Watch and Learn|Christine/ FINISHED

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

A beautiful Saturday morning was a terrible thing to waste, in Monte Cristo's experience. He often found himself working on such days, though of course he wanted to be outside.

His work was consuming more and more of his time these days. Rumors of his arrival in New York were spreading, and everyone wanted a moment of his attention, to propose this business plan or that project in hopes that he would invest in them. Unfortunately, it seemed the old qualities of ingenuity and talent were disappearing, or at least, escaping his purview. He was beginning to see the same proposals over and over again, and they were never any more promising.

Today, though, he had a rare few hours to himself that he would not spend sleeping. Given that the weather was so perfect, he decided that he would spend those hours out-of-doors. He had spent the last night in his Manhattan apartment, so he opted for something in the general area. He still felt like a tourist in New York, so he picked up a few brochures and browsed them.

The Botanical Gardens sounded promising. Monte Cristo loved to learn, and it seemed he could do so while viewing some beautiful exhibits. Besides, he needed to brush up on his horticulture. That decided, he headed for the Bronx, dressed down in a collared shirt and slacks.

Not an hour later, he was browsing the gardens, and enjoying himself immensely. The place was actually fairly empty, which he appreciated. Sometimes when he was out, he was recognized by passersby or hounded by paparazzi; that would probably not be the case here. Here, it was just him, a few other visitors and workers, and the gardens. The gardens were so peaceful, he imagined he heard singing among the plants.

Monte Cristo blinked a little, breaking his reverie. He actually was hearing singing. He tucked his hands into his pockets and listened for a moment. Whoever or whatever it was had a beautiful voice. Curious now, he walked toward the sound, looking for the owner of the voice.

[christine]

Another beautiful day in the city of New York. Christine, decided to wear something comfortable that day. It was around seventy six degrees. As she went through her closet, she pulled out a light pink flowered dress. Christine looked about and decided to leave her hair down. As she grabbed her small jacket, she wrote a note to her husband that was going to be out. Christine then arrived at the gardens.

After making her round of the garden, Christine looked about her surroundings to make sure no one was around to hear her sing. She hadn't sang in a while now its been two years. The score she pulled out was from two years ago. Scanning over the lyrics, she didn't know what to do. Humming lightly she knew it well. Remembering how it went made her smile.

Taking one more look around the gardens, no one was there thank god. Placing the score back in her bag, she softly hummed a little. Then started to sing softly "Think of me, think of me waking silent and resigned! imagine me, trying to hard to put you from my mind!." Christine stopped singing as soon as she heard someone. Though she could only hear footsteps. Clearing her throat she looked around nervously. Taking out the score again. Looking it over. She said nothing for a while.

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

The singing stopped abruptly as Monte Cristo approached. He found that quite disappointing, as he had enjoyed the little bit he had heard.

In the silence, he became aware of how loud his footsteps were. Perhaps the mysterious singer was shy and had heard him coming. He slowed his pace, not wanting to frighten the singer any more than he already had.

There was a soft cough and a rustling of papers, not very loud at all, but enough to guide Monte Cristo the rest of the way. Rounding a corner, he came upon a young woman with short brown hair and a petite frame. She was looking over a set of papers that might have been a music score- he was too far away to tell for sure.

Monte Cristo gave the young woman a smile, hoping to keep from alarming her. As always, his was a pleasant smile, though lacking a bit in genuineness. It was a habitual smile he had developed in more stressful times.

"Good afternoon," he said cheerfully. "I apologize if I startled you. I overheard your singing- you have a beautiful voice."

[christine]

Her eyes scanned the gardens, to see if anyone was watching her. Christine, didn't know what else to do. Clearing her throat a moment later. She wanted to resume her singing. But was unsure, to finish. If there was someone there, she wouldn't sing. Been a while since she last sung an entire song.

