"You were once my one companion,
you were all that mattered.
You were once a friend and father,
then my world was shattered."
The cemetery, at this time of year, was a cold and dismal place. It wasn't always that way, in the summer when the trees and bushes would burst with greenery and bloom with colours of different kinds, it would look almost joyful, the flourishing nature all around her would help calm down her mind and chase away some of her sadness at the rare instances when she would come to visit with madame Giry. The otherwise rather stern lady who berated her for her mistakes and her constant daydreaming at their rehearsals was kind to her here, doing her best to provide the motherly support she knew the child, and later, the young woman she was growing into, needed.
But now, while the deep snow that covered the grey stone around her did make everything beautiful and serene, it did nothing to relieve her aching heart of her sadness as she came here, one last time, to stand before the grave of her father, to finally try and let go of her grief for him so she could start her life anew, whichever road fate would take her. As she walked through the narrow aisles between the graves and weeping angels, she thought of her own, wondered where he was and what he was doing, and whether he was thinking of her.
She thought of the last few months she spent in peace, with her angel gone, no notes, no roses and not a single word from him as he wrote his opera in seclusion. She thought of her time with Raoul, dear, sweet, gentle Raoul who treated her as a princess, as a little fragile flower in his garden that needed to be nurtured and protected. She knew he loved her and she knew he wanted to propose to her for a while now, which is why she felt so ashamed of herself and the fickleness of her heart, for she was glad he did not ask the question yet, as she didn't know what answer she would give him.
She spent a few happy, blissful months with him and his gentle affections, seeing his hope for a future with her grow with each passing day, but her encounter with the Phantom, her angel of music last night brought back so many memories and feelings that they nearly suffocated her with their force. The way he looked at her at the ball, this man, whose presence could hold an entire theater in its sway, yet she had seen that bravado crumble before her as he stared, barely able to breathe let alone say anything as if he was worried she would disappear if he did.
She saw the brief flash of anger in his eyes as she heard Raoul calling to her and she was momentarily scared, but then he composed himself, and when she heard him whisper her name, when she felt the electrifying touch of his finger as he kissed her hand, she wanted to cry from the way her heart ached to go to him.
And then, he left. She knew he couldn't stay, for the spell over the crowd was broken and he needed to run, but she wanted, needed to speak to him, to see where they were, whether or not she still had her angel of music in her life, or whether she should fear the wrath her rejection caused him, for the uncertainty was killing her.
Walking through the cemetery, her every step taking her closer to her dreaded destination, she whispered words that dispersed as steam in the cold winter air, not knowing whether she was pleading with her father or the man who was, for so many years, her greatest support, her shelter against her sorrow and the cruelty the world can display towards a young, orphaned girl.
Finally, she arrived at the cold tomb, and, shivering, she kneeled at the steps to pray, silent tears falling from her eyes, the cold wind the only sound that echoed around her. And then, suddenly, she heard the voice again, the sweet voice of her angel, the coldness in her bones disappearing as his voice filled her with warmth as it always did before. She looked up, and there he was, standing next to the tomb in the slowly fading light, his masked face looking at her with an impassive look, and yet his eyes betrayed him as his compassion for her pain shined from them.
She rose from her knees and hesitantly took a step forward, her soul pulling her towards him, and yet her mind was still frightened by his reaction. She reached with her hand tentatively, wanting to touch him, and after a few seconds, he mirrored her gesture, some emotion finally appearing on his face as he dared to hope… and then the moment was shattered with the sound of clattering hooves as the vicomte jumped of his horse in front of them and pulled Christine away from him.
Now, as there was no one here to stop him, his anger roared to the surface and he brandished his sword, attacking the vicomte with a fierce determination to rid himself of his rival. Christine watched them in shock, terrified and desperate, for she did not want either one of them to die, but at that moment it seemed inevitable that one of them will. The Phantom at first, seemed to be winning, dancing around the rough battlefield with the grace of a panther, but then, acting on an impossible luck the vicomte managed to knock the sword out of his hand and as the other man fell to the ground, he raised his own weapon to stab him.
Realizing what was going to happen, Christine screamed at him to stop, but then, suddenly, there was a sound of neighing as a beautiful, tall black horse ran forward, bearing a rider that was wearing a dark cloak, its hood drawn over their face to conceal their identity. The horse's strides carried it forward as it approached the vicomte, roaring angrily as it rammed into him, knocking him to the ground before he could even turn around.
