A/N: Very short chapter, I know. But don't expect my chapters to be too long…

I chose a picture of Sierra Boggess and Hadley Fraser in the Royal Albert Hall 25th anniversary concert for the cover art. Mainly because this pic is probably one of the most adorable R/C pics out there, because… well, despite all my fangirling over Hadley, I don't like his Raoul much for obvious reasons…

Chapter 4: Talk Of Summertime

Christine's eyes fluttered open, as she realized she had fallen asleep on Élisa's shoulder. She turned to the old woman, who motherly placed her head back in its former position and caressed her cheek tenderly.

She looked at Raoul. He had fallen asleep as well. She could see the drool line spilling from his half-opened mouth, his honey-colored hair all messy, and even, if she paid very close attention despite the train's never-ending sound, she could hear him snore softly.

Suddenly, the snore became a lot louder, as Raoul seem to drift even deeper in his sleeping state. This time, Christine couldn't hold back a giggle.

"The poor thing," Élisa whispered. "It took him a while before going to sleep. And to say he's spent rough nights when he was in the Navy… Hard to believe, hey?"

Christine smiled, as she contemplated the still-boyish features on Raoul's face. The vicomte had talked with her of what he had done with the French Navy. Philippe had encouraged him to join, as a way to make him a grown man. It worked, to an extent – Raoul was now fairly resourceful, for a boy who had grown in an aristocratic class. He also had a certain experience of life: he knew that men could be cruel, debauched and careless. But instead of falling in those vices, like it happened too often with rather naïve young men, Raoul had been so genuinely disgusted his inner reaction had basically been: "Never!"

Christine didn't know about the harsher part of his sailor life, of course. She didn't need to know, anyway.

The day before, Raoul had made sure Christine wouldn't be needed at the Opera Populaire, and had asked Mme Giry if it was possible to gather her possessions since she would be away for a while. The ballet mistress and her daughter Meg had done so; Raoul had judged it was better that the singer didn't come with him. He doubted she would want to, anyway.

He had also the idea of getting Christine out of Paris – she hadn't since her father's death, anyway, and he was certain the change of air would help her greatly. The Chagnys' estate in Perros-Guirec was still there, ready to greet them, and though the visit would rather be unexpected for the servants, Raoul wasn't very difficult when it came to his service. He knew that Christine was also able to manage on her own, though he would still insist that she would be treated properly.

He still wondered, though, how the staff there would react, and he was rather afraid that Christine would be rather embarrassed. Well, there was only an elderly couple there: an old man who was the butler and the stableman all at the same time, and his wife who took care of the cooking and the household.

Élisa was to play the role of the chambermaid for Christine. The latter felt perfectly at ease with Raoul's old nurse, and Élisa would provide the perfect chaperon for both of them. A mere stranger who would see her in such a state would profess he had absolutely no doubt of her capacities.

For now, the two women remained silent. Élisa did want to start a quiet conversation with Christine, but the only subject that came to her mind was the soprano's experience as prima donna. She was curious about it, of course. She enjoyed opera, though in the way someone from the populace would enjoy it. Raoul had told her, however, that it was a subject it was best to keep untouched. Her singing was for now something she associated too much with her so-called Angel…

Christine paid closer attention to the landscape showing off in front of her eyes. The country had now become more familiar: she could recognize easily this rocky place called Brittany. She could already hear the Breton bagpipes, the biniou, and its high-pitched, hoarse cry, see the complicated, eccentric lace bonnets the peasant women and girls would wear on special occasions…

The feast of Saint Anne was coming soon, on July 26th.

Christine smiled as she remembered the festivities which took place on that day.

And finally, the train stopped at the Perros-Guirec station.

The jolt made Raoul jump out of his sleep abruptly, making him shout a rather unintelligible "Meh?" which left Christine laughing wholeheartedly.

"Oh, we're here," Raoul said, stretching out ungracefully. "What time is it?"

"Ten o'clock in the morning, young man," Élisa answered, gazing quickly at the watch the Chagnys had given her in reward of her loyal services. "For someone who has behaved like a Spartan in the last few months by waking up at seven o'clock, you should be ashamed of yourself!"

"I… I really slept that long?" Raoul asked.