Sitting on the bench next to a few flowers, Christine held the old music score in her tiny hands. Holding it close to her body, so no one could see it. Placing another arm, around it, Christine didn't know what else to do. Placing it away softly she kept looking around. Very frightened if someone heard her singing.

Jumping lightly at a sound of a gentleman's voice. Saying nothing for a while she started to speak. "...Afternoon" she said in her quiet voice. Then turning away she said "Thank you...Its been so long since anyone's heard me sing. Im not sure if there's a job for me that just has singing. ...But if there is... im not sure if i want to take it" she said sadly. Christine was just worried if she sang in a theatre, someone might rise back from the dead, and pull her towards him. The only person she knew who would do something like that was her Angel of Music. Turning her head lightly she said "Who are you?" she asked a moment later staring at him fixing her bag.

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

The young woman did seem startled by his presence, which bothered Monte Cristo a bit. He had not meant to disturb her; he could tell she was not keen on performing in front of others.

Her words were a bit confusing- it seemed that she loved to sing, but would not take such a job if it were offered to her. There must have been some other factor involved that he was not aware of. He would never have thought to ask more on the subject, though. Such would have been very improper, and Monte Cristo was all about being proper.

He actually had to think of a response when she asked him his name. Normally, he would have dodged the question, but the situation at the moment was too delicate for that. But he did not want to use his last name as he usually did, for fear of being recognized; and he never, ever gave out his first name.

"Call me Edward," he said almost automatically. It was a close enough name to his own, one he would likely remember having used.

"I just moved to New York a few weeks ago," he continued, in an effort to make conversation before continuing on the subject of music. "This is my first visit here, to the gardens. It's very peaceful here, and quite beautiful." He nodded toward some of the plants around them.

"What brings you here today?" he asked gently.

[christine]

Christine stopped her rambling, towards the young man. The other thing she was known for was her rambling back in Paris. As a young girl, she remembered that her father would always tell her to stop. Coming back to life, Christine looked up at him and listened to his name. "Its nice to meet you Edward" she said softly to him. Pulling back a string of hair out of her face and behind her ear. Christine looked around then back at him. Very unsure of what to say next.

After he introduced himself, she knew it would be good to introduce herself next. "My name is Christine. Forgive me, for not introducing myself earlier" she said a moment later in a soft voice. Shy but very soft. Christine looked down at the ground to her opened toed shoes. Christine gave a small smile to Edward. He seemed nice, gentle and looked handsome.

A light laugh escaped from her, and she said "Well, welcome to New York then. I've been here over the past two years. Some people here aren't as friendly as you'd think. Trust me, I know. I've had my wallet stolen from me but I got it back the day before." she said softly. Hoping not to relive that night between that girl nor that man. Then she looked over at the flowers and said "Yes, they are quite beautiful aren't they?" she said laughing softly.

Once Edward had asked her his question she had to think of a an answer. "Just a midday walk, I was just looking over a few lyrics from the past. My...." she stopped in mid-sentance. Not wanting to reveal his name. Knowing he was dead, she was sure of it. But, she still didn't want to reveal it. "... M..my tutor gave it to me a long time ago. I still try to impress him to this day" she said softly looking down a moment. Thinking of the Phantom, made her frightened, but she loved speaking about him. Shaking her head a moment later she said "Sorry...how about you? What brings you here?" she asked softly. Her brown eyes meeting his.

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

Monte Cristo studied Christine for a moment. She seemed a bit nervous, or lost in thought, or both. Not that it bothered him- he was used to dealing with all sorts of people, from the most arrogant to the most shy. In fact- he realized as he watched and listened to her- this young woman reminded him of his former love, Mercédès, in many ways. He did not dwell on the similarities; thinking of her still brought up a plethora of emotions, most of which he preferred to keep buried. Though they had separated on good terms, good terms did not ease the pain of fourteen years' separation and of her betrayal.

