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Forget Me Not	By : spikesbint Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > AU/AR Views: 12355 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter 1

The Widow De Chagny

Madame Giry rose from her bed at the dorms of the Opera Populaire. Monsieur’s Firmin and Andre had not been poverty stricken by the destruction of the opera house, as they had at first feared. The Vicomte De Chagny had been most generous in contributing to the rebuilding of it. The living conditions here had barely improved since the restoration of the opera house almost thirteen years ago, but she was the mistress as before.

However, she now had the added circumstance of Meg being one of their most admired actresses. That, and the events that had led to the ruin of the building had given Mme Giry an almost legendary status among her young charges, which she trained. She was well versed in dealing with the curious girls that came here each year, always wanting to hear the tales of the Opera Ghost and Christine Daae.

Madame Giry had never been one to encourage gossip where Erik was concerned, but she often wondered how he had fared in America. Infrequent letters arrived for her, punctuating the sometimes silence of several years, before she received the next. It had been almost three years since she had heard from him. Although she had his direction from his last letter, safely locked away, not a day went by that she did not think of him.

She walked over to her wardrobe to begin dressing when an urgent knock sounded on her door. She wrapped her dressing gown tighter around her slim frame and went to answer it.

One of the younger girls stood there, her eyes as round as saucers, she held a note in her hand.

“This just arrived for you Madame. It was delivered by a man; he is waiting in the foyer for you and says he will not leave until he has spoken to you,”

Mme Giry took the note from the girl and looked at it. She broke the seal and opened the letter. It had been hastily scrawled, but she recognised Christine’s writing.

Madame Giry,

Please come, Raoul is dying and I need you. I should have told you of his illness sooner, but I did not want to be a burden to anyone. Please forgive me.

Christine

Madame Giry covered her mouth as she swayed on her feet, reeling from the shock.

“Madame?” asked the girl uncertainly.

“Run and tell the man that I will be with him presently and go fetch Collette. She will have to take over my duties while I am gone,” The girl was about to leave when Mme Giry caught her arm. “Wait,”

Mme quickly went over to her bureaux and wrote a note for the managers. “Please do not forgot to give this to Monsieur’s Andre and Firmin, it explains my absence and with the Vicomte still as their patron they will brook no argument,”

The girl took the note and left. Madame Giry dressed at quickly as the awkward fashions of the day allowed. There was no time to fix her hair as she stuffed a travelling bag full of all that she might need for her time away. She was about to lock up her room when she remembered rather belatedly her promise to Erik. Madame Giry went over to her favourite chair and felt underneath it for a little tear she had purposely made in the upholstery. She retrieved the ring from inside and unwrapped it from the cloth in which it was covered. It shone just as brightly as the day she had deposited it there many years ago.

Closing the door behind her, she made her way to the foyer where a well-dressed servant waited for her.

“Madame Giry?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Good, there is no time to lose. I am Philippe Abney, valet to the Vicomte. I am here with a carriage to escort you back to the estate,”

Madame Giry smiled to herself. Christine had been very confident in her response to the call for help. However, Christine also knew that she looked on her as a daughter and would be there for her in an instant in the same way she would for Meg if she needed her.

“I have to fetch my daughter and I have an urgent matter of business to attend, but they will take no more than a few moments. The Vicomtess would want her friend to be with her,”

“Very well. It was indeed the Vicomtess’s hope that your daughter would accompany you,” he replied. She followed him out of the main doors and into the busy streets.

The black carriage that bore the De Chagny crest waited at the foot of the steps. The man opened the door and helped Mme Giry inside. She gave the direction to the coach driver and they set off.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Meg lived in a smart little apartment, only a few streets from the opera house. She felt proud that it was her own and not a present from one of the many admirers, that had offered to set up home for her in the return that she would be their mistress.

At the age of thirty-one, two years older than Christine, she had not led a celibate existence and had had several lovers over the years. She was just very discreet in her affaires, although she had been fond of most of them; none had yet managed to touch her heart. In this she envied Christine, she was still waiting to meet a man who could make her breathless with a single look. Her gaze wandered to the white mask that she had displayed on her cabinet. Maybe it was girlish of her to hang on to those dreams, but until she found that person, she would keep company with her present paramours.

She turned over in the bed and found that she could not. Meg opened her eyes and looked into the bright blue ones of Luc Firmin and as usual felt the tug of regret that she had chosen a lover so close to the opera house. Luc was the eldest son of monsieur Firmin and at the age of twenty-five, he was six years her junior, but he had been most persistent. He had showered her with gifts and flowers, and was quite charming when compared to the others, which pursued her.

