one side, along with other toiletries. Dozens of cans of Dr. Pepper, her favorite soda, were stacked in boxes on top of each other. There were even several bottles of aspirin and a box of expensive Asian tea.
"So are they yours?" asked the guy with slight annoyance at her delay.
She hesitated, still staring at the items. "Um. Yeah. They are." In somewhat shock, she held the door open and allowed him to lay the groceries in the entryway. Though a part of her still wondered if this was some sort of mistake, a coincidence couldn't explain what was being delivered.
After several minutes, he finished and turned to leave with a nod. "Wait!" she called out. "Let me give you something for all this." Christine rushed over to her leather purse and pulled out her billfold, realizing she hadn't looked inside since she'd retrieved it. The night before had been so exhausting that she'd immediately gone to bed.
Unzipping the part that contained the bills, Christine blinked twice in utter disbelief. She stared down in shock at the dozens of hundred dollar bills in her purse, likely more than two thousand dollars.
"Are you okay?" asked the delivery boy. "If you don't have anything, it's fine."
"No," she murmured. "I do." Christine quickly pulled out a crumpled five and handed it to him.
"Thanks!" he said with a grin. "Have a good day." She nodded blankly and shut the door. Taking a breath, she looked between the pile of groceries upon her floor and the open pocketbook on the coffee table. After checking to make sure the driver's license in the billfold was hers, she slowly reached and picked up the phone, dialing the number of Mrs. Valerius' hospital room.
"Hello?" answered her guardian's voice.
"Hi. It's Christine."
"Hi, dear! How are you?"
She hesitated. "I'm fine. Did you...did you order groceries to be delivered to the apartment this afternoon?"
"No," Mrs. Valerius replied apologetically. "I haven't had time. Maybe I could get them to let you use my charge card, though. I know it must be difficult for you."
"No," Christine murmured, looking at the bags. "I'm fine."
"Are you sure, dear?"
She paused for a moment. "Yes. Everything is fine."