She seemed to stumble over the mention of her tutor. This was often a sign of some deeper history, of something left unsaid. The last thing he would do, though, was pursue a subject that seemed to be very sensitive for her, despite his curiosity on the matter.

He could relate to impressing former mentors. He still thought of his, the Abbé Faria, to whom he owed everything he had earned and become since his prison sentence. This was another painful set of memories, for it had been Faria's death that had enabled his escape. He glanced back at Christine, his gaze having wandered as his thoughts did, and considered her question.

"I was just taking a break from work, and thought this would be a good place to visit," he answered, knowing she would find this strange, since it was a Saturday, and few people found themselves working on the weekend. Still, he would not speak more on his work unless she asked him to, for he would have to twist the truth to keep from being discovered. He certainly did not mind lying when it benefited him, but it seemed a rude thing to do toward a stranger he had just met, especially one who he might never come across again beyond this brief interaction.

"This truly is a good place for a midday walk. Do you walk here often?" he asked, continuing the light conversation.

[christine]

Memories of the pasted floated through her mind. The fire, everything that had happened back then. It was her only home, and now that she was living in New York, she had to make this place somehow her new home. Some people had been nice to her so far. Some where not. Christine shook her head lightly and came back to reality. Listening upon what Edward had to say, was interesting.

Christine thought about her Angel of Music, for a moment. She had wondered if he was still living somewhere or had died. But from what she had heard from the letters from her ballet mistress and her friend, he had died. Not wanting to go any further, she continued to stare at Edward for a moment. Still listening up on what he was saying to her.

Nodding her head to what he was saying she said "Oh. what do you do for a living Edward?" she asked softly. Unfolding her arms, and sitting back down on the bench again. Fiddling with her locket, her husband had bought for her in Paris before they came here. Christine looked down at it then back up at him waiting for his answer.

He spoke again and asked her a question. Shaking her head lightly she said "No sir, I've never walked here before. This was my first time in the two years i've came here that I entered. Its truly remarkable on how beautiful everything is in this garden. I wish we could just pick them and bring them home with us. Sadly we cannot." she said still fiddling with her locket. It only had one picture of her and husband in it. At the top of the Opera House one winters eve. Christine looked back at Edward and asked "Monsieur Edward, where are you from?" she asked a moment later in her soft light voice

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

Monte Cristo had been afraid that she would ask him about his work; it was a completely natural question to ask, and one she was justified in asking, since he had brought it up in the first place. But he had to file down the truth a little.

"I work for an investment company," he answered. This was the truth, he reflected. He had just omitted the fact that he also owned that investment company. "Based in New Jersey, really, but we get plenty of New York business."

He paused as Christine fiddled with her necklace, a locket to all appearances. It was beautifully crafted, the sort of jewelry a man would buy his wife. She seemed a bit young to be married, but one never could tell these days.

He nodded in agreement as she spoke about the beauty of the gardens, though he knew anything was possible, including leaving here with a plant. Anything in the world could be had for a price.

She asked him where he was from; he was surprised that she addressed him as monsieur. It had been some time since he had been referred to as such. He wondered if she was French, and was tempted to switch languages, but refrained from doing so. Better to keep the impression of being just the average American for now.

"I was born and raised in New Orleans, though I have lived many places throughout the world." He answered truthfully, finding no real reason to lie about it.

He took a seat on the opposite end of the bench, not so close as to invade her personal space, but at least he was not towering above her while they tried to hold a conversation.

"Where are you from, Christine?" he asked in turn.

[christine]

His work sounded very interesting. Christine liked him very much, and he was very kind. Very good looking as well. He probably had women throwing themselves at him. Christine remained silent as he spoke upon his job which was located somewhere called New Jersey. "Forgive me for asking Edward, but, Im not familiar with the states yet. Considering I've been here in New York for two years. Where is New Jersey?" she asked a moment later in her soft kind voice.

