I don't own the Phantom of the Opera, and I hope you didn't really think I did.
"Quick, get inside!" Antoinette hissed at the boy.
He hesitated, then darted through the opening. She shut the grate behind him with a clang. "Wait for me there, and don't let anyone see you," she whispered. The boy nodded, his face concealed by a large sack with holes for his eyes cut out.
Antoinette turned and scampered away from the opening. She didn't want to be seen near it, just in case the mob tracked them there. She shuddered and slowed to a walk.
She hadn't meant to get involved. It was one thing to feel pity for an abused circus attraction; it was another matter entirely to do something about it. She had just happened to be there when the boy had broken himself out, and she had grabbed his hand without thinking, pulling him into the night, cries of "Murder!" following them.
She paused at the door that led into the Opera House, where she lived and worked as a dancer. That cry still rang in her ears. Whether or not that cruel man had deserved it, the boy had murdered him. He'd strangled the man with surprising strength for one so slight. What if he did the same to her, once he knew he was safe? Maybe she should find a gendarme, tell him where the boy was. Maybe he truly was the Devil's Child, as the gypsy had said he was.
Then she remembered the marks on the boy's sides and back. Welts from lashings, old scars, filth from the cage he'd been kept in.
She couldn't turn him in. It would go against everything decent and humane inside of her.
She opened the door and went inside. She had to find him and get him hidden quickly before anyone else stumbled across him. She hurried to the chapel where she had left him, pausing only to snatch up a lantern from a hook on the wall—it wouldn't be missed until morning. A few people in the hallways gave her odd looks, but no one stopped her. Bursting into the chapel, she felt a tremor of alarm at finding it empty. Then she remembered what she had told him. "It's me," she called softly.
He emerged from the shadows to her left. She took a step towards him, and he flinched back. "Come on," she said, reaching forward and grabbing his wrist before he had time to retreat again. "We've got to hide you."
She gave him a tug and towed him out of the room at almost a run. They had to get to a safer place fast, before someone spotted them. But she knew just where to take him. The Opera cellars.
She had explored the depths of the Opera House for years, and she still didn't know all of them. Just a few months ago she had discovered a secret passage that led deeper into the cellars than she'd ever been before. Following it, Antoinette had found herself at an underground lake. She didn't think anyone had been there since the passage had been built.
They made it as far as uppermost cellars without being seen. Antoinette sighed inwardly in relief. At this time of night, no one would be down here. They were safe. She slowed slightly, still gripping the boy's wrist. Now that she'd slowed, he'd caught up with her and was walking beside her.
They came to the opening for the passage. It was concealed behind some old paneling that looked out of place amid the clutter of dusty props and forgotten backdrops.
Dropping the boy's wrist, Antoinette pushed the hidden switch, and the door swung open slowly. She had discovered the door because, having found several passages in or near the ballet dormitories, she had taken to testing every set of paneling she came across.
She lit the lantern, and then started into the passage. She stopped when realized she didn't hear him following. Turning around, Antoinette saw that he'd paused at the entrance, his posture wary and tense. She beckoned, "Come on. You'll be safe down here. No one else knows about it."
When she beckoned again, he stepped into the passage, shutting the door behind him. The light from the lantern bounced around the tunnel as Antoinette turned and started walking. They moved silently down the passage, the slight scuffs of their footsteps the only noise. Once Antoinette turned to make sure he was still following and almost dropped the lantern. The light didn't reach back to him, just tinting his front a faint orange, but his eyes glowed a fiery yellow from the holes in the sack, causing her to catch her breath and turn back around hurriedly.
Then she felt ashamed of her bad manners. Turning her head again, she said, "We're almost there."
Almost as she spoke they arrived. The passage opened up onto a wide cavern, the lake taking up a large part of it and extending beyond. The walls and the surface of the lake reflected the light from the lantern, creating more light than the lantern could have alone. It was enough to get a sense of the size of the place anyway, Antoinette thought. She looked back at the boy. He was staring around, or at least the sack was tilted towards the ceiling.
"Where are we?" he asked, his voice barely audible and muffled by the sack. Antoinette almost jumped. She had begun to think that he was mute.
Then she realized that he truly didn't know where they were at. He didn't know what building they were in, or even who she was. No wonder he had been reluctant to enter the tunnel with her, she could have been taking him anywhere! "We're beneath the Opera House," she told him. "I'm a dancer here, and I discovered this place a few months ago. There are secret tunnels all over this place, but no one uses them or knows about them anymore. You should be safe here." Antoinette looked at him, but he didn't say anything. She set down the lantern. "I have to go back up and get you the things you'll need. I'll come back soon."
Going back up the tunnel without a lantern was difficult, but Antoinette made it with a minimum of tripping. Emerging in the semi-lit cellars, she set off to gather the items she thought the boy could use. Blankets, candles, matches, food. She remembered the boy's ribs sticking out and added more food to the pile. She even went to the costume department and found a shirt and trousers that she guessed would fit him. Petty pilfering was rife in the Opera House; the things she took would never be missed.
