Beyond your Imagination (Raoul Christope)

[Christine Svenna Daaé]

((I know it sucks, but there are too many brothers here right now >.< I can't think straight....))

Christine was lying unconscious on the stage of the opera house. She had fainted away after she had been rescued from rescued from near death after the grand chandelier had come crashing down toward her during the bows of Il Muto. She was still laying there, just stage left of center stage, the same place where she had landed as Raoul pushed her out of the was of that massive catastrophe of the falling fixture.

Slowly, she began to stir and rose to a sitting position, rubbing her head with her hand. Her vision was a bit blurry at first and the opera around her kept fading in and out from the opera she knew, to a dreary, dusty place which resembled the opera house she had just been in, but seemed aged a hundred years or so. Her vision finally settled on one of the two, and unfortunately it was the latter.

She stood and looked around, still clothed in her Countess costume. What? This wasn't right. What happened? How long had she been unconscious for? Where was...

Her thoughts were cut short when she caught site of him, standing in the aisle of the house, walking toward the stage.

“Raoul!”

And she practically leaped from the stage, running to the house and jumped, practically glomping him, flinging her arms around him and kissing him as she had on the rooftop only a couple of hours before. She couldn't have been happier to see him – the man who had saved her life nearly moments before – under such strange circumstances. Perhaps he would be able to explain the sudden disarray of the theatre.

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

It was May 20th. It should have been May 20th, 1881, but it was in reality May 20th, 2012. Regardless the day held significant meaning for him. It was her birthday. He remembered the two birthdays he’d actually shared with her—those were among the rare times he had ever sung in front of her—as well as all the games they would play when they were children. He remembered the presents he had gotten her—a necklace the first year and a bracelet the next.

He had not even thought that he would have met her again this year, never mind gotten her a present, but even in the past five years, every May 20th he remembered her and the time they had spent together years ago. He thought of her every day, but even more so on this day. Ironically this day had begun like almost any other, save for the fact that today was the day before he was due to leave for London. He had given his boss a notice of his resignation, and the man had almost pleaded with him to stay, saying he couldn’t afford to lose such a hard worker, but he had been adamant. As a last favor he had agreed to letting his boss throw him a going-away party, which he had just come back from. Normally he supposed he would have enjoyed such a thing, but not today. They had made him sing karaoke—some ludicrous song called ‘Somebody to Love’—and he had been pigeonholed into dancing with his boss’s daughter ( whom he suspected the man was trying to set him up with ). The party itself had ended around 9:45 and the cab drive took fifteen minutes, so now it was around ten.

He had been avoiding this room all day, but since he was leaving tomorrow he supposed that he may as well give it one last look. Still dressed in his midnight blue tuxedo and overcoat, holding his top hat, the young man walked down the aisle of the opera house solemnly. At his side was a bouquet of flowers he intended to lay on the stage—for Christine. He knew she was very much alive no doubt, but he also knew that he would never see her again. This was his means of saying goodbye. He was about halfway to the stage when he heard the voice.

“Raoul!”

“It can’t be…” he muttered in absolute shock, looking up and dropping both flowers and top hat. But there she was, running straight toward him—toward him and into him. He almost stumbled backward when she jumped on top of him, and opened his mouth in question but was unable to speak as her lips immediately silenced his. His eyes widened in awe, blinking confusedly as to how this was even happening, and why she was kissing him? But dear God…His eyes closed in surrender and his arms went around her tightly, returning the kiss with just as much fervor. He had wanted this—for so long he’d wanted this, and now she was here. He raised his hands to her cheeks and then planted a lingering kiss on her neck. The more logical part of his brain kicked in and he pulled away suddenly, shaking his head. “N-no…no this isn’t real.” He clutched his hair and turned around, pacing. “It can’t be real. And even if it were…” He shook his head again and glared at her. “If you’re here for the money I don’t have any—I’m broke! Poor as a pauper—it’s all gone, I don’t know how but it’s all gone. So go ahead and go find your precious Angel like you wanted to do from the beginning. Let him play his mind tricks on you, I don’t care. I don’t…” he repeated, more to convince himself than her. However as he said this he didn’t look at her, a clear indicator that there was an ample amount of doubt on his part.

