Between Mirrors and Roses (A Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction) ✓

2: Through Another Mirror (This One a Door)

Christine

I strode to the mirror and stood in front of it, momentarily forgetting that it was an entrance to a passageway as I looked at myself for the first time since coming here. I was the same height and build, but I had a thin new layer of muscle, I assumed from working as a ballerina for years. I also had better posture and moved more gracefully, which I could see made me markedly more attractive. I turned to the side to view my profile and scowled. Other than those side effects of Christine's past, I was unchanged. It was my regular old face that looked back at me, not a beautiful heart-shaped one surrounded by chocolate curls.

Then I remembered that Erik might have been watching me from behind that mirror and quickly stopped admiring myself. I wondered if I could find a latch to open it from this side.

Just then, I heard a knock on the door and two costume ladies trailing apprentices filed in without waiting for an answer. My expeditions with the mirror would have to wait until after the fitting. The seamstresses brought several finished or nearly-finished gowns that they put me in and pinned to the proper measurements. The costumes were beautiful, and thankfully they fit me without too much taking in.

Next came the hairdressers and makeup artists. "We only have a day to sort out your makeup!" one assistant lamented.

"The managers don't understand that we need preparation, too," another agreed as she put lines of color on my arm to match my skin tone. Eventually, they too left, and I was alone. It was nearly the first moment of peace I'd had since coming to this strange world, and I was suddenly overwhelmed by emotion. How had this even happened? One moment I was an average college student, the next, singing the lead in a 19th-century French opera! I put my head in my hands, and that was how Meg found me a few minutes later.

"Christine?" she asked hesitantly. I would have to get used to being called that.

"Meg," I said. "I'm scared. I'm not sure I even know all the words and the blocking."

"Oh, Christine. We've been practicing for this show for weeks!"

"I know," I said, biting my lower lip, "but..."

"If you're that nervous, I could run through your part with you," she said. "The stage should be empty right now."

I thanked her profusely, and we headed to the stage to practice. Meg coached me through the role, and I found that I did indeed have knowledge of what to do, but there were places here and there that my false memories faltered. After two hours, I was confident that I knew the role, and it was time to get ready for the show.

It went perfectly, though I couldn't shake the tingling down my spine that reminded me Erik might be observing from the shadows. I gave my very best to Carlotta's part, wondering where Erik was in the breaks when I was offstage. Was Raoul watching as well? That might be a problem. I had no interest in pursuing a relationship with Raoul.

We took our bows, and the curtain closed. The audience had thrown a plethora of roses onstage for me, and I picked up as many of them as I could carry so they wouldn't go to waste. Meg told me that they would have been thrown away otherwise. When I got back to the dressing room, however, I saw that the bundle in my arms was nothing compared to what others had sent me. Vases of flowers in every style and color I could imagine filled the room. Most of them had cards detailing who they were from and outlining proposals that ranged from sweet to indecent.

Madame Giry entered and picked up from the vanity the one rose I had been afraid to touch: the single thornless one tied with a black ribbon.

"He is pleased with you," she told me kindly.