Newspaper readers suffered a sort of literary whiplash in adjusting themselves to how swiftly such papers as the Queue changed their minds about Christine Daae. Immediately after her gala performance, critics touted Christine as an angel, a marvel. "Her sweet unique voice", "palpable and expressive acting", and "ethereal beauty" stunned the reviewers. She had them eating out of her delicate hand.
The day after, once word reached them she'd disappeared into thin air after her success, Christine Daae was all at once a real-life damsel in distress. The press spoke of her as the heroine of a mystery novel more than as a professional singer.
She was kidnapped –
But wait – the handsome Vicomte de Chagny was seen courting her earlier that evening...
She went from angel to damsel to now vixen. The pretty singing lark became a scandalous fallen woman.
Yet all this served to increase public fascination with her.
Andre and Firmin kept all this in mind, weighing the advantages of the extra publicity, odd as it may be. But in the end, Christine Daae was considered too great a risk to stake much faith in. Thus Carlotta's venomous threats and denunciations of the girl's character wore them down, and they passed their verdict about who would play what role in the opera they and Carlotta decided would take the place of Hannibal for the rest of the season. How whoever this Phantom was knew of their selection of Il Muto beforehand, well, that was beyond them.
Such artistic politics were far from Raoul's mind as he left the manager's office later that day. After La Carlotta and the others departed the office to begin rehearsing Il Muto, Raoul stayed behind, pressing the managers for any information about this figure calling himself the "Opera Ghost". All he met were professions that they were just as perplexed as he.
Raoul quickly surmised that the managers, though intelligent in a small businessman sort of way, lacked the finesse and the motivation to serve as puppeteers behind such stunts.
He shivered even as he put on his overcoat near the front entrance, staring dolefully once more at the note in his hand. Christine was returned. She was safe. But who had taken her? What madman would want to torture the angel...?
"Psst! Monsieur," a breathy voice whispered to him.
He turned around. From down the corridor, dressed now in the ostentatious jeweler's attendant get-up for the opera, the pretty young ballerina Meg Giry stealthily tiptoed up to him.
"Mademoiselle...?" He questioned.
Her eyes were wide and her manners quiet, but she displayed none of the usual shyness and fluttering behavior he'd witnessed from the other dancers and chorus members he'd been introduced to so far. He'd noticed her observing him with a thoughtful look of suppressed excitement in the office, but without a hint of flirtatiousness.
She approached him now with the air of one on a secret mission. He raised his eyebrows as she suddenly clutched his wrist. He was used to forward behavior, from the salty cussing of men aboard the Borda to the brawling tavern inhabitants he'd met on his journeys, but since coming back to Paris, the genteel ladies he'd met in society never acted so familiar.
Yet once more, as he gazed into those eager eyes, he saw not a coquette but instead the gleam of a little soldier.
"Monsieur, will you wait for me to change quickly? I'd like to take you somewhere."
Such a straightforward little proposition. It caught even the poised young viscount off guard. "And...where would that be, mademoiselle?"
"To see Christine."
She held his interest fully now. "Can you take me to her?" At her nod, he pressed on, "But I thought you said she needed rest."
A warm little smile tucked in the corners of her mouth. "I think she needs to see you more."
The day had been wearying, and Raoul's recent experience at the hands of the suspicious La Carlotta made him more brusque than usual. "Now see here, mademoiselle, you've doubtless heard the sordid rumors about Miss Daae and myself, but"-
Meg shook her head, her smile widening. "Oh, there's nothing to any of the silly talk, I know! Not...not like that, anyhow."
Raoul's manner gentled. He was surprised. "Oh? And how can you be so sure?"
Meg shrugged easily. "Because it's not in Christine's character! Or yours."
Raoul stifled a laugh. "And tell me, Miss Giry, how do you know it is not in my character?"
That straightforward simplicity again, meeting his gaze without artifice of any kind. "Because Christine believes in you."
His cheeks warmed and his eyes stung. He smiled and shook the small hand gratefully. "I'll go with you gladly."
"Now that you've seen me, you can never be free! You'll sing for me always! Always...Christine..."
A deep moan escaped the huddled figure of Christine, coiled on her own bed now.
She desperately breathed in the smell of the pillow she'd laid her head on almost nightly for the past six years, clinging to any familiar scent and sensation to keep her grounded, sane. She felt reality slipping away from her rapidly, and the sickening topsy-turvy sense that the world had spun upside-down overwhelmed her.
Could it really have been just a day ago she felt a woman, commanding the stage and singing, and staring into Raoul's sea-blue eyes? Was it really so quickly she'd collapsed into a frightened child once more, sobbing in her bedroom at Mamma Valerius's, as she had when her father died?
But why not? Wasn't she mourning a sort of death all over again? The death of a beautiful dream, a dream of heaven, only to wake and discover she was in hell the whole time.
Mamma Valerius's gentle but authoritative tap on the door stirred her.
Christine was able to weakly reply, and the door opened softly.
Meg and Madame Giry were afraid that Christine's disappearance would weaken her invalid foster mother to perhaps death's door, but the old woman surprised everyone by rallying herself in the aftermath of the debut. She'd hardly touched her bed since word reached her about Christine's absence. Since Christine's return, Valerius now spent half her time at the girl's bedside and the rest of the time in the kitchen, overseeing the broth and pastries the cook made to tempt the young singer, who had eaten but little all day.
