I think you might like this crossover-of-many-musicals fan fic. The link under "my muses" in my bio section on my front page will lead to the first few chapters of the story, which my friend has already written. It's quite long, but also quite enjoyable. Anyway, enjoy reading, and please review!
Chapter 6
And a new day will begin...
The Phantom had not moved an inch away from the mirror for how many hours he didn't know. He kept wondering whether it was truly his reflection that he was seeing. He couldn't believe it. This was something that he has dreamed for all his life, yet now when he finally has it, he didn't feel a bit of rapture. He touched his cheeks again, feeling the smoothness of the skin, and then abruptly, turned away from the mirror. Christine! He felt a pang in his heart. He could not get Christine back anyway, so what is the use now? If only this could have happened earlier, earlier when he still... he sank back down into his chair and rested his face in his hand. The crystal ball in front of him was displaying all sorts of images; images that the Phantom only wished he could make them disappear and never come back. How she was tormenting those innocent people! He thought as he caught the crystal ball's glare at the corner of his eye, but not wishing to look any further. But what could he do? He was under her spell just like all the rest of them, and he felt no less frustrated and powerless than the rest of them. He wished he could just sleep through all of this, and when he opened his eyes, he would be back in his opera house, living a life that though he did not like too much better, but at least a life that belonged to him totally, that allowed power to be in his own hands and the freewill to do what he wished to do only. But when he was about to close his eyes he felt a hand on his shoulder that made him perk as if it was the scorching hand of Satan.
"My dear Phantom," he heard that hateful voice which he so loathed coming from behind him again.
"Once more, Madame, I am NOT your dear Phantom!" the Phantom violently pushed the hand away and stood up from his chair. He stood right in front of the Evil Mastermind, his tall, gigantic form towering over her and almost engulfing her in his shadow. "If you dare to call me that again, I swear I will..."
"Now, now," the Mastermind pressed her hand against the Phantom's mouth, "my dear, aren't you a bit grateful for what I have done? I almost thought that the moment I come in, I'd get least get some thanks from you."
"Me, thanking you?" the Phantom growled, "not a chance! Thank you for what? For bringing me into this miserable place as a slave whom you can manipulate and scare? For increasing my miseries because you know that I have no use for this face right now anyway? For making me watch all those suffer due to your selfishness and cruelties?"
"What... what?" The Mastermind seemed knocked for six, "how... how could you say this to me? How dare you! Nobody ever talks to me this way!"
"Are you satisfied now?" The Phantom howled, flinging his hand at the crystal ball in front of him, which were still flashing with images showing scenes that can't get any closer to chaos. "You are satisfied at this mess that you've caused and all these miseries that you have brought upon everybody?"
The Mastermind glimpsed at the crystal ball and then shifted her vision back to the Phantom, still trying to retain her cool.
"I did not make them do what they're doing now, my dear," she said defiantly, "it's their own problem that they wouldn't keep peace with each other and..."
"Enough!" the Phantom yelled, and had not she stepped back he would have whacked her across the face. "Yes! It's not your problem! It's anyone's problem but yours because you are the one who's making this, not going through this! You do what you want, anything you want just to show off how strong you are, even if it requires torturing people you still have to get your ways! I know your motive in all this. You have to get what you want, and because of that, you enjoying gloating over the miseries of the others and continue tormenting them so that you may make them do things that will give you what you want, even if they ask for mercy! Never have I, among the entire human race, met someone as callous, ruthless, and egotistic as a beast like you!"
The Mastermind stumbled back a couple of feet and stared at the Phantom in awe. The Phantom's dark eyes were fixed on her, smoldering with contempt and hatred. Slowly he sat back down, buried his face again in his hands, and gave off a sigh. Again, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he shook it off in a huff.
"Leave me alone, you wretch!" the Phantom said in his deep, threatening voice.
"But..."
"GO AWAY! You hideous, wicked old wretch!" The Phantom shouted at her as if she was some disease, and his voice shook her from top to bottom.
The Mastermind was more than taken aback. As she turned her head around to get her eyes off the Phantom, as if expecting him to strike out at her the next moment, suddenly she spotted her image in the mirror not far away, and instinctively she brought her hands up to her cheeks. What appeared she saw standing in front of her was an old, short, withered looking, witch-like woman whom she herself was growing to hate as she stood there and gazed. The dark, reddish hair looked like they were made out of straw, and her eyes, those deep green eyes, once perhaps shiny like emeralds but now could only appear shrouded in mist. On her forehead and the corner of her eyes, she could see lines and feel the rough skin, and suddenly, it struck her that how could anyone not fear and resent such a body, and such a face with such features! It was just as what the Phantom had said, a hideous, wicked old wretch! In a sound of a slap, she covered her face with both of her hands and let out a moan. She shook uncontrollably that the Phantom felt as if the entire floor was shaking with her body. And suddenly there was a loud, high-pitched scream that seemed could shatter every single piece of glass of this building. The Phantom clasped his ears hard and closed his eyes, while the scream continued in its shrill horrible, ear-piercing timbre.
"Ahhh...! Stop! Stop! For Heaven's sakes!" The Phantom yelled. But attempting to speak above that loud shriek was simply futile, for it went on like an endless siren penetrating every corner of the house.
