This is based completely on the 2004 movie. I haven't read the Leroux or Kay's novels yet, they're both sitting at my desk waiting to be read, but I do have some basic knowledge about the books and some of it may pop up in the fic. Due to the Paris Commune and the rebellion in spring of 1871, I'm setting the story 10 years later, ie. the movie happened in 1880 instead of 1870.

Chapter 1 - Revelations

April 1884

She was awoken from a deep sleep by a sudden noise, noticing that her husband was not at her side in the bed. Just then she saw him at the foot of the bed, still in his evening clothing and looking very disheveled. She realized that the loud noise was actually the bedroom door as it clicked shut behind him. It was not his appearance that shocked her, it was the frightened look in his eyes. Her heart started to pound wildly, thousand questions running through her head.

"Raoul?" She asked quietly and this seemed to snap him out of his daze. He hurried to her side, the fear in his eyes even more tangible once he was closer to her.

"Christine, do you trust me?"

"Yes, of course. What's the matter, Raoul?"

"We need to leave."

"What?"

"Get dressed, Little Lotte." Christine sighed; she didn't like when he called her that. Not anymore. "Some plain dress, nothing fancy. You can't stand out in the crowds."

She scrambled out of the bed and hurried to her wardrobe, already knowing how difficult finding a plain dress would be. If she still were a chorus girl in the opera, she would own a few plain dresses. But you are not, Christine. You are a Vicomtess now. He pulled out her traveling satchel.

"Pack only things you can't bear to leave behind."

"Where are we going?"

"I need to get you to safety."

"We're safe in the house, aren't we?"

"Not anymore. I'm so sorry, Christine. It's all my fault. Well, and Phillipe's." Her brows furrowed at the mention of his brother, who had been killed earlier that year. Thievery, they said.

"I don't understand." She finished dressing and started putting her few precious items in the bag.

Opening the drawer at her vanity, she pulled out her father's photo and her diary, making sure the dried red rose was safely tucked inside the yellowed pages, a black ribbon still around its stem. She fingered it gently before shutting the book and placing it in her bag. Raoul watched her movements but didn't say anything. Instead he sighed and began to pace the length of the bedroom.

"Phillipe got tangled in something he shouldn't have. He owed those men a rather large sum of money. After he discovered what kind of people they truly were, he refused to give them more money. Unfortunately they learned about our family's wealth and demanded more and more. I don't know why he never said a word of it to me. Maybe if he had, nothing would have happened to him."

"But Phillipe was killed by a thief." Raoul only shook his head sadly.

"It was staged. Once they saw he wasn't very forthcoming with money, they...disposed of him. After the funeral they contacted me. I did not agree to their outrageous demands and it escalated to the point where they started to threaten my family." She looked at him, wondering if she knew her husband ever at all. Since they'd been married, he was always away or busy with business and she often felt like a decoration in the big Chagny estate, having only servants at her disposal and no one to really talk to. Madame Giry and Meg have left Paris shortly after Christine's wedding to Raoul but she didn't know where they had gone. The wives of Raoul's business partners and friends from high society were usually very distant with her and throwing her dirty looks.

"I couldn't take that lightly, those men have no morals and they will stop at nothing, even murder. That's why I need to get you out of here as fast as possible, Christine."

"Where are we going?"

"We're going to Paris. Take this, Christine." He took her hand and placed a small pouch in her hand. It was heavy and she looked at him confused. "There is more than enough money to go by for a few months. There are two train tickets to Calais. The train leaves from Paris at eight tomorrow. From there you will take a ship to Dover and then take the train to London. If I don't make it-"

"Raoul-"

"No, listen to me, Christine. If anything happens to me, you need to leave France without me, okay? Once you are in London I need you to find inspector Smith of Scotland Yard. He is an old friend of mine." Raoul paused briefly, not knowing how to break the news to her. "He has been helping me with tracking down our..." He hesitated, not knowing what to call the one person who put them through so much. "Friend."

"Friend?" She whispered, already fearing his answer.

"The Phantom." The silence that settled in the room was deafening. Christine could only hear the thundering of her heart and the heaviness of her breathing.

"You told me he was dead." Her voice wavered slightly, not believing what she was hearing. "You swore to me, Raoul!"

"I'm sorry, Christine." Her heart caught in her throat at the realization that her Angel was still alive. Her eyes flashed angrily.

"Why, Raoul? Why would you put me through all that pain and let me mourn him? Despite everything, he was, is, my friend!" His eyes slid to the polished wooden floor beneath their feet with guilt and she wanted to hit him.

"I'm sorry." He repeated, knowing there was nothing he could say. Two years ago he had been incredibly selfish; he had let her believe the Phantom was dead, so she could forget and marry him. However, he had underestimated the depth of her feelings for the former Opera Ghost.

Her stomach plummeted as she remember his earlier words.

"All this time you had him followed, so you could turn him to the authorities?" His eyes snapped back to hers and widened slightly.

"No! I have had inspector Smith track him only recently, when I realized you were in danger. I knew he was the only person you would be completely safe with. I knew he would never hurt you." Whatever he was going to say next was drowned by a loud bang coming from downstairs.

"Raoul..." She moved closer to him and grasped his arm, feeling as if her heart was going to jump out of her chest. They both heard loud voices and heavy footfalls. Raoul reached for the lock in the door and it slid gently with a small click.

"Shh. Christine, this is important. You need to go now."

"I'm not leaving you here, Raoul!" She whispered and dug her fingers into his dinner jacket.