Then, the rider turned their horse, glancing at the Phantom for a brief moment and then shifting their attention to Christine, who stood there, not daring to move when she saw a pair of strange, glowing blue eyes under the hood. With a touch of heels to the horse's sides the figure spurred the animal to new speed, and then with surprising strength grabbed Christine by the waist, hoisting her into the saddle with no visible effort. The figure tightened their grip on the young woman and then quickly sped away from the scene.
The ride seemed to have lasted for hours, during which no sound was heard save for the rhythmic sound of hoofbeats and the rush of wind in her own ears. Christine occasionally tried to struggle with her captor, but the person holding her did not budge, only speeding the horse further so they would reach their destination faster.
After a while they stopped in front of a cave of some sort, somewhere deep in the forest, and the rider hopped down from their horse, before lightly pulling Christine down as well. They were very gentle with her, but their hand closed around her arm in a steely grip as they urged her into the cave. Inside it was cold, but warmer than it was outside. As she warmed herself up a bit, her companion stood by the entrance for a while, mumbling some strange words she couldn't understand and then, finally, they turned to look at her.
"Who are you?" she said immediately. "Why have you brought me here? And what have you done to Raoul? Is he alright?" she spoke quickly, but her voice was trembling. She was scared, and the person standing before her saw it clearly as they sighed and then, there was a voice from the hood saying: "The vicomte is going to be fine, Christine, but we need to talk and those two fools back there would only be in the way." Christine's head shot up as she recognised the voice, and the person responded by slowly pulling the hood down, giving her a slight smile.
"Katrina?" she asked incredulously as she sat on some rocky outcrop sticking out of the cave wall and sure enough, from under the dark cloth a mass of blonde hair came out and a pair of blue eyes now looked at her patiently. "What are you doing here?" she said as she stared at the young woman in front of her. There was something different about her now, a confidence that wasn't there before, and a previously unknown grace to her movements as she approached a small campfire sitting on the ground in the middle of the room.
"I'll tell you everything, Christine, but first, let's make ourselves a bit more comfortable, shall we?" said Katrina as she removed the cloak she was wearing, under which she had a simple, but warm dress and tall black riding boots. She stretched a bit, looking very much like a cat at that moment, and then she suddenly flicked her hand and Christine yelped when a bunch of fiery sparks flew from her fingers, the pieces of wood in the campfire immediately catching aflame.
"What? How… how did you do that?" she asked, her voice rising in fright and Katrina looked at her calmly. "Just a bit of magic. And yes, magic is real. Calm down, Christine, I don't mean you any harm. If I did, you would've known." she said, giving her friend a reassuring smile, as the fire warmed the cave around them and Christine couldn't help but leaning into its warmth, loosing a bit of her fear as nothing threatening happened so far.
Katrina did not want to spend a lot of time explaining and she wondered how much she can actually tell her anyway. At the end, she just said: "There is no short way to say this Christine, but I can tell you that I belong to a race that have lived in this world for a very long time. Some people call us the guardians of the world, shepherds of life, and let me tell you humans are by far the most difficult creatures to guide." she chuckled. "I suppose you can say that I am a pilgrim, travelling where I'm needed and helping where I can."
"Helping with what?" Christine said at that moment and Katrina sighed as she heard the suspicion in her voice now. It seemed the girl wasn't as stupid as she was starting to think.
"Hopefully," she said, as she sat down next to her, careful not to frighten her again. "helping you reach the right decision." she continued, putting a gentle hand on her arm. Christine looked at the hand lightly resting on her bicep and then at the person she called a friend a few hours ago, but now didn't quite know what to think of her. "You're talking about him." she said and then shifted away from her slightly. "You're in league with him." Katrina shook her head at the words. "In league with him? You make it sound like he was a criminal."
"But he is…" Christine spoke, her voice tearful as she lowered her face into her hands. "He just tried to kill Raoul, right in front of my eyes." Katrina looked at her, trying very hard not to voice what she wanted to do to Raoul as she witnessed him spoil such a touching moment. She wasn't sure what Erik would do after the masquerade ball, but she knew he would certainly try to approach Christine again so she kept an eye on both of them, to make sure neither one of them would get into trouble.
