I'd say that I'm sorry this took so long, but I spent a lot of time editing. Disclaimer I do not own the Phantom of the Opera. Did you really think I did?
Raoul forlornly watched his love walk off onto the gathering night. Oh Christine what have I done? he thought with anguished. He turned around to go upstairs and be alone, when he saw his brother standing there, studying him.
"You will thank me for this later, Raoul. Maybe not for some time, but you'll see," the elder brother said softly. He had a faraway look in his eyes, as though he was thinking about something else.
"What would youknow, Philippe?" Raoul asked bitterly.
"More than you know. I'll tell you sometime. Just remember, years from now, you will thank me." Philippe sounded like he was trying to convince himself.
"I doubt it." Raoul pushed past him, angry at his brother.
Meanwhile, Christine made her way to the train station. It wasn't far away, and she was walking quickly. Damn them! She though angrily Why does Raoul's family ruin everything? Inside, she was aching. All she really wanted at that moment was Madame Giry and Meg. They were the closest thing she had to family, and telling it to them would make her feel better. She needed a shoulder to cry on.
Normally, that was what Raoul was there for. In any other circumstance, she would have run to him and told him everything that happened. But Raoul isn't here. Why didn't he stop them? Christine quickened her pace, not wanted to answer her internal question.
It wasn't fair, really, the tree of them working together like that. She knew that if it were just one of them, Raoul and she would still be together. They probably got other relatives involved. She scowled. If she only had just one ally, maybe she would still be in Raoul's house. They'd be laughing and talking in the drawing room. What I wouldn't give to have it all back!
Christine arrived at the station. That evening, it was quiet. No, not just quiet, deserted. Christine was the only one there. What's going on? There was no one there. It seemed like no one had been there in a while. She walked cautiously to the ticket window. It was obviously deserted.
"Closed," a sign read,"due to repair on the tracks. We are sorry for the inconvenience. Hopefully, we shall resume running trains in the spring."
Christine's initial reaction was rage. Her anger at Raoul and his family bubbled to the surface. Inconvenience! She nearly spluttered the word aloud. Inconvenience! You call severing my link to the closest thing I have to a mother and a sister an inconvenience!
It took several minutes for her to calm down. Then, all she felt was desperation. Now she had nowhere to go. Taking a carriage was definitely out of the question; it was too expensive. The opera house was under construction, no one could stay there. It looked like she would have to find a place of her own until she could get to the Girys.
The prospect of living on her own frightened Christine. At heart, she was little more than a child, and she was scared. Madame Giry I need you now! For know, though the real question was where she would stay that night.
As if they would find her a place to stay, Christine's feet seemed to take her where they wanted to go. For a while, she just wandered around Paris, half in a daze as her thoughts chased each other around her head. Where can I go? It almost became constant. Where can I go?
So far, the only idea that occurred to Christine was to go from door to door. She dismissed the idea quickly. Pride and dignity wouldn't let her become a beggar.
On she wandered. Dark fell. Christine began to feel that her search for somewhere to sleep would be futile, at least for that night. So Christine drew her shawl more tightly around her shoulders and marched on.
Randomly, the girl began to wonder what time it was. After a few more minutes of aimless wandering, Christine found a clock in a square. 10:37, it read. Definitely time for bed.
With a sigh, Christine gave up and saw that she would have to sleep outside, for that night at least. She was left wondering a few things. Where will be the most comfortable? What if someone wakes me up? What if I talk in my sleep? A thousand other questions buzzed around the girl's head.
Slowly, icy tendrils of fear got a grip on Christine. She was drained, both physically and emotionally. The events of the day had worn her out. Her body was screaming to she needed rest. She felt alone and vulnerable, like a child separated from their mother in a store.
Finally, she came to a spot across from the damaged opera house. This will be as good as anywhere else I suppose. With a sigh, she laid down awkwardly and said her prayers. When she still thought that Erik was the Angel of Music, she always said her prayers to him; he promised her that he would bring them straight to god. Some angel he turned out to be. I wonder if he's under there now, she thought as she glanced down the street at the opera house.
It took her almost no time to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep. Christine could sleep through anything; a fact Meg and the other ballet girls always teased her about.
"Christine, you could sleep through anything!" they always said, "even Carlotta's singing!"
So Christine never stirred when a mysterious man who had come from the direction of the opera house lifted her up and carried her to Rue Scribe around one o'clock. The streets in the area were all deserted, so no one witnessed what happened. Because of her deep sleep, Christine had no inkling that anything happened to her whatsoever until she woke up that morning in a different place than where she went to sleep that night.
When she opened her eyes, she knew exactly where she was. Oh god! How did I get here of all places!
Thank you to all that reviewed! Now, go do it again!