[Christine Svenna Daaé]

Christine was beyond delighted to see Raoul again. She had so many questions for them. What had happened to the opera house? Where had everybody gone. Why wasn't the chandelier sitting on the stage any more? How long had she been unconscious for?

He kissed her back and then, raising his hands to her cheeks, causing her to close her eyes and let out a soft sigh. But the moment was soon cut short when he suddenly pushed her away and began pacing, saying over and over again that this couldn't be real. “Raoul? Raoul, what are you talking about?...”

And then he shot her a glare as if she were the devil incarnate and she couldn't help but to shrink a little under his gaze. What on earth was wrong with him? Only moments before he had promised to be her shelter and to protect her from that distorted face which belonged to her Angel of Music, and now.... Let him play his mind tricks on you, I don't care... Those words echoed through her head and cut through her like a knife. Why was he being so cruel? What had happened....

“Raoul, I don't understand... What money?” He kept going on and on about how he had no money, which was odd, no doubt, given that he was the patron of the opera, but what baffled her even more was why he was even bringing that up.

She saw that he had dropped his top hat and a bouquet of flowers on the ground, she bent down and picked up the hat, then went up to him and held it out, offering it to take from her.

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

“Don’t pretend you don’t know!” Raoul snapped a bit more acerbically than he meant to. “You’re in love with him—don’t lie to me, I know you are. You only want my money, is that it? My security? Well I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that I no longer have any of that, so you may run off to him if that’s what you see fit. Just know that even without the money I would have loved you until the day I died. I would have died for you to protect you from him!” he all but shouted. “And that means absolutely nothing to you, doesn’t it? Because you never really loved me.” he questioned bitterly.

He faltered at the look on her face and for a few moments was silent—until she dared to ask him what money he was talking about. “The money I was entitled to since the day I was born—what you really wanted from me. I don’t have it, Christine, not anymore—not here. It’s gone, all of it, and I’m working two jobs just to get it back so you won’t—” He stopped in the middle of his sentence before finally finishing quietly, “So that you won’t gallivant after your Angel.” He couldn’t lose her to him—it would be both a failure as a man and a nobleman if he did, not to mention a personal blow to his own self-esteem, which he had lost a fraction of ever since losing his power and his money.

He watched as she picked up his hat and the flowers and wordlessly handed them to him, in awe at the action, and how she was treating him even after he’d been so abrasive with her. “Thank you. The flowers are for you. They’re for your birthday…I was going to put them on the stage since…since you weren’t here, because I knew how much you loved the stage.” he stated as he took the top hat. “How long have you been in here?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. It was then that he noticed what she was wearing—he recognized it as a version of the costume Carlotta had been wearing, and from the ‘movie’ he had watched with the blonde Christine, and had watched subsequently just to get a glimpse of his Christine again. “What is the last thing you remember?”

[Christine Svenna Daaé]

((Oh dear, you made her cry.... ))

His words bashed her heart like crashing waves beat and bash against a rock along the seashore, slowly eroding it away into nothing but a few grains of sand. “Raoul, that's not true! You know that's not true...” She could no longer restrain a few tears that came with her words. Because you never loved me... “ Raoul... Raoul, I told you I loved you... I still do love you... How could you not know that?...” The young woman was so confused... Whatever happened to only a couple hours before? Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning... Say you love me... And then, she added softly, more to herself than to him “Love me. That's all I ask of you...”

At least he hadn't said he didn't love her. It was simply that he didn't believe that she loved him back. But what reason could he possibly have to think that? After all, she had been unconscious this whole time. The last time she saw him was when he was saving her life.... He started speaking about money again. Why was it all about money? Christine shook her head in confusion. What was going on? Why was he treating her this way?...

