Chapter 3

"Even if she be not harmed, her heart may fail her in so much and so many horrors; and hereafter she may suffer-both in waking, from her nerves, and in sleep, from her dreams."
― Bram Stoker, Dracula

The drive to the banquet hall would only take fifteen to twenty minutes once they left Meg's parent's house in her mother's large SUV. Meg's family wasn't particularly wealthy, but Mrs. Giry assisted many prestigious patrons in her career, and had developed a few friends over the decade. In return, her clients graciously presented her with gifts and invitations to lovely parties as a thank you. Well, actually, perhaps these gifts were more of a bribe in order to maintain secrecy on some of their unethical business practices, but nothing could be proven, of course. Christine wasn't exactly sure what Mrs. Giry's job actually was, and she wasn't planning on asking her either. She might end up with concrete shoes and at the bottom of a lake if she found out some of the woman's secrets.

The radio in the fairly new car was on some pop station Meg chose, and Christine stared out the window watching the scenery go by. It wasn't much to look at, for, winter temporarily destroyed much of nature's beauty and made everything look grey and dreary. However, Christine needed something to distract her mind from wandering to more unpleasant things, and if dead trees and muddy snow was all she had, then so be it. Eventually, the trees became more sparse as they drove closer to the heart of the city, replacing the dead shrubbery with urban lights and sounds. People were still bustling around the streets, arms full of shopping bags and various doughy treats from the bakeries and cafes. Despite the frigid weather, people looked happy bundled up in their fashionable coats and scarves pulling along their spouses and children. It shouldn't be a dispiriting sight to those passing by, but Christine couldn't help the feeling of jealousy and loneliness creep up on her.

Before she could sink lower into despair, they pulled into a U-shaped driveway behind a couple of beautiful and expensive sports cars that Christine was sure cost more than what she would make in a few years. Glamorous women in long elegant dresses were assisted out of their cars, and escorted into the cheerfully lit building seemingly without a care in the world. These women had money, and they were not afraid to flaunt it. It must be nice to have all that money, all that security she thought to herself. Why, their children would never have to worry about tuition, putting food on the table, and they could always rely on a trust fund once they were adults. They would never have to lift a finger or work for anything they wanted.

Through her window, she watched the animated light display on the building's walls with mild amusement as they pulled up to the valet. The young man could not have looked more disappointed when Meg's mother's SUV pulled up instead of one of the exotic cars, but the cheerful smile returned once he saw the dazzling and her low cut dress Meg through the window. Meg flirtatiously smiled back past her mother's no non-sense attitude which made the nervous boy wary of this stern woman. He shakily took down a name license plate number before handing Mrs. Giry a numbered ticket while two older gentlemen opened Meg and Christine's door and assisted them out of the car. Christine winced when she put her full weight on her feet and was thankful someone held on to her or else she would have stumbled. She knew she should have put on a pair of shoes that were already broken in, but, no, she didn't want to wear her dirty old heels at a high class party. Nevertheless, she most certainly regretted the choice in footwear regardless of how pretty they were since she would be donning some lovely blisters tonight.

A gust of winter's cold wind blew by, and Christine wrapped her sheer shawl around her shoulders hoping to fight off some of the bitter wind nipping at her bare arms. She didn't have an appropriate winter coat to match the formality of her dress, so Christine only brought a shawl to keep her shoulder marginally covered. She glanced around her surroundings rubbing her arms to create heat while slightly bouncing her knees. The outside was gloriously lit up with twinkling lights weaving up small tree trunks and spreading out through the branches. All the color lights created an illusion of a winter wonderland, but it was still breath taking to look at. Her father used to drive her around the block only to look at the lights people would put up on their houses. He would slow to a creep when they passed the exorbitantly lit homes as she pressed her face against he window in child like amazement. They always spent the holidays together, but since he died, she only visited her former guardian in the nursing home who was suffering from Alzheimer's , and couldn't remember who Christine was half of the time…The holidays were hard on Christine sometimes.

