Rekindling the Music of the Night
By: K.C. Vaillancourt
Disclaimer - You know the drill…I do not own anything associated with The Phantom of the Opera or lyrics of any songs I use.
Author Note – Thank you so much for the reviews, follows, and favorites. You might have noticed I am using different songs from different musicals. I will also be using more modern songs I feel fit the mood of the story.
For those of you who are confused as to why I started posting the beginning chapters again. Here is the reason. It was brought to my attention by an amazingly kind fellow author that geographically there were things I had overlooked as far as how long travel would take being in the 19th century not the 21st. I went back to rework and fix the issue before I continued. Once I fixed that I had to fix other things along the way that changed the story a bit.
That's why chapters are going up you may have already read but there a few things changed along the way. If you have read the chapters already please feel free to skip. I should be getting the updated chapters up this week and getting to work on new ones soon.
I do edit all my work before I post and have people read my work but there still may be some grammar mistakes. I apologize for them in advance.
Remembering the Past
Christine had been traveling for six days and smiled as she finally arrived in Paris. She didn't expect the trip to be so wearing since she was used to being driven everywhere but at the same time it was invigorating. She stopped in various towns along the way when she or Cecile needed food or rest. Even when she rested she refused to stay in an inn hiding as out of sight as she could and sleeping in the carriage. She thought a lot as she traveled mostly about what the maids had said about her and Raoul the night she left. She had thought for a while that Raoul was going to other women and the more she thought it the more she realized she didn't care. She should have been hurt or felt angry and betrayed but instead, she felt nothing.
The other wives looked down on her like she was a prostitute Raoul picked up off the streets no matter what she did to try to ingratiate herself to them. Raoul himself had admitted that's how he looked at her as well. She wasn't a wife to him. She wondered if she was ever anything more than a trophy he won from her angel.
She was thankful no one recognized her and after a couple days in the same clothes with no bath not many people paid attention. They seemed to see through her and accept her as a low class maid.
She smiled as she rode through the dimly lit cobblestone streets of Paris. She closed her eyes thanking her father and god for keeping her safe throughout her journey. She was careful to keep her face hidden under her hood as she passed people. She doubted word had yet reached Paris that she had left Raoul but was sure by now he knew she was gone and he would be on his way here to find her. Only the lord knew what awaited her if she was taken back to the De Chagny mansion in Dijon. She began to wonder how she would search for friendly faces once he arrived and word did begin to spread. She longed for a wash and to sleep in a real bed but all thought left her mind as she turned a corner and gasped stopping the carriage.
In front of her stood the once world famous Opera Populaire. Raoul had refused to tell her much about it since they left and she was dismayed to see the once beautiful place she called home left in ruins. After what happened perhaps no one else wanted to tempt fate by reopening it.
She got out of the driver's seat to lead her horse and carriage as inconspicuously as she could to the stables behind the opera house. When they entered she was surprised to see that the large beautiful all black stallion she had once ridden was still there. The horse starred at her as if he recognized her and she starred back at him. She noticed he looked to be well cared for. "Could it possible?" She whispered to herself.
She struggled but eventually unhitched Cecile from the carriage and led her to a stall to rest. She found some oats and gave them to her before giving her a gentle brushing. She patted her on the back and left the stall. She took her suitcase out of the carriage and unhooked the lantern. She put them on the ground and pushed the carriage into an empty stall. She covered it with any blankets she could find trying to keep it out of sight.
After lighting the lantern she slowly walked to the front of the opera house trying to avoid the eyes of the drunk unsavory men that tried to catch her attention. After checking several times to make sure she wasn't being followed she slipped inside.
Her senses were immediately overwhelmed by the smell of charred wood. Even with the lantern it was dark and she could barely see anything in front of her but muscle memory seemed to lead her forward. She stopped when she entered what was once the grand foyer and starred at the staircase in front of her. She could almost see people dancing and singing as if the masquerade ball was once again happening right in front of her.
The singing suddenly stopped and Christine looked up. She saw her angel was standing at the top of the staircase dressed as red death. He began to descend the stairs and his angelic voice filled the foyer. "Why so silent, good monsieurs? Did you think that I had left you for good? Have you missed me, good monsieurs? I have written you an opera! Here I bring the finished score - Don Juan Triumphant! Fondest greetings to you all. A few instructions now before rehearsals start: Carlotta must be taught to act, not her normal trick of strutting 'round the stage. Our Don Juan must lose some weight; it's not healthy in a man of Piangi's age. And my managers must learn that their place is in an office! not the arts." His gaze shifted to her. "As for our star, Miss Christine Daae... 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 will let her return to me, her teacher... her teacher."
Christine's dark chocolate brown eyes locked with the light sea green eyes of her angels and she felt herself falling under his spell once more as they walked towards each other. She wanted to go with him. Then his eyes fell upon the engagement ring around her neck. He reached out and ripped it off her. "Your chains are still mine. You belong to me." He hissed before disappearing in a cloud of smoke.
