Chapter 6: The Phantom of The Opera
Two And a Half Years Later
"Hello, father. I've missed you so much".
Christine stared at the mausoleum that stood before her, built in her father's honor. Daaé had been engraved in large font above the gate, and a tall cross stood atop with vines of ivy draped over the sides and grown so long that they touched the ground.
She didn't visit the mausoleum often for the same reasons she had not yet visited Calais. They were painful reminders of a past that still haunted her. She had gone into the mausoleum several times before, but as it got colder she would only stay for a few minutes.
"I remember how you looked at me that final time before your eyes closed. I knew you were proud of me. I know you still would be…. My angel of music has taken me under his wing, and he tells me how far I've come from our first lesson. How the time has flown".
A gust of wind sent snowflakes sticking to her hair, and she shivered, pulling her cloak tighter around her.
Two and a half years since he had passed away in her arms. Two and a half years since she arrived at the Palais Garnier.
"My angel of music was pleased to hear that the next opera to premiere will be Carmen. He has since had me practicing the music we will sing in the chorus. And Meg has been away visiting a distant family friend. She is to return next week when rehearsals begin".
She took the bunch of white lilies she held in her hand and placed them in the niche wall, placing a gentle kiss on one of the petals.
"I love you father. Merry Christmas".
Christine bowed her head and turned away, walking back to the carriage that waited outside the cemetery gates.
Christine attempted to go to bed earlier that night. She tossed and turned for hours, frustrated. Her stomach growled. She wished during her first Christmas in Paris that someone had told her that the kitchen was not open on Christmas Eve and Day, and everyone went home for the holidays.
Everyone had loved ones to go home to for the holidays.
But she didn't. She was all but alone in the building.
Her stomach growled again. She would have to visit the market after her lessons in the morning.
"Christine…Christine".
Christine slowly sat up in bed. Surely it was not in the early hours of the morning? Peeking out into the hallway, she could see the grandfather clock read eleven.
Why would he call for her this late at night?
Christine didn't bother to dress and instead slipped her robe and flats on. She stepped into the bathroom to splash her face with cold water to make the dark circles under her eyes less noticeable. Since Meg had left, she found it hard to sleep. She was not used to being alone.
She dabbed the water off her face with a hand towel and neatly placed it back on the counter before leaving the dorm.
Moonlight beamed in through the window, illuminating the floors in a soft glow. Carefully, she made her way down the spiral staircase and turned the corner to the chapel. Walking downstairs, she began to feel the temperature drop. It was not terribly cold, but it was enough to leave goosebumps on her skin.
Reaching the bottom, she noticed that all the candles had been lit, and the tea kettle sat on the windowsill with a mug… and a bowl? A rug had also been laid out on the floor, and she wondered if someone had brought it in earlier to pray on, or if it was simply a decorative piece.
She spoke before he could greet her. "Angel, is something the matter? You do not normally call me at this time". Christine asked curiously.
"Everything is quite alright, my dear. I apologize for calling you as of late, but I have caught on late that everyone has left for the holidays and I have noticed you are the only one who has stayed behind. Do you have no distant family or friends to stay with?"
Christine shook her head. "It is just me… and you I suppose".
Her angel sighed. "I am also aware that to obtain nourishment you would have to leave and face the cold weather. It may not be extravagant, but I have prepared some soup for you".
Christine did not hesitate to walk over and pick up the bowl and take a seat on the rug. "Would you care to eat with me? From wherever you may be, I mean".
"A kind offer from you indeed, however, I wish only to provide for you", his soft voice replied matter of factly.
"Nonsense! You must be famished as well. Here," she stood up and grabbed the mug, placing it carefully on the floor so that she could fill it with the soup. Once filled she brought the cup of the steaming soup to sit in front of the angel painted on the wall.
"My dear-" he tried to plead with her, but he was swiftly cut off by her.
"I shall go to the top of the stairs and count a minute exactly for you to come out and fetch this mug. And if you do not then I shall have to hunt you down to hand it to you. As you have mentioned before, you value your privacy as much as I do. Am I clear?"
Silence filled the room, and Christine took that as his acceptance. "Alright then".
Christine left the room, and exactly a minute later, she returned to find the mug gone. She smiled in satisfaction. "See? That wasn't so hard now was it?" She sat back down on the rug.
Her angel let out a noise that resembled a grumble, but she ignored it.
"Angel?"
"Yes, my dear?"