When she saw the coach driver being knocked out and being replaced by her friend, she grabbed her own horse from the stable and discreetly followed behind them all the way to the cemetery, where she hid behind gravestones and waited for what would happen. She felt sad for Christine as she wept at the steps to her father's crypt, for it was clear that she loved her father dearly, and then, when she saw her angel approach her, she was sure that this was absolutely the perfect moment for him to console her and reforge the damaged bond between them, but then the vicomte arrived and the two men clashed together before she could do anything to stop it.
When Erik's life was suddenly in danger, she did not hesitate to protect him, but when it was over and she saw the frightened look in Christine's eyes, she had quite enough of being subtle. So, she simply grabbed the girl with the intention of talking some sense into her in private. Now that she had her though, and her anger disappeared, she wanted to at least try and be gentle about it.
"Christine, you have to understand, and I'm sure I told you this before, that he has not known a lot of kindness in his life. I don't have to know anything about his past to understand that it probably wasn't a good one. You want to blame him for dealing with things so violently? When that was, most certainly, the only way he has ever learned? You can't possibly imagine what he has been through, what he was forced to do, just to survive in this harsh world, before he somehow ended up hiding in a dank cellar beneath an old theater." she paused for a bit, letting the words sink in and watched for a while as Christine looked at her wide-eyed, before she continued.
"Christine, the man loves you. It may be a tad bit too possessive, but it is a love, nonetheless, deepened only by the sad fact of how much he needs you as well. He may have pretended to be an angel for his fear of your rejection, but you were always an angel to him. You were the first one to show him kindness, even if it was just in words, can you really blame him for holding on to you so fiercely?"
"But how can I accept him?" spoke Christine again finally, droplets of tears glittering on her cheeks as she listened to the passionate speech. "How can I see my angel in the man who can burst into violent anger so easily. I… I care for him deeply, but you did not hear him when we were down in the catacombs, he scared me so badly…" she trailed off and Katrina once again regretted that she left so early after she witnessed their union. She should have known he was going to get hurt by this girl.
"Christine, I'm sorry, but you were the one who caused that anger." she said with a sigh. "He has a fierce temper, but a gentle heart, and you betrayed his trust by revealing secrets he was not ready to share. I did the same in my foolishness, but I hope I made it very clear that I did not view him as a monster." she saw, a bit sharper than she intended to, and Christine widened her eyes in protest at the accusation, but then she stopped as she remembered her actions down in the catacombs.
He was the perfect, romantic gentleman the entire evening, trying so hard to make her see how much he loved her, to make her see the better side of him, and she repaid him by ripping away his only shield against the world without any consideration. And then, when he sat there before her, whimpering like a wounded dog, saying all those awful things which she now realized was how he truly thought about himself, she did not stop him, she just sat there, silent, letting him make his own conclusions as to how she felt about him then. And God, if he had heard all the things about him that she said on the roof…"
Katrina watched her for a minute, before she continued, bringing her gently out of her reverie. "While his actions in the past might have been scary, Christine," she said. "all he ever wanted was to make you happy, and he would do anything to make that happen. So, if you are so worried about his violent tendencies, change it. Your angel has lost his wings the moment you looked upon his face and cringed in fear, but he is still there. All he needs now to become a better person is you in his life, Christine, you and your love."
And then, finally, she looked into her heart and felt the young woman's confusion and fear melt into the warm feelings of relief and growing affection as she realized the truth behind her words. She thought about what more she could possibly tell her, and then she looked outside and the slowly approaching night, and she smiled. "Come, let me show you something." she said, before she took Christine's hand and led her outside to her waiting horse.
...
The man, whose fate was currently in question, sat in his lair in the catacombs beneath the theater, his noble brow creased in worry. He was not worried about Christine, after all, he knew who she was with. After Katrina, the unbelievable creature who dropped into his life to help him, saved his life, she took a second to speak into his mind, to assure him who she was and what she was going to do, and to tell him very clearly not to kill the vicomte, who now lied unconscious at his feet, hearing the anger in her voice at his actions.
