Desolation Dreamed Of

Of Distance and Da Capo

Scales. Far too many scales. I'm flat. I'm flat. I'm flat. Raise eyebrows. Perfect. Steady now, don't go sharp. Change exercises. Change his mind. Change to aria. Soar up, up, up, and away to an E and back down. Crescendo, rubato, a tempo. Voice crack. Did my voice just crack? After twenty minutes of tedious scales. Violin has stopped playing. Move to table to my left, reach for water, sip. Sip more. Sip all. Place cup back down. Resounding clink. Was that a knock? Just my imagination. Pick up aria and soar up, up…

Christine was getting frustrated with herself, but for some reason, her angel was calm and quiet. He had no disappointed remark or flared temper—just resolute acceptance. Still, her voice was not meeting even her own expectations. She could do better and she knew it. And so, after she had set down the now empty glass of water, she took a deep breath, just about to begin once more when she heard a faint click.
"Have you locked the door?" she asked simply, faintly wondering if she had done anything wrong.

"Yes," he responded with an equal air of nonchalance.

"Why?" She smiled slightly, nearly amused by his gesture.

"I worry about unwanted visitors, my dear." The smile turned into a laugh as her mind mulled over the comment—who would interrupt them? After all these years?

"You're not whispering in my ear anymore," she said automatically, her tone still light and relaxed.

"May I not do as I please?" It had only the slightest bite to it, and her smile faded away.

"Of course." She bowed her head submissively.

"I have something to show you." She raised her head, blinking curiously.

"But I can't—…"

Has he forgotten? Surely angels can't forget.

"Something you don't need eyes to see."

Understanding had just emerged in her features when she felt a cold hand grasp hers, spindly fingers just barely touching hers. Smooth as porcelain, and just as lifeless. Christine gasped and instinctively tried to pull away, but the hands that felt so gentle and so fragile held on with resolute firmness.

"Is that you?" she asked breathlessly, barely able to get the words to escape from her tense throat.

"I'm as real as you make me." She was half convinced that her heartbeat could be heard echoing through the room, but she nonetheless kept her breathing steady. "I'd like to take you away."

"Away?" The words were quiet, the shaky word uttered from trembling lips.

"I want to take you to my home where no one can find you."

That should scare me. That should horrify me. I should wrench my hand away and run to the door in terror. I should… But I can't. His voice… So melodic. I want to go. I want to go!

"Where is your home?" It was tentative. "Is it time for me to go?" She felt her hand unconsciously squeeze his ever so slightly.

"Oh, my Christine." It was horribly tender, spoken with heart-wrenching adoration. "Not yet."

Before he had even finished his last words, she had continued, her voice running to catch his. "Lead me." She raised her other hand and placed it gently over his. Her senses were being clouded. Her already foggy grey vision was turning black as pitch. His words were become hushed ever so slightly as her hearing which she depended on so dearly was slowly leaving her.

"Do not be afraid," he tried to reassure her as if he knew that she was gradually losing her grip on reality.

"I'm not." It was a definitive statement, a testament to her certainty.

She only had time to hear her name being called vaguely in the distance before she was surrounded with damp walls and the earthy smell of dirt and rock.

We are underground. We are descending. Angels live in heaven. I don't understand. Hand on wall. Dirt crumbling beneath my fingers. Drip. Drip. Drip. Where is the water coming from? Hand to rock. Angel's hand, grabbing mine.

"You mustn't touch."

Yes. Yes, I mustn't. Crunch of gravel. It's not crisp in my ears. It's muddy.

His hand hadn't left hers after his small reprimanding. He was holding it loosely, leading her without a word. She couldn't help but feel she was disturbing something. Despite her distorted hearing she could feel the difference between the angel's countenance and her own. There was a precious silence here that her feet disrupted, while the being in front of her moved with deft agility and grace. Each rustle of clothing was magnified in the stagnant air. It was cold. The first snow had just come but this was different. She was more chilled here than above ground yet there was no wind, no trace of outside air permeating the still and suffocating passage long forgotten by human-kind.

It was becoming difficult to hear anything at all now, her feet numb to the feeling of earth beneath her.

I'm flying…

Just as the thought raced through her mind the hem of her skirt caught itself beneath her foot, and her stomach dropped as she began to fall. It seemed that everything happened at the slowest pace—her fingers grasping at the darkness and catching only air, her small shriek of surprise, and his hands catching her safely around the waist. For such a lithe being he was strong.

Time stretched as they walked and walked. She was terribly unsure of where they were, how far underground they had descended, when and if they would ever stop. He spoke not a word as they continued on, not even as they slowed to a stop and he took her other hand into his. They stepped slowly, tentatively, onto shaky ground. Guiding her to the floor, he released her hands.

I am alone. He has left me. Is that water?

The dulled sounds of waves lapping against gravel and the side of a wooden surface met her ears. She reached down and felt moving water beneath her numb fingertips, icy cold.

"Keep your hands away," he said, making no move to stop her. "There are creatures in the lake. They might steal you away if you disturb them."

His voice was muddled, and she could barely comprehend what he was saying to her. The words were echoing in her mind, and she pulled her hand out slowly, ignoring the drops of water marring her dress. And then silence. A gentle rocking put her to sleep and she knew no more.

