Disclaimer: I am neither Andrew Lloyd Webber nor Gaston Leroux.
Author Note: Hi guys. You probably know all of my excuses now but I'll list them off again, just to ease my guilt :-) I've been tremendously busy, hence the lack of updates, but I'm hoping to squeeze two chapters in this weekend to make it up to you all. If only fanfiction counted towards an A Level or something...then I could spend ages on it!
Another interesting thing I thought I'd share with you- recently I watched the Charles Dance version of Phantom of the Opera and even though it's very different from the usual storyline, I thought it was pretty good. It was nice to see a human side to Erik for once, though I was still frustrated by the lack of Nadir/the Persian. Poor Nadir, always being left out of these things. I still think to this day that he would have been a fabulous character in the musical- Erik and Nadir could have had a brilliant duet.
Thank you lovely reviewers; TMara, MarilynKC and Filhound. This chapter is for you guys, to apologise for how long it's taken!
Reviews are always very much appreciated, and I love to hear your thoughts/predictions.
NOTE: I know that Buquet, as in Joseph Buquet the strangled stage hand, is not the same as the word 'bouquet', but they sound the same and that is why a certain reaction occurs in this chapter.
And now enough of my ranting; onto the chapter.
Eighteen- The Tormented Vicomte
When Christine had woken up that morning, she had imagined that her day would be very ordinary- filled with the usual chores of sewing and cooking and struggling to ignore the catty comments of the other gypsy women, perhaps also daydreaming about Erik and trying not to blush and earn yet more verbal abuse. So it was rather surprising when her sewing was interrupted mid-morning by a very angry Pali barging into the lopsided tent where she and all the other women were sat. She had been huddled in her own lonely corner, far away from the other women and all their cackling and gossiping, the ominous force of a gypsy guard standing nearby to ensure she was where she was supposed to be, but then there had been the sound of irate footsteps and muttering and then Pali burst into the tent, red faced and swearing in an angrier mood than she had ever seen him.
Of course the women all stared at this peculiar man, already guessing in hushed voices as to what was wrong, and Pali was so infuriated he almost turned and yelled at them. He was furious, despite the fact that the news he had been ordered to carry was good news for Christine. But that was just it- being beckoned to carry messages-! Was he a pigeon?! Who did that pompous Vicomte think he was, strolling around the camp perimeter in broad daylight and demanding- yes, DEMANDNG like a spoilt brat- to see Christine?
Pali ground his teeth and stomped over to Christine, snarling and muttering obscenities, and she gazed up at him in a mixture of worry and amusement. It was astonishing that someone so usually happy could become such a grouchy, irritable creature. The gypsy guard raised an eyebrow, challenging Pali's purpose, but Pali merely glared at him and wordlessly hauled Christine up off of the ground.
"Pali?" Christine asked in a hushed voice, aware that all the women now had their eyes fastened greedily onto her, sliding their gaze over the way Pali held her arm. Their filthy thoughts were excitedly whispered to each other, and Christine felt her cheeks flame. "Whatever is the matter? And please, do stop attracting such attention- they're all staring."
Pali glanced over his shoulder and gave an exasperated eye roll. Then, without even a word to the gawping women or the stern faced gypsy standing watch, he tightened his grip on Christine and marched her out of the tent. The women followed her with their eyes, delighted by the scene and the conclusions they could make, and it was so very tempting to give them a real show by fighting Pali off or even kissing him. But Christine would never do that- who knew how such things might jeopardise her, now that Emilian was in charge.
Pali kept her walking hurriedly along until they reached the camp perimeter, on the fringes of the woodland. Then he came to an abrupt stop and dropped her arm as if it were burning hot, his eyes a little guilty as he saw the mark left by his tight grip. Still, the angry look had not left his face.
"I've been sent to fetch you, as if I were some sort of courier or messenger pigeon." He grumbled, instantly noting how her eyes lit up at the mention of being summoned by someone.
"Is it Erik?" she asked eagerly, eyes sparkling with excitement, and Pali wished he could say 'yes' and then relay her delight onto his manic depressive of a friend, who needed all the optimism he could get.
"No, I'm afraid to say that it is not Erik. It is in fact your Vicomte friend, the one with the women's haircut."
