The Ghost and the Flower

True perfection has to be imperfect,

I know that sounds foolish but it's true.

The day has come and now you'll have to accept

The life inside your head that we give to you.

"Little by Little," Oasis

The day Christine was born was a day of much joy and sorrow. Christine was a beautiful baby girl, a gift from God himself; but such a wonderful gift came with a hefty price. Mother died shortly after Christine came into the world; only having time to hold Christine and tell us all how much she loved us. I, am only five years Christine's senior, was devastated by my mother's passing. My sweet, sweet mother who would sing to me when I was sick, scared or sad. Our father, Gustave, felt an even greater loss than I did. Angeline, my mother, was his soulmate, his muse, his love, and even his life. The only thing that seemed to keep father going was Christine and I, as well as his beloved violin.

Slowly, our family healed from the great loss of Angeline, though Father and I never truly recovered. We both used our love of music, as well as each other, to recover. Father would play his violin to Christine and I when he needed comfort, and I would sing lullabies to Christine every night, or when she was feeling scared, sad or sick.

I, unfortunately, had to grow up much faster than I knew Father and Mother had wanted me to. With the loss of mother, the responsibility of taking care of Christine fell to me. Father still had to make a living, so he was gone during the day for practice and performances. He was usually quite busy with this, so I had to take care of Christine. Of course, we did have some hired help, but we could only afford to pay two, so they were in charge of the housework and cooking while I took care of Christine. When I became older, I slowly got more responsibilities, as the maids struggled to get everything done that was needed with only the two of them.

As Christine grew, so too did her beauty. She looked just like a female version of Father, with brown curly hair, gentle brown eyes, a skinny frame and a fair complexion. She was a very dainty child. I knew she would be quite a beauty when she grew older. I, on the other hand, looked just like Mother. I had thick wavy golden brown hair, blue/grey/green eyes, very fair skin and an athletic build. Though Father loved Christine and I equally, he showed more affection to Christine. I never blamed him, for I knew it was difficult to see so much of my mother in me.

By the time I was ten and Christine was five, I was used to living in Christine's shadow. She was sweet and gentle, though a bit naïve, while I was more critical, opinionated and intelligent. I think my intelligence intimidated people, as they would not expect a sweet looking, innocent little girl, or even a girl at all, to be as knowledgeable as I am. I taught myself how to read and write at the age of seven, and I have sung, danced, and played the piano since before I could even remember. I, of course, made sure that Christine knew how to read and write as well. I wanted to give her a good start in a hard world. Reading and writing were both very good skills to have, and I wanted her to enjoy the joys of going to another world when hers just got too hard to bear.

Because I was in charge of taking care of Christine, I did not get much time to myself. In fact, the only time I was able to get away for a while was when Raoul de Chagney would come to visit. Father and Mother were very good friends with the Chagneys, and with Mother's passing, they thought it would be nice for their young son Raoul to come so that Christine and I could have someone our own age to play with while the Chagneys could make sure that our family was well and us children were taken proper care of. They would come over at least once a week, and I viewed Raoul as something of a little brother. We were all very close, though Raoul and Christine were much closer. They were practically inseparable, even though Raoul was two years older than Christine. I suspect that they became more as time went on. Raoul affectionately gave Christine the nickname of Little Lottie, and she would follow him around like a lost puppy whenever he came over.

When Raoul would come to visit, I usually took this chance to read, write, or practice my singing, dancing or piano skills. Sometimes, though, they would convince me to play with them; hiding in the attic, listening to Father play his violin, or trying to find the angel of music that Father would always tell us about. Mother was Father's angel of music, and a piece of Father died with her, but he held himself together for Christine and I, and he would always speak fondly and wistfully of his angel of music. He told us that when we were older, we would find our own angel of music.

Though times were difficult, they got better. Things were almost perfect; and then it happened. When I was twelve, and Christine was seven, father grew ill. It was not a sudden illness, in fact, it started out as more of a cold than anything else. But Father never recovered from his cold, and it got progressively worse. When he had still not gotten better after a month of illness, I convinced him to have the doctor come. What the doctor said was devastating. Father had a cancerous lung, and only had about six months to live. It was so painful to watch, as Father slowly withered away with his illness. He became so thin and pale towards the end, with no appetite.

I tried to be strong, for both my Father and Christine. I knew with Father's passing he would get to be with Mother again, and this comforted me a bit, but I selfishly wanted Father to stay, to not leave me like Mother had. I was resentful and depressed. I stopped singing for pleasure, and only sang when Christine begged me to, and I only sang then because I could not bear to see Christine's pain and do nothing.

On Father's last day, he asked for me to talk with him privately. I could hardly bear to look at him when I came, for the man that lay dying in the bed was hardly a shell of the man I knew as my father.