She felt more than a passing affection for him if she were honest with herself. Meg bent her head to kiss his lips. She would have pulled away if he had not held on to her and deepened the kiss. She sighed inwardly, she did not have to be at rehearsals for some time yet, she thought as she gave herself up to his caresses.

“I love you Meg,” he whispered against her throat.

“I know,” she replied softly, sucking in her breath as his hand crept inside her nightgown to stroke her breast.

He rolled her over onto her back and settled himself between her legs. Both their eyes widened in surprise at the loud hammering of her front door.

“Ignore it,” he urged as he continued touching her body.

“I cannot, it might be important,” she breathed.

Luc made a moue of annoyance before rolling off her. Meg rose from the bed and belted a dressing gown around her waist. She walked over to the window.

“Oh, it is Maman. She must not find you here,”

Luc got up from the bed. “Where do you suggest I hide? In the wardrobe?” he asked sardonically.

Meg pulled a face and threw his pants at him before hurrying downstairs to meet her mother. The smile on her face faded as she met the grim expression of her mama’s.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Christine…Raoul, he is dying. She needs us,”

Meg gasped. “I’ll get my things,”

She ran back up the stairs and hastily packed a suitcase. Luc sat on one of the chairs regarding her. He took a long drag on a cheroot and exhaled the smoke. She sat down at the mirror and quickly, but expertly arranged her long blonde hair.

“Where’s the fire?” he asked at her agitated manner.

“Luc I do not have time to explain but I have to leave Paris for a few days. My friend Christine needs me. Her husband is dying. I will know more when I get there,”

“The Vicomte?”

“Yes,”

“Oh dear father must be having forty fits at this very moment,” He chuckled.

Meg glowered at him. “Show some compassion. Christine is like a sister to me,”

She closed her suitcase with a snap. She walked over to him and kissed him briefly on the lips. He took ahold of her hand.

“I’ll miss you Meg,”

“I will miss you too,” she replied, realising it was in fact true. “Let yourself out, but not before the carriage is out of sight,”

He stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray and continued to dress.

“Do not worry little Meg, I will keep our secret,” he smiled wryly.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Mme Giry was already in the carriage and waiting for her daughter, as soon as she was inside they set off once more.

“Why did Christine not tell us that Raoul was sick sooner?” asked Meg, confused.

Mme Giry sighed. “I do not even know what his condition is. Maybe in time he may recover,”

The carriage came to a stop outside an alien building. Meg watched with interest as her mother took a small package from her reticule.

“What is that?” asked Meg

“A personal matter,”

Meg bristled with resentment. Five minutes alone with her mother and she already felt like a child again and not the independent woman that she was. Mother had kept secrets all her life, why would now be any different she mused. She watched as her mother disappeared into the office. For the first time she noted the presence of the young man that sat across from her.

She smiled at him and then fixed her gaze on the window, feeling awkward in the heavy silence of being left alone with a stranger. She breathed an inward sigh of relief when her mother returned.

Mme Giry glanced at her daughter; she could tell by the stubborn set of her lower lip that she was annoyed with her.

“If you insist on knowing child, I have just sent for the assistance of an old friend. Christine may need all the help she can get in the days to come,”

“Which tells me everything and nothing mama…as usual,” she replied in resignation.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She was having such a wonderful dream; she was back at the Opera Populaire and was in the middle of an aria. Suddenly the music stopped and the adoring audience melted away until there was only one left sitting there. She could not quite make him out as he was partially hidden by the shadows. He had begun to applaud although her song was not finished. Someone was shaking her…Christine opened her eyes and looked into the blue ones of Madame Giry.

“Christine,” she said gently.

Christine slowly became aware of her surroundings. “Madame Giry,” she breathed. The welcome sight of her surrogate mother caused tears spring to her eyes. She had spent the last few weeks trying to be so strong for her husband that all the pent up emotion burst like a dam and spilled down her cheeks.

Mme Giry wrapped her arms around her, noting the thinness of her frame. “What ails Raoul?” she asked gently as she stroked her hair.

Christine lifted her tearstained face to look at her. “H-he has consumption,”

Meg chose to enter the room at that moment after making sure their belongings had been safely deposited as well as giving her mother some time alone with Christine. She had heard the last sentence as she had walked in. She rushed over to Christine’s side and squeezed her hand.

Christine looked at her friend in surprise, it had been at least three years since she had last seen her and she was surprised in the changes in her. From the rustle of her rich silk dress to her perfectly styled hair, Meg looked every inch the lady.

“Look at you,” said Christine, glad of the distraction. She felt painfully aware of her own disorder as she smoothed down her riotous curls that had long escaped their pins. “You look wonderful…all you are missing is the little doggy,”

Meg smiled through her tears, realising her friend needed the release of a little humour.

