Chapter 10: Opera Populaire, Paris, France, 1870
Erik was aimlessly wandering the opera house, restless and unwilling to go back to his lair to sleep. Besides it was almost dawn anyway and his stomach grumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since last night's scant supper.
The boy lengthened his strides, purposefully heading to the kitchen before those cross cooks woke up…
"But Papa! He's my best friend I can't leave him! He doesn't have anyone, but me! Please Papa!"
"Quiet Christine! You are NEVER going to see that half-human, gargoyle again!"
Erik skidded to a stop. He recognized those voices anywhere and immediately knew he wouldn't be eating anytime soon.
"MADAME GIRY! MADAME G-"
The screams sent Erik into a blind dead run, guided only by the shouts and pleas he heard echoing throughout building. He ran into the Grand Foyer, escaping from the refuge of shadows. He immediately saw Antoinette and Gustave in a heated confrontation… then he turned and saw Christine on the stone cold ground.
Erik rushed over to her, careful not to draw the attention of the adults.
"Christine." He whispered worriedly. "Are you alright?"
"E-Erik..."
Even in the semi-darkness, he could see a red mark across Christine's cheek. The girl covered it with a small palm no doubt attempting to sooth the stinging.
"Shhh…move your hand. Let me see your face." Erik said, wanting to see if that cursed man who was her father had damaged her further.
"B-but it doesn't h-hurt anymore." She croaked.
'She still defends that monster of a man…' he thought with disgust.
Young Erik gently moved Lotte's hand and looked into her deep brown eyes.
"I-I'll be f-fine, Erik..." She tried to convince him, but he knew otherwise.
He took a breath, "Christine-"
"Go! If he sees you here, P-Papa is going to-"
Suddenly, he heard a thick voice shout from behind him.
"You! Get your filthy hands off my daughter!"
Erik whirled around to be viciously grabbed by the shoulders. "YOU!"
Erik stared dumbfounded at Gustave Daaé who had begun to shake him violently. He indistinctly heard Christine's and Antoinette's screams of protest…but his focus was solely on the older man. He recognized the uncontrollable anger and mislaid distrust in the man's beady gaze, just like the gypsy's…
"You have crossed me for the last time, boy." Gustave growled, his common sense dulled by drink and drug.
Erik, however, didn't see that the man was truly broken and abused by years of uncomforted suffering…he only saw hate. Erik's vision narrowed as indescribable, uncontainable hatred fiiled him for the man who had caused an innocent girl to suffer abuse countless times. His blood began to boil and adrenalin pumped through his veins.
"No," He said slowly, deliberately, "It is you who have crossed me…and it ends now."
Erik gave a yell of fury and lost all self control. He lashed out as he had never done and hit Gustave with as much force he could muster. Gustave reeled, crashing onto the floor with tremendous force.
Erik saw his advantage and knew what he was going to do. He kicked the man in the gut, cutting off a moment's breath and then sat on top of him.
Daaé cursed, but could not recover enough except to gape at the boy sitting on him and crushing his lungs. Fear gripped his heart. The pale, white mask stood out in the darkness and the eyes peering from the half covered face were devilish and holding unspeakable malice.
"You will never hurt Christine again…ever…I will make sure of it…" The boy's hiss tickled Gustave's ears...his lips unmoving and inhuman.
Erik gave a dry, sinister chuckle. "I am going to kill you, Gustave… and enjoy doing it."
The masked boy plunged his hands onto the man's throat and he was determined. He would compress until the man turned blue. Gustave gagged, clawing his attacker's hands.
He heard a scream. "Erik! NO!"
Erik turned to see his best friend on the brink of hysteria as she watched him killing her father. Her brown eyes usually so docile and gentle were beginning to lose their luster, rolling into the back of her head. She was in emotional agony…she wasn't able to bear what she was witnessing…all because of him…
"CHRISTINE!"
Erik released his grip on the man, suddenly realizing what was happening to Lotte…but it was not his destiny to ever help Christine that night. As he stumbled toward her, Erik was grabbed from behind.
Gustave held him by the hair, his scrape with death enraging and empowering him. He ripped off Erik's mask, repulsion and abhorrence flooding him. The predator suddenly became the victim, and he was shown no mercy.
"It is time to go where you belong, boy. Hell."
Then, Gustave Daaé slammed Erik's skull into the marble floor of the Grand Foyer.
The Phantom collapsed onto the ground, his legs failing him, his absolute shock virtually intolerable. Erik's body shook so hard his teeth rattled, strangling any cry or exclamation of horror from escaping his throat. Frigid sweat crept from every pore on his skin, his heart pounded fiercely, numbing his perception and awareness. His muscles turned to stone, forcing him to stare unblinkingly at the girl.
Erik saw Christine as if in a vision, her movements in delayed motion. Her lips moved sluggishly as she spoke and yet he heard nothing. Vaguely, he saw her through a fog of distorted and chaotic flashes of images of how he once knew her and how she now appeared before him.