Christine's fingers continued fiddle with her necklace. Missing her husband, she wish he was with her. Looking up at the man, she smiled softly placing the locket inside her shirt once more. Unsure if she should have took it out in the first place. Christine looked at him for a moment. Saying nothing in return.

"Perhaps, I could ask my Husband, to take me down there one day. It sounds interesting. I've seen pictures on the internet a while back. It looks like a relaxing yet noisy place to be" she said softly with a light laughter in her voice. Christine paused for a moment. Knowing he had to ask that. Christine thought about something that distracted her from answering him.

Once he had asked where she was from, Christine smiled "I was originally born on the shores of Sweden. When my mother died, giving birth to me.... My father took me to Paris. Where I've lived there all my life. Then i moved here to New York with my husband whom I've known since I was a little girl" she said softly with a smile upon her face. Remembering when Raoul was fourteen and had gone into the sea to fetch her scarf. Shaking her head lightly she came back to reality again and looked back up at him.

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

Monte Cristo gave Christine an understanding smile as she asked about New Jersey. "New Jersey is a state that's just south of here. It's fairly small, and quiet, compared to New York City."

That was the way he perceived it, at least. Truth be told, he did not actually spend much time there. His business had been established there purely for legal reasons.

She tucked her necklace away and mentioned traveling with her husband to New Orleans. He had been right on that count. His powers of perception, or perhaps of assumption, rarely failed him, and he was no longer surprised when he turned out to be right.

"You should. It's a colorful place, with lots of music and good food." He smiled fondly as he spoke about his hometown. He did love and miss the city, and he was sure he would see it again soon. Just because he had chosen not to reside there anymore did not mean he would not visit from time to time.

He returned to listening attentively as Christine told him about her background. His mother had also died shortly after his birth, and he and his father had rarely spoken about her. Not because they wanted to forget her, but because it clearly hurt his father to think of her. But now they were both gone, hopefully reunited in Heaven or whatever awaited after this life.

Her growing up in Paris did not surprise him much. He just had a way of pegging people from certain places, France being one of them. She drifted of into thought as she spoke about her husband, as if recalling fond childhood memories. Monte Cristo offered her a smile as she looked up at him.

He had never been married, as much as he had wanted to be when he was younger. Remembering the events of his wedding day still made him feel a little upset, for even dispatching the people who had done him wrong had not made that day happen for him. But he was always glad to see a happily married couple, as Christine and her husband seemed to be.

"Congratulations," he said, because it seemed the right thing to say, even if he was two years late. "He's very lucky."

He supposed she would want to know whether he was married, but it was something of a painful subject for him. While he was enjoying his bachelorhood, he did often wonder what his life would be like if things had turned out differently, either with Mercédès or with Haydeè. So he changed the subject back to places instead.

"Paris is a wonderful city. I've been there many times, and have thought of retiring to the French countryside. When I reach that age, of course," he added with a slight laugh.

"May I ask what brings you to the States?" he asked, hoping he was not bringing up a subject that was painful for her as well.

[christine]

A little laugh escaped from Christine, once Edward told her that New Jersey was quite like New York. "Im sure its not quite as loud I take it" she said looking up at him with a soft smile. Christine had grown a likeness to Edward. Only friendship they would have not a relationship.

Her eyes stared in his for a moment. Though she continued to listen to Edward speak. He had a lot to say about New Orleans. "I see" she said softly a moment later staring at the ground. Christine then looked up at him wanting to say something else, she couldn't let anything out.

"Thank You" she said softly a moment later. Christine looked around her surroundings, realizing she was still in the same area she was for long periods of time. Christine took her bag, and then asked "Are you married Edward?" she asked softly studying him a moment later. He should have been married, for he was a good looking man.

Then she smiled again at him as she beckoned him to follow her. Christine wanted to continue to walk around the gardens. She hadn't seen any other flower yet. "I basically grew up there. I had lived in the Opera almost all my life. It was my only home actually" she said softly to him as she walked alongside.

