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Do I Dream Again?	By : LaurieBaker Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 10050 -:- 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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Christine stared out of the large window beside her seat as the train departed from the Paris railway station. It would be hard to leave here. This had been her home for so long, this beautiful city. Yet the scenic buildings seemed to mock her now. The sight of romantic lovers walking along the Jardin de Tuileries made her sad. The elegant stores along the Champs Elysee meant nothing to her. The starving artists along the small side streets of the West Bank reminded her of how she used to be, young and full of dreams.

With an effort, Christine tried to get a hold of herself. She did not think that the elderly couple sitting across from her in her car would appreciate her blubbering like a little baby. True, she had enough money where she could have had her own private seating area on the train, but a lifetime of frugal living preventing her from indulging in such extravagance. Besides, who knew how long she would have Lucille de Chagny’s money as her sole source of survival? Probably for at least the next month or so. And she would have to find a place to live and learn the city streets…

Christine’s head spun suddenly at just what this journey meant. It scared her to do this thing. Yet she was more afraid to stay. She knew that she was going mad with her grief and memories. She needed a change. And she wanted to be alone, where no one would tell her what to do, where she could think with a clear head.

I have never been one for clear thinking, she said to herself. Otherwise, I would have made much better choices.

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I remember there was mist…swirling mist upon a vast glassy lake…

Christine awoke with her senses back aright, although her recollections of the night before were frustratingly scarce. She looked about her strange surroundings in disbelief. So last night had been no surreal fantasy! She truly was surrounded by candles and darkness and mist!

And what of the man who had taken her this place? Yes, a man and no Angel. A man with a mask…a mask just like the rumored Phantom of the Opera…

Was the Angel and the Phantom and the man one and the same?

Arising from the large comforting bed, Christine searched for the source of the organ music. As she expected, she saw him there pounding away at his instrument and scribbling furiously at parchment, composing some sort of bizarre music. He never heard her sneak up behind him. She never felt her fingers near his ear as she yanked off the white mask.

What a fright she had at the horrible sight before her, of all of the mottled flesh, scars, jutting bone and yellow skin! So that was why he wore his mask! Not to disguise his identity, but to hide the ravages of his flesh!

Before she could even digest this information, the man raged at her in fury, calling her horrible names no one had ever called her before. Indeed, she had never seen anyone so violently angry ever! He raced about the room like a caged tiger, ready to strike at any moment. She was sure that he would murder her at any second for exposing his face.

Yet once the storm had passed, he fell to his knees before her, begging her forgiveness, pleading for her understanding. So pitiful was the sight of him, crouched down on the ground, clutching at his unmasked face. He knew he was ugly and monstrous, yet he so yearned for a beautiful angel. He yearned for her.

The strange man’s desperate words tugged at her heart, but the desire she had felt for this man the night before was buried in confusion, fear and pity. There were too many shocking revelations. She no longer knew what to believe. He was no Angel of Music. He was no ghost, yet he wore the mask of the Phantom. The knowledge of his ravaged face no longer bothered her, yet his murderous rage terrified her.

With trembling hands, she handed him back his mask but was so full on conflicting emotions that she truly had no idea of what she should do or say next.

Apparently, the man also was at a loss for words as he clutched on to his mask as if it were his only hope for life before slipping it back onto his face.

If only she had done things differently…

Was there something she could have said to make things better between them?

Was there any way for her to prevent the bloodshed that was to follow?

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As the sound of the snoring man across from her wrenched her back to the present, Christine realized her cheeks were wet with tears. Reaching for a handkerchief, she wiped her face, hoping that this was not a sign of an emotional waterfall to come. How many crying fits could one person suffer anyway?

Clenching her fist tight, she thrust the past from her mind. She had to. What of the present? What of her future of freedom that she had staked out for herself?

Before she left, Mamma Valerius revealed that she believed Christine’s mother was from England. If Christine truly thought that she would pursue her new life in London, perhaps she could spend some time trying to find out more about who her mother was. The idea was a comforting one. Christine knew very little about her mother. Her father would rarely speak of her as it pained him to do so as it brought back painful memories of her death.

Yes, she would research what she could about her mother, perhaps track down old relatives. She would seek employment as a singing tutor. And then once she was comfortably settled, Meg could come visit her in London.

Christine’s spirits lifted at the thought.

She had already written her friend from the corps de ballet, informing her that she had left Raoul and had started off on her own in another country where she could make a fresh start. She was quite sure Meg would not reveal her hideabouts to her prior fiancé. Her friend could be trusted.

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“Madame Giry!” the Vicomte de Chagny raged, his complexion as red as a lobster’s as his voice booming throughout the ballet rehearsal space. “You of all people know more about the Phantom of the Opera than anyone else in this theater. After all the scandal and deaths that have occurred, it is amazing to me how you have even managed to keep your job here! And now you dare to tell me that you know nothing of my fiancee’s disappearance!”