It was too easy. Perhaps I should have given myself a challenge, but few things challenge me anymore.

Before she came to our lesson, I set out her water. The same crystal glass on the same table, everything in place just as it had been for years. But just one little change—laudanum. Interesting how a few drops of a simple liquid can change everything. She sang poorly, but I said nothing. Would she wonder at my complacency? But I watched her drink the water in one gulp and I knew it was over. She was mine.

And then that damned fop came. I knew he would, and I had a plan. I would make him squirm, and I would revel in his agony. I spoke to the whole room, not just into Christine's ear as she was accustomed, just loud enough for him to make out my words.

"Have you locked the door?" I was proud, for her words held no fear.

"Yes," I said with equal simplicity and confidence.

"Why?" I could see a smile forming on her lips, and a ghost of a grin flickered over my face. Not only was her tone serving my own selfish needs, but that boy outside heard every word and I knew it was killing him.

"I worry about unwanted visitors, my dear." Just for you, Chagny.

"You're not whispering in my ear anymore," she remarked matter-of-factly. It was for these reasons I loved her. She was not frightened of me and was not afraid to speak candidly in my presence.

"May I not do as I please?" I reserved my commanding tone, for it was no longer a playful game. She would respond in accordance, bending to my will.

"Of course." Perfection.

"I have something to show you." My words were calculated, for I knew I could scare her away if I was not somewhat careful. She was dancing just beyond my fingertips, and soon I would have her, mind and soul.

"But I can't—…"

"Something you don't need eyes to see." She was too focused on the physical world around her. She did not understand, nor would she until she had the opportunity to reside in my world for a time.

I stood at a distance, watching her, anticipating her movements. I stood at a precipice. Everything would change in a few moments. Those hands at her sides—I would touch them! I would take her and steal her away. I would stand in front of her and stare into her eyes without worrying about being caught. This time, she would know I was there.

I approached her slowly, silently, reaching out for her hand. I willed my fingertips not to shake, and they stood still. Countless times, I had imagined this scene and I had always been in control. I would be in control. My fingers wrapped around hers lightly and when she retracted, I held tight.

"Is that you?" I couldn't speak for a moment. I had never imagined past that first touch. I never knew how she would respond to me.

"I'm as real as you make me," I said in a low voice, for it was true. My whole existence rested solely in her belief. If she were to lose faith, who would know me? But I could not reside on these thoughts. I had to move forward and quickly for the boy was still outside. "I'd like to take you away."

"Away?" I couldn't tell whether her trembling was from uncertainty or hope…Or fear.

"I want to take you to my home where no one can find you." She had spoken with such frankness earlier; I owed her the same courtesy.

"Where is your home?" The question, spoken just like a child, relieved me. She had not run away yet. "Is it time for me to go?" The fear was so childlike, and it tugged at my heart like nothing had before. This poor girl, thinking I would kill her. And yet she still wasn't running. She would die for me.

"Oh, my Christine." I wanted to hold her, cradle her, tell her I loved her and that nothing would harm her. "Not yet." Her next words were spoken with such willingness that they overlapped mine.

"Lead me." And that was all I needed.

"Do not be afraid." I was trying to reassure the child before me, but she needed no encouragement.

"I'm not."

Just at that moment, Chagny yelled out her name, but when she didn't turn to him, I knew the laudanum had begun to take effect. He could call all he liked, but Christine was mine. I led her through the mirror, and it was over.

Her senses were picking up the subtleties of the underground—the damp earth, the muffled noises, the still air. She was trying to understand her environment, bringing her fingers to the dirt walls, but I stopped her.

"You mustn't touch." It was gentle, and she complied by lowering her hand to her side without argument.

Her feet were loud and she knew it. She was trying so hard to quiet herself, to make her presence unknown, but the sleepiness that the laudanum induced crippled her attempts. Sweet girl, trying to be unobtrusive. I reached back for her hand and held it just a little tighter, for she wouldn't know the difference now. Numbness was taking over her body and her senses were being clouded. Soon she would remember little of our journey.

I felt her hand fall as she stumbled over her dress, and in an instant, I had her around the waist, and the proximity made me breathless for just a moment. I helped her back up, and before long we were at the shore. She would be asleep soon, for even she could not hold on much longer. She had been trying, dear girl, to cling to consciousness to see what heaven her angel was bringing her to. I took her other hand into mine, and helped her gently into the waiting boat. I sat her down and as I began to row us away, her fingers fell demurely into the lake. I watched her with amusement, before reluctantly reprimanding her.

"Keep your hands away. There are creatures in the lake. They might steal you away if you disturb them." She mustn't know that she could leave with ease.

Only a few moments after she lifted her fingers from the water, she fell asleep. It would be dreamless and she would wake up with few memories of the descent. Tomorrow would be the true test of her loyalty to her angel. Tomorrow, she would be fully conscious, aware of her decisions and of me. Tomorrow would decide our future. Tomorrow…

So sorry for the wait, guys, but that was truly the most epic chapter to write! Hope you enjoyed it!

Christine