Christine tapped her finger on the side of her bowl as she held it in her hands. "Can you tell me something about you?"
His reply came slowly. "What is it you wish to know?"
She shrugged her shoulders. "Anything…. Two and a half years ago you took me under your wing, and yet I know little to nothing about you. Yet you seem to know more about me than I do".
"Well, if you truly wish to know anything, my favorite color is green, but I tend to only wear back and white". His response had Christine sputtering into her soup with laughter.
"Please do not hesitate to share with me what you find so funny?"
Christine wiped soup away from the corner of her lip. "I meant about your life. Do you have any family? Perhaps divulge your occupation in the opera house?"
Her angel sighed, "I do not have any family, just as you. As for the second question, that is to remain a secret".
"Do you play any instruments? What about hobbies? Surely there must be something!"
"I do, in fact, play several instruments. Primarily string instruments and piano. I have always been quite adept when it comes to music. I spend many a day composing. It is a particular enjoyment of mine".
Christine's eyes lit up in fascination. "Do you compose singular pieces or for a collection set, for operas perhaps?"
"Both. I have found my singular pieces to be more worthy, but I have also worked on an opera" he replied casually, although he didn't sound too pleased with his opera.
"That must take a great deal of time. And I presume you have to simply imagine all the instruments playing together. How on earth are you able to work through such a complex process?"
"I simply imagine the music in my mind and put a pen to paper. To write music is to also imagine the emotion you want your music to portray. It is just like when you sing. You are not just singing on your own, you are making an attempt to portray the character in the current moment", he explained to her.
Christine understood as he had her do that with every music sheet she read while she would sing.
"Can you sing?" She shot the question seconds after his reply.
"Is that a question or a request?"
Christine leaned forward onto her stomach, her head perched in her hands. "You have intrigued me, mon ange. Would you deem it acceptable if I ask for both?"
"I can deny you nothing".
His rich, dulcet, baritone voice swept through the room and her lips parted in astonishment, and her breath hitched.
His voice entranced her, making her feel as if she could drift away from the place she lay. She could not understand the words he spoke, but she could feel herself succumbing to the commanding melody that seemed to caress her senses.
Two and a half years and she had never heard him sing until this moment. He held a power she didn't know he possessed. The ever-changing variation of fervent emotions within the piece enraptured her feverishly.
It pulled her to him in a way she couldn't possibly begin to understand.
It was a hunger that couldn't be sated.
A thirst that could never be quenched.
His voice took an invisible tight hold on her body and she came to stand. Closing her eyes, she completely gave in to the musical beckoning. Did he realize the hold he had over her? Did he know his voice would have this effect on her?
First, it was her feet against cold stone, and then it was her hands against a wall. His voice variated in pitch, creating a demanding vibrato, and Christine felt breathless. A draft blew into the room and her body shook with a mix of the cold and a need.
Her eyes were cast open, and she found herself staring into the intense gaze of hazel eyes. The beautiful deep orbs with cerulean and olive hues. It was as if she could see the whole world in his eyes. His dreams, his hopes, his longings… his desires.
Her heart pounded hard against her ribs, and she placed a hand over it as if it would somehow calm it.
"I am your angel of music… Come to me angel of music". It was Christine's turn to call for him.
His eyes all but begged her to come closer, yet held traces of doubt…and fear. Those pleading eyes.
"I am your angel of music… Trust me, angel of music", she pleaded to him.
His music relinquished his grasp on her, and Christine staggered back, her breath and body shuddering. Her heart continued to wildly beat. Even after his voice faded into nothing.
"Mon Ange. You have the most beautiful voice I have ever heard", Christine gasped out.
"You flatter me, my dear", he endeared.
"It is simply the truth. There is no negating or denying it", she replied with genuine honesty.
In the distance, the grandfather clock chimed, signifying the new day. Christine spun on her heel.
"Mon Ange, please wait here for me. It is now Christmas! I must fetch your gift!" She raced out of the chapel to the dorms as quickly as her feet could carry her.
As soon as she reached the dorm, she placed a hand over her tightly wound stomach, which begged for her to breathe. Catching her breath, She bent down and reached under the bed, pulling out a rectangular-shaped package.
A sigh of relief crossed her lips when she descended back into the chapel and the candles were still lit.
Christine crossed the threshold into the chapel and went to set down the present.
"I will go upstairs and-" She spoke as she began to place it down.
"Christine, wait!" He stopped her as she turned. She looked to the wall.
