The Violinist | Christine Daae

Chapter Five

 Francois dreaded the very idea of getting out of bed the next morning. He didn't want to, not after everything that had happened the night before. First La Carlotta croaking like a toad, then Joseph Buquet's death, and the chandelier collapsing; it had been one disaster after another all night.

 When Francois arrived home, he simply kicked and shoes off and crawled into bed without taking off anything else. He just laid there, very quietly, under the covers for who knew how long, because he didn't want to have to go to sleep. He didn't want to have to close his eyes.

 What had happened at the Opera Populaire was certainly enough to terrify anyone who was there that night, but Francois was ashamed of himself for the way he was acting. When he was a child, he had plenty of stories from his father and friends about ghosts, evil spirits, what lurked in the shadows. He had somehow managed to convince himself that he was being haunted. However, he grew up and grew out of it. But now, with everything going on at the opera house, all those childhood fears came flooding back to his mind, and wouldn't let him be. He was scared, and that was all there really was to it.

~~~~~~

 "Francois. Francois, wake up."

 Francois woke up after sunrise to Jeanne gently shaking him.

 "Oh, Jeanne," he said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. "You won't even believe what happened at the opera house last night. Have you heard about it?"

 "No, I haven't," she answered. "What's happened, Francois? This is the second morning in a row you haven't woken at your usual time, and you always wake with the sun, as you put it. What is happening at that opera house?"

 "I...well, that's just it, Jeanne. I don't know what's happening, but...I think the Opera Populaire might be haunted."

 "Haunted? Why?"

 Francois knew his sister had never believed in spirits as much as he did, but he still told her everything that had happened at the Opera Populaire, the disastrous night before and even before that. They were up in his attic room together for so long that once Francois had finished the story, they heard Philippe, Jeanne's husband call, "Jeanne, I must be off! Is everything all right up there?"

 "Yes!" Jeanne called back. "We'll see you tonight! Be back by supper!"

 "I have to go look after the children," she said to Francois. "Come down when-Francois, did you sleep in your clothes?"

 "Oh. Yes, I suppose I did. Don't worry, I'll put on something clean before breakfast."

 After his sister had gone back downstairs, Francois exhaled with relief and flopped back down on the bed again. He hadn't gotten the chance to find out if she even believed him. Jeanne was a practical woman, and would tell him that everything that had happened the night before was just a series of terrible accidents. But he would never believe that, no matter times he was told.

~~~~~~

 Francois didn't want to go back to the Opera Popluaire, but he didn't have any other job prospects and he didn't want to get fired from the one job he did have. So, reluctant as he was, he went to the opera house, anyway.

 When he arrived, he saw that the theatre was still being fixed after the disastrous events of the previous night.

 "Monsieur Reyer!" he called when he saw the overworked conductor. "Will there be a performance tonight?"

 "Oh, I'm afraid so," Monsieur Reyer groaned. "Another performance of Il Muto. I have advised against it, but the managers insist."

 Francois was shocked. Why? Why another show directly after the disaster that was the last one? He barely knew the new managers, and he hated them. Clearly, the only thing they cared about was money and putting on a good show, and didn't care much about the performers' well-being.

 "Sir, will La Carlotta be back tonight?" he asked.

 "No, I'm afraid not," Monsieur Reyer answered. "I heard she is not well. Mademoiselle Daae will perform instead."

 "Is she here?" Francois asked. "She's a friend of mine, and I haven't had a chance to ask after her."

 "Yes, I believe she's in her dressing room. The Vicomte de Changy escorted her here this morning."

 Ah, the Vicomte. So, there was something going on there. But anyhow, Francois went to Christine's dressing room, the one Meg Giry had pointed out to him, and knocked on the door.

 "Christine?" he called. "It's Francois. Are you here?"

 "Come in," he heard from inside.

 He slowly opened the door to find Christine herself sitting alone in the room, in front of a mirror which was standing against the wall.

 "Oh, Francois." She smiled when she saw him. "Can you close the door, please? Thank you. I'd rather we aren't overheard."

 "How are you, Christine?" he asked. "We haven't spoken in a few days. Um, is it true that the Vicomte escorted you here?"

 "Oh, yes. Raoul is such a good man, and he's very dear to me. How are you, Francois? What happened last night...well, it must have been a shock to you."

 "It was." Francois nodded. "It was. Um, people are saying it was the Opera Ghost. I found the idea a little unnerving myself."

 Christine's smile disappeared entirely, and looking square in the eye, she asked, "Do you believe in the Phantom of the Opera?" 

 Francois didn't know at first how to answer. He didn't want to believe, but he found he couldn't lie.

 "Yes," he answered. "I do. After last night, there's no way I can't believe. I've believed in ghosts since I was a little boy. Christine," he knelt down next to her chair, "I was here when you disappeared the night before last. I helped the Vicomte look for you. Did...did the Opera Ghost cause your disappearance?"

 She nodded, staring down at her hands. "Yes. I wish I had never met him, never begun talking to him. Never speak to him, Francois. It's too dangerous."

 "Him? It's a...male ghost?"

 "It's not a ghost," she whispered. "Oh, Francois. I made a terrible mistake, the worst I could have made."

 Francois gently squeezed one of her hands. "Well, you met him, so I'll believe whatever story you tell me. If you ever want to talk about it, you can talk to me about it. Not enough people around here seem to believe."

 She smiled a little. "You mean the managers. It's absurd, isn't it, after everything that happened last night?"

 "It certainly is. But I'll leave to get ready, see if there's anything I can do to help set up." He kissed the hand he had squeezed. "Good luck, Christine."

 She gave him a full smile. "And you, Francois. And please, be careful who you speak to."

 Francois exited the dressing room, happy he had gotten to have a conversation with Christine, but was now confused as to whether the Opera Ghost was really a ghost in the first place.