"You have a visitor, ma petite," Mamma Valerius said in a hushed voice now.
Christine did not look up, merely nodded her head listlessly.
The old woman motioned her assent to Meg. The young dancer saw that the ordeal seemed finally to be taking its toll on the former dance mistress, the bags under her eyes and the grayish tint to her beige-blotted, wrinkled skin a tell-tale sign of fatigue. She wobbled slightly as she walked away.
Quietly, Meg approached the bed, laying a soft hand on her friend's curls. "Christine?" The singer was still clothed in a dressing gown, but at least it was her own now. Its soft lilac color gleamed an ominous purple-blue in the dim light. Meg smoothed her own quiet sky blue skirt, one of but a handful of "civilian dresses" – as the petite rats called them - she owned. "How are you feeling?"
"Please..." Christine pleaded in a small voice, answering an unspoken question. "Please...I...I can't tell you where I've been, I can't..." She covered her face with her hands, sobbing.
Meg squeezed her shoulders. She said nothing for several minutes, simply letting Christine howl out her despair into her hands.
At last Christine's cries faded into stuttering sighs. Meg took this as a cue and spoke in a more chipper voice. "Very well! We don't have to talk about that. We can talk about...oh! Clara – you know Clara, don't you? Elodie's little girl – she just lost her first tooth! Her mother is ecstatic! Cecile and I are working on a little pouch for it. Gaelle and Edith are at it again, I don't know why those two squabble so, when they used to be such good friends. I really don't think either of them even liked Rolf all that much, it's just that neither could stand the other taking his eye! Just this morning Edith stuck Gaelle with a pin during a fitting, and Pauline – you won't believe it – Pauline actually boxed their ears!"
Christine's jagged, quiet crying was interrupted now by a brief but high giggle that suddenly escaped her, sounding like a hiccup. This was followed by another giggle, and then another. Finally a warm hand slipped into Meg's. The dancer pressed it, giggling too.
Christine slowly sat up and laid a weary head on her friend's shoulder. "What are they saying about..." She didn't seem to know how to go on. "What's...what's going to happen?"
Meg took a breath. She'd been waiting for a good transition, and Christine provided it for her. Honesty is best. It won't help her if you dance around the details, and you know she wouldn't appreciate it. "You can't...they're not going to play Hannibal anymore. La Carlotta doesn't want any part of it because you're so associated with it now. There's a clause in her contract apparently...if an understudy takes over a role without her consent, she has grounds for a lawsuit. And since you're not officially her understudy, that gives her an even better case. Rather than risk that, the managers have agreed to put on Il Muto instead. We've been rehearsing all day and hope to put it on by the end of the week."
Il Muto was done practically every season, and the company could perform it almost in their sleep.
Christine noticed Meg shift uncomfortably next to her. "What else?" Christine asked in a low voice.
Meg sighed, and stroked her friend's hair again. "Christine, they want you to be Serafimo."
Christine raised her head, blinking. "Serafimo? The pageboy?"
Meg grasped her hands, speaking quickly. "I know it doesn't seem like it, but this is for your own good, Christine! The Phantom is after you, and you must be protected! I know you don't want to talk about it, but that's the truth. If that means limiting your exposure for now, what's the harm? You can sing again soon, I swear it!"
Christine shook her head vehemently, almost in a frenzy, not bothering to pretend what Meg had said about the Phantom was untrue. "No, no, it isn't that! I...I don't know if I want to perform at all! In a silent role or otherwise!"
Meg blushed and shifted again. "But...but Christine, if you don't perform at all..." She bit her lip. "The managers are impressed with your voice and the notices you've received, but because of your absence...they're a little..." She didn't know how to delicately get across to Christine that if she acted any more erratically or missed any other performances they'd break her contract.
But Christine understood, and shook her head again stubbornly. "I don't care. I don't care what they do, do you hear me? Maybe I'll never go back. Maybe"-
Meg placed a hand over her mouth. "Maybe there's someone who can change your mind."
Christine looked at her puzzled. Meg stood and crossed wordlessly to the door. She poked her head outside and said something to someone. Then she motioned toward the guestroom next to Christine's. "Why don't you go in there for a moment, Christine?"
Christine studied the half impish, half loving expression on Meg's face. Then she knew.
Her heart surged.
She sped to the other room. She stood in the doorway, soaking in the golden presence of the man within.
Meg heard one sob from her that said everything: "Oh, Raoul!" Then Christine disappeared behind the door, closing it as Raoul's deep warm murmur greeted her.
Smiling to herself, Meg snuck out the house after bidding goodbye to Mamma Valerius, who nodded knowingly at her. Their hopeful expressions were the same.
At the end of the week, Meg and Pauline helped Christine into her outfit for Serafimo. Christine found courage not only in the bright eyes of the friend before her, but in the heart of the man sitting in the Phantom's place in Box Five.
A/N: My apologies for the late update! Things are slowing down a tad with the holidays. Hopefully my next chapter will make up for it - I've got lots of action planned. :D