"Mon Ange?"
"Blow out the candles and close your eyes", he commanded.
Christine didn't ask as she moved around the room, blowing out each candle until she was pitched into darkness, the only light source being the moonlight through the stained glass window. Christine knelt on the rug before the angel, her present for him in hand.
"Close your eyes, Christine".
His voice echoed through the room and her eyes fluttered shut. A draft blew in through the room and Christine shivered.
Suddenly Christine was enveloped in a warmth that settled on her shoulders, and warm hands met her cool skin.
Christened gasped at the contact, and her lashes skimmed against the skin just under her eyes. She felt the weight of the present leave her hand and it was replaced with an even lighter and smaller one. She felt as his fingers grazed hers. She caressed her thumb over his and she heard a soft, sharp intake of air.
Christine placed the present on the floor beside her as one hand grasped hers, the other slipping under her chin and tilting it up.
A gentle thumb traced itself down her cheek, and another shiver coursed through her.
"I am your angel of music…. Come to me angel of music".
His voice once again bound itself around her, entrancing her. The hand that held her pulled her closer. Christine surrendered to him, falling forward helplessly into the arms of her angel.
Christine's arms wound themselves around her Angel's neck, and strong arms wrapped around her waist in return, pulling her into a strong chest. She buried her head in his neck and inhaled deeply, mint and cinnamon flooding her senses.
She could feel his head dip into her shoulder, his breath fanning hot on her neck. A tight sensation began to fill her lower belly and she gripped him tighter.
"Mon Ange". She sighed into him, her right hand coming up to caress the side of his face. He quaked as he held her close. He gripped her tighter in return.
"My Christine". One hand gently held the nape of her neck and the other ran down her back, and Christine trembled as his voice tickled at her ear.
Christine felt as he shifted her in his grasp, and she kept her eyes shut as he swept a graceful hand behind her back and another under her knees. She kept her arms firmly planted behind his neck as he carried her.
She didn't know where he had taken her until her head was gently urged from his neck to a pillow. She felt the warmth from her shoulders drape over her entire body and she curled up into it.
Christine felt his hands begin to leave her and with her eyes still firmly shut, she grabbed his sleeve.
"Stay with me, Mon Ange? Just until I fall asleep? I… I don't want to be alone", Christine admitted to him shyly.
She felt his hand wrap around the one that gripped at him, and she heard him come closer. Another hand stroked at her hair soothingly, and she breathed deeply.
Her angel began to sing, and the melody wrapped around her like the warmth that had settled over her.
The last thing Christine remembered was warm lips pressed against her temple.
Christine awoke in the morning with a smile on her face. Opening her eyes, she looked down to see that a black cloak had been draped over her, and a fresh red rose with a black ribbon sat in the vase on the nightstand with a present next to it.
Sitting up, she wound the cloak around herself completely, burying her nose in the scent of her angel.
It wasn't a dream.
She reached over to the nightstand and grasped the present, bringing it into her lap. Pulling off the wrapping, a small velvet box fit in the palm of her hand.
Opening it up, a gold necklace with a thin chain held a single eighth note in the center. Christine delicately lifted it from the cushion it sat on and she pushed her hair to the side and clasped it behind her neck.
'What an extraordinary gift! An ode to music!' Christine thought.
She tried to wrap her mind around what had happened last night. How in the darkness of the chapel, the act of exchanging gifts became so much more. She could vaguely remember how his arms pulled her into him, and how he had nuzzled into her neck, his breath upon her causing a coiling sensation to burn within her.
And at that moment she had desired him in unimaginable ways, and she wondered if they would ever share another moment like that again. Knowing she was not alone comforted her, and yet the knowledge that he had stayed with her until she had fallen into a peaceful sleep defied propriety.
It was a moment where she wished she could have simply screamed 'society be damned!'. She wished that she had opened her eyes. But a deep part of her knew that he would turn away and never come back.
Was it a matter of his identity? Would he lose his position should he continue to tutor her? Did he not trust her? Would it always be like this?
Oh, what she would give to meet her angel face to face!
Curling tighter into his cloak, it suddenly occurred to her that he didn't call her for lessons in the morning, and she wondered if it was because of what happened last night or if it was because he called her down late in the night.
Her mind continued to conjure up questions as she dressed warmly in an ivory cotton muslin dress embroidered with an array of colored daisies. She tied the cloak securely around her neck and moved it to hang in front of her shoulders.