Christine shook her head keeping her tears at bay as the memory faded from her mind. She continued to walk being careful not to fall which proved harder than she thought it would be. Her cloak kept getting caught on things and she was carrying not only a lantern but her somewhat heavy suitcase with her. She walked into the theater and stared at the stage. The destroyed chandelier still sat in the orchestra pit. Many of the seats were burned away along with the stage. She thought she could still see remnants of the set for Don Juan but wondered if it was all in her mind. As she looked at the stage. Her mind brought her back to that fateful night.
Christine knew it was him as soon as she heard him tell Passarino to go away. She felt herself once again falling under his spell. She kept herself calm and continued to play her part as he began to sing.
"You have come here in pursuit of your deepest urge, in pursuit of that wish, which till now has been silent, silent..." As soon as their eyes fell upon each other he knew she knew it was him. He placed a finger to his lips telling her not give him away before he continued. "I have brought you, that our passions may fuse and merge - in your mind you've already succumbed to me dropped all defenses completely succumbed to me - now you are here with me: no second thoughts, you've decided, decided...Past the point of no return - no backward glances: Our games of make-believe are at an end. Past all thought of "if" or "when" - no use resisting: abandon thought, and let the dream descend...What raging fire shall flood the soul. What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us? Past the point of no return. The final threshold. What warm unspoken secrets will we learn? Beyond the point of no return?"
Christine loved the feeling of his hands on her skin and his strong arms around her. She felt herself giving into him as he touched her and she began to sing. "You have brought me. To that moment when words run dry. To that moment when speech disappears into silence, silence. I have come here, hardly knowing the reason why. In my mind I've already imagined our bodies entwining defenseless and silent. Now I am here with you, no second thoughts, I've decided, decided. Past the point of no return no going back now. Our passion-play has now at last begun. Past all thought of right or wrong one final question. How long should we two wait before we're one? When will the blood begin to race? The sleeping bud burst into bloom. When will the flames at last consume us?"
They met at the middle of the bridge and began to sing in unison. "Past the point of no return. The final threshold. The bridge is crossed so stand and watch it burn. We've passed the point of no return." They both fell silent as their song ended. Christine stood with her head laying on his chest and her eyes closed never wanting this moment to end. She opened her eyes and turned to face him as he began to sing words that were meant only for her. "Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Lead me, save me from my solitude. Say you'll want me with you here beside you…" He took a breath and Christine knew what she was expected to do. "Anywhere you go let me go too." She could see the Surete ready to move in and knew she had no choice. She lifted her hand to his face. She could see the look of hope in his eyes that she was going to say she would stay with him. "Christine that's all I ask of..."
Her heart screamed at her to let him finish so she could tell him yes but it was too late. She had ripped off his mask and wig revealing his true face to the world. Before she could react she felt his strong arm around her waist holding her close to him. He kicked something and the next thing she knew she felt the floor under them disappear as they began to fall. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined what was to happen next.
Christine was overwhelmed by the memories but she pressed on and made her way back stage as best she could. She took the familiar path to the Prima Donna dressing room. The fire seemed to have spared this part of the opera house as she pushed the door open. She entered the room and her eyes were immediately drawn to the mirror at the back of the room. She smiled as she thought of the night he finally revealed himself to her.
Christine tilted her head as she listened to the hypnotic voice coming from the mirror in front of her. "Flattering child, you shall know me, see why in shadow I hide! Look at your face in the mirror." She gasped when she saw a figure appear. "I am there inside!"
She walked up and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She looked away and thought back to the black stallion that was in the stables then looked back to the mirror. Could he be watching her right now? She wondered. She felt around and on the left side of the mirror she found a small lever. She pulled it and watched as the mirror slid open. She frowned when she saw no one was there and the torches that once lit the tunnel walls were left unlit. She held out her lantern in front of her and without a second thought began to make her way through the tunnels of the opera house. As she walked familiar lyrics floated across her mind. In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came, that voice which calls to me and speaks my name and do I dream again for now I find. The phantom of the opera is there, inside my mind.
She stopped when she reached the water. The boat he had used to take her to his home was there. Had he known she was coming? Her heart began to beat faster as she got in. She fastened the lantern to the back of the boat and began to row. It wasn't long before she was in the large cavern that was his home. She stopped the boat at the water's edge and stepped out her heart beating even faster. She closed her eyes as she thought about the last time she had been here and seen him.
Raoul was pulling her to the boat so they could escape before the mob arrived but she pulled out of his grasp. "Christine we must go!"
"We will. I will be right back. I promise." She said and kissed him before turning around. As she approached her angel she heard him singing softly.