"Yes," Christine replied, absolutely unable to retain herself any longer. "And you were snoring. Loudly."

"Oh." Raoul blushed, but he was unable to hide the mischievous glimmer in his eyes. He had never been able to hide his eye expressions, anyway…

He got out in a spring, and gentlemanly gave his hand to Christine to lead her out of their compartment. And once they were out of the train, Élisa was left alone to take care of the luggage.

Two careless children, who had grown up perhaps too quickly, were running on the platform, blissfully unaware of the glances they would get.

Christine gazed at the stars absent-mindedly, as she squeezed on her chest the old blanket Raoul and she had brought with them. The beach was deserted, of course. There was most certainly no one around there at eleven o'clock in the evening…

They both placed the blanket on the ground, to sit on it, until Christine, by a childhood remembrance, reminded herself that she would lay down to look at the stars, when she was with Raoul…

So she did.

Raoul remembered that detail as well. And he did the same.

"So…" Christine said, as a conversation starter. "You really did use the North Star to orientate yourself at sea?"

"I did. Well, you had to use a sextant with that. And even, they taught us about all the other constellations in the sky."

"Other constellations? Do they have stories as well?" Christine remembered the stories behind some of the stars. Daddy Daaé would tell their tales to Raoul and herself, making them discover a bit of Greek mythology at the same time…

"Not all of them, unfortunately."

Christine closed her eyes, as memories came back to her in a flash.

"Do you remember that time when Papa told us that each star was a guardian angel's lamp? And that we both decided that one star was my angel and another one yours?"

"Yes," Raoul replied. "And when we came back on the next night, we couldn't remember which one was ours." He chuckled softly. "So many of them, aren't they?"

Christine nodded. But that talk of angels reminded her of another one… one she preferred not to think about for the moment. Raoul saw her disturbance. And quickly decided to change subject. He even dared to tentatively take her hand. She didn't swift it away. Instead, she squeezed his tightly.

"You know… when you go past the equator and into the southern parts of Earth, the stars and constellations aren't all the same."

"Really?" Christine turned to Raoul with wide eyes.

"Yes. There's not even the North Star anymore."

"Then… how do you orientate yourselves?"

"There's a constellation shaped like a cross. And its lowest star points south. It's as easy as that!" He shrugged with a beaming smile. But Christine was pensive.

"I'd like to see those stars as well… There are so many... I have a headache just thinking of all of them…"

As if she wanted to put emphasis on what she had just said, she closed her eyes, and felt her body becoming less and less tense.

Then, by some sort of strange reflex, her head came to rest on Raoul's shoulder.

He himself was so calm he surprisingly wasn't shocked by Christine's gestures.

It was only when some owl hooted somewhere that they were brutally brought back to reality.

They had both lain down on a blanket. Very close to each other. And they weren't married or even engaged.

They got up at lightning speed, blushing, not knowing what to do. Christine even felt unwelcomed tears coming up her eyes. The moment's magic was broken.

"I'm sorry," she muttered. "I was too rash…"

"No, it's fine, I mean…" Raoul blubbered, not knowing what to say. "I mean, if you feel uneasy… no one will see us. I mean, if you just want to go back…"

He lowered his head in shame.

"It's all my fault. I've should have asked Élisa to come…"

"No," Christine suddenly shouted impulsively. She felt her hands tremble. She wasn't quite sure that…

So she simply leaned forward, and kissed Raoul, who, at first startled, gently kissed her back.

Somehow, this time, she felt even more at ease than the first time they did it, on the Opera Populaire's rooftop.

This time, she knew only the stars were watching.

Answers to reviews:

stagemanagertargaryen: Thanks! ;)

luvtoread12: Thank you! I hope you won't be disappointed. ;)

emeraldphan: My story is original? Gosh, I'm glad to hear that! About what you've said on the chapter, I like to point out that they're not in the same social status, mainly because people sometimes forget that Christine, being an opera singer, is pretty much considered a prostitute considering the standards back then. She's no Nineteenth-century Grace Kelly, I'm afraid! Just another way to show that Raoul is not infatuated with her like the Phantom seems to believe…

Christine's development will indeed be an important part of the story. Anywho, I hope you'll enjoy!