A Very Unhappy Birthday

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

Raoul sat up and scratched his head, stretching as the light poured in from his window. It was April 21st—his twenty-second birthday. Normally he supposed he would be excited. Even though his birthdays were not celebrated elaborately for the past five years, they were still memorable. He remembered for his seventeenth birthday, his friends aboard his ship had made him a cake. It was a terrible cake—they couldn’t cook—but it was the effort that had counted. And they had remembered his birthday for the next four years. Philippe, despite their differences, would always send him a card and some money ( to get drunk, go to a brothel, or spend as he saw fit the note usually said ).

But today there were no cards, no friends, and no cakes. He knew there would not be—not in this godforsaken place. He was in the future, and no one knew his name save for the people inside this manor, and none of the people inside this manor even knew that it was his birthday. So it appeared that he would celebrate what would normally be a happy day by himself. Truth be told, he had been dreading this day ever since he realized that there was no returning to Paris. He was stuck here forever, what good were birthdays?

As he dragged himself out of bed and to the washroom, he certainly felt older. After washing up and shaving, he dressed himself in a white flannel suit, blue button-down shirt, and gold necktie. Taking his pocket watch with him, he went downstairs to make himself a light breakfast, and spend the remaining hours reading the paper in one of the random parlors scattered throughout the mansion. Perhaps if he devoted himself to reading, then he would forget about his birthday as well.

[Christine Daaé]

Christine had been downstairs, cooking breakfast for herself and for her fiancé for a while now. Raoul had been asleep still and she thought that she would surprise him with a nice omelet when he woke up. There was no particular reason for it; she just felt like doing something nice for him. She had taken out enough eggs and good things for the filling to feed a small army, though she was only planning on making two omelets: one for herself, and one for Raoul.

Christine was busy cooking away, sautéing some mushrooms and onions while whisking away at some eggs to try to make them airy enough so that the omelet would be nice and fluffy. It had been a while since she'd done so much cooking. The manor was forcing her to resort back to the way things were when she used to help Mamma Valérius before her father died and before they hired any extra help to assist in cooking and cleaning and taking care of the poor old woman after she had lost use of her legs.

It was as she was whisking that Monsieur de Chagny – the Monsieur de Chagny whom she had first met upon arriving here and who had sent the letter to pardon her fiancé – entered the kitchen, a sort of drab, tired look upon his face, as if it were almost painful to be up. “Good morning, Monsieur de Chagny,” she said. The poor man looked as if he could use a pick-me-up. And she was already cooking anyway... “What sort of fillings would you like in your omelet?”

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

Raoul mustered up a smile when he saw the blonde Christine Daaé hard at work at the stove, making what appeared to be an omelet. “Good morning, Miss Daaé.” Oh God how that name stung to say. Of course in his dreams it was ‘de Chagny’, but there was no getting around his own name. Even that made him think of her. He needed to take a long walk after breakfast. Perhaps that would help ease his nerves, and help him forget—but he wouldn’t forget. Nothing would make him forget because he had remembered for this long. Why he bet that if she were here she would have remembered his birthday…she always did when they were children, and she would sing to him, too—

“An omelet?” he blinked, surprised before smiling in realization. Perhaps today was not going to be so bad after all. “You’re making me an omelet for my birthday? How ever did you know?” he asked, grinning. “Thank you so much…it means a lot, it really does—I didn’t think anyone knew…” he trailed off before realizing that she had asked him a question. “Ah, forgive my manners, mademoiselle. Could I trouble you for some mushrooms and ham?”

[Christine Daaé]

“Well actually, I didn't know, but now that I do. happy birthday, Monsieur.” She continued whisking. “Ham and mushrooms. Got it. It's no trouble at all, really. I was making breakfast for myself and for my fiancé, but it would seem I've taken out enough eggs too feed a lot more than just the two of us,” she said with a giggle.

With this, she took one omelet out of the pan and poured in some more eggs which she had been beating and began to add ingredients, putting in some chopped ham and some of the mushrooms which she had been sautéing. “Would you like some cheese with that as well?”