"Masquerade... paper faces on parade. Masquerade... hide your face, so the world will never find you..." He looked up and saw her. She held back tears when she saw the sadness in his eyes change to that of hope and love. She walked up to him and silently placed her ring in his hand. She was about to turn around when he sang again. "Christine, I love you..."
She fought harder to hold back her tears as he declared his love for her. She had made her choice and had to follow through with it. She turned around leaving him in his darkness, alone.
In the present she fought harder to hold back her tears as another memory faded away. Now more than ever she wished she had stayed with him. She used her lantern to light a few stray candles and then placed it on a table. She looked around and her heart plummeted when she sensed that she was alone. Perhaps he was out in the other tunnels. She thought to herself. She saw the burned remnants of the miniature he had made of the stage. Then she noticed as she looked around that his organ was nowhere to be seen. She was certain he would not live here without the ability to play his music.
She stopped when she heard a crunch under her foot and looked down to see shards of a mirror. She looked up and saw that mirrors she never realized were there before because they had been covered by various pieces of Parisian cloth were all smashed. She had thought when she was on the boat with Raoul she heard the shattering of glass and now she knew. He had smashed all the mirrors so that he didn't have to look at his face.
His face, she thought about the deformity he had kept covered up so no one ever saw it. She closed her eyes as guilt filled her. She was the one person he loved and she had been the one to expose his deformity to the world. She reached out and touched one of the destroyed mirrors. The first time she had seen his face it didn't frightened her like he thought it did. It was his intense anger at the removal of his mask and the threat that she could never leave here that had scared her.
She felt a tear slide down her cheek and found herself beginning to sing softly. "You were once my one companion...you were all that mattered...You were once a friend and father - then my world was shattered...Wishing you were somehow here again...wishing you were somehow near...Sometimes it seemed if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here...Wishing I could hear your voice again..." Christine stopped singing jumping when she heard a squeak behind her.
She turned around and sighed with relief. It was merely a rat exploring. She was used to them. She saw them all the time when she was growing up in the opera house above her. She continued to walk around and noticed even more of his things were gone. She came to the conclusion by the dust and cobwebs of what had been left behind he had long since abandoned this place he once called his home. How could she have been so naïve to think he would still be here? When she had left an angry mob was on their way here to kill him. Why would he come back?
Then why was the boat docked for her to use? She let out a sigh. "That's where Raoul and I left it when we made our escape." She reminded herself. "But what about his black stallion surely he wouldn't leave him behind?"
She reasoned he may have had no other choice. Someone could have found him in the stables and decided to care for him. She took her suitcase out of the boat and placed it next to his ornate swan bed as she sat down. She had laid in this bed only once before but it still felt as soft now as it did then. She put her head in her hands. She had no idea where to go or what to do next. She knew there were two others that might know where he was, Madame Giry or Meg. She had not spoken to either of them since her wedding day. Raoul had been sure to keep her isolated from anyone from her "old life", as he called it after they were married.
He was also sure to keep her away from this part of Paris as well. They mostly went to other mansions and cities for parties if they went out. She hoped the Giry's still lived in the area.
She tried to stifle a yawn but felt exhaustion from her long journey setting in. She looked back at the bed she was on and shrugged her shoulders. She had nowhere else to go so she decided to stay here for the night and figure out her plans further when she woke up. She fluffed the pillows trying to remove some of the dust. Then curled up on the bed lowering the black curtain. She was still wearing her cloak but pulled the red velvet blanket over herself anyway to try and keep out the cold. She closed her eyes. "Father please watch over me and keep me safe." She whispered before falling asleep like she did every night.
Deep in the woods of Gisors, France about forty-five miles away from Paris stood an isolated cedar log cabin. You could see the amber glow of a fire burning in the fireplace through the windows. A figure clothed in a black cloak with the hood pulled up walked down the dirt path towards the front door. He entered his cabin with wood under his arm and placed it next to the fireplace. He took off his cloak and draped it over a chair in the sitting room. He walked through the room toward the kitchen and stopped. He starred at the organ that sat in the middle of the sitting room facing the fireplace like he did every day before he would walk past it to sit and read or write in his journal.
He had not played a note on it for a few years now. He didn't know why but tonight something inside him screamed at him to sit down and play. He held his trembling fingers over the keys and began to play a soft melody he had played once a long time ago. As he played he softly sang to the tune. "Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses. Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor. Grasp it, sense it tremulous and tender. Turn your face away from the garish light of day, turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light - and listen to the music of the night..."
He continued to play letting the music fill him and an image of a beautiful brunette, his one and only muse, floated across his mind. The night he sang this song to her had been one of the happiest in his life. He allowed himself to smile as he felt the joy and inspiration that music brought to him return. "You alone can make my songs take flight. You help me make the music of the night."
As the sound of his voice and the organ faded away he looked into the fire. In the darkness of the room you couldn't see the face of the man who had played such beautiful music only the white mask that covered the right side of his face.