After adjusting her dress, Meg came over and hooked her arm into Christine's before walking under the awning with confidence Christine wish she had. Meg's mother followed behind them at a much slower pace due to her age, but caught up to them once they reached the double doors leading into the lobby. The door men hurriedly opened the doors for the three women, and a gust of warm air hit Christine's face as she stepped in to the ornate room. All bitterness melted away at the sight of such opulence and was replaced with a frit of nervousness for being in the presence of all the grandeur. Men and women impeccably dressed in the finest suits and gowns lingered the room greeting old friends with kisses on the cheeks and excitable chatter. She felt out of place among these people and wondered if they could tell she wasn't part of their circle just by looking at her. The room smelled sweetly of expensive perfume and the hint of holiday spices made the lobby feel warm and cozy. Above her, was a large crystal chandelier strung up on the tall cathedral ceilings that were painted with large murals illustrating the nighttime and daytime skies. The night sky was littered with stars that actually glowed and twinkled around a large stained glass crescent moon against a midnight blue background. The sun was glass as well painted gold causing little flecks of light to bounce around the ceiling illuminating the puffy white clouds. It was a sight to behold, certainly.

However, Christine's attentions strayed elsewhere when the sound of classical music reached a very triumphant crescendo through a set of closed wooden doors. Ah, Vivaldi's Four Seasons! The Spring movement to be exact. Her father used to play the piece for her and she would act out a story filled with fairies, evil queens, and dashing princes. Daddy Daae always filled her head with fairytales when she was young, and never told her that one day she would have to grow up and accept reality. Her father always had a protective barrier around her, always shielding little Christine from the cruel world contrived by humanity. There were always happy endings in her imaginative world; it was all her father ever taught her. Once Gustave Daae suddenly died, she was thrust into a world she knew nothing about, and ended up being all alone. The innocence she had lost was something she didn't like to dwell on too often, for, it only made her sad when she came out of her memory, but tonight the song greeted her like an old friend, and soothed her apprehension.

The three women followed the herd of impeccably dressed men in women through a set of large, wooden double doors that led to the deluxe banquet hall. She winced her eyes at the sudden change in lighting upon entering the room which, like Christine had hoped, was filled with crystal chandeliers, exorbitant centerpieces, and glowing candles in their colorful glass casings creating dancing lights on the linen table cloths. The light would surely protect her from the shadows, she thought. It was like when she was a little girl and fearing the monsters that only appeared once the lights were turned off, but were chased away the minute she flicked on her night light. The light was a protective barrier that would ward off all evils as she curled in bed to sleep, but that didn't mean the monsters couldn't taunt her from the depths of the dark. This room however, was so gloriously lit that it left no room for any shadows to prowl away in dark corners; it was…

"-So beautiful." Christine muttered without expecting anyone to hear her, but Meg turned around with a grin plastered on her face. Meg always loved to relish in the fact that she was right, and tonight was not an exception.

"I told you that it would be great to come out." She replied with a look of triumph. They arrived at a small table near the back by large bay windows accented by plush curtains that overlooked the twinkling lights outside. The table was marvelously set in fine china, shining silverware, crystal glasses, and silk napkins that looked to expensive for wiping food off of faces. There were three other people at their table she did not recognize, but they greeted the Giry's and their plus one very openly and politely.

"I hope you don't mind beef." Meg whispered to Christine upon sitting down. "That's what we put my dad down for." Christine shook her head while a polite waiter approached the table with a wine selection. With a thank you, she glanced at the well-designed drink menu noticing that drink prices were not listed.

"Are the drinks so expensive that they don't even bother putting the prices down?" She joked to Meg. "No, silly. It's called an open bar, and with how much each ticket cost, it would be borderline rude to not have an open bar." Meg let out a chuckle. "Even the wealthy get angry at overpriced alcohol." The two girls laughed together at the thought, and stifled their girlish giggles when the handsome young waiter returned to their side of the table. Christine wasn't too knowledgeable in fine wines, but per suggestion of the waiter, she ordered a White Zinfandel that was sweet enough for her, but will still compliment the beef.

Christine settled in her chair half listening to the conversations around the table. She felt relaxed for the first time in a month, and didn't actually feel guilty for taking time to herself. The setting was absolutely breathtaking, and she hadn't been surrounded by this much opulence since she attended some distant cousin's wedding with her father years ago. Her father put her in a puffy pink dress, and tamed her wild hair as much as a man could manage, then reached down to her eye level and told her to mind her manners. Her cousin wasn't a pleasant woman to be around, so Christine avoided contact with the spoilt bride as much as possible. However, her father attempted to remain friendly with that side of the family since he was fairly close with a fairly wealthy great aunt whom, liked Christine, disliked most of the wedding party.

Her father would always remind her, "Family is family, Chrissy. You have to keep them close to your heart because that kind of bond is very special." He was a very traditional man who always believed blood ties were very important to maintain. However, none of them showed up to her father's funeral except her great aunt who soon became her guardian. Some family.