She waited as he took the hat from her hand and told her that the flowers were for her birthday. She looked down at them, then back up at him and wiped away a couple of tears. “You... you remembered?” She hadn't told him it was her birthday. Birthdays hardly mattered any more. Madame Giry and Meg and the rest of the ballet would sometimes gather together to wish her a happy birthday, but that was it. She didn't think of telling him since it wasn't very important... “I've been here all evening. Since the performance started. Then the chandelier fell and you pushed me out of the way and I went unconscious.... I don't understand... What happened to this place? Did they move the chandelier already?”

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

He shook his head in disbelief when she protested that what he had said wasn’t true. “Don’t lie to me.” he repeated again, icily. “You can tell the truth, don’t try to spare my feelings—I’m a grown man, I can take it, but the worst thing you could ever do to me is lie to my face.” he stated, attempting to keep his voice calm, although it rose at certain intervals. His face was stern and displayed a subdued anger, but it changed to surprise when she began crying. He looked at her in sudden wonder, even though his mind was screaming at him that it was only an act, that she was paid to cry on cue. But nevertheless Raoul could not stand to see her cry. Through her tears she insisted that she had loved him and still loved him.

He wanted to believe her, to embrace her and pretend that he had not doubted for a second—but he could not. Not when he had so much overwhelming evidence to suggest that the opposite of what she was saying was true. He had met the older version of her, who insisted that she loved them both—which of course he saw as false lunacy, she loved the monster and that was that. Her husband—whom he was convinced was not him—said the same thing.

He heard the words she said next—familiar ones he recognized from both the play and the film that he had seen. Love me, that’s all I ask of you, she had uttered. His face softened and he seized her hands, gazing into her eyes as he replied passionately, with an almost musical tone to his voice, “Then say you’ll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from your solitude. Say you need me with you here beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too. Christine, that’s all I ask of you.” He hesitated and then raised a hand to her cheek, speaking normally but just as emotionally. “Please…promise me that you won’t ever leave—that you will never go away.”

At her question as to whether he had remembered her birthday, he nodded with a slight smile. “Of course I did. I’ve remembered for the past five years…I just never had the chance to wish you a happy birthday.” He had not thought that they would reunite, so of course he had not gotten to give her a present or anything, but he had always remember—and probably always would. He frowned in thought when she said that she had been here since ‘the performance’—did she mean Il Muto? She mustn’t have been here…she must have still believed she was in the opera house. The bit about the chandelier falling shocked him, and his eyes widened before narrowing once again in anger—this time toward Erik. “He did it, didn’t he? He tried to murder you!” And the fiend claimed to love her. If he couldn’t have her then no one could. Raoul had half a mind to give the monster another beating—unrestrained—for just this crime. His eyebrows raised when she said that he had pushed her out of the way—of course he hadn’t, because he had arrived here the day before in her time. “Christine…” he began, “I know this won’t make any sense but I did not push you out of the way—I mean, it was me but I’ve been here for months, and I haven’t seen you since the day of the performance…which to you was yesterday, but to me it was several months ago.” He had not seen her in almost a year it felt like. “This is not truly the Opera Populaire—it’s old, not nearly as pristine…and I’m afraid that the real Populaire would appear the same way. We’re in the year 2012. Somehow we’ve been transported through time to the future—I don’t understand why or how it’s happened but it has. But everything will be alright, love, I promise.” he assured her firmly, drawing her into a tight hug. “I’m here—you’re safe. I will save you from him. He shan’t control you again.”

[Christine Svenna Daaé]

Christine looked up at Raoul, her tears slowing, as he replied to the phrase she had not even said with the intention for him to hear. It was part of the vows which they had uttered to each other on the rooftop not so long before... A soft smile tugged at the corners of her lips. “I won't Raoul. I promise you. I already have promised you...”

Her smile grew, tears nearly stopping completely, when he told her that he had remembered her birthday every year for the past five years. She honestly had not expected as much. Of course, they had been very close friends in the two years which they had spent together as children in Perros-Guirec, but she didn't expect him to remember the date even long after they had parted. She closed her eyes, inhaling the flowers. “They're lovely, Raoul. Thank you...”

