Masked Stars; Open

[phantomsdarkangel]

It was dark and cold outside. The Manor was quiet and no one was walking around. Christine had met a woman already and she could swear she had seen a Ghost floating around, but she couldn't be sure since the figure had gone away quickly. Then again, she might be going insane already.

As soon as the sun set, Christine walked out of the Manor and ventured into the night. A long time had happened since the last of her usual night walks and she really missed them; what she enjoyed the most was watching the stars because they seemed -or so she thought- to be winking at her.
Her father used to tell her her stories under a sky full of stars and Christine, since her beloved father's death, would walk under the stars for hours, remembering those fairy tales she used to love.

She didn't really care about the wind and the cold air surrounding her. Enjoying the peace the night offered her, she walked alone for a while, hearing her own slow steps on the grass. She finally found the fountain again and sat down next to it to relax with the sound of the water falling down. That was when she started to think...
She was getting used to living at the Manor. She had lost track of time and wasn't sure how long had she been there but it had seemed like forever. There weren't many people to talk to and Christine was feeling lonely. She needed someone to talk to, someone to share what little was there to share. Someone to be there. She needed a friend.

Reaching out her hand, she touched the water and shivered softly. Too cold, she thought. As time went on, she layed down on the cold ground and looked up at the sky, imagining figures with the clouds and stars. A heart here, a bunny there... Soon, the stars got blurry and the figures started to disappear as Christine's eyes closed. She had fallen asleep, curled up in a ball. The last figure she had imagined to see was, clearly, a mask.

[Meg "Oh! La La" Giry]

Meg screamed. Very very loudly. She thought she might drown in the sound of her own voice, if the broken glass didn't eat her up by then. It felt like some sort of vacuum, an emptiness she couldn't explain. It was suffocating, tragic, miserable, aching, longing, loneliness, desperation, and she needed to get out of it NOW!

It stopped. It stopped suddenly, and Meg shuddered a gasp. She shook and shook, her hands covered lightly in bloody cuts. She knelt with her hands flat on the ground, clutching the broken glass fanned out all around her. She shook her head and finally picked it up. It was a bathroom, definitely NOT her dressing room. The large, gilded mirror above the sink was as shattered as her dressing room mirror had been, equal amounts of blood dripping from the sink as her hands.

She stood up quickly, letting go of the glass and letting it crunch underneath her harsh boots. Bits of the mirror were still intact when she looked up, and when she saw herself in its reflection, she saw a monster.

Her eyes were dark and wild, deep purple circles under them and whites bloodshot. Her face was smudged with blood and her hair was messy and covered in sparkles, like stars. It was beautiful, and she wondered if the master would like the way they shone for a moment, before she remembered he wasn't there, and those were tiny bits of sharp glass littering her golden locks. She shook her head and brushed them away, looking around the room.

It was an ordinary bathroom, complete with one of those new shower-thing-a-ma-bobs, but it looked older and more advanced than anything she'd ever seen. There were fresh towels on the sink now covered in glittering glass, and the brass accents in the room made her feel home again, in Paris, where everything was bohemian and real. It was devastating, and Meg had to get out of there fast. She couldn't breathe, not knowing where she was or how she got there. She ran out of the room as fast as she could and found herself in a foyer of some large place, but it was so dark outside through the windows she couldn't see a thing. She needed air, some sort of light!

Meg ran to the large French doors leading to some sort of garden area, and finally she could see something under the light of the moon and stars. She picked up her black skirt with bloody hands and high-tailed it to somewhere peaceful, somewhere she didn't hear voices in her head. She gasped and skidded to a halt when some sort of apparition flew past her. A ghost?! Couldn't be, she didn't believe in ghosts anymore. Not since the Phantom had become Mister Y.

She backed away from the see through thing, and tried to get to safety before she was scared any further. Suddenly, as she came close to a running fountain, she tripped and fell over something soft and warm. Good god, a dead body!? No, it couldn't be! It was moving, breathing.

It was a woman, and as Meg looked closer, all the color drained from her bloodied and made up face.

The woman she'd tripped over looked almost EXACTLY like Christine.

[phantomsdarkangel]

She didn't know how long she had been sleeping. It could have been minutes, hours, days... not that she cared, anyways. She didn't even feel the cold air on her pale shoulders and how her dress was getting wet with the soft dew of the night.

Suddenly, she felt something that jolt her awake. It felt like someone had tripped over her. She felt a soft, warm body falling over her and she gasped. A ghost! was her first thought. But no, it couldn't be a ghost. If it was, she wouldn't have felt it. It was a person. A /real/ person.
With that thought, she actually got more scared. She had figured there were other people in the Manor as well, but she wasn't sure if she wanted to meet them. Were they going to be good towards her? Were they not?