She set down the bowl and the whisk and began to season the omelet as it was cooking. A birthday at the manor... She couldn't imagine what that would be like. Granted, if this man were in fact working for Érik (even unknowingly, which seemed to be the case), then he would at least try to make it somewhat pleasant... wouldn't he? Then again, this was Érik... “Do you have any plans for your birthday, Monsieur? Meeting someone special, enjoying a slice of cake or two...?”

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

His face fell when she said that she had not known. “Oh.” Well he didn’t know why he expected her to—he had never told anyone, after all, so this was his own fault. Besides, his birthday had never been relevant to any of the conversations he had had with people here at this manor.

He looked up when she mentioned her fiancé. “Oh, he
managed to find you, then? I trust his superiors received my letter…I am glad all is well, miss.” He refrained from using her name because of the little flag that had gone off in his head the last time, and instead just ended at the title.
He nodded again when she asked him if he would like cheese in his omelet. “Yes, please. Thank you.” he replied. It really was incredibly kind of her to do this for him—even if she had not known that it was his birthday, and he did appreciate it. She really was one of the few people within this manor who had treated him benevolently, even though they had not exactly gotten off on the right foot.

“Plans, mademoiselle? No…no I don’t have any plans.” he answered, running a hand through his hair. “I don’t have work today—I took a job as a pianist just down the road, you see, since I don’t believe we’ll be getting out of here anytime soon—and I think I’m just going to stay here and read, I suppose. No one knows that it’s my birthday so I didn’t really have anyone to celebrate it with…at least not here.” he explained morosely. He shrugged in an attempt at nonchalance. “It doesn’t matter, though. It’s just another birthday.”

[Christine Daaé]

“I am not sure if they did, to be quite honest, but I'm happy to know that he's safe... Thank you again for sending that letter. I don't know what I'd ever do if he – ” she stopped herself. She didn't want to even think it, much less say it. Instead, she just nodded. “Thank you, Monsieur.”

Rather than discussing the topic any further (for it didn't really matter now that Raoul was here, safe and sound), Christine simply added some cheese to the omelet and waited for it to melt. Instead, she tried to focus the conversation more on the subject of his birthday. “Nonsense! Of course it matters; it's your birthday! Well, I know that it's your birthday at least, and I say that we should celebrate it nonetheless.” and with this, she wiped her hands on a towel, went over to the shelf which hold a great many cookbooks, mostly in English. She selected one that had a picture of several cakes on the front, then came back and handed it to him. “Here,” she said. “Pick a cake and translate and I'll make it for you.”

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

He nodded when she thanked him for sending the letter. “You’re quite welcome, Miss. No need to thank me.” It had only taken a few minutes to write and it had been no trouble at all to send. He was simply glad that he could be of service while he was here. “You must introduce him to me sometime so that we may swap stories.” It would be nice to talk with another member of the Marine Nationale. He had not seen any of his shipmates since he returned from his five year tour of duty. He doubted that he would see any of them again since he was stuck here, so speaking with an active member of the navy would be the next best thing.

Raoul glanced over at Christine when she insisted that it did matter it was his birthday, and that they should both celebrate it. He shook his head. “Really, Mademoiselle, you don’t have to do all this for me. It’s really not all that important.” He had most definitely been dreading this day as soon as he realized that he would never return home. That’s all he really wanted to do now—go home. He could go off to his estate in the country and forget about all that had happened. When she told him to pick out a cake from a cookbook, he smiled and shook his head, rising and walking over to the shelf. He flipped through one of the cookbooks at random until he reached the cake section. “Well…I do like strawberry cheesecake. I could translate this.”

[Christine Daaé]

“Oh, I am certain that he would be more than happy to swap stories with you, monsieur. Listening to and telling stories has been a favorite pass-time of ours ever since we were little children...”

She glanced at the picture in the recipe. She had never seen a cake like that before, much less made one, but it shouldn't be too difficult, assuming they had all of the necessary ingredients.... and assuming he translated it correctly. “I insist, Monsieur. Especially after all you have done to help me here. I've never heard of a strawberry cheesecake before, but I can't imagine it would be too difficult. The picture looks fairly simple.”

