A Whole New World Chapter Seven, a phantom of the opera fanfic

Disclaimer: I do not own the story of the Phantom of the Opera. I'm borrowing the story and its characters without the intention of making any profit from it. The original story belongs to Gaston Leroux, Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber, Mrs. Susan Kay and other authors who have copyrighted their versions of the Phantom. The song used belongs to James Blunt and is from his album Back To Bedlam © 2004 Custard Records.

A Whole New World

Chapter 7

I guess it's time I run far, far away; find comfort in pain,
All pleasure's the same: it just keeps me from trouble.
Hides my true shape, like Dorian Gray.
I've heard what they say, but I'm not here for trouble.
It's more than just words: it's just tears and rain.

Tears and Rain by James Blunt

Erik really wasn't surprised when his first thought upon waking up had been of her. Christine. What did surprise him, however, was that his second thought was not of her, but of the girl in his household, who was ironically named Christine Daaé. He had expected to be able to forget about them both, but he discovered it wasn't quite that easy.

By dinnertime he had grown so frustrated with his inability to concentrate that he decided he just had to see that Christine Daaé, whoever she might be.

And when it was time for his late-night drink, he had asked John to organise that meeting as soon as possible. He couldn't wait any more than was absolutely necessary.

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When Christine finished her duties and returned to their bedroom, she found only Isabelle there.

"Oh, hi," the young maid greeted Christine. "So you've finished at last. You really don't have to be so careful. Trust me; no-one cares whether the corners of room 101 are sparkling or not."

Christine frowned at that. "But it's our job and we should do it as well as possible. Have everyone else finished already?"

"But of course. You know Lorette and Lauren. When have they ever paid much attention to their duties?" said Isabelle offhandedly. But then, remembering something, her eyes lit up and she turned to Christine: "I have much more exiting news for you. We are to meet our Master tomorrow. Great, isn't it?"

"Monsieur Destler? That's surprising. I thought… Didn't the girl who works in the kitchens, Marie or Maria-

"Marianne," Isabelle corrected.

"- say that he was a bit reclusive and that she has never seen him?"

Isabelle rolled her eyes. "That's exactly why it's so great to meet him. The others have worked here for years and still they haven't seen more than just a glimpse of him. We just came and already we're meeting him. Don't you think it's exiting?"

"Absolutely wonderful. What time do we have to be ready?" said Christine dryly. Her voice held none of the excitement so obvious in Isabelle's. She was too tired to even be able to think properly, let alone consider this meeting or the man himself.

"After he has his breakfast. Around ten or so. The meeting will take place in the 'smaller library', whatever that may be. But we were told to go to the kitchens first. Mrs. Hutchison will take us from there."

"The smaller library? This we were not shown, were we?"

"No, I don't think so. But they only showed us the ones in need of cleaning, not all rooms. It will take forever to get to know every single room in this house," said Isabelle with a slight smile. "This is the biggest house I've ever seen. But then again, I haven't really seen too many houses. After all, I was born and raised –"

Christine knew that cutting off people was both improper and offensive, but she also realised this could go on forever, as Isabelle was rather talkative. She'd go on and on about her home village and all the people there and then she would start with 'what if's', like what if she was born in some other place and so on.

Christine really wasn't in the mood for this, so she risked offending her friend and stopped her. "Alright, thank you for telling me. But I'm really tired; I think I'll go to bed now. I haven't slept properly since… for a long time."

"Of course. You look like you need some rest. Goodnight and sleep well." Luckily, Isabelle didn't seem to be insulted or offended.

The room fell into silence as Christine lay down on the bed and closed her eyes.

It was some time later when the silence was broken by Christine.

"Isabelle? Did you… did you hear music playing last night?"

"Music? No, I don't think so. At least I don't remember. Why do you ask?"

"Well, I vaguely remember something… But it was probably just a dream. Goodnight," Christine replied.

"Goodnight."

It wasn't long until both girls fell asleep.