And then her smile faded, her head tilting ever so slightly in confusion when he continued on. Of course he had saved her! That was the only reason she was still alive, standing there before him this very moment. She was so confused. Why on earth would he tell her otherwise? 2012?... “But Raoul, how is any of that even possible?” she asked. "I just saw you, right before I wen unconscious. But if you have been here for several months as you say, then how is any of this even possible?”

She bit her lip when he made his direct attacks toward the Angel. “I... believe so... I cannot say for sure, quite honestly. I didn't see him... Oh, Raoul, I am so frightened! What if he tries something like that again? First Buquet, then he attempted to kill me too – Lord knows what he will do next...”

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

Raoul smiled and raised her hands to his lips when she promised that she wouldn’t leave him. “Thank you.” he murmured softly, his doubts finally put to rest. Raising a hand to wipe away a few of her stray tears, he rested his palm on her cheek and added tenderly, “You know I love you. I’ve always loved you. I’m sorry for the things I said. I should not have doubted you—it’s just these past few months here have been…so bizarre that I just didn’t know what to believe. “Forgive me—please forgive me.”

“Ah, but not as lovely as you are, my dear.” He raised a hand when she thanked him for the flowers and grinned, shaking his head. “No need to thank me at all. I only wish that there were some way I could make up for those five birthdays I missed—how about I start with supper? I still owe you supper, if you recall. We never got the chance to talk after Hannibal…would you do me the honor of accompanying me to supper?”

The Vicomte shook his head gravely at her question. “I don’t know…I’m trying to make sense of it myself, I have been trying ever since the moment I got here. You should know that there are people here—with our names—who claim to be us, but you mustn’t trouble yourself over them. I don’t know how it is possible—it sounds insane, but I had a theory that they are from different worlds so to speak. It’s the only way I can begin to explain it. We're no longer in France, and this is not the Populaire. We're in Northern England, and I've been living and working here for several months.” He nodded when she said that she had seen him just before she went unconscious. “I know, I know…I don’t understand how it happened—but I have been here for months…and I was also with you up until the time you arrived here. I haven’t any memories of you since what was yesterday for you, but I do know what’s happened…about Buquet, the roof, the chandelier…” His face hardened at the last word.

He took her into his arms again when she expressed her fear of Erik and stroked her back as he answered soothingly, “It’s alright. He shan’t hurt you. I promise you. I will do everything I can to fight him, and believe me, I will win. He will not harm you again.” he vowed firmly. “And I’ll take you far away from him, as I promised. I can get us a train to London—you will never have to see him again.”

[Christine Svenna Daaé]

Christine beamed when he said that he always had loved her. “Ever since we were little children?”It seemed a bit difficult to believe that he had loved her even since then. After all, they were only children. Yes, the two of them had always been very close – they were best friends – and she would admit to having a bit of an infatuation with him when she was younger... He quite handsome even then, and as they got a bit older, it did grow to more than infatuation, but she hadn't realized that his feelings had been so strong ever since the beginning.

“Oh Raoul, of course I forgive you, but... I'm a little confused... You know that I have not been here until now. What could have possibly happened in the past few months to cause you such strong doubt?” He had used the word 'bizarre.' Certainly it was rather bizarre that they were there in the first place, but where there things even more bizarre about being here than simply the fact of how they arrived?

She blushed and bit her lip, beaming even more when he complimented her and then invited her to supper. “Supper sounds nice,”she said. “After all, we never got the chance the last time you invited me... Although I should probably change. I'm not exactly dressed for supper.” She gestured to her purple costume dress and powdered wig, laughing a little. She must have been quite a site...

Christine was even more confused when Raoul tried to explain to her about all that was going on. How had they arrived in England? How was there this difference in time? Other people with their same names? Oh, it was enough to make one's hear hurt. She was quite glad when he took her up in his arms and relaxed a bit. “Thank you, Raoul...”

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

He nodded, answering quite seriously, “Ever since the day we met. I knew that you were special, and that by getting your scarf something had changed. I didn’t necessarily know that I was falling in love with you then but I did know that I cared for you deeply—that it was much more than simply fondness. I know it sounds silly…but you were the first and closest friend I had ever had. Leaving you to go to the Marine Nationale was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.” he stated truthfully. “I thought about you every day since we’ve parted…and when I saw you again at the opera, I knew that I had loved you.”