"Oh." Her reply was deflated, visibly disappointed, and her voice even sounded a little astonished. She had clearly not expected that Raoul would visit her and not Erik, another fact which Pali noted with enthusiasm. He knew nothing about Christine Daae as she had been when Erik and Nadir first knew her, but he knew this Christine very well- and it was clear that this Christine thought rather fondly of Erik, and didn't seem to care all that much for the pretty boy Vicomte. "So, Erik isn't here too?"
"No." Pali replied, trying to keep the smug satisfaction from leaking out into his words. She was so clearly smitten with Erik that Pali's anger at being ordered around by the Vicomte very nearly subsided into nothing- after all, the Vicomte would soon be brought crashing down to earth when Christine made it clear that she was perfectly happy with Erik. He smiled at her, anger fading, and she smiled back, but it was half hearted. "Just the Vicomte. He wanted to talk to you, I believe, though he did not specify if it was anything in particular."
Christine collected herself and forced the disappointed look from her face, the initial sinking feeling of a hope being shattered being slowly replaced by the joy of getting to talk to someone who wasn't a barbaric gypsy or in a horrendously bad mood. But even though she did like Raoul very much, and was glad to have a friend from her past miraculously appear with the intention of helping her recover everything she had lost, it wasn't just the fact that she had been hoping Erik would come to see her that made her feel a little unenthusiastic about seeing Raoul. In truth, ever since she had talked to him that strange night, Christine had felt a little off balance, uneasy and uncomfortable just to recall how their conversation had gone.
He was a sweet enough young man- there was no lack of charm or friendliness with Raoul de Chagny. But it was the way he had looked at her, the way he had acted- the annoyingly persistent attempts at praising her, as if she were a drooping plant that needed perking up. Surely today's conversation would involve enduring yet more embarrassing declarations. And he was so forward too- she felt her face flame with an innocent blush, recalling how he had stared at her with adoration pooled in his eyes, how he had taken her hand and kissed it with his soft lips. She was painfully aware of how handsome he was, and that she might have been entranced by him and fallen for such charms if she had not already met the most amazing man she could ever hope to meet; Erik. Raoul was a childhood friend, Christine knew that- but there was something distinctly adult about their relationship. Almost as if more had happened after they had parted as children. But that must just be my paranoia, Christine thought firmly, for Raoul would have told me if there had been more to our past than just our childhood together...
"Where will Raoul be waiting?" Christine asked distantly, wondering if this meant Erik would come to speak to her this evening instead. He had been so distant the last time they had spoken, which made her feel worried- Emilian had been skulking in his tent for the last few days, so it wasn't as if Erik could be worried about being seen.
"Oh, the Vicomte is already here and waiting for you, in 'the same spot as last time', so he says." Pali sounded distinctly grumpy again, now that the conversation was back to Raoul. He recalled how he had been shocked out of his skin when a hand had reached out of the woodland and dragged him into the trees, how he had feared for his life only to realise it was the Vicomte, how the young man had demanded that he hurry along and 'fetch Christine'. "So I suggest you hurry along and speak with him, find out what he wants and then tell him to go away. Do be discreet Christine and do tell your...ahem...friend that he cannot simply barge into this camp whenever he chooses, unless he wants Emilian to find him and string him up!"
Christine merely smiled her assurances at Pali and murmured a brief thank you before slipping into the trees, her lithe steps already accompanied by darting glances over her shoulder, to ensure that no one was watching. The woodland was so dark and quiet compared to the usual maze of caravans and brightly coloured tents and it was a shock to be within the dense greenery in the daytime- she had assumed the visits would be limited to the cover of darkness, but with Pali making sure no one came looking for her, Christine supposed that this would be an exception to the rule. The day light streaming through the thick leafy canopy reminded Christine of the days in which she and Erik had spent exploring the various woodlands and country sides, laughing and telling stories, basking in the sunshine and the warmth and the fresh air. Those days, and the singing in the evenings, were such gorgeous memories she felt almost sad to recall them.