'Christine…Christine…my Christine…'
Erik gasped, his diaphragm retching for denied air, but he couldn't breathe…his muscles refused. No logical thoughts could process themselves in his mind except the memory of the night they been forced to live apart… his world, his reality, his reason for living had been swept away by a cruel, brisk wind.
But now his reality had changed. Christine had returned. She had escaped from her father… from Marseille, back to Paris, back to him.
The Phantom could feel his sanity fleeing and without the willpower to fight it, the black abyss of unconsciousness swallowed him.
"Pride is one of the Seven Deadly Sins, remember?"
Meg laughed outright. "According to Mother, it's also a part of Moses' Commandments."
Christine groaned dramatically.
"What?" Meg asked.
"Envy is another deadly sin!" Christine cried, placing her hand on her forehead as if about to faint. "I envy you Meg Giry. I could never dance with such grace and fluidity no matter how hard I tried. Antoinette will have my head!"
"You're right." Meg giggled, playing into the theatrics, "I'm afraid your life is over."
"Gossip is thoroughly unbecoming." Madame Giry suddenly appeared behind the two, obviously overhearing their conversation.
"Maman!" Christine enveloped the woman in a tight squeeze. "We couldn't gossip about you even if we wanted to."
"Lying is also a sin, mon petite." Madame Giry said in mock sternness.
Christine frowned. "I don't recall that being one of the Seven."
"It isn't," Meg rolled her eyes, "It's one of Moses'."
"I'm done for." Christine sighed, "God will never let me enter heaven."
"We shall discuss your impious condition at length later," Madame Giry smirked playfully, "I am glad you two are enjoying the evening despite tonight's...distractions. I'm afraid can't say the same for some others."
"Like who? Carlotta?" Meg scoffed. "She was only as awful as usual."
Antoinette ignored her daughter's cynicism and stared at both girls intently, preparing to gauge their reaction. "Raoul de Chagny for one."
Meg's eyes widened to bright ocean-blue orbs. She looked between her mother and Lotte expectantly. Christine inhaled sharply, shifting away eye contact to a distant wall.
"Oh." Christine muttered, obviously uncomfortable with the mention of her estranged cousin.
Meg swallowed hard, unsure of how to react to Christine's negative response.
"I'm sure he's happy you're back in Paris, Lotte." Meg suggested, trying to lighten threatening trouble in the situation.
"Ecstatic." Christine snapped frostily. Meg and Antoinette exchanged worried glances.
"Raoul," the younger Giry started warily, "He doesn't know you're here, does he?"
Christine looked at the two women with something akin to grief in her eyes. It was as if she was begging them not to push the issue any further. Too much pain and unresolved matters had gone between the Daaés and de Chagnys and Christine was not about to reopen those wounds.
"Meg, why don't you try to convince Raoul to be sociable," Madame Giry said softly, "He's being rather sour after his Countess ruined the tranquility of the evening."
Meg still appeared worried but she nodded. She squeezed Lotte's hand reassuringly as she walked away gracefully, pushing her way through the growing crowd of lively attendees. Antoinette wrapped an arm around Christine's waist, her hazel eyes soft and understanding.
"Why don't we go to the chapelle mon cherie? It will be much more peaceful there."
"Alright, Maman."
The Madame led the way, gently coaxing Christine away from the revelry. They entered the quaint chapel, Antoinette immediately heading to the ancient candelabras in the middle of the small room. She knelt, lighting each candle with a match from the box alongside them, the dark alcove illuminating with a soft and eerie light.
"It's just as comforting as I remember it." Christine said in awe as the room lightened up. The ballet mistress smiled sadly.
"It was one of your favorite places to think and collect your thoughts as a child."
Christine sat down next to the older woman. "You used to send me here whenever Father had one of his tantrums."
Antoinette nodded, slowly taking the girl's hands in her own. "Christine," She paused a moment, watching Christine carefully, "Where is Gustave?"
"He's... dead, Maman."
The words were spoken with immense sorrow and regret. Antoinette was not shocked. She knew Gustave's self-destructive behavior would get the best of him eventually. She squeezed Christine's hand warmly.
A heavy, torturous silence weighed in the chapel. "How did he die?"
Christine gulped, her eyes widening and skin paling. Antoinette felt the girl's hands grow clammy and sweaty under her clasp.
"He was out late as he always was," Christine started, "I had just arrived from Madame Valérius' back to the two rooms that Father and I rented."
Christine smiled sadly at Antoinette, a hint of happiness shining in her hurt-filled eyes. "Madame Valérius was an old widow who lived near the docks. Her deceased husband had been a traveling merchant who hadn't given her any children. She took it upon herself to educate me and a few other poor youngsters. She kept a watch out for me whenever Father disappeared or been too drunk to work. You would have loved her, Maman."
"She did for you what I couldn't," the Madame commented, "I prayed for such a person to guide you."
Christine nodded. The sparkle in her eyes faded as she stared at the walls, reminiscing on when she had last seen her father alive. Antoinette soundlessly waited for her to continue.