“Thank you.” he said softly with a smile when she forgave him for his outburst. He paused at her question, unsure of how to explain everything to her. Clearly she didn’t know of the confrontation in the lair and his near-death experience. How would she take that? “Well…a few months ago—for me—was the gala. I had just seen you perform and I wanted to go and talk with you in your dressing room, but as I entered I blacked out. I arrived in a music room half-asleep in a chair. Over the next few weeks I met quite a few people--a few women claimed to be you, and I met another woman who said she was a friend of yours, Meg Giry. There was another woman in this manor who introduced herself as…as Christine de Chagny—and she looked so much like you, Christine, and she recognized me. She told me that the two of us had married ten years ago in the past—for her, certainly, not us—and that was the first time I ever considered that you had loved me as I love you. But then she went on to imply that she no longer loved my future self and that instead she loved her Angel of Music.” The last of these words were uttered with derision. “But even so, I could never forget about you, Christine, and I can’t stop loving you. I knew that I’d never be happy apart from you so I’ve waited these past few months hoping that you’d arrive here. But all the while I doubted that you loved me because of what that woman said. I’m sorry. But even so…I wanted to protect you from him—even if you didn’t love me back I couldn’t let him control you—I couldn’t watch you lose your mind to him again, Christine! He’s hypnotizing you, don’t you see?” His voice grew more desperate as he grabbed her shoulders. “He’s here—you mustn’t let him get inside your head! He is dangerous—not to mention insane. He tried to kill you—and he tried to kill me as well, or so he says.”

He grinned when she accepted his dinner invitation and kissed her hand happily. “You must tell me all that’s happened while I was away. It’s been so long since we’ve sat down and had a meal together.” Too long. “I’ve missed you so much, Christine—more than you probably realize.” he murmured, his embrace tightening ever so slightly as to assure himself that this was not another dream. “You’re welcome. Your safety is more important to me than anything.”

[Christine Svenna Daaé]

Christine smiled warmly, a light blush creeping to her cheeks. “No... No, it doesn't sound silly at all. It's rather sweet, really.” She inhales the flowers again. They really were very sweet-smelling. Pink tulips... “You remembered,” she said with a light giggle. “I can't believe that you actually remembered... I guess you understood why I always hid in the bed of tulips when we played hide and seek in the garden at your family's estate after all...”

Christine listened closely as Raoul continued to speak, taking the time to sit in one of the seats for a moment. There was no point in standing this whole time while there were plenty of perfectly good chairs just lying around. She sat down in her sort of carefree, somewhat boyish way, slouching over with her legs spread apart. She had never really been raised to be what one might call a 'proper lady' considering that she had been raised solely by her father until his death, and then had been rushed off to the ballet of the Opéra Populaire – neither were really situations in which one learned etiquette.

Those pale blue eyes lost a little of their sparkle when he told her that he had become engaged to this... other Christine Daaé, but when he spoke of the woman who looked exactly like her, this Christine de Chagny, her expression changed from one of sadness to one of confusion. The woman clearly could not have been her. She was her! Or at least, she was pretty sure that she was. She continued listening as he told her that he broke off his engagement and her eyes softened. She couldn't stay upset with him, not if she tried, and most certainly not after all that he had just told her only few hours before, on the rooftop, even if he had not experienced it himself. No, she didn't understand what was going on here, but it hardly mattered. He loved her. That was all she had ever hoped to ask for.

He wanted to protect her from him, for her Angel of Music...Only a day before, she would have thought him to be quite silly for offering such a gesture. After all, it was her guardian angel, this Angel of Music – the angel whom her father had promised to send to her. But after all that had happened in the performance of Il Muto, Christine was quite glad to accept his protection against that masked phantom whom she had seen the face of that morning, and who had caused so much death and chaos within the opera house.