Thinking of them made her feel disappointed that it was Raoul, not Erik, visiting her today and she harshly reminded her ungrateful self that Raoul was also a good friend, and an ally, and even more importantly, a person from her past. She knew she must stop being so silly- Erik was clearly busy doing something else, or perhaps did not want to talk to her every waking moment, for she was clearly not the only person in his life, just as he was not the only one in hers. These reasonable considerations became increasingly desperate and forced as she reached the clearing and spied the youthful and smart figure of Raoul stood waiting there- immediately she froze and felt her face flood with embarrassed colour. Raoul was stood holding a bouquet of ostentatious and lavish flowers, flowers that would be suitable for a young man of the gentry courting a fine lady, not a gentleman creeping through the woods to secretly meet his once childhood friend, now gypsy slave.
Gazing at the flowers, she felt an odd feeling twist in her chest- almost like déjà vu again, and for some reason she felt that she had seen Raoul holding flowers for her before. She was in a room, a room filled with sweet flowers, overflowing bouquets of them, and she was laughing and flushed and excited...but there was something lingering in the dark, at the back of the room, something or someone watching over her with stern eyes, as if telling her that she should not be distracted-
"Christine!" he exclaimed as he caught sight of her, his voice pulling her out of her trance, trembling a little with the peculiar thoughts that had filled her head, and he immediately dashed over to her with a huge smiled plastered on his face. He appeared to be so genuinely happy that she felt incredibly guilty, forcing a smile as he presented the brightly coloured array of flowers to her with an expert flourish, even laughing a little as if to say 'oh, my, what a surprise'. "These are for you- a woman in town arranges them, and this particular bouquet was so bright and vibrant that I thought you might like them. They might cheer you up and bring some colour to you today."
Bouquet. Why did that word seem so sinister? Christine cursed herself silently, wondering what on earth was wrong with her today. I am thinking too hard about this conversation, she thought angrily, I need to stop worrying and just go along with whatever Raoul says- he is my friend!
"Raoul, thank you, they're very colourful." She replied a little shakily, taking the flowers and breathing in their overpoweringly sweet scent, biting back the words she honestly thought- they were pretty, yes, and very bright, but she had seen enough bright things in this clan to last her a lifetime. For some inexplicable reason, she knew that she preferred far less showy flowers- something simple and dark, with great symbolic meaning, such as a single red rose, was far more appealing. The bright bouquet, arranged so spectacularly, seemed to droop in comparison to the thought of a beautiful, striking red rose, with luscious petals resembling velvet and sharp thorns, only a single leaf on the stem, accompanied by a delicate black ribbon- Christine froze. Black ribbon? Why would she think of a rose having black ribbon around it?! She was truly going mad, and she was frustrated by her lack of comprehension as to why. "But you know that I cannot take these into the camp with me. They'll suspect, ask questions as to where I got them from..."
"Can't you say an admirer sent them to you? Compliments to your singing?"
Christine felt so shaken by the strange paths of thought that her mind was taking today, she wanted to get rid of the dratted flowers as soon as possible- it was taking every inch of her self control not to simply throw them to the ground and curl in on herself, her stomach swirling with the nausea of fright and confusion. Her mind felt like an enemy, something she didn't understand, and it was making her start to panic.
"I have not sung since Emilian joined the clan again. He forbids us opening to the public, at least until he has devised precisely what we will feature." She said shakily. "He is a beast- I know he is planning to turn the clan into a freak show spectacle of some kind. I just hope I am out of the clan when that happens."
Raoul shivered to hear the words, thinking of Erik, but Christine did not notice his pale face. She was too busy staring down at the floor, plucking a few of the duller flowers from the bouquet and grasping them lightly in one hand, making it look as if she had picked them herself- a compromise. Raoul smiled at this and sat down on one of the huge moss carpeted logs, gesturing for Christine to join him, and it occurred to him as they sat together that if she were not a bare footed, wild haired gypsy, they would resemble a conventional couple out for a Sunday stroll through the woods.
"Speaking of plans, Erik and Nadir are currently putting our plan into action. They're hunting down a good location for us to stage the escape." Raoul grinned, happy to reveal this detail to her in light of what she had just said, and happier still to move away from romanticised thoughts. Romance and the complicated issue of his and Erik's long standing feud would wait until after Christine had been rescued- there was no point in torturing himself with it now, and although Raoul knew that very well, he couldn't help but wonder what she would do if he kissed her now.