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It was raining when Christine woke up.

It continued to pour as she went through her duties and before she even noticed, it was a quarter to ten. She quickly finished the room she had been cleaning and hurried to the bedroom she shared with Isabelle, Lauren and Lorette to try to make herself as presentable as possible before meeting her Master. Then, accompanied by Isabelle and Lorette, they hurried to the kitchens located quite close to their room. There they found Mrs. Hutchison already waiting for them along with others. She said nothing, merely frowned at them and asked them all to follow her.

She led them to a sitting room of sorts, ordered them all to sit down and disappeared behind a door. She came out five minutes later with a list in her hands.

She called André's name and told him to go through the same door she herself had used. After André it was Julien and after him François. Then it was Lorette and Lauren. After Lauren, Isabelle was called. Christine was already beginning to think it would never be her turn when she realised there actually was no-one else left.

Which meant she would be the next one.

She turned her attention from her hands to the window and the grey curtain of rain behind it.

She had to admit it; she was extremely anxious.

She was surprised to find that she was nervous. Of course, the man she was about to see for the first time was the one who provided her with a job (and therefore with a roof over her head and a loaf of bread in her hands) but still he was just a man. Probably like the aristocrats like all those she had met back in France: an ignorant, stuck-up fool who cared for nothing but money.

Or he could easily be nice, like Lady Matthew, she thought. Why else would he have agreed to employ them all? And surely Lady's friends were as nice as she herself was.

Then again, she had never met the Lady herself and had only heard rumours. There was nothing to prove her that Lady Matthew really was as amiable as she had been made out to be.

Christine's further wonderings were interrupted by Mrs. Hutchison, who called her name. Realising then that the girl was the only occupant of the room, she simply held the door open for her.

As soon as Christine had stepped over the threshold, the door was closed behind her. She found herself standing in a large room. Its walls were covered with bookcases and a few well-chosen paintings. On the floor there was a beautiful Persian carpet that seemed to remind her of another she had seen somewhere. Maybe in Raoul's study? No…

She took another step forward…

…and froze.

It cannot be! The man sitting behind the desk was a man she new very well indeed.

Erik… Oh please, it cannot be! I must be hallucinating!

She had to fight the urge to run away. Breathing deeply, she braced herself for whatever was about to come.

He raised his head and for a brief moment, their eyes locked.

Christine… Erik didn't feel half as surprised as he thought he should have. So it was her. Wasn't that what he had expected, deep in his subconscious? After all, how many women could there possibly be in this world who were named Christine Daaé?

But still. He hadn't been ready to ever meet her again when she had left him behind that night and gone with that boy.

And now she was here. Standing so close to him.

He wasn't going to show any emotion. She was just an acquaintance of his and he was merely surprised that she was working for him. That was all. No more, no less.

He took a deep breath. And another. Just in case. Making sure he was not going to have a heart attack right there and now, he stood up and took a few steps toward her.

Her eyes were closed and she seemed to be shaking. He touched his mask lightly, to ensure himself it was still in place. Then, his emotions completely in check, he started talking: "Madame La Vicomtesse."

Her eyes flew open upon hearing his voice, one that she had loved so much once. But he continued, paying her no attention whatsoever. It was as if he wasn't really talking to her, but to someone or something else. The wall, perhaps.

"I must admit that I'm surprised, milady. You are by far the last person I expected to discover among my staff. May I ask, what brings you here?"

Christine was astounded by his calmness. When she recognised it to be him sitting behind the table, she had expected a screaming, shouting, throwing things. Anything but this. She had seen his temper and knew how mad he could get. And she remembered well enough the pain in his eyes when she had left him behind. Back then, she had reassured herself with the thought that it was what he wanted; he had sent her away himself, hadn't he? Thinking back to it later, she was not quite so sure.

But whatever the circumstances, she had left behind a broken man. And yet he was standing there as if nothing had ever happened between them. How could he possibly be so calm?