Yes, she was afraid, but... hypnotizing? “Hypnotizing?” she asked aloud. “How do you figure that?” Christine really wasn't sure what he meant by this... She did recall the Angel's voice being rather entrancing... but had is really driven her to do things which she would not have done out of her own accord? She wasn't quite sure what to think of this. She trusted Raoul, yes. Of course she would, he was a very old and dear friend to her. But to say that this Angel, that this voice had driven her to do things beyond her own free will through so simple an act as speaking or singing was rather frightening, and the young woman did not know what to make of it.

Christine nodded, the smile creeping back to her lips when he pressed a kiss to her hand. “Yes, it has been a long time, hasn't it? Though I fear I'm not exactly appropriately dressed for dinner,” she said, gesturing to her wig and costume dress with a slight chuckle. He embraced her tightly and she closed her eyes, giving a contented sigh, lingering in his arms for a moment. It was just like back on the rooftop before she had gone on as the countess. “You shall have to tell me all that has gone on too. It would seem you already know most of what I do...”

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

He smiled in relief when she didn’t find his whole discourse silly, and even broader when she said that she thought it was sweet. “It’s true—meeting you…that was one of the happiest days of my life. I say one of because all of the other ones involved you in some fashion or another. Honestly, Christine, before we met…that house at Perros was miserable.” It was true. He loved his brother and all, but he was twenty years older than him. Raoul didn’t really think there was much they had in common. Besides, he had never approved of their friendship, and he had a feeling that he had been aware of his crush on her.

“Indeed—they were your favorite flowers, were they not?” he asked with a grin. He remembered those days at Perros quite clearly. How young and innocent they were then. He missed being with her—but now he would share each day with her, wouldn’t he? And there was no Philippe to bug him about seeing her. “Of course I remembered. In fact—do you know how I remembered you when I saw you singing at the opera? I was in the managers’ box that night, and Andre mentioned that Carlotta had been replaced—by a Miss Daaé. I wondered if it was you, and then the curtain rose and I saw you with that scarf.” He chuckled and shook his head. “Without a doubt in my mind I knew it was you. You really have a beautiful voice, Christine. Simply ethereal…it’s a gift.” He would have told her the night of the gala had he not been taken away to the manor. In all honesty he had feared he’d never get to tell her that or that he loved her.

He nodded. “Yes, hypnotizing. When he sings to you…you’re not quite aware of what’s going on around you—other than his voice—are you?” he asked. But there was no way for him to know that. He had seen it—in that film and the play, but never really seen with his own eyes. He decided to take another direction. “Remember when we were on the roof? One minute you were talking about how afraid you were of him and the next you talked about his eyes. His voice…it’s doing something to you—making you overlook his insanity. It’s what he wants, don’t you see? He did the same thing to the woman claiming to be you—she said it didn’t matter that he had killed innocent people. You don’t believe that, do you? You know that he’s dangerous. He’s unpredictable—oh, you mustn’t go near him again, please, Christine, for me? I couldn’t bear the thought of anything happening to you.”

He chuckled as well upon realizing she was still in costume and kissed her lightly, getting quite used to the gesture. “Then you, my dear, must change. Should ten minutes suffice? I can show you where the living quarters are.” he offered, holding out his arm. Smiling, he gave another nod at her next statement. “Well, I’ve been doing a lot of traveling…I’ve only just gotten back from my tour. The Navy…I enjoyed it, no doubt, but it’s good to have my feet back on dry land for a change.”

[Christine Svenna Daaé]

Christine beamed when Raoul told her that meeting her had been one of the happiest days of his life. It was refreshing to know that she had left such an impression on him. He remembered so much from the tome they spent together when they were younger... They had never had the chance to finish discussing their memories that evening when he came to meet her in her dressing room. He had left to get his hat and then... She stopped herself. She wasn't sure what to think of what had happened any more: whether she had been led away by an Angel or lured off by some wicked ghost. She shook her head. Now wasn't the time to be pondering such things.