After first setting down the cookbook on the counter, leaving it open to the page with the recipe for 'Strawberry Cheesecake', she folded his omelet and took it off of the heat and put it onto a plate, then set it down before picking up the plate with the omelet she had finished just as he was first entering. “If you would give me just a few minutes, I would like to bring my fiancé his breakfast before it gets cold. Heaven knows the man needs to rest after all he's been though recently...”

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

“Good, I’m looking forward to meeting him.” Raoul answered pleasantly. He was, it would indeed be interesting to hear of his experiences with the navy. He had only been discharged months ago, but he did know that things changed in that amount of time. It would be an interesting conversation to be sure, besides there were not really too many people to talk to within this place—or at least not that many people whom he enjoyed speaking with. It seemed difficult for him to find enjoyable company here. Either they were simply impossible and everything they said seemed to punch him in the gut, or they had claimed to have tried to kill him and everything they said gave him immeasurable anger.

“Thank you, mademoiselle. I very much appreciate this.” he replied with a smile. It really was a kind gesture of her. Outwardly he may have seemed as if he thought that he did not care whether or not anyone recognized his birthday, but deep down he had been disappointed. Not that anyone knew, but it was still nice for people to at least wish him a happy birthday. It was yet another thing from home he missed.

“Thank you.” he told her again with another grateful smile when she finished his omelet and put it down before him. “It looks delicious.” He nodded when she said that she had to take her fiancé his breakfast. “While you’re gone I will see if I can translate this recipe.” He decided that it may be best for him to write it down—translating it in his head was easy enough as he had been speaking and reading English since he was a child, but he thought that perhaps she would like to see the directions written in French. He found a piece of paper in a drawer as well as a pen, and as he ate his breakfast he began to translate the words from the recipe into his native French.

[Christine Daaé]

“I am certain that he will enjoy meeting you too, Monsieur. And you are quite welcome.” She went and got him a fork and set it down on the table beside the plate. “Would you mind? Translating it would be a great deal of help to me. It will also save time after I come back. I can probably finish faster reading rather than asking you for what to do every step... now if you'll excuse me, I'll be back in a couple of minutes.”

She left the dining room carrying the plate with the omelet for her fiancé and went upstairs to the dormitories. She tapped lightly on his door before entering. As she suspected, he was still fast asleep, so she slipped in, and set the omelet on the bedside table, hoping that the smell would wake him before it got too cold. She pressed a kiss to her fingers and brushed his cheek gently before heading back downstairs.

Upon arriving once more in the dining room, she smiled at the man. “I hope it tasted as good as it smelled, Monsieur. Did you enjoy it? I am ready to start that cake whenever you are finished. I have never really been much of one for breakfast myself, so do not worry about me.”

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

“Oh no, not at all.” he replied when she asked if he would mind translating the recipe for her. “It really is no trouble, it shouldn’t be too hard.” A few moments later he realized this may have sounded a bit pretentious. He really needed to cut back on that, but it was something that came naturally…it was how he was raised. “What I meant was I-I learned English when I was but a child, and I have come into contact with English-speaking people while in the navy, so it just is almost second-nature to me. Hence the accent…my nursemaid was English, you see.” he explained.

After she left, he set right to work on translating the recipe. By the time she got back, he was pretty much done with his breakfast and just finishing up the recipe. He wiped his mouth with a napkin and set down the pen with a smile when she entered the kitchen again. “Yes, thank you, it was wonderful. I very much did enjoy it.” At her statement that she wasn’t going to eat breakfast, he tilted his head as he stood. “Are you sure, mademoiselle? I can’t say I can make a good omelet, but I could make you some eggs if you’d like. It’s the least I could do.”

[Christine Daaé]

((just dropping the before part now otherwise there could be an awkward time lapse throughout XDD Also, changing it to birthday King because Birthday boy sounds too childish and almost derogitory, and she's bringing up the English from before she left again after she gets back.))

“I'm glad that you enjoyed it,” she said, laughing a little, waiting for him to take the last few bites so she could take up the plate and bring it back to the kitchen. “It's fine, Monsieur. Like I said, I'm really not much of a breakfast person... Besides, I couldn't ask that of the birthday king to cook for me. That wouldn't be right!”