Moving over to Meg's mirror, she admired the ornate black beading on the shoulders and middle back that glimmered in the sunlight upon the black cloak. He was not lying when he told her one of the primary colors he wore was black.
For the first time, Christine didn't shiver while walking to the market.
"Meg!"
"Christine!"
The two women embraced each other fondly as Meg and Madame Gry stepped out of their carriage, being among the first of the staff to return to the opera house.
"You must tell me all about your trip to Rouen!" Christine exclaimed excitedly as she pulled out of the hug.
Meg wore a cheeky grin. "And you must tell me what it was like having this place all to yourself-" She paused, raising a suggestive brow, "anything scandalous?"
Christine elbowed her lightly, her mouth hanging open at the comment. She turned to the side to see Madame Giry tip the driver before coming over to where they conversed.
"I hope you enjoyed yourself, my dear", Madame Giry said with a sad smile. The older woman understood that when the time came for holidays, it was a somber occasion without her father. Although over the years, Christine seemed to manage just fine.
Christine nodded and grabbed ahold of Meg's arm, dragging her to their room.
Meg stared at the single red rose sitting in the vase on their shard nightstand.
"Christine, you have been receiving a red rose with a black ribbon every week for the last two and a half years and you're telling me you still have no clue who this mystery man is?" Meg asked, flabbergasted.
Christine shook her head. "I haven't a clue", she lied.
"Denial. I bet you know exactly who it is and you just don't want to tell me because you're afraid I'm going to confront him!" She told her as she ran a finger along one of the falling petals.
"Regardless, he has never even told me his name". She looked up to see Meg looking at something behind her.
Meg reached past her and picked the cloak off the bed with careful hands and held it up before Christine, who clasped her hands together, refusing to meet Meg's eyes.
"And what is that on your neck?"
Christine brought a hand up to it instinctively, the eighth note warming under the fingers that held it. "A Christmas present".
Meg rolled her eyes. "From the same man, I'm assuming?" She waited for Christine to respond, but no response was needed as a deathly silence filled the room.
"Christine, this man, this suitor, is clearly enamored with you. You must follow him the next time he brings you a rose! Whomever this mystery man is, he clearly has feelings for you". She looked at Christine's face, which still hung down. Meg tilted her head down so she could look her in the eyes. "And it looks like you have some interest in him too".
'If it were only that easy, she repeatedly thought.
Her angel had awoken feelings she had never felt before. Feelings with such wanton thoughts and impulses. He knew so much about her, and yet she knew so little of him. He truly was a mysterious man.
He had told her that she had been the only person to stay behind for the holidays, so why hadn't he revealed himself to her at that moment? Those fleeting moments he had held her in his gentle arms.
"Can we change the subject?" Christine asked quietly, and Meg nodded in understanding, realizing she went too far.
A month passed, and her angel had not called to her for lessons, and Christine deeply feared she would never meet her angel again.
Christine blamed herself. She should've just walked out of the room instead of allowing him to stop her. But it had been his suggestion to blow out the candles, and then she had hung tight to him, refusing to let him go so soon.
She wondered if he hated her, and this was how it would end.
Was her angel of music truly gone from her?
Every night since she had slept restlessly. She slept wrapped up in his cloak every night, and his scent had begun to fade away, and the rose that once flourished had wilted.
Christine shuffled under the sheets, her body twisting and turning. She buried her face into her pillow. Her eyes felt heavy, but she could not sleep. A draft blew over her and she cursed the dormitories for not being warm enough in the winter.
She abandoned her attempts to sleep and decided it would do her no good to continue trying. Throwing back the covers, she slipped on her robe, slippers, and his cloak and made her way to the chapel.
There was something different about the way she felt walking to the chapel. The moments of anxiousness and excitement she used to feel now felt cold and lonely.
Descending the chapel stairs, she drew the cloak tighter around her form. Once in the room, she grabbed a candle from the crate in the corner of the room and lit it, placing it atop her father's photo. She placed her hands together, her eyes drifting shut.
"I remember how you felt, father. When I was but nine years old and standing at the precipice of that cliff, embracing the wind as if it was mother coming back to us. I remember how you locked yourself away when your angel of music died. You told me weeks later that I had saved you from eternal despair".
Christine shuddered, the room growing colder. She took her hands apart to hover them over the candle.
