A/N Hey, everyone, sorry this took so long…hopefully now that my crit mate is back in action I'll get these up quicker. Eh, maybe not. Ah, well. Enjoy!
Already people milled about backstage, and Meg struggled to get past them. She hopped up every now and then in hopes of catching a glimpse of Christine.
Where could she have disappeared to so quickly? she thought, her frustration mounting. Inspiration struck, and she wove an intertwining path through the throngs of people. She glanced back and saw that Raoul followed her. She fought back the blush that threatened to creep up her neck and soon lost him, her litheness defeating his polite navigation of the crowds.
The people thinned out as Meg trekked toward the recesses of the theatre. Once, she passed a couple kissing passionately in a darkened corridor, and she hurried by without a backward glance, discomfited to come upon their tryst.
Her embarrassment faded as she neared her destination, her thoughts turning toward Christine. Over the past months, Meg sensed that her friend harbored a secret, but whenever Meg pressed Christine to talk about it, she would merely shake her head and change the subject. It saddened Meg to think that Christine would keep something from her-they had always told each other everything, even silly notions and feelings. Meg sensed, though, that this secret wasn't silly in the slightest, and she longed for her friend to confide in her.
She trailed a fingertip along the cold brick wall and turned the corner leading to the chapel. "Christine, Christine," she called softly, her sweet voice floating down the corridor.
She could have sworn she heard a deeper, softer echo of her voice, but was quickly distracted from the impression when she saw a glimmer of light come from the chapel and dance in its doorway.
She smiled as she stepped inside and saw Christine kneeling on the floor, still in her stunning gala costume. She had lit a candle for her father on the altar, its flame catching the sparkling crystals in her hair and ears.
Meg gracefully hastened to her friend's side, singing softly. "Where in the world have you been hiding? Really, you were perfect." Christine raised her head and smiled as Meg settled herself next to her. "I only wish I knew your secret. Who is your great tutor?"
Christine's smile deepened as she met Meg's eye, and Meg's heart thumped in her chest. She recognized the look she saw on Christine's face. Finally, the wall of secrecy that divided them would be torn down. I just want to understand, Christine. Give me the chance to understand. Meg's thought came out as half of a prayer.
Drawing in a deep breath, Christine began. "Meg, when your mother brought me here to live…whenever I came down here alone, to light a candle for my father-a voice, from above and in my dreams. He was always there. You see, when my father lay dying, he told me I would be protected by an angel- an Angel of Music."
Meg dimly recalled the day that Christine had arrived at the theatre-it had been the first time she had met Christine. They had both been so young, but even then Meg knew Christine needed a friend. She could still picture how frail Christine had looked, clinging to the hand of Meg's mother so tightly that her knuckles were white.
One night, a few weeks after Christine had moved in with the Girys, she had told Meg about the night her father died. He had finally succumbed to the illness that had robbed him of his vitality, leaving a mere shell of a man. Meg's mother had been there that night, and comforted Christine even as her father slipped away from this life. Meg knew that Christine still grieved heavily for her father, though it had been nine years since his death.
Meg's forehead wrinkled in concern as she struggled to take in all that Christine had just confessed to her. "Christine, do you believe-do you think the spirit of your father is coaching you?"
A firm conviction crossed Christine's features. "Who else, Meg? Who?" she whispered. She looked over the candles, the flames flickering slightly. "Father once spoke of an angel. I used to dream he'd appear." Her voice was relaxed and sure, the notes sliding off her tongue like honey off an oil coated spoon. "Now as I sing, I can sense him, and I know he's here."
Meg sprung up next to Christine as she gathered her billowing skirts and rose. "Here in this room, he calls me softly, somewhere inside, hiding. Somehow I know he's always with me, he the unseen genius."
Even before Christine sung the last word, Meg shook her head and took her hand, half-leading, half-pulling her away from the altar and out of the chapel. Perhaps it was because she hadn't seen this Angel of Music, but no matter how hard she tried, Meg couldn't wrap her mind around the idea. "Christine, you must have been dreaming-stories like this can't come true. Christine, you're talking in riddles, and it's not like you."
They glided out of the musty hallway and onto the gleaming stage, Christine's voice growing stronger, as though the feel of the wood beneath her feet fortified her words. "Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory..."
Meg let her voice rise in harmony to join Christine's. A tickling qualm still lurked in the back of her mind, but an irresistible curiosity grew within her. "Who is this Angel? Angel of Music, hide no longer, come to me, strange Angel."
A chill passed over Meg, the feeling entirely different from the ones she had experienced in the chapel. It seemed Christine sensed the mood change, too, and they paused in the middle of the stage. Meg's apprehension increased and she felt as though she were listening to a ghost story and was too afraid to hear the ending.
Christine glanced around her at the lush velvet curtains and the thin backdrops, seeming to sense something. "He's with me even now…"
"…Your hands are cold," Meg sang, almost to herself, feeling Christine's icy fingers against her own warm palm.
"All around me.." Christine glanced up sharply.
"Your face, Christine, it's white!" Meg sang, with a sharp note of alarm, taking Christine's chin in her hand.
The tremor of fear had finally reached Christine's voice. "It frightens me..."
"Don't be frightened…" Meg's notes slowly trailed off.
Despite her reassurances, Meg herself was startled, especially to see her friend in such a state. She quickly led Christine toward her dressing room, hoping that her friend would find it a bulwark against what haunted her.