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When Christine finally got home after a long day at the Opéra, she quickly bid her guardian as well as her maid goodnight and went to her room, looking forward to a good night's sleep in her own bed. Deciding to change into a thin nightgown, she went to her drawer to choose one. It really had been getting warmer lately. The slowly, but surely rising temperatures seemed like a harbinger of spring. Another plus was that she didn´t have to walk through pitch black streets in the morning anymore, feeling way more secure. Morning… Oh, she couldn't wait to sleep!
Christine eyed her bed wistfully and decided it would not hurt lying on it for just a minute. She was content to have a nice, comfortable blanket and looked forward to getting some sort of rest, although sleep hadn't been too kind to her due to her constant worrying. Speaking of worrying herself, her thoughts flew directly to Raoul and Erik. She sighed. Why did it have to be so difficult? She was so tired. She didn't have the energy to let either of the men she cared so much about take over her thoughts. Christine fought against any idea that would keep her awake the whole night. She had already not been able to sleep last night and of course he had noticed. Erik would always notice the little details.
The constant fear for Raoul since he had reappeared in her life had had a draining effect on her and it started to show. The rosy complexion of her pretty face seemed to fade more and more, day by day and when she dared to look into a mirror, she did not recognize her sad visage.
Well, if the world thought he looked like death, it would believe her to be the incarnation of sickness itself. What a match! Destiny truly had a morbid sense of humour, chaining her to her jailer, she mused. For a living woman of twenty years she had spent way too much time in a mausoleum, hadn't she? Or was she already dead, having given away her soul and her heart to two different men?
Enough talk of death and misery and despair, she longed for sweet dreams to embrace her once again and to escape this madness! Christine sighed again. As she pinched her cheeks slightly in an attempt to make them return to their normal lovely shade of pink, a quiet voice in her head told her that they had three weeks, maybe one month left until the start of the polar expedition.
Four weeks, and he would be gone. "Gone", echoed the voice. She wanted it to stop. Trusting mysterious voices had led her to be in this fix, hadn´t it?
Christine was certain Raoul wanted to marry her, although she knew that could never happen.
'But what about an engagement?', the voice continued. He couldn't be angry if they stayed inside the Opéra where he could watch them. They would do no foul thing, oh no! It would be a game, she thought. A children's temporary, make-believe game! Oh, he could never object to an engagement that wasn't even real! It would all work, it had to! It was essential for her plan that Raoul did leave her after four weeks and that the little dream of theirs wouldn't shatter by becoming public.
That would be easy enough, right?
Even he would be pleased to hear her voice soar again, flying high - free like a bird that has just discovered the outside world. Only joyful arias would fill the air for a whole month! No more Desdemona, no more Juliette, no more Marguerite!
A slight smile formed on her beautiful lips. She had found a way! A way without hurting either Raoul or Erik! She clapped giddily, a little laugh escaping her mouth. It felt so good to laugh again. A third sigh left her body, this time out of contentment.
It was then that her body reminded her that she was, in fact, exhausted. Christine forced herself to get up; her arms, which had artfully arranged themselves to frame her head while lying down, now pressed themselves into the mattress to support her weight to move her upper body. She sat on the edge of her simple yet comfortable bed, looking forward to explaining her plan to her childhood best friend the next day. A yawn overcame her, and stretching a little, she uttered an adorable noise of satisfaction. Holding on to the footboard, she got up, taking her elegant blue laced nightgown she had picked out earlier with her. When she began to undress, the young woman regretted sending her maid to bed. Getting out of these clothes was nearly impossible for one person. Trying to figure out a way to undo the buttons on her back, she moved in front of the little mirror that sat on her desk. The clock next to it was about to strike eleven. How much easier it was to keep track of time when one wasn´t underground!
Ah, time! Christine had to be in bed soon, else Erik would make a huge scene because she hadn´t slept enough and she certainly didn´t need to hear that curtain-lecture again. The sleep that cures all ills (forever!) and so on and so forth. It had been worse than when Carolus Fonta had accidently touched her hand in rehearsal.