"You have to, Christine. Go to London. If I'm not able to stop them from going after you, find him. He will keep you safe."

"But Raoul-"

"Please." The desperation in his voice moved her and she launched herself into his embrace just as the footsteps ascended the stairs. "I love you."

"I love you too." She whispered, her voice thick with tears. He released her and handed her the traveling satchel. The noises and voices grew louder as the men neared the bedroom door. Looking at her husband in panic, he ushered her to the opened balcony door.

"There is only one escape route, Christine. You need to climb over the railing and down the ledge." She nodded, cringing as the men outside tried the door handle.

"De Chagny! We know you're in there with that pretty wife of yours! Open the door!"

"Go, Christine." They walked together to the railing and she looked over it at the ground below in apprehension. She didn't have time to react when Raoul left her side and went back into the bedroom, closing the balcony door shut. Turning sharply at the loud bang that emitted from the room, she hid behind one of the large potted plants on each side of the doorway, her blood freezing in her veins at the scene inside.

Three large unkempt men knocked down the door and stalked to Raoul, who was standing beside the bed.

"Time for games is over, de Chagny. We want the money, now."

"I won't give it to you."

"Oh, really?" The tallest man sneered and pointed his gun at Raoul's head. "Maybe now you'll talk differently. Money and access to all your bank accounts. Now."

"And we will also take your precious wife to have some fun with her." One of the other men leered at Raoul. "Rumour has it that she was happily whoring herself out before you snatched her away from the Opera House. To the Phantom himself!" His mouth turned into a sleazy grin revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth.

"Over my dead body." Raoul glared at the men and the pistol aimed at his head.

"As you wish." Before any of them could do anything, the taller man pulled the trigger, sending a bullet to the middle of Raoul de Chagny's forehead. Christine nearly screamed as her husband sank to the ground with a sickening thud. She felt sick to her stomach and fought back the bile that rose in her throat.

"Why the hell did you do that for?" One of the shorter men asked. "He was the one who could get us the money!"

"But not the only one." The tall man smirked. "His wife surely has access to the bank accounts and I'm sure with a bit more persuasion we will get what we want and some fun on top of it. Let's go find that whore." Her stomach churned as she imagined what kind of fate would befall her if they got their hands on her. Standing on wobbly legs, she climbed over the railing and down the ledge slowly, making sure of her footing so she didn't fall. Once her feet were on solid ground she breathed a sigh of relief and crept around the house to the stables at the back. She entered and went to her white mare. The horse greeted her with a soft whine. Stroking along the animal's neck, Christine took a few seconds to regain her composure before saddling the horse, her moves automatic.

She knew that she couldn't take the road leading to and from the house, she'd risk getting caught. Instead she opted for the road through the woods in the back of the house. Leading her mare outside, she secured her traveling satchel on the saddle and mounted the horse, tucking her skirts around and any thoughts of propriety fled her mind as she sat astride the animal. With a last long look back at the house, Christine de Chagny disappeared under the cloak of the night.

Somewhere inside the deadly quiet house, the clock chimed three o'clock in the morning.

More than two hours later, the outline of Paris stretched on the horizon as Christine and her mare galloped closer and closer to the city. Half an hour later, Christine unmounted the horse and led her by the reins through the sleepy city. It was nearing six o'clock and they were both tired and hungry. Caressing gently the horse's snout, Christine knew she couldn't take the animal with her. A young stable boy from a nearby inn tended sleepily to the horses but when he saw her looking at him, he instantly became more awake.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle." She didn't bother to correct the young boy. "My name is Francois. Your horse is beautiful."

"Good morning, Francois. Thank you."

"Are you staying at the inn, Mademoiselle?"

"No. I only need someone to take a good care of her."

"I can do that!" He boasted with a smile and she managed a small smile back.

"I was hoping you'd say that. Here." She reached into her reticule and withdrew a few coins, placing them in the boy's small hand. His eyes widened at the amount of money he just received. "For taking care of her. I'm going far away and I can't take her with me." She handed him the reins.

"When are you going to be back, Mademoiselle?" That question weighed heavily on her mind.

"I don't know yet. " I may never return. "Thank you. Goodbye, Francois." With a last stroke along the mare's strong neck, she turned and left.

"Goodbye, Mademoiselle." He watched in confusion as she walked away. Then he looked up at the horse and smiled, leading her to one of the free stalls.

She walked and walked around the city until she found herself standing in front of the once glorious Opera Populaire. Her former home now sat there abandoned, an ugly scar in the otherwise perfect surroundings. She shook herself when memories started to overwhelm her and her stomach growled. Picking up a few pastries from a nearby café, she sat in the park close to the opera house. Looking around, she thought of her future. In a few hours she would be gone from Paris and all that she knew and would be traveling into a foreign country, forced to make a new life for herself. All alone. Maybe not so alone, after all. The inner voice taunted her, luring her into thinking about the man other than her husband. She resisted, still in a state of numbness, not wanting to dwell on last night's revelations and events.

An hour later she was already sitting comfortably in the train's private compartment, having it all for herself. She locked the door and drew the curtains to give her an added privacy. As the train started to move towards Calais, she closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the seat and let the memories come to her. The first tears started to fall as she mourned Raoul's death. Dear sweet Raoul, her husband. She wept for him, for the years they spent together as the Vicomte and Vicomtess and as childhood friends; she wept for the man she had thought dead, for missed opportunities and roads not taken; for her friends, her family, her future and for herself. After she could cry no more, she welcomed the darkness of a deep sleep.