As she looked up at said person, she lost any kind of color she hadn't already lost because of the coldness. Meg? Was that /Meg/? What was she doing there? And why was she that hurt? No, it couldn't be... Meg was in France, or so she thought. She hadn't seen her in ages. But then again... where was /she/? She had lost track of time and she had no idea where she was or why was she there. Maybe she was, indeed, in France. How could she know that?

As soon as her eyes met Meg's, she started to hesitate. Was it really her? Could that be? She looked a little bit different, in a way; nothing like the little ballerina that had been her very first friend.

With this thought in her mind, she sat up and rubbed her head a little, looking up at her once more. "M-Meg?" she asked, a hint of doubt, fear and nervousness in her voice. It can't be, Christine... It simply /can't/ be.

[Meg "Oh! La La" Giry]

Meg gasped when she heard her voice. She said her name! It was Christine! But she looked so very different, so young and vivacious! She very nearly looked like the Master hadn't uttered a single word to her, for her eyes were far too bright to still be clouded by his web.

"Chr-Christine?! But... You can't be Christine!" She shook her head, unable to believe that she was here. But she was... She was supposed to be singing! Or... not singing? She didn't know, she'd been so careless not to stay.

If this woman was Christine, she was just as surprised to see Meg as Meg was to see her. Meg backed away into the stone of the fountain and folded her legs close to her chest. If she was Christine, of course she'd hate to see her now. She couldn't look at her face without seething with jealousy, and if she'd had her way before she'd left Coney Island, she'd have done something drastic, she was sure of it.

"If you are Christine, then why are you here?! Shouldn't you be singing for him?!"

[phantomsdarkangel]

What was she talking about? Singing for /him/? After everything that had happened? She had sworn she'd never sing for anyone again.

"N-No..." she stuttered, looking at her with fear in her eyes. "Meg... you're hurt... what happened to you?" she asked her, but she was still unsure about wanting to know the answer.

She looked carefully at her again. She was so... distant, cold... as if she had forgotten that they were best friends since they were really little. As if /everything/ was forgotten...

[Meg "Oh! La La" Giry]

"Meg... you're hurt... what happened to you?"

Meg's head snapped up from being buried in her knees. "What happened to me? Oh, you wouldn't know would you?" She scoffed and crawled away from her, lifting herself up to the edge of the fountain and sitting, staring down at the water as she submerged her torn hands. She gritted her teeth when the pain truly seeped in. Both bodily pain, and the heart pain. The pain of her knowing that her best friend had really been so careless so that she now hated her, for being his love and for being in his favor.

"He happened to me, and you, and Raoul, and that damned boy of yours! Isn't that right?!" How could Christine not know what was going on here? She was Christine, and yet she didn't know all that had happened at Coney Island? It was all so vivid in her mind, and yet the cruel, harsh world of America looked like it hadn't even tainted the woman at all. She paused her thoughts, and then presented a question. "Christine... Tell me... When was the last time we met? When did you... see me last?"

[phantomsdarkangel]

Meg's response confused her even more. She stood up and sat down again next to her, helping her wash her hands carefully. "Meg... I don't know what are you talking about," she murmured at first. "Raoul? Have you seen him, Meg? Is he alright?" she started to question. If Meg had seen Raoul, she probably knew why were they there, or not...

Again, another of her questions got her even more confused. "What boy, Meg? What are you talking about, dear?" she continued to ask as her friend kept talking.
When was the last time she had seen her? How could she tell? Christine made a big effort to remember and got deep in thought for a moment.

When she snapped out of it, she sighed and looked at her, still getting the blood out of her hands. "Long ago, I think... back in Paris, at the Opera... don't you remember?" she asked her, shooting her a confused, yet surprised look.

[Meg "Oh! La La" Giry]

Meg shook her head, unbelieving that Christine didn't know anything about what had happened only a few days ago, even hours in the case of her performance. How could she not know her own son? And she talked of Raoul as if there was no animosity between them. Then... she hadn't even acknowledged the Master's prescence in Meg's words. Something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Meg gasped when Christine's hands had clasped her own, trying to wash up the blood she'd stupidly bled from herself in a fit of rage. And in fact, the rage had been directed at the woman in front of her, but looking at this Christine's (for she couldn't call her her Christine anymore) guilt free eyes and caring expression, she called to her mind a Christine of long ago, a younger Christine, who had indeed been her very best friend.

"Long ago, I think... back in Paris, at the Opera... don't you remember?"

In Paris... Paris?! It couldn't be! But that would mean that this Christine is the Christine from her past, not the present. What kind of sick joke was this?! "Christine... Christine, I just saw you not ten minutes ago. I swear I just saw you ten minutes ago! And it was most certainly NOT in Paris!"