Christine smiled back at Raoul, suddenly ecstatic- so that was why Erik had come to visit her, he was busy trying to get her out of the clan as soon as possible! It was such a sweet release to all the silly worries spiralling round and round in her head that Christine actually managed to feel happy that she was sat with Raoul, the unease and the mortification starting to ebb away.
It's wrong to exist in such a way that Erik's actions control my emotions, she thought distantly, but I don't care- I can't help it.
"That is excellent news Raoul!" she laughed. "So the plan is going ahead?! That's brilliant! Will they hire a theatre?"
"That was the discussed plan of action, yes." He replied, his eyes searching her face as if he might find something crucial there- as if waiting for a reaction. "I expect what they'll do is advertise you as a real show, obtaining a real audience, to make the whole thing that much more believable so that barbaric Emilian remains oblivious."
"Wait- what?!" Christine gasped in horror, the realisation suddenly dawning on her that she would actually have to sing to a large audience on a real stage to make this plan go ahead. She had sung to people before, yes, but never on a stage, with hundreds of pairs of eyes watching her in total silence, critical and sceptical and attuned to search out the slightest error! She would be nervous anyway, especially as there was mention of having to go through a trapdoor, so how on earth was she meant to give a good performance and avoid being booed off stage?! "I can't sing to a huge audience, on a stage-! I'll be terrified, and nervous as it is- I can't do it! I simply can't! What will I even sing, Raoul? I don't know if I can do it accompanying an orchestra or some musician I don't know! Oh goodness, this is going to go so badly!"
"Of course you'll be able to do it Christine!" Raoul argued.
"You don't know that!" Christine argued back, fear dancing in her eyes. "I'm not made for singing on a stage- in a gypsy camp, yes, or in front of my own father , yes, but not on a stage in front of highly paying spectators!"
"How can you say that?" he demanded. "Of course you're made to sing on the stage! I know you can do it, you have done it!"
"What?" she asked in a hesitant voice, frowning at him, and Raoul instantly swallowed all the praising comments he had been about to make about her and the Opera Populaire, once again realising that he had spoken about her past- a past he was supposed to know nothing about. She looked suspicious this time, her eyes narrowed, trying to work out if she had misheard him.
"What do you mean, what?" he challenged, flustered, and she looked shocked at the tone he used. "Anyway, let's not babble on about such insignificant matters- you can always ask Erik to help you, maybe even accompany you, if you're truly nervous."
"I would ask him to do so, but I haven't spoken to him properly in some time now." She sounded distant again, even a little wistful, and Raoul could clearly see that she was desperate to see Erik- there was so doubt about the fact that she would have preferred to see Erik this afternoon, not him, just as she had already considered consulting Erik about the plan, not him. Raoul's chest constricted tightly and he felt as if he could barely breathe, his head feeling light and dizzy. This was Christine- Christine who, had he not acted so brainlessly, might well be married to him by now, smiling happily by his side. This was Christine, the girl he had loved for many years and the girl he had sworn to follow to the ends of the earth. This was Christine- the girl who had told him that she loved him. Surely there must be some of that love lying dormant in her heart? Part of her soul must belong to him- she couldn't have the brand of Erik running through her blood and her heart entirely?! Part of her was surely his.
"Raoul, are you alright?" her soft voice made him glance up at her, sure that his face resembled that of a fever patient. She looked concerned, reaching out and touching his cheek with a cool, dainty hand and he groaned at the touch, making her rip her hand away and stare at him as if he were utterly mad. "I think you should go back to wherever you are staying and get some rest- you look dreadful!"
"No, no, Christine, please. I feel just fine- I wanted to talk to you, and so that is exactly what I shall do." He murmured, taking her attention fully. "I know all about the plan from Erik and Nadir's point of view, but what about you? What about the details of the future? What will you do afterwards, Christine, once you are free of this place for good?"
"Well I'm sure first of all, I will scream in happiness and let myself run wild." She laughed, thinking of what it would feel like to be utterly free. Raoul smiled at this, liking the sound of laughter in her voice. "And once I have finished being mad and insane, I will go to Paris, and stay with Erik at Monsieur Khan's home." She smiled, blissfully ignorant of all the worries that instantaneously filled Raoul's head.