Her head then turned to him and looked at him. Christine thought about an answer for a moment as she listened to his question. Trying to remember why she even came here. "Well, " she began "For one thing it was safety from Paris. After the fire consumed the Opera House there was no where else for me to go. After My marriage, I had asked my husband, to take me here so we could be safe. and i had never been here before and neither has my husband" she explained. Christine stopped walking for a moment trying to remember what else to say then caught up with Edward.

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

Monte Cristo stood up and followed Christine through the gardens, looking briefly at the flowers along the way. He was very much interested in the plants around them, but he was also interested in speaking with Christine, though he was slightly loath to answer her more recent question.

"I'm not married," he answered, his tone passive. Whether he wanted to be married was something he had not considered in a long time. Or rather, it was something he had not allowed himself to consider. He was perfectly happy with where he was in life, after all. Those who had wronged him had been taken care of, and he had the security of an excellent job and a fortune to see him through the rest of his days. That was all he needed, really.

He did not speak any more on the subject, though he would answer any more questions she put to him. He was generally not one to refuse someone an answer, especially when the question was asked with good intentions.

For the moment, however, he returned the subject of the conversation to her.

"The Opera? That makes sense," he mused, meaning it as a compliment to her voice, and to her skill as a performer, which he was sure she possessed.

He found her choice of words, primarily that of "safety," interesting. A fire was only harmful while it burned; that was hardly a reason to leave a city for safety concerns. But he did not comment on this, since the choice could be attributed to something as simple as a translation error or something more personal being left unsaid. Neither was worth exploring at the moment, for different reasons.

She caught up with him, having been lost in thought on something. "I hope you and your husband are enjoying your time here," he said pleasantly. It seemed to be the right thing to say, given that they had only been in the States for two years, and had left their home behind to come here.

[christine]

Christine looked at Edward as he responded to her. "Well, I'm surprised. You seem like a good person. I don't know why your not married" she said with a little smile upon her face. It was true, he was very handsome and she was surprised he was not married. Christine looked back in front of her and looked around at the other people passing by them. She was really enjoying his company.

The wind then came and she was starting to get cold. After all she had taken off her jacket a while back when the sun was out. Pulling out her little jacket Christine placed her arms through it and she looked around then back at him. As she did so she pulled out her hair from the back. Considering it would be hidden.

Nodding her head lightly she said "Yes, I lived in the Opera ever since my father passed. I was seven years old. I miss it very much" she said softly folding her arms the next still holding her purse in one hand. It had gotten colder since she was there all morning. Looking into her wallet to see if she had any money left, she hoped to see if there was any money left to buy some food.

Looking up on him she said "Thank you. I hope we will too. I have been looking up some college's. My husband wants me back in school apparently." she said with a light laugh. Christine loved her husband more than anything in the world. More than life its self. Christine looked back at him and said nothing for a while.

[THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO]

Monte Cristo listened as Christine explained further about the Opera and going back to school. The cold did not seem to affect him at all.

"I'm sure you'll do well," he said with a smile. There were plenty of colleges to choose from in the New York area alone, much less the state and the entire country, as she had surely discovered by now.

"Have you decided what you'll study?" he asked. He could imagine her studying vocal performance at Julliard or Berklee, or if she wanted to pursue something else, there was always NYU down the street.

A movement to his far right caught his eye, and he turned his head in that direction. There was a young man, no more than thirty years old, dressed in a light sweater and khakis, standing near another bench, and holding a newspaper in his hands. He looked at Monte Cristo, then down at the paper spread before him, then back up at Monte Cristo. Monte Cristo was not sure exactly what was going on, but instinct told him to hide his face by turning it in the other direction as they passed the young man.

He turned to Christine with a smile. She may have noticed the man looking at Monte Cristo, but hopefully would not think anything of it. Sometimes he really hated the celebrity status his fortune had bestowed upon him.