The waiter had arrived with their drinks, and by the time their food arrived within the next half hour, her glass had been re-filled at least three times. It was never half empty for too long before it was filled once again, and the alcohol was beginning to dim her senses. Both she and Meg were chortling in a very unbecoming fashion while chatting, but, for the first time, Christine couldn't give a damn. She was having fun and felt silly for once, she deserved it, didn't she? She had been cooped up in her room for far too long, avoiding…well she didn't even know who she was avoiding, and it was draining what little happiness she had left. Christine had heard stories of traumatized people going mad, losing time, and waking up in some unknown place. She couldn't decide what was worse. Having a stalker or confirm her mental health was deteriorating? How could she tell the authorities about a stalker she has never seen. No one would bother starting an investigation over something equivalent to a secret admirer's tirade. But, what if she really was in trouble?

The thought was making Christine become too warm and the alcohol wasn't helping her dizzying head. The room felt like it had risen twenty degrees in temperature, and was causing her forehead to feverishly sweat. She needed to get some air.

Now.

She hurriedly excused herself from the table and made a beeline for the exit, weaving her way through the tables and tipsy guests while muttering apologies. The ornate double doors were just a few feet in front of her when she ungracefully bumped into a young gentleman crossing her path causing her to ankle to give out. She gasped and grabbed on to the nearest stable object which just so happened to have a set of hands that grabbed onto her waist. She looked up and recognized the gentleman she bumped into. Quickly she straightened herself up out of embarrassment, hardly able to look at him in the eye.

"I am so, so very sorry!" She blurted out with an extremely red face. "I didn't even see you coming in front of me." When she glanced up at his face she was even more embarrassed to find him staring at her very oddly. He was very good looking and evidently wealthy by cut of his suit, which made her feel like an awkward, gangly teenager all over again. Too humiliated to stand there any longer she made a second attempt for the lobby door faintly hearing the good looking fellow calling after her. There was no way she was going to turn around after that fiasco! She picked up her skirt a little higher and awkwardly rushed through the doors as much as her shoes would allow her. Christine let a breath of relief once the doors closed and she was in the deserted lobby area. However, her moment of reprieve was short lived when the doors burst back open to reveal the winded young man again.

"Wait, wait!" he shouted not realizing she didn't make it far from the doors and quickly reddened in the face slightly before he quieted his voice down. Needless to say, she was startled and shocked that the man would even bother to follow her, and he put his hands up in a casual gesture when he took notice of the alarm on her face.

"I'm not some crazed lunatic or anything!" He chuckled while clasping his hands behind his back in a boyish manner. "I'm really sorry to bother you, but you looked really familiar, and it took me a second to realize who you were." His blonde hair fell slightly over his blue eyes while a bright smile spread across his cheeks. Christine was trying to recall if he was, perhaps, in one of her classes, but she couldn't for the life of her remember who he was. The puzzled expression on her face made his grin spread even wider. "After all the trouble I went through to fetch your little red scarf, you can't remember me, Chrissy?"

Chrissy? She hadn't been called that since she was a child. Only her father and a little boy she knew long ago called her that. The boy lived near Christine and her father's old home by the sea, albeit, he lived in a wealthier neighborhood, but they became regular playmates all the same. It couldn't be..

"Raoul?" She inquired. "Are you really Raoul?"

"So you do remember!" He took a step toward her and gave her an affectionate hug and Christine awkwardly put her hands around his neck having not expected such a friendly gesture. She had thought he would have forgotten her long ago once she moved away. What's a working class girl like her worth anything to a wealthy well respected man like him?

"I can't believe you had forgotten about me! All those summers we had together weren't that memorable, huh? He asked her jokingly, lightening up the mood. Christine let her arms fall from her old friend's neck, but Raoul still held her in his arms as if he was afraid she would disappear again. Christine didn't mind too much. He had grown into a fine young man, but still held on to those boyish charms that could make anyone swoon.

"It's been over a decade since I last saw you!" She teased back. "The last time I saw you, you had dirt all over your face. You can't hold it against me just because I never knew what you looked like underneath the mud." Of course she was joking around, he wasn't that dirty of child especially with his hard-nosed nanny looming around. That woman had such an enmity towards dirt and germs to the point that Raoul would purposely play in mud puddles just to irritate her. She wasn't very fond of Christine either, and would constantly shoo her away anytime she came looking for Raoul. Eventually, Raoul would escape his nannies clutches and play in the woods by Christine's house knowing the old hag would never dare walk around in the mud to find him there. But, once summer ended, his family would leave their summer house and go back to their home in New York City. One winter, her father sold their old home by the sea, and Christine never spent another summer with Raoul again.