Had Erik and Nadir ever considered what would actually happen if world famous soprano Christine Daae waltzed back into Paris after a long disappearance? Had they thought about what people might think, or say, or do if they found out that she had no memories- what sort of strain that would put her under? Even before Raoul had fled the city that night, with her unconscious body in tow, the Parisians and the press had gone mad, rabid for details and lapping up the drama of the story- a kidnapped young woman, a chandelier crash, scandal and disaster whichever way you looked at it. The managers had been forced to resign- Raoul had found out from a newspaper on his journey to find Christine- and Paris was still alive with the excitement regarding the mystery. The hope was that returning to Paris would restore Christine's memories to her, but what if it didn't? Then, it would be up to Erik to spoon feed her the fragments of her past he was happy for her to know, creating the ideal situation for him to be free of any wrongdoing. He might even team up with the Giry woman who was so fond of him- Raoul's hurt, angry and paranoid mind was restless with the endless possibilities of what might happen.
He had told himself to wait, until her memories were restored, to fight for her love. But what if they didn't come back? He would have surrendered her over to Erik, without a fight, all because he had felt guilty regarding the complex, mysterious man. Raoul swallowed hard and tried to ignore the swirl in his stomach as he thought of Erik leaving him and Christine alone in the woods that night, giving them that time alone, an act of kindness that he had never imagined was possible from such a man, such a rival...
"You can't do that, Christine." He spoke softly, hurting with the guilt but aching with love. Christine's face first dropped into a gape of shock, then of offence. "Please, use your brain, consider what you have just said. A young woman, a respectable young woman, cannot live alone with two men to whom she has no relation. It's preposterous to consider that such a thing would work- you would have to pretend to be Erik's daughter, or sister, or...or his wife just to be able to go out and about without people spitting at you, thinking you to be some sort of prostitute! Do you really want that, Christine? To have to pretend to be married to a man, just so you can live in a city you dreamt of once or twice?"
"Raoul I don't understand you, at all. Preposterous? Why on earth is it preposterous?" she demanded with an icy edge to the words, reminding Raoul with a jolt that he wasn't supposed to be making her angry- the aim was to be wooing her! "If you recall, I don't have any relations- even if I did have, I don't know them. Erik is a true friend to me; he has given me so much. His promise to take me to Paris is a promise of a future, and I don't see how that selfless act is anything but kind and entirely respectable! And even if I had to pretend to be his sister or his wife to be able to hold my head up high, I wouldn't mind that- Erik is an amazing man and I would be proud to claim some relation to him. He has given me a future."
"A future? Christine, that is...that is ludicrous!" Raoul argued passionately, seeing that Christine was not at all sympathetic to the pain in his voice- in fact, she looked furious, her eyes narrowed and her mouth pursed into a thin line of irritation. "I know you must be angry with me, but I mean only to ensure you are doing the right thing. You cannot go about thinking of some grand future plan when you are still unsure as to your past! Don't you want to discover what the lost eleven years of your life hold- to discover who you really are?"
The words reminded Christine of the tearful conversation she had had with Pali's wife, how the older woman had seemed to harsh and unfeeling towards her plight as she had told Christine to stop lamenting and to live with what she had, for fear of ruining that too. Christine had understood very little of the words then, doubting that she would ever be able to accept her fate and move on from it, but now it was as if that firm advice was the truest sense she had ever known- she knew, seeing the anguish in Raoul's eyes, that she had to make him understand just as she now understood. It wasn't about the past- it was about the future. If only he could understand, perhaps he would cease to be so upset with her, and they might be able to return to a normal, happy conversation.
"Raoul, I think you misunderstand everything about my life. You told me that I am eighteen years old; well, that is young, young enough that my life is only just beginning. The future and the path I forge for myself in life can flourish just as well as anyone else's- not knowing my past does not affect my chances in the future. In a warped view, I am free of regret, of guilt, of the burden of the past." She tried to speak calmly, attempting to reason with him, but his eyes never lost that stubborn resolve, opaque and hard. He wasn't even trying to understand her, to accept her words, and that made Christine feel hurt and angry. "And to continue to protest to your comments about dignity and the opinions of the masses...to be honest, Raoul, I don't care at all for propriety. Erik is my truest friend in the world. He will not use me, he will not expect me to act as a mistress or a slave or a prostitute- I see no problem in wanting a future that features him. He...he means a great deal to me, Raoul, I'm sure you have noticed."