She continued fiddling with her dress and happily hummed a tune. She smiled again. Without realising it, she had picked one of her favourite lullabies. Christine´s room was filled with melodious laughter as the young woman remembered how often her father had sung it to her when she had refused to go to bed as a girl, wanting to see the mystic beings that only came out at night. Christine clutched her night dress to her chest and swayed slowly, lost in memories of the lost. She stood there for a while, the moonlight coming through the window softly caressing her long blonde hair.
But what was that?
She was startled. Hadn´t there been a sigh?
It had sounded like a suspiring youngling in a fairy tale who´s head over heels in love. But maybe it was only her imagination – it could have been the sea Raoul loved so much or the wind in the trees in a forest far, far away, or, or - No, it had been a sigh! An adoring sigh! Had she finally gone mad now?
It had been his sigh, hadn´t it? Oh, she always heard him sigh and call her name in her mind! With a frightened expression, she turned around. No, there was nobody behind her. This was very suspicious. Suddenly she understood why Sorelli took her dagger everywhere she went. Christine pretended to continue undressing, rustling the fabric extra loudly. And then there was another sound. She heard muffled arguing. That caught her off-guard. She was used to one ghost invading her privacy, but two?
In one swift movement Christine ran to her wardrobe for day wear (where the sound was coming from) and opened the doors so abruptly that its three inhibiters –who were, in fact, very much human– tumbled onto the floor, completely caught by surprise.
Irritated, but curious nevertheless, Christine looked at the pile in front of her.
Who would have thought - there, entangled on the floor in the flat in the Rue de Notre Dame des Victoires, lay a young blonde aristocrat, a certain gentleman in a now slightly crinkled suit as well as a middle aged (officially) retired policeman who had lost his astrakhan hat in the chaos.
Christine sighed for the fourth time this evening and began to detangle the huddle in front of her, deliberately avoiding regarding Erik and Raoul who looked like ashamed children about to be scolded.
Before she could open her mouth to ask what the opera ghost the three men had been doing in her wardrobe, however, she heard someone knock on the door. Great, another guest! Welcome to the party, Madame or Monsieur! Fancy a biscuit? Or maybe a glass of port?
What would Mamma Valérius think of her? Having Raoul ask her if her protegée was still "innocent" had been awkward enough!
Good God, her suitors had truly made her night! Christine opened the front door, frustrated. On the other side was a man clad in a similar suit to the one the Persian she had recognized earlier was wearing. The look they exchanged revealed what they both thought of this strange affair.
"Darius!" The Daroga exclaimed. Luckily, he had been able to recover his hat and was now occupied with a) undertaking Christine´s usual job of dragging Raoul along while simultaneously b) (gently) pushing Erik towards the door and c) making sure they did not murder each other. He somehow managed to tip his hat at Christine and apologised profusely in one sentence.
Raoul looked like he had been crying, but left without a word. Erik was on the verge of tears and about to fall down on his knees, something which disturbed Christine immensely each time he did it, but before he could open his mouth, he was dragged out of the flat by Darius and the Daroga.
This incident left her speechless. She shut the front door quietly and returned to her room. The young opera singer was utterly perplexed.
Putting back the shoes that had also fallen out of the wardrobe, she noticed that a shoelace was missing and she was pretty sure she remembered having it half an hour ago.
Christine noticed something odd behind her clothes. What had they done in here? She climbed a bit further inside and what she discovered, did clear up why they had involuntarily stumbled upon each other, but it didn´t justify it. After having reached in and taken out two bunches of flowers, one with a note written in red - a distinctive handwriting -, she decided she really had to go to sleep to comprehend everything what had happened. Maybe all of this was the result of too much stress.
In bed, she let her gaze wander over the two bouquets. Conflicting as can be. And yet they were both gifted to her with so much adoration she just had to love them both – and she could not choose only one.
She looked at the flowers, pondering about how things would go. How difficult these men were! Exhausting and adorable and terribly jealous and special and...
She didn´t know her feelings anymore - or herself. She had been so sure of her plan! Yet it had confused her more and she was even more tired than before, just yearning for sleep.
Christine snorted.
And she had thought she had found a solution.