“Don’t speak that way to my Maman!” Meg interrupted.

Both Raoul and Madame Giry ordered Meg to stay out of it at the same time.

The rehearsing dancers seemed to scatter about, ceasing their practice as they began to whisper among themselves in small group. Oh, it had been so long since there had been so much fodder for delicious gossip! Ever since the Phantom died, things had been almost dull…

What a sight the usually impeccable Vicomte was, unkempt and rude and practically spitting venom!

“If my suspicions are correct and my fiancée is being held captive by that ‘thing’, I shall hold you responsible and see to it that you are arrested right beside him!”

“Monsieur,” Madame Giry interrupted. “With all due respect, you seem to have lost your mind. The Phantom is dead. Everyone knows that. Now please leave here at once. As you can see, you have disrupted our rehearsal. Tonight is a new ballet sequence and my dancers must be thoroughly prepared.”

“Oh, yes, of course,” the Vicomte sniffed, ignoring Madame Giry’s request. “There was an anonymous advertisement placed in the newspaper. Therefore, the rumors of his death must be true!”

“There is no need to be sarcastic, Monsieur,” Madame Giry responded. “Even the police think him dead now.”

“Well, if he is truly gone, then how do you explain Christine’s disappearance? Tell me that! Surely you must know what has happened to her. After all, you always know about everything that goes on where Christine is concerned, do you not?”

“Perhaps she decided that she simply did not want to marry you after all, Monsieur.”

The Vicomte paled as if Madame Giry had struck him. The hush in the room was a palpable one.

“If you were a man, I would call you out for that!”

Madame simply shrugged as Raoul de Chagny stormed off to find other victims around the theater to harass.

“Good parting shot, Maman,” Meg raved with a pretty smile as she performed a pirouette in celebration. “That will show that insufferable cad!”

Antoinette Giry beamed in appreciation of her own handling with the insensible Vicomte. What right had he to come storming in here and upsetting everybody with his false accusations? Yet this was no example to set for her daughter.

“It is no laughing matter, Meg,” she lectured sternly. “Christine has left her fiancée and apparently disappeared off the face of the earth. I have no idea what has become of the child, but I am certain that the Opera Ghost had nothing to do with it.”

Lord knows that Erik would not be constantly drunk as a skunk if Christine were back in his life, Antoinette thought to herself sadly.

“Of course the Phantom had nothing to do with it!” Meg chirped, stretching her long limbed leg along the dance barre. “He is dead, Maman!”

“That is right, child.” How she hated having to lie to her own daughter!

“And Christine is much better off now, anyway. She was horribly unhappy with that stuffy old Vicomte! I know!”

Antoinette felt her heart pound and the hairs at the back of her neck stand up with her daughter’s revelation. No, she pleaded up to the heavens. Please don’t let my daughter be mixed up in this!

“How do you know that, Meg?” she asked, trying to remain calm, even while gripping at her daughter’s arm with a vice-like hold.

“She wrote me,” her daughter volunteered with a cheerful whisper, practically jumping up and down with excitement. “I received the letter today!”

Antoinette could practically hear the swish of fabric out of the shadows in response to her daughter’s answer. Oh, yes, the walls had ears today, especially regarding anything to do with Christine Daae and the Vicomte de Chagny. She had to get Meg away from here. She refused to play a part with any more of Erik’s schemes, even indirectly.

“Meg, perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere…”

“She said that life being looked down upon at the Vicomte’s estate was no life for her.”

“Meg, please…” Antoinette begged, but once her daughter had started, there was no stopping her.

“That she wanted to put the past behind her and was off to London to make a fresh start.”

“Meg…”

“But you mustn’t tell anyone, Maman, because Christine does not want Raoul de Chagny to come looking for her.”

“Of course, I shall not breathe a word to him, but…”

“He is all very good looking and heroic and all that, but he is very bossy and has the meanest sisters. At least, that is what she said in her letter.”

Antoinette tried to reach for her daughter’s arms to firmly guide her out of the rehearsal wall and away from the eavesdropping Phantom, but it was too late.

“She thought she might start to privately tutor singers for the Savoy Theater. And she asked me if I might come visit her once she is settled. Oh, may I, Maman? I would so love to see London and Buckingham Palace and Windsor Castle and London Bridge and…!”

Antoinette cursed. She had no doubt that Erik was lurking about somewhere and had greedily heard every word of her daughter’s foolish admission. Yet, she tried not to be too hard on her daughter. After all, Meg believed that the Phantom was as dead as anyone else. She had no idea what she had just done.

Her innocent little daughter had just awakened a sleeping beast…

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A/N: I have taken the “flashback” scene of Christine’s taking off the mask from the ALW stage musical rather than the movie. It makes more sense to me that Erik would be doing something like composing and be caught by surprise by her actions. In the movie, he seems to just be waiting for her to come and take the mask off. I also like the moment in the stage musical when she hands the mask back to him.
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Do I Dream Again?