She waited for him to also finish the recipe card. “I never learned much English... Professor Valérius taught me a few words before he died, but not much. I've had to sing in it once or twice, so I understand a bit about pronunciation, but I'm afraid that's about it...[/b]”

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

He finished the last of his eggs and wiped his mouth with a napkin before answering, “Well at least let me help with the cake, then? I’ve been practicing since we had the tuna, really—I can make potatoes now.” The first time he had tried, they’d burned, but he had kept at it and now he almost considered himself a master at making potatoes. Or at least he was better at it than he was before coming to the mansion. It wasn’t as if he was completely hopeless as far as cooking went, but he had not done much cooking for himself since leaving the Navy.

He slid the translated recipe across the table as she spoke about how she had not learned much English. An idea suddenly occurred to him. “What if I were to teach you English? I mean you’ve helped me improve my cooking, and you made me this delicious omelet, and you’re making me a birthday cake—it’s the least I can do, mademoiselle.” he suggested. It was true, just the omelet had made his day and now she was making him his favorite cake. He had to do something for her in return, and if she wanted to learn the language he would be more than happy to teach her.

[Christine Daaé]

((I just thought of something. Christine's not going to understand much of the 25th unless they put on the French subtitles XD And because we're probably going to need to reference this throughout the scene... voilà! Strawberry cheesecake recipe. www.tasteofhome.com/Recipes/Strawberry-Cheesecake ))

Christine laughed a bit at the man's eagerness to cook something, and that he had been practicing. “Well then, someone seems quite eager to get into the kitchen and to make something,” she said. “I'm glad to hear that you've been practicing. A bit of help making the cake would be nice. After all, it does get to be a little trying dragging that stool in there around to reach all of the shelves... Making potatoes? Well, it's certainly a start. Who knows, perhaps you will eventually become a regular chef de cuisine,” She said, taking up his finished plate to bring into the kitchen and deposit into the sink for the time being.

She picked up the card in her other hand as he slid it across the table and glanced over it. “It doesn't look too terribly complicated to make, although there are quite a few ingredients. I certainly hope that we can find all of them in the kitchen. Let's see here.... pecans, butter, sugar, lemon juice, vanilla, jam... Although a few of these things I'm afraid I've never heard of before. What is cream cheese?[/b]” It was a legitimate question. The recipe called for four eight ounce packages of the stuff and she had never even so much as heard of it before. She certainly hopes that this could not cause too many complications in making the cake. Perhaps it was just a matter of matching up the words with the words on the packages in the ice box? She hoped that it were only so simple...

Her eyes lit up at his offer to teach her English. She had always had a liking for learning new languages, and it was probably the thing she enjoyed studying most with the late Professor Valérius. “b]Oh, would you? That would be simply marvelous! Thank you! thank you so much, Monsieur.[/b]”

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

“I have.” he stated proudly with a nod. “I know I’ve gotten better since the last time.” Besides, he wasn’t burning things anymore. That was an accomplishment in itself. “I would be glad to help, mademoiselle, it’s only fair.” She was offering to make the cake for him, after all. “Yes, potatoes. I thought they turned out quite well, actually.” They had. He was very much getting used to this cooking business…and it really wasn’t as hard as he thought it was before. At her comment, Raoul chuckled. “Well, I don’t know about all that…I suppose cooking can be fun but I’m not sure if I would like to go into it as a profession. The only thing I really know how to do is sail…and play the piano, I suppose.” Those were the two only paying jobs he’d ever had.

As she read off the ingredients, he dashed about the kitchen to find them. The pecans were in a cupboard, and the butter was in the icebox. After finding those two items he tried to gather the others. He was just getting out the lemon juice when she mentioned another ingredient—cream cheese. “Oh, that? It’s American—it’s cheese but it’s sort of creamy and sweet…here it is.” he answered, grabbing said item from the icebox. “It’s rather new, a man in Philadelphia invented it last year…I tried it while I was in America after escorting a trade vessel.” He handed the container over to her and nodded. “Go on, take a look.”

He smiled broadly, surprised at her apparent enthusiasm over his offer and held up a hand. “Now, now, no need to thank me, mademoiselle. You did teach me how to make tuna—and you made me breakfast and a birthday cake. This is the least I can do.”