[phantomsdarkangel]

She noticed that Meg was as confused as she was, or maybe even more. She had so much to ask her... but she could tell that it wasn't the same Meg she had left in Paris. She was darker, her eyes were full of hate, or so it seemed. "Meg, please... you're scaring me..." Christine whispered.
Internally, Christine had always been quite innocent and then, even if she was a grown woman, there were times where the little Swedish girl she had inside showed up, with her innocence, her fears and her personality. /This/ was the case.

Ten minutes ago? Was that even possible? As long as she remembered, she had been in that strange place for days, walking around and wondering where she was. Maybe a week, or more. And, ten minutes ago, she was definitely there, by the fountain.

"I've been here for days, Meg... I haven't /seen/ you in forever, what on Earth are you talking about?" she asked her, looking up into her eyes and showing the fear and confusion she had in hers.

[Meg "Oh! La La" Giry]

Christine's words confirmed to Meg that this was not the woman who had been pining for the Master on Coney Island. This was indeed the Christine of her past, but at the same time it wasn't. She was so very different, she looked different, but Meg felt it was still her Christine, flesh and blood.

If she didn't know all that had happened, maybe... No, it couldn't be. Could it? Could she? If she could, maybe, if there was a chance he'd join Meg and Christine, maybe she could work this situation in her favor. After all, she was a very gifted fibber. It wouldn't be too hard. This Christine was far too naive to not believe anything Meg said. Just try to remain calm, she told herself. Don't say anything stupid, Meg!

"I..." she began. "I think I figured this out. We know each other, but yet we don't know each other. This might seem crazy, but I think... I think you're the Christine from my past, or something. Has to be, I know it. We must have been... Transported here or something?" She began scrubbing her hands again, the pain dissipating slowly. She glanced up at Christine, and smirked inwardly. "I guess we should start with how we got here? I... I've been in America for a while now. Ten years to be exact. With my mother and... and..." Meg shuddered harshly, feigning horror.

"With him!"

[phantomsdarkangel]

It couldn't be. She knew it totally couldn't be the same Meg. But yet, it was... and she felt she was her best friend. Of course, she was different, but she hadn't seen her in forever and people change... Christine's mind started to spin as she listened to the woman beside her.

America? Could it be? No... it couldn't. "America?" she repeated. "Well... I was in Paris... at the Opera... and, believe it or not, yes, I was with /him/. He was teaching me scales, because I need to practice my singing again if I want to get somewhere..." she explained to her, keeping her eyes on her lap.

[Meg "Oh! La La" Giry]

"Teaching you scales?!" Meg choked. "Christine, that man is a madman, and not to be trusted, least of all with teaching you music!" Meg was playing her cards right, she hoped. If not, well, she'd find out in time. "I should know, I've been rather like his prisoner these past ten years. I've been slaving away, singing that awful music he writes. 'Bathing Beauty, on the beach!'" she mocked. "Ugh, and I thought Mozart was foppish, and the dancing?! You wouldn't believe the kind of dancing he made me do! It was all so... so... vulgar! And the audience ate it up, too!"

Meg shuddered. In truth, she missed the dancing and attention, and she adored the music the Master wrote. It perfectly fit Meg's personality. It was as if he knew her, inside and out.

Time to really make her mark. Hopefully this would get Christine on her side, so that when the time came, she would have the Master all to herself.

"He kept my mother and made her do his dirty work, like how he controlled her at the opera. Didn't you know that, that he made her do things, even then too? Well yeah, we've been with him for years. It was only a matter of time before he sent for you. Ya see, we've been living on this island that functions as an amusement park, called Coney Island. It's a magical place, but hard to function in it when you've got that brute breathing down your neck! Anyway, he got so tired of mis-- I mean obsessing over you that he sent you an invitation to sing in the show I sing and dance in, pretending he was some industry millionaire Mister Y. Stupid name, I know. So you and Raoul, your husband of ten years, oh Christine, innit that swell?! You and Raoul and your son, yes SON! Your son, named Gustave after your dear, sweet father, was there with you, and he's yours and Raoul's spitting image, I tell you! Anyway, you didn't know it was the Phantom when you came to sing, thinking they wanted to appreciate the most 'celebrated diva in the world,' yes, that's you! But it was really a ploy for him to win you over again, but he blackmailed you into staying when you'd decided to leave by saying something bad would happen to Gustave if you didn't! Oh, Christine, it was awful. I was so worried about you, when you went on to sing! I was so angry, so very angry at you for giving into him, that I smashed my own dressing room mirror, wishing you'd just leave so that you never had to deal with that awful man again! I wanted to deal with him myself. You're too fragile Christine, I just wanted to protect you! But you know I'm still angry with you... even though I know you were just looking out for your son. I was planning on finding him and taking him away from that place so that you, Raoul and the boy had a chance to escape, when I woke up here after breaking my mirror!"