Managing her burden without too much difficulty, she went back to the underground cavern. The boy had been sitting on the ground. When she arrived he scrambled awkwardly to his feet. Antoinette set her plunder down beside the lantern and brought out the bundle that held food. She handed it to him.
"Here. I've brought you blankets and few things to make you more comfortable here tonight. There's enough food there for now and most of tomorrow until I have time to bring down some more." She felt awkward to be taking charge of what amounted to a complete stranger, and she hid her unease behind explaining what she had brought.
The boy looked down at the bundle he held in his hands, then at the pile beside the lantern. "Why are you doing this?" he asked softly, his voice showing complete disbelief.
Antoinette briefly looked away, and then met his eyes again. "I couldn't—after you k-killed that man—I couldn't let them take you. They'd have ripped you to pieces, when you were only trying to get away." She paused, then said, "Eat, you look starved."
Slowly he sat down and opened the bundle. Antoinette sat down also, the lantern between them. He hesitated. Antoinette divined his difficulty and said, "You'll have to take off your mask." When he didn't move, she added, "I've seen your face before. It won't make any difference."
The boy studied her carefully, his eyes gleaming yellow in the reflected light. Antoinette looked back gravely. She knew she was being tested. Living behind the bars of the cage, he had seen the worst of humanity and a smile wouldn't reassure him.
He held her gaze, and time seemed to stretch between them. Then he slowly reached up and drew off the sack.
Antoinette forced herself not to blink or flinch at all. She had spoken the truth. She had already seen his face back at the fair, and it didn't affect her decision to help him in any way. But it still took getting used to. The right side of his face looked as if it had begun to melt, then froze halfway through. Raised, lumpy scars ran down the side of his head, and the right side of his nose was sunken into oblivion. The damage extended down to just above his mouth and up to his scalp, the hair on that side of his head thinned and patchy.
The boy shifted subtly, turning the deformed side to the shadows so it was no longer within her view.
Antoinette watched him tear off a hunk of bread and devour it hungrily. "What's your name?" she asked curiously.
He swallowed his mouthful and looked up at her, careful not to turn completely towards her. "I haven't had a name since I was sold to the gypsies," he said softly, "but before that I was called Erik."
"Erik," Antoinette repeated. She was glad to have a name to call him. She smiled slightly at him. "I'm Antoinette, Antoinette Blanchard." She looked around the cavern again. "You should be safe here, Erik, until I can think of someplace better for you to go."
He didn't smile back. There was no expression on his face as he said, "There is no place for me to go, Antoinette. There will be no acceptance for me in the world."
Antoinette looked down, swallowing at the pain in his voice, the deadpan expression on his face. At that moment he didn't seem a boy, but merely a creature too hurt by the world to live in it anymore. She felt a sense of shame as she said, "There must be someplace for you."
"Where?" he asked. He seemed resigned. "Can you think of anywhere where a creature such as me would be welcome?"
She forced herself to meet his eyes. "No," she said honestly, "but you can't go back, and you can't want to spend the rest of your life in a cave."
"Better a cave than a cage," he replied quietly. "You said there were many secret places down here." His eyes glinted in the light from the lantern. "I can make a place down here. No one would ever find me." Then the matter-of-factness seemed to flee him, and he was once again the frightened boy Antoinette had rescued from the mob. "If you meant what you said, that you wouldn't give me up."
"No, I wouldn't," Antoinette answered at once. "I didn't bring you down here to betray you later. If you wanted to, you could live down here. I could show you all the tunnels I've found." She began to warm to the idea, her mind rapidly turning over the possibilities. "You could snitch food from the commissary, and anything else you needed we could smuggle down here. Even when it's missed, with no one to point fingers at, people will blame the Opera Ghost."
Across from her, Erik had started eating again, but stopped at this statement. "Opera Ghost?" he asked.
"Oh yes," Antoinette replied. "Every good theater has its ghost. It's something to blame for everything that goes wrong. Anything you do will be chalked up as the Ghost."
During this speech, Erik's face had become more animated, and Antoinette thought he seemed a little more relaxed. She felt a little flattered, actually. She guessed Erik wouldn't ever trust anyone lightly, and he seemed to have cautiously decided to extend some of that trust to her.
"I'd become the Ghost," he said musingly. He looked at her fully, and grinned slightly. "I think I'd like that."
Seeing him as he was, half of his face twisted into a horror, eyes glowing yellow with reflected light, Antoinette thought he already seemed remarkably like a ghost already. Promising to come back the next day with more supplies, Antoinette slowly made her way back to her bed. She left Erik making plans for a ghost's costume and examining the cavern for ways to improve living conditions there. As her head wearily hit her pillow, she wondered just what she had let loose with this day's work…
And the story we all know and love begins.
Thanks to everyone who read this and who encouraged me in the writing of this.