"I fear that my angel will never return, and I blame myself for it. I should have just gone upstairs. He would still be here if it weren't for the selfish wants of my actions. I miss my angel of music, father. How long must I feel this way? I gave into my feelings, and this is where it had led me".
Christine sighed deeply, opening her eyes to stare at the picture in the slot.
"I know you won't be able to, but if you can hear me, please send him to me one last time so I can say goodbye. There must be one person in my life I care for so deeply to whom I can say goodbye before death claims them too", Christine said solemnly.
It was the truth. Everyone she had ever loved in her life had been taken from her before she could tell them how much she had loved them and that she would see them again when it was her time. How she longed to simply say goodbye. That was all the closure she needed.
Christine stood and blew out the candle, kissing the tip of her finger and pressing it against his picture. She only took one step away from the stand when a cold breeze blew through the room, making her shiver.
"Christine… Christine".
Christine's eyes shut tightly, tears beginning to build up in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She spun to face the painted angel on the wall.
"Why did you do this to me? A month without so much as a word that you would be departing from me…. Am I truly such a horrible being to have deserved that? Tell me!" She all but screamed at him. Her fists were clenched at her side, her knuckles turning white.
A sob left her lips uncontrollably. "Are you leaving me too? Just like everyone else? Why did you stop me that night? Why did you have me blow out the candles and close my eyes? Why did you do it? Please… tell me the truth, and only the truth", she begged him.
Her angel sighed deeply. "I am truly sorry, my dear. I never intended for you to feel abandoned. I plan on doing anything but. You must understand that I am a terribly misunderstood man with flaws. I am nothing but a man who wishes to be the angel of music you deserve".
She could feel the honesty behind his words, but she still had to confirm it. "So you don't plan on leaving me?"
"Never, my dear. You simply inspired me to continue composing my opera. An opera I had nearly given up on. But now it flourishes with the passion we both hold for music. As for that night, I must deeply apologize. I took advantage of you, and it was out of place. I swear it shall never happen again". His baritone voice held a sad tone.
"If anything, I took advantage of you! I all but threw myself onto you in an inappropriate manner. For that, I will apologize, but I shall not apologize for caring about you!"
Her angel let out an audible gasp. "You…care for me?"
Christine nodded, the tears she had worked hard to keep back slipping from her eyes and down her cheeks. "For the last two and a half years, you have given me a red rose with a black ribbon every week, sometimes more frequently. You've gifted me with objects that I do not deserve. I care for the family I have made here, but you, my angel of music, are truly the person I care for the most! Your voice sings to me in a way I can't properly convey".
She could hear him attempt to interject before she continued. "You have changed my life in such an extraordinary way I couldn't even begin to thank you for. You are my angel of music as I am yours. Can't you see that? And all I ask in return is to know you, Mon Ange. Please".
"My angel of music…. How I wish you could know me. How much I wish I could be the man you deserve in your life", he told her desperately.
Christine tilted her head ever so slightly to the side. "Who has ever made you believe you were not worthy of affection? Whatever made you think I don't want to be close to you?"
Perhaps it was not a simple answer as the room went silent for several minutes. The longer the silence continued, the more she wondered about what could have possibly made him want to remain distanced from her.
"My flaws from birth have outcasted me from society. I can never show myself in the light. That is why, my dear, I do not deserve you. You are an angel, a light that can never be extinguished. If I had been created to fit in with society, I would never have a reason to leave your side", he spoke with a tone that resembled longing.
That was the second time her angel had mentioned having flaws. She could suddenly recall a memory she had with Meg on the night she had first arrived at the opera house.
"According to legends, his face looks like death, like the dead have risen to life from the grave and he lives within the shadows of the theater…"
She shook her head. It was not possible. It was all but a legend. The Phantom of the Opera was just a myth, a topic for gossip. Everything in her mind told her, begged her it was not true.
But she needed to know.
"Angel, I need to know. The flaws you speak of… are they physical?"
Another long silent pause. "Yes. And it is for that reason that I shall never be deserving of you".
A sad smile crossed Christine's lips, and that was all the confirmation she needed.
"You're him. The Phantom of the Opera".
"I am called many names, my dear. But you may call me Erik".
Hello, my lovelies! It looks like things are finally beginning to kick into gear for this story! I hope you are all enjoying it so far! I'll be honest, I was really hesitant to write this story because I was unsure how it would turn out, but I'm glad I did! Please feel free to leave reviews because they always lift my spirits!
Your Obedient Servant
-Emma51020