“Yes. Yes, they were – are – my favorite flowers. Thank you.” She smelled them again. She smiled at him as he continued to speak. “No,” she chuckled when he asked her if she knew how he had recognized her. And then he explained it to her. She couldn't help a warm smile, accompanied by a light blush, coming to her face. She was practically glowing at him. The scarf! Of course that would have been it. “Thank you, Raoul, though I couldn't have done it without – ” she stopped herself. Without the help of my Angel, the same man who just tried to kill her and who had killed Buquet...

It was certainly not a good time to bring up something like that. Raoul began explaining to her how it was as if he hypnotized her with his voice as he sang. “... Not really, no,” she said in response to his question as to her not being aware of what was going on around her when she heard his voice. I do remember telling you about his voice on the roof, but...[/b]” Christine wasn't quite sure what to think. She had always been drawn to his voice in some strange way which she could not understand. How could such a voice be so horrible. She knew that its source was quite dangerous, but she didn't know how to avoid it unless it was that he were not here. She sighed. “Of course it matters, Raoul, but how am I to promise that I'll never go near him again when it is he who seeks me out?”

There was a bit of concern in her tone, but any trace of worry vanished when he lightly kissed her lips. A soft smile came to her face. She chuckled a bit, catching his little joke, referencing back to the evening before when he had been in her dressing room and told her to change for supper. “Tn minutes should be fine, dear, and yes, knowing where the living quarters are would most certainly be helpful. She rose and took his arm and the two began to walk toward the dormitories. He began speaking about his time in the navy. “Ooo! That certainly sounds exciting. Where all did you travel to?”

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

“You’re quite welcome.” Raoul answered, smiling as she smelled the flowers. Seeing her again was like a step back in time. Yes, he knew they had both grown older, but she brought back so many fond memories. Not that the memories had been far out of reach for the past five years. He had still been pining for her that entire time, and he would be lying if he said that his retiring had nothing to do with him missing her.

“No, no, it’s the truth. You sang wonderfully.” he stated when she thanked him. She really had sung like an angel. To say he had been impressed was an understatement. Entranced was a more accurate word for the way he had felt listening to her. Yes, she sang beautifully. He raised an eyebrow when she didn’t finish her sentence, but then concluded that he didn’t want to know. “If we were still in Paris, I should hope that the managers would be wise enough to give you more parts. You were breathtaking in the gala—I’m afraid I didn’t get the chance to see Il Muto because of…well, this.” he stated, indicating his being taken here. “But I’m sure you did excellent, as always.”

“No?” he replied incredulously. Well of course she wouldn’t notice it if she was hypnotized. “Christine—for me—please just stay away from him. I don’t want you getting hurt. I will protect you from him but I don’t think it wise to go looking for him. He’s insane, volatile, and should be confined to a mental institution. I don’t want you to get hurt…if anything did happen to you I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.” When she brought up the fact that Lenoir had gone after her, he replied, “Then tell me if he does and I will make sure that he won’t bother you again.”

He smiled when she took his arm, putting on his hat and patting her hand briefly as they left the opera house. “Oh, loads of places—North Africa, Italy, Spain, parts of Asia, and America—though America isn’t exactly on my list of places I’d like to return to.” He despised Americans—especially his cousin—and found the country dull, rude, and impetuous—just like most of its citizens.

[Christine Svenna Daaé]

((Gaaaaah! It's so hard not to call him Erik...))

“Oh, that's all right, Raoul,” she said with a bit of a chuckle. “You were still there in spirit – and I'm quite glad that you were or else I might have been squooshed by a twenty ton chandelier” She gave him a little peck on the cheek and beamed at him. She really was quite glad he had been there, even if it wasn't him really.... Oh, never mind! This whole thing was just too confusing anyway. Best not to think much of it.

She listened closely as he spoke about the Phantom of the Opera, and how he would prefer she avoided him... and then she also remembered the incident with the chandelier. It seemed that Raoul was quite justified in his concerns. “I.... I promise,” she said, giving a soft nod when he told her to tell him if the Phantom came seeking her yet again.

“What's so wrong with America?” the young woman asked as they began heading out of the opera house and walking down the corridor. “From what I've heard, it seems like a wonderful place. Why else would so many people wish to go live there?”