“How is Raoul?” she asked.

“Come and see for yourselves. I am sure he would like to see some fresh faces after seeing only mine these past few weeks.

Christine took both women by the hand and led them to Raoul’s bedroom. She opened the doors as silently as possible so not to wake him, but was surprised to find he was already so. He greeted her with a weak smile as he struggled to sit up in bed.

“Madame Giry, and little Meg,” he greeted them warmly, only to be taken over by a fit of coughing.

Christine rushed to his side and covered his mouth, gently rubbing his back until it subsided. She quickly hid the bloodstained cloth from his view. He did not need further reminding of his fading mortality.

“How well you both look, as you can see I am not doing so well,” he sighed wryly.

Madame Giry had managed to hide her shock at the sight of the ailing Vicomte, but it had been a struggle. He had always seemed so young, vibrant, and full of energy. To see him so reduced made her want to weep.

“It is good to see you again Vicomte,” she replied.

He nodded at her. “You have come for the grand finale?”

Christine made a sound of protest, but he held up his hand. “Please, I know I am not long for this world. I can feel it within me and see it in your faces. It is good that Christine sent for you. I would not want her to be alone,”

Raoul turned to look at his wife tenderly. He saw the fresh tears on her cheeks and held out a hand to her. “Come, I will not have you weep for this sorry pile of bones my love,”

Christine went to him and rested her head on his shoulder. “I love you,” she whispered brokenly.

“I wish I did not have to leave you. It is just my time Christine. Most of life is uncertain, but on one thing we can depend and that is that death comes to us all. Loving you was the most worthwhile action of my whole existence, please tell me that I did it well,”

Christine looked down at him, wiping away the damp tendrils of hair that clung to his forehead.

“You were the best husband a woman could wish for, please do not leave me,”

“I fear I-must…Christine,” he sucked in a loud rasping breath and as it left his lungs he went limp in her arms.

“Raoul?” she questioned. She shook him a little, he flopped about in her arms like a rag doll. “Raoul!” she screamed, as she climbed on the bed with him and took him in her arms.

Madame Giry touched Christine’s shoulder, but she flinched away from her touch. “Leave us!”

Mme Giry drew back, she remembered all too well the day that Meg’s father had been taken from them. It was better to leave Christine alone for a little while until the first pangs of shock had faded. She took Meg’s hand and led her from the room.

“I will return in a while Christine,” said Mme Giry quietly as she closed the doors and left Christine alone to her grief.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

New York- Six Days Later

Life for Erik had been better than he had expected in his new adopted country. He had taken all the money with him that he had accrued during his reign as the opera ghost and had invested it wisely. America was indeed a land of opportunity, but it helped if you had money from the onset.

The country was so richly populated with people from all lifestyles, that he had barely been given a second glance on the boat that had brought him here. He had kept to his cabin for most of the Atlantic crossing. On arrival, he had walked into the first bank, he could find, aware that the city was rife with thieves and pickpockets and there he had deposited a considerable sum. Finding accommodation after that had been easy, and as his wealth grew so did the size of his living quarters.

Nighttime was still his preferred means of getting about the city. Having lived in darkness for so long, it was his day to him. He stood outside the newly constructed metropolitan Opera house as it rested on 39th and 40th. It had been three years in the making, from start to finish. Erik had invested large sums of his personal wealth into it along with several other New York millionaires. At last here was an opera house he truly could call his own…an eighth of it at least he thought wryly.

He had been appointed general manager of the house too and after the land on which it was to be built, he had made sure, by greasing a few palms that the architect of his choice would win the competition to design it. Little did the fools know, that it was his own design that had met with their approval. Once it had been accepted he had made several changes to it for his own benefit.

He entered the building, tipping a nod at the night watchman as he made his way to his office. He closed the door and lit a gas lamp to illuminate the room. He sat back in his upholstered leather chair noticing for the first time the small package that rested on his desk. He reached over to open it. He tore the wrapping from it to find a note inside.

He turned up the lamp to read it.

Erik, Christine needs you.

Mme Giry

Erik opened the box to see the diamond ring, which he had given all hope of ever seeing again. He had long ago resigned himself to the fact that Christine was happy in her life with the Vicomte and he in some small way must get on with the business of living his own. He glanced at one of the faded sketches he had made of her all those long years ago. It hung on the wall opposite his desk purposely, so it was the first thing he would see as he sat down to work.

He cursed Mme Giry for the economy of the words that her note held. However, the fact that Christine needed help was enough for him. The opera house could go to hell for the time being. He took a pen from the holder and began to write down instructions for his personal assistant to find in the morning. After doing so, he shrugged on his black cape and set off for home to plan his return to France.

TBC
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Forget Me Not