"I was getting ready to blow out the candles for the night when I heard a horrible racket outside." Lotte's was voice hardly above a whisper, choked with intense emotion. "I glanced out the window to see several men dragging Papa to the front door. It was raining heavily… he looked awful, Maman. I panicked and ran to open the door. The men brought him in…he was so drunk he was unconscious… soaked to the skin..."
Christine took a breath, her entire body shaking, no doubt reliving the feelings of fear that she felt that night.
"They…wanted money…said Father lost a bet that night. They wanted hundreds of francs…francs we didn't have. When I told them so, they threatened to…kill the both of us…they grabbed Father like a ragdoll…"
Christine gagged as a sob tore through her, the image of her bloodied father limp on the ground imprinted in her mind. Immediately, Antoinette collected the distressed young woman in her arms.
"I screamed…they hit me until…I awoke in the morning…to a horrible sound…" Christine paused, stifling a debilitating sob. She continued, plunging through the internal agony. "The house had been raided…they took everything, Maman…leaving us for dead. Papa was…gagging..."
Christine wept into Giry's skirt, her grief and suffering inconsolable. Antoinette closed her eyes, her imagination trying to grasp the events of the tragic night.
"He choked Maman…he choked to death."
"I'm so sorry, ma fille." Antoinette murmured, laying her cheek against Christine's hair, her own tears soaking the curls. Madame Giry needed no further explanation. She knew what Christine had witnessed. She too had known of men overdrinking and falling into a drunken stupor from which they never awoke. Antoinette Giry knew that Gustave Daaé had died of asphyxiation by choking on his own vomit.
"Forgive me, Christine." the Madame cried, "I failed you…I dreamt of the night you left over and over, wishing I could have done something different…something to have changed your father's mind…"
The two women cried together, mourning the losses they had experienced the past decade. They remained in one another's arms for long moments, neither emotionally strong enough to break it. Their sobs slowly quieted in the solace of the chapel, peace finally residing inside their souls. Antoinette gently lifted Christine from her lap, cupping the tear-stained face in her soft hands.
"I can't thank the Virgin enough for bringing you back to me." she said, caressing the girl's face as only a mother could. The Madame tenderly brought Christine into a warm embrace.
"I love you, Maman." Christine whispered the distress of her heart melting as security replaced her fear.
"And I love you, Christine."
Antoinette reluctantly pulled back, gazing at Christine with an unrestrained look of compassion. She took the girl's hands, lifting her to stand. Giry kissed her forehead, smiling brightly.
"Now we shall begin anew," Antoinette said her voice confident. "Welcome home my dear."
Antoinette led Christine by the hand towards the stone staircase that served as the chapel's only entranceway. "We should return to the surface."
"Maman wait," Christine stopped, preventing the older woman from moving her. Antoinette looked at her expectantly. "I must ask that you…refrain from telling Raoul."
Madame Giry frowned and her mouth set into a firm line. It was obvious she didn't agree with the request, but she didn't protest.
"As you wish. I doubt Meg has said anything about your arrival."
The damsel sighed in relief, squeezing the woman's hand thankfully. "Merci, Maman. I want to sort out my arrangements before I involve him."
"I understand."
Christine nodded. She looked as if she would ask Madame Giry something more, but hesitated, shifting her gaze to her feet nervously.
Antoinette sighed. "But that's not the only reason you don't want speak to him is it?"
'I can't talk to Raoul until I see…'
Christine swallowed hard, unsure of how to inquire about the one person she had never forgotten. "I… I was wondering if…you knew…"
She closed her eyes, then opened them, staring straight at Antoinette. In that moment, the ballet mistress knew what those longing, pleading eyes were wanting to know.
"Maman-"
"Christine," Giry clutched the girl's hands rapidly, cutting off her inevitable question. "For your sake, I beg you, not to ask me."
Christine gazed at Antoinette, her features a portrait of miserable confusion and anxiety. The expression hit Antoinette at her core.
"I'm afraid I don't understand, Maman."
Madame Giry did her best to retain her mask of solemnity, but she could feel overwhelming emotion swelling within her once more.
"Please," Antoinette used all strength to keep her voice from cracking completely, "Remember him as you knew him, my dear. He would have wanted you to honor his memory with all the pleasant moments you shared together."
"Maman, what's wrong? What are you trying to tell me?" Christine asked quivering.
Madame Giry released Christine's sweaty palms, turning her back, hiding her inner turmoil that was threatening to boil over.
"Christine, I-I don't know how to tell you this…" Antoinette started, her voice betraying the conflict within her. 'You can't…you mustn't…you cannot fail her...save her…she can't be hurt again…'
"Madame…I have to know." Christine's achingly sorrowful whisper sent shivers down Antoinette's spine.
Madame Giry faced the girl once more, her composure full of pain and regret. "Christine…"
Antoinette looked directly into those dark brown orbs.
"Erik is dead."