He could feel all his old demons coming out of hiding. No matter how hard he tried, the sudden desire and the love he had had so long ago resurfaced. She was so near, he could reach out and touch her…

No he couldn't. He didn't love her any more, of course not. She was just another painful aspect of his past. He'd get rid of her and go back to the life he had lived before he read her name on that paper.

Damn her, he inwardly cursed. She seemed to have that tendency of appearing exactly when he thought his life was finally his. She came and she took. And then she left, leaving behind only bitter memories and broken souls.

"Is something wrong, Madame? You seem a bit pale to me." His voice was as far from caring as possible, she thought. The question was so empty and pointless, yet it required an answer.

"I… I'm no longer a Madame," she managed to utter.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I caught that." His voice was still colder than ice.

"I no longer am Madame de Chagny. In fact, I never was."

Her remark was met with silence.

They just stood there for a while, neither of them able to say anything. Erik had to force his mouth to voice the question.

"What do you mean by that?"

He no longer spoke to her with his earlier frigidness. Now his voice was full of emotions Christine couldn't understand. All she knew was that this last question suddenly seemed to be one of the hardest she had ever had to answer.

"You see…Raoul, I mean, Monsieur Le Vicomte De Chagny, he – he…"

She stopped, unable to go on. She had tried to bury herself in work from the day she arrived at Lady Matthew's house; she had tried to do anything to keep herself from thinking about him.

"Well?"

His voice cut through her like a knife. She wanted nothing more that to turn around and run away. But she knew very well that she couldn't.

"He died before our wedding." There. She had done it; she had said it out loud. That wasn't so hard, was it?

"I see."

Again silence. What is going to happen now, Christine wondered.

Erik turned around and went back to the table. Using his last fraction of self-control, he once again placed on his face that stony mask that hid all his real emotions.

"You may go."

And with that, he sat down and once again dived into paperwork. Christine curtseyed, even though she doubted he even noticed her any more. Then she turned and left the room practically running.

Once outside, the tears could come.

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As soon as the door closed behind her, Erik's self-control crumbled like the walls of Jericho.

It's impossible, impossible, impossible. It just cannot be! My Lord, why do you punish me yet again? Have you not had enough time to torture me already?

He stood, his hands leaning heavily on the table in front of him. There were those memories, playing over and over in his head.

Angel of Music you deceived me!

Christine forgive me, please forgive me… I did it all for you and all for nothing!

The memories were like a piece if music: they started with a piano, then came a crescendo until it reached forte and even forte fortissimo.

Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known?

And then it was the diminuendo and then the end, a beautiful piano pianissimo.

Christine I love you…

Was he truly cursed to love her forever?

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Once again, too long. I'm sorry, I really am. It was an extremely difficult chapter to write. Also, I was in Egypt since December 30th and only just got back yesterday. I actually finished the chapter right before leaving, it had to be betaed before uploading, so that took some time, too.

But to make up for it, this is the longest chapter so far and it's betaed, as you already gathered. For that, I have to thank bobmcbobbob1 who did it. You have no idea how grateful I am!

Next chapter should come sooner, as I've already written some of it. Or actually, the next part will be the second interlude.

Please, please, please tell me what you think about it. As I already said, it was a very difficult chapter to write and I'm not entirely happy with it (in fact, I think I don't like it at all). So your opinions are vital.

I would like to note that from now on I won't reply to your reviews in the chapters but using the review reply feature on ffdotnet. However, if you have a question and can't log in or don't have an account, I'll still answer that in the next chapter after you review.

Thank you's go out to Twinkle22, Pertie, bobmcbobbob1, lurkerphan(this one's quite a bit longer;D), scully35, MetalMyersJason, moderndaybattosai(hehe… thanks!) and tink20 for reviewing. I'll go and reply to your reviews as soon as I've uploaded this.

Once more, huge thanks to Larissa for helping me with it and to everyone else: I hope you liked this chapter. Please review and tell me what you think.