He finally released her from his arms only to grab her by the hand and lead her back to the lobby with such boyish elation.

"Come sit at my table, so we can catch up. Philip has been networking for the past hour and I would love it if we could talk." He stopped all the sudden sheepishly looking back at her realizing that he forgot his manners. They weren't children anymore, and he couldn't just run off with her as he pleased expecting her to willfully tag along.

"I'm sorry. I should've asked if you wanted to. You were rushing out of the banquet hall pretty quickly and…" His mood reached to a somber tone, and Christine couldn't help but slightly chuckle as he pouted a little. He was dangerously good looking, and Christine couldn't resist that sad face he was making.

"No, no I only wanted to get some air, and I would love to join you at your table." She replied with her hand covering the playful smile she wore. With that, he gently let go of her hand and courteously offered his arm instead. When she linked her arm into his he snootily put his nose up in the air playfully mocking those of his class. Christine let a slight snort escape at his little charade. He honestly had not changed one bit. Obviously, he grew up and lost those chubby cheeks, but he was still the same goofball whom never cared about his family's status. It made Christine feel at ease knowing he wouldn't judge her for being a poor college student with next to no family or assets.

He had everything while she had nothing.

When they walked back through the banquet doors, Christine saw Meg's face rise up from behind the large centerpieces with a worried expression, but melted when she saw the handsome man attached to Christine's arm. Christine made a gesture indicating that she was going to sit with her new companion and Meg replied with a thumbs up and a suggestive smile. Christine threw back an unamused look at the dancers need to embarrass and tease the living daylights out of her. Oh, she would never hear the end of it after tonight.

They reached a table littered with half empty and abandoned wine glasses, and Raoul politely pulled out a chair for her. After she sat down, he pulled his chair out and turned it towards her before casually leaning forward.

"So, how has your father been?" Christine took a sharp intake of breath before gluing her eyes to the floor. She should've expected him to ask, and it shouldn't be as painful of a question as it was but…

"He died a few years ago."

Raoul remembered Mr. Daae being as fit as fiddle, and was very surprised to learn that he had died not too long ago. His face bore the look of true empathy, and took Christine's hand in comfort obviously seeing the hurt in her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Christine I wish I would've known and attended the funeral. I admired your father very much." He admitted hoping it would bring her solace knowing that he genuinely cared. He could sympathize considering his parents died when he was young leaving his older brother the estate and ten year old kid to take care of.

At least he always had Philip. While his older brother was by no means ready for parenthood, he still managed to take care of Raoul without much help from nannies. He would have to thank his older brother for putting up with all his shit.

"It was a small funeral with only a few people. He died so suddenly, and I only knew the whereabouts of a small group of friends and family." She replied forcing her tone to be stronger hoping that it wouldn't crack and bring on the flood of hysterics. Not knowing what else to say he flagged down a waiter and ordered an entire bottle of champagne.

"We are here to celebrate a renewed friendship. Why not drink for the occasion?" He told Christine when she looked surprised.

"I wasn't aware you could order by the bottle. We must look like a bunch of alcoholics."

Raoul waved his hand in dismissal and told her not worry about. "They know me. Well, more like my family, but they won't mind." He gave her a genuine smile. "It'll be my treat." Christine was typically not comfortable with people lavishing her, but before she could argue, an ice bucket was brought over with two flukes. The waiter twisted off the cork with a pop and generously filled their two glasses with bubbling golden liquid. Christine thanked the waiter when he filled her glass and took in the aroma of spiced apples with a hint of fresh baked bread. When the waiter left, Raoul raised his glass and Christine mimicked his actions.

"A toast, to old friendships." He said, his voice was washing away her weariness and worries from the past weeks. God, he was charming.

"And, for crossing paths once again." She added, and they clinked their glasses together to mark the beginning of a rekindled friendship, unknowingly sealing their fate to great misfortune.

A/N: Remember when I said I wouldn't do these again? Well, I lied. But, this is the last one because anything pertaining to this story will be put on my profile. Just so you know.

I had been taking three summer classes while writing this story as a way to procrastinate; shame on me. However, those are all done with, and I can concentrate on more of the fun stuff. Next chapter is almost done, don't you fret. And, please, for the love of mozart if there is a beta out there in the deep, deep perils of the internet willing to proof this thing, I will be so happy. Nobody responds to my emails...