"You asked to speak with me Father?" I asked him upon entering. "Yes child. Come, sit. I know that my time here is short, and I need to make sure of a few things before I pass on." He answered.

I gave Father a confused look before sitting in the chair beside him, as he had asked me to do. "What do you need Father? What can I do to help you?"

Father sighed before turning to look me strait in the eyes. "Lily, I know I never showed you as much affection as I did Christine, but that does not mean I loved you any less. I want you to know this. When I pass on, I want you to take care of Christine at all costs. She is a smart girl, but sometimes she is too naïve for her own good. Make sure that she stays safe. You are smart and strong, much stronger than you know. You are so much like your mother." At this, Father took both my hands in one of his much larger hand.

"Lily, after I am gone, I want you to sell the house, and let the servants go. I know that all of this holds sentimental value to you, but it will do you no good to dwell in the past, and you cannot afford to keep a house with no money coming in."

"I have sent a letter to a dear friend of mine that lives in Paris. She is coming tomorrow to bring you and Christine home with her. I know you will love Paris. Her name is Antoinette Giry, and she works and lives at the Opera Populair.

"I know that it might be painful at first, but never lose your music. You may not realize it, but you are Christine's angel of music. Once I am gone, please keep being Christine's angel of music. She will need an angel to watch over her when I am gone. I have no doubt that you will find an angel of your own in Paris."

"Never lose hope, and always listen to your heart. Your head has the capacity to lead you astray. I know you like to use your head, but your heart is the better of the two. I love you, my little angel."

"I will do as you say Father! I promise, I will take care of Christine as best as I can. I'm sure we will love it in Paris, Father. Please, just don't leave me. Don't leave me alone, like mother did! I can't bear to lose you too!" I sobbed.

"Lily, my angel, my precious flower, I will never leave you. I know your mother told you this as well. We will always be with you, in your heart. We will always be there to guard and guide you, until your last moments on earth. I love you, my little flower."

A few hours later, Father passed on. I spoke with the servants after that, and told them of Father's wishes. I felt a loss at having to see the servants go so soon after Father died. They felt like close friends to me, like two aunts that always watched out for Christine and I. they understood, though, and they wished me and Christine all the luck in the world.

After they left, I went to go pack mine and Christine's things. Father had made arrangements already for his burial. He would be buried with Mother in Paris, and the funeral would be in a week. I packed all of Christine and my belongings, then went to tuck Christine into bed.

When I got to our room, I found Christine in my bed, sobbing quietly. "Oh Christine, it will be alright. I know it is hard, but Father will always be there. Anytime you here music, think of him. He will send an angel of music to watch over us. I promise, everything will be alright." I said, trying to be strong for Christine. I wanted to cry, but at the same time, I felt I had used up all of my tears already, and I had no more to shed.

"But Lily, I miss him so much!" Christine cried. "Shhh, it will be alright. Hush now, and try to sleep. Things will be better in the morning. They always are." I replied. "Lily, will you sing for me?" Christine asked, looking up at me with her sad brown eyes. I could never deny Christine music, especially not now.

I sighed. "Alright, but you must try to go to sleep, okay?" "Yes Lily." I climbed into my bed with Christine, and started slowly stroking her hair as I softly sang her a lullaby.

"Little child, be not afraid, the rain pounds harsh against the glass, like an unwanted stranger, there is no danger, I am here tonight." I paused as an unwanted tear slowly slid down my face. "Little child, be not afraid, though thunder explodes and lightning flash Illuminates your tearstained face, I am here tonight."

"And someday you'll know, that nature is so, this same rain that draws you near me, falls on rivers and land, and forests and sand, Makes the beautiful world that you see, In the morning."

"Everything's fine in the morning, the rain will be gone in the morning, But I'll still be here in the morning."

Author's Note

Hey guys, I hope you like this. I love all the Phantom stories where the main character is in the actual plot, but most, if not all the stories I found where about girls that time traveled there. While those stories were really good, I like the idea of a girl that has already lived in the time era her entire life. It gives the story more of a realistic feel. Once again, I am not hating on the time travel stories, just to clarify.

I'm going to try to be good about updating this story at reasonable times, but I can't guarantee anything. I am a very busy person, and it took me three days just to get this up and running. If anyone is interested in being a beta for this story, PLEASE let me know! Any help would be greatly appreciated!

I am going to do my disclaimer now, and that will be the end of it. I do not own the phantom of the opera, sadly, nor any characters in it. I do, however, own Lily and any other characters that you do not recognize, as well as any plot you do not recognize. Thank you!

Finally, if you would just review and let me know what you think, that would be great! Constructive criticism is a very good thing, just please do not be rude. I value your opinions, guys, just let me know them in a kind and respectful way. Thanks, hope you enjoyed!