They didn't call Meg a chatter-box for nothing. It almost seemed like her story was out in one breath, and she felt it had been. It was perfect, wasn't it? Turning the Master into the bad guy so that Christine wouldn't have anything to do with him when he got there. That was if he got there. They'd run away together, and Christine would never have to know.

[cedarchip]

The echo of a door slamming open ricocheted off the stone walls of the narrow hallway as Erik burst out of the library. He didn't know where his long strides would take him and he frankly didn't care. There were no such things as Ghosts and the irony of his situation wasn't lost on him as he thought back on his alleged encounter.

Erik had been working on his precious Don Juan Triumphant when he suddenly found himself on his back, gasping for the breath that was knocked out his lungs. He rolled to his right side and held back a groan of pain before he froze and dug his fingers into the thick, plush rug that he was laying on. This wasn't his lair. Erik abruptly sat up and looked wildly at his surroundings.

It seemed he was in a library if the wall-to-wall bookshelves were anything to go by, with thickly padded chair sitting in front of a fireplace and a strange black box. Beside the chair was a pile of books and thin boxes bearing the extended version of his preferred alias, "Phantom of the Opera." And around those were several opaque figures that seemed to be… floating just above the floor? Erik's face paled behind his quarter mask and immediately bolted from the room without another thought. There were no such things as Ghosts, so what were those things?

He past several more of those things in the hallways, spurring him to even greater speeds. He had to get out of this unknown castle, and soon.

He breathed in a sigh of relief as he found that the most recent doors he had burst through led to the gardens. A stone bench was conveniently placed near the castle and he sank gratefully onto it, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his masked face in his hands. Dammit, what was this place? Where was his beloved, yet thrice-cursed opera house? Erik decided that a brisk walk through the gardens to help clear his muddled and confused mind was in order.

He turned a corner and paused, hearing the faint tones of Madam Giry's daughter. What was her name? Margot? What in the blazes was she doing here? Erik started as he heard Christine's melodic voice answer in a pleading and frightened way. What, she was here too? His breath quickened and he started quickly for the source of the noise. After a minute or so of walking in the chilly air, he arrived to see Margot and Christine talking animatedly. Yes, he decided, Margot is her name!

The girl in question looked much older than Erik remembered, causing him to question exactly how often he visited Madam Giry. It couldn't have been ten years now, could it? Christine's back was to the Phantom as he faced Margot. The girl looked quite excited and disgusted at whatever she was talking about, piquing Erik's curiosity.

[Meg "Oh! La La" Giry]

"So you see, Christine," Meg continued, talking excitedly as she seemed to have figured their predicament out. "Something must have pulled us out of our lives and into this manor, but I don't know what. All I know is that I left future you all alone to fend for herself and I need to... I need to..."

Meg's eyes had strayed over Christine's shoulder, and to her horror, what she found was unbelievable. "M-M-M-Maste--" She bit back her own words and gasped, her wet and still bleeding hand moving to her throat as she grabbed the fabric there, gulping in shock. It couldn't have been him! It didn't look like him, and yet... The mask! It was there, yet somehow... He looked too young, his eyes too callous, not sad enough to make him her Master. Even if he was a younger version of her Master, he still looked so wrong, so strange and bulky. He looked more like a god than the shy, heartbroken man she'd come to love.

"Who are you?!" she snapped, standing up and moving toward the man. She had never been truly afraid of the man, and wouldn't even think to be now. "Who are you," she repeated, "and why do you look so much like him?!"

[phantomsdarkangel]

Christine watched and listened to Meg carefully. She simply couldn't believe what she was hearing. The Phantom, /her/ Phantom would never do that. She knew it and she was sure of it. And a son!? Christine didn't have a son! It wasn't even possible! Christine hadn't seen Raoul in years but... what if Meg was, indeed, right and she had lost her memory? It could have happened... but no! Meg had mentioned something about "an older her", like, another version of herself... So, this was the Meg from her future and not from her past?

As Meg's eyes glanced over her shoulder, Christine froze for a second, sensing another presence, someone else, there. She slowly turned around and gasped. It was /Him/! Christine could recognize him anywhere. It was her Phantom, her angel, he was back! And he was there, with them.
Christine looked up at made eye contact for a moment, standing still and completely speechless.

The tone of Meg's voice as she started to walk towards him made her snap out of it and walk behind Meg, grabbing her by her shoulder to stop her.
Suddenly, she began to understand... if this Meg was the Meg from the future and this Phantom was the Phantom of the present, it was obvious neither of them would recognize each other. But it was clear /she/ recognized the man standing before them.

Stopping Meg from losing it completely and hurt him, Christine pulled her back by her shoulder a little bit, as her eyes analyzed their new guest, looking at him up and down many times.