He of course knew where the anger was coming from. He saw the frightened and pained look on Christine's face as he and the vicomte drew swords at each other, and he knew that he shouldn't have given in to his anger like that, but he couldn't help it this time. Christine was his. He has dedicated more than a decade of his life to her, was there for her when her father died and she cried herself to sleep almost every night, that's when he sang to her, chasing away her nightmares with a sweet song full of love and comfort. And as she grew, that gentle, fatherly love blossomed into something else, something that roared to life fiercely now that there was a danger of losing her.
But despite being tempted, he did as Katrina said, leaving the man where he fell and returned home, where he now sat, waiting. He sighed and stood up, pulling the mask off his face tiredly. Katrina would keep his Christine save, of that he was certain. Whether she would be able to fix the consequences of his recent foolishness, that was another matter.
At that moment, he heard a familiar sound and a slight smile appeared on his face, genuine and kind. In a few seconds, the noise got louder and louder, the sound of croaking and the flapping of many wings. Suddenly, they flew through the open portcullis, dozens and dozens of crows, their dark feathered bodies gathering around the lonely man, some sitting on his shoulders, gently cawing into his ears as they rubbed their faces affectionately against his. He smiled, taking a small basket hidden under a nearby drape, where he kept some bread for this very purpose, tearing small chunks of it to feed his night-time visitors.
From a nearby doorway, Christine and Katrina, unobserved, stared at the scene in front of them and Christine marvelled at the change she was witnessing in her angel, the way his eyes sparkled with no malice or manipulation, but a simple, pure joy of being in the company of these simple creatures, who didn't fear him in the slightest as his hands gently pet their beaks and feathers.
Suddenly, there was a voice in her mind, quiet and gentle as its owner was also moved by the serenity of the situation. "I had hoped that we would get to see this. I'm not sure how the birds get down here, but they come almost every night." She looked up at Katrina in surprise, careful not to make a sound. She did not want to disturb this. He looked so… at peace, all expression of pain and sadness gone from his eyes for this one instant. She stared at his face and found that, now that it wasn't contorted in anger but relaxed and peaceful, she no longer found it terrifying, but rather saw just a part of him that made him unique.
"Crows are actually really intelligent creatures." the voice in her head continued. "They recognize people they can trust and come back to them. I guess he had found kinship with these birds. They have a beauty of their own, and yet most people detest them and treat them as vermin, just because they're…"
"Different…" Christine finished for her, very quietly, and Katrina watched as the most tender, loving expression spread across her friend's features. They watched the scene for a few more minutes before Christine silently signalled her wish to leave and they retreated through the corridor they came here. A little while later they sat together in Christine's dressing room. Christine looked up at her friend then, seeing the unspoken question written clearly in her blue eyes. After listening to her speech in the forest, after witnessing the touching scene in the catacombs just now, her soul and her mind finally agreed with one another, but there was still one piece of the puzzle that needed to be resolved.
"What about Raoul?" she asked simply, causing her companion to close her eyes and sigh deeply. "He is a good man. I do not wish to hurt him." she explained and Katrina slowly nodded with a smile. "Christine, I know you and the vicomte have a history together, but with all due respect, he wasn't the one who was here for you every time you needed him, he wasn't the one who sang his love for you since you were seven years old. Or am I wrong?" she asked, raising her eyebrows questioningly, causing Christine to look down at her hands that were folded in her lap nervously. "No man, not even Raoul, will ever love you more than your angel does, so please don't think of this as a sacrifice, because it's not. He will make you truly happy." said Katrina then firmly, with an unshakeable confidence coating her words.
"And you don't have to worry for the vicomte either, I'm sure." she continued, trying to keep her voice even to avoid sounding too dismissive. "He may be hurt now, Christine, but he will find his love elsewhere eventually. There's always going to be a long line of ladies vying for his attention. But your angel needs you, for you may very well be the only chance for true love he has." she spoke, her voice very solemn as her compassion for the Phantom shined through.
"Now, the opera he wrote." she declared at last. "I saw and heard parts of it and it is certainly something. But more importantly, it is his love letter to you, Christine, he poured his heart and soul into this piece. All I'm asking of you now is to listen when the time comes, for surely he will want to perform his part himself, and then make your decision." And with that, her pitch was over, and Katrina left Christine for the night with many things to think about as she mulled over recent events in her head. Now, it was on the Phantom to do his part.