"So you are already decided, your future is set in stone?" Raoul asked in a shaking whisper, standing up from the mossy log, suddenly exploding into a twisted mix of sobbing and shouting, leaving Christine to stare at him in horror. "That's your future is it, Christine?! Your future is Erik?! I suppose that you will do anything for him- I suppose that with your sudden abandon of propriety you will do whatever he asks! You will dance to his tune, will you? Will you serve him and obey his every whim? You will do whatever he asks because he has given you the promise of a future? Will you pleasure him- will you be his little gypsy whore?!"
"Raoul!" Christine stood up too, exclaiming the words with tears of her own springing to her eyes, hurt by his accusations and by his filthy thoughts. "I don't understand you- you've gone mad! How dare you ask me such questions, as if you have a right to know?! How dare you act in this...this disgusting way, as if you are checking up on me, ensuring that I am not spoilt goods! You scare me, Raoul, this intensity-! I last knew you when I was seven, SEVEN! You act as if you- as if you were in love with me!"
And that was when the decision not to try and seduce her was broken, for that was the moment when Raoul seized her and kissed her. He had not kissed a woman since over a year ago and that meant he was a little clumsy as he crushed his mouth to her own, grabbing her in such a fumbling manner that he could swear he heard her yelp in pain. The kiss he inflicted on her was not at all the romantic, passionate embrace he had wanted- if anything, he came across as desperate and inexperienced, and he could feel her struggling to free herself from his grasp, her lips motionless and her whole body rigid and unfeeling. It was so different to last time- last time he had kissed her and it had tasted of excitement and young love and tinged just slightly with the adrenaline of fear and she had put her arms around him and smiled up at him with nothing but love in her eyes. This...this kiss was nothing compared to that, and Raoul felt all the energy leave him- he dropped her from his gasp and stepped back, collapsing back onto the log, and Christine knelt at his feet, peering at him with concern.
"Raoul, I'm sorry I snapped at you like that, you're clearly unwell." She whispered, nothing but sympathy in her eyes, and that made Raoul feel wretched- his kiss had the power to make her look at him as if he were an invalid, not breathless with desire or passion or even admiration. He was nothing but a fool to her- all her interest was already held by Erik. Oddly, it wasn't that Erik had stolen her interest that made Raoul feel so awful; it was more the fact that he was failing to reclaim any of it. This feeling of uselessness was not down to Erik's actions- it was solely his own. "I think you should go, you need rest- you look dreadful."
"I'm sorry Christine, I don't know what came over me..." he lied, sounding hoarse, and she shook her head frantically.
"No, no, please don't apologise. I'm sure you were just trying to advocate my best interests- this situation is hard on us all. You haven't seen everything that Erik has done for me...he must seem a total stranger to you, but to me, he isn't." She explained in a soft voice. "It's funny, really, but he has never felt like a stranger to me. Ever since we first met, he has always seemed much more than a random man in a chance meeting. It scared me, the way I looked at him and my heart seemed to think it recognised him, but then I suppose that with everything that has happened to me I can't expect my instincts to function normally anymore."
"I just...I just wanted to make sure that you are not so devoted to Erik simply because you need an escape. I have money- I could give you enough that you could flee and make your own way in the world, alone, if you so wanted to..." Raoul trailed off miserably, seeing how her eyes had lowered to the floor, as if she felt embarrassed. He became gentle now, over his fit of hysteria, and he realised that he must come to terms with the fact that Christine as she was now would never love anyone but Erik- it did not necessarily mean that when her memories returned, the fact would remain. "But I can see it isn't that. You love him, don't you?"
She didn't answer, but it was all there in her eyes, so she didn't need to. And in a strange way, it made Raoul feel relieved . Because if a once murderous Phantom could change his ways so much so that he won the heart of such a woman, perhaps there was hope that he too could change and cease to be the immature, snivelling, materialistic Vicomte whom was scorned and labelled still an ignorant child.
Raoul de Chagny felt as if he had aged considerably this morning, and all things considered, it wasn't a bad thing at all.