The Phantom staggered to his feet, trying his best to shut out the screech from his already aching ears, and finally managed to get hold of her and pulled her toward him. This stunned the Mastermind so much that she suddenly stopped, glancing her wide-open eyes around her as if she had woken from a sleepwalk. A long groan slipped out of her when she saw the Phantom's now handsome face above her, and felt his strong hands holding her arms. She felt her entire body soften, until she could not feel the strength in her legs that was holding her up. Before the Phantom could do anything, she collapsed into the his arms.
The Phantom suddenly had no idea what he could do with her. He stood there, with her drooping in his arms; he did not know whether to leave her there and get out or to try to wake her. He moved his arms to try to lift her into a standing position. She was very light, which did not make it too difficult. And then he heard her speak.
"I know, and that's why you hate me," she whimpered, sounding like she was talking to herself in her sleep. "Everybody hates me, and I know it. You are right, Erik, I am a wretch, a hideous wretch who cannot even bear to look at herself in the mirror. I am no worse than you were without your mask, Erik!"
The Phantom shivered a bit. How familiar had that sounded! But no body has ever addressed him by his real name before, except for... Christine's face again floated in front of his eyes, and her angelic voice echoed in his ears as if she was standing right by him, singing for him. He closed his eyes for a second; his face was twisted with sadness.
"Yes, I know what you're thinking," the Mastermind spoke again, this time, a bit louder as she tried to steady herself but couldn't. She remained drooping in the Phantom's arms; almost trusting him not letting her hit the floor.
"I know what you're thinking," she repeated, her voice gradually going crescendo. "That Christine, there's no power in the world that will be able to remove her from your mind. Someone like me is only a useless shadow in your eyes, someone who deserves to put on that mask of yours just as you have done for almost 50 years of your life! But I am different from you, Erik! I wasn't born into a life like this like you were! I have known what beauty is, and I have known happiness! But Fate just had to take everything that I so value from me and make me live in the darkness at such a young age! God in Heaven will not be able to help my wretchedness and misery! No one on earth can extricate me from my prison of darkness and despair! It's true, I have all the powers that I need to get whatever I get from the world. But what can that do for me? No power can cure my cursed outlook, and nothing that I can get can mitigate my loneliness and my needs of sympathy, which nobody in the world can give or even understand! That Christine! Now do I only wish that I could have a single hair of hers that might make me somehow like her, even if just a tiny bit like her I shall be satisfied! I do not ask for more!" She suddenly sprung up from his arms as if she had gained springs in her body, and her green eyes were gazing at him as if fire was about to shoot out of them. Her body was still quivering all over, both with pain and with anger. She turned around again, and once more spotted her face in the big mirror as if trying to prove herself that her eyes had deceived her the last time. Brusquely she swung her head away, with her eyes closed tight. The Phantom noticed a tear sliding down her cheek.
"I thought you would empathize me," she continued, her voice filled with sorrow, "I thought you would understand me like no one else can, because you and I share something in common, and we both desire the same things though neither one of us is willing to admit it! I thought I could at least find a friend in you, if not a solace. But now, reality has taught me another lesson!" she clenched her bony hands into two tight fists, so tight that she seemed could crash her bones. The Phantom stepped away from her, but now finding it hard to take his eyes off her.
"Now I know," she again spoke, this time, with more composure, "that all this time I have been lying to myself, giving myself blank hope that someday and sometime, things might change. I have again given myself the illusion that would only bring me back into deeper agony at the end! I thought I have come up with a new way; a new way that would make me see light in myself, to make myself believe that I can actually do something; something that might change my world. But oh! All hallucinations! All foolish, worthless hallucinations!"
Her words were shaking the Phantom, and for a moment, he was afraid that she might again collapse. But she didn't. She only fiercely turned away from him and strode toward another desk at the corner on which piled the parts of the libretto and the score already written for the musical, and in one grasp, she clutched the entire thick pile in her one hand.
"Nothing is going to change me! Not even this, which was already beginning to fill me with so much hope!" She slammed the pile harshly onto the desk, making another piercing sound that sounded like a firecracker exploding. She then sunk helplessly onto the floor, looking almost as if she was melting like the Witch of the West.
"All this selfishness, cruelty, and whatever that you have been saying about," she hid her face in between her hands and shook her head wildly, "how can anyone but me know that they're only some of my most desperate ways of elevation myself to make myself feel that I am actually worth anything, that I can actually be superior, and have people respect me! So that I can actually recognize myself first, before making anyone else recognize, what I can really be and what I can really do. And the dream and effort of creating this musical is but one small part of this long, painstaking process, and maybe even the last! But now, even my very last attempt has failed!"
The Phantom slowly walked over her, carefully lest she'd burst out on him again. But she didn't even seem to notice his approach. Suddenly he was feeling something different about her; something that he never thought that he'd feel for someone like her. Was he feeling sorry for her? Pitying her for what she had just cried out? He could not even be sure himself. The feeling surprised him a little at the beginning, but he was sure that it was true. He stared at her, what had she meant when she mentioned beauty and happiness? Had she once been beautiful? Questions filled the Phantom's mind one after another like a flood. He wanted to ask her, but he could not bring himself to open his mouth and ask a single word.
"I am nobody, and never will be, so why bother dream, and continue to deceive and disappoint myself over and over again?" she cried. The Phantom could see tears streaming out of the cracks between her fingers. "I am nobody. I do not even have a name that could give me at least an identity!"
"But you can have a name, if you want to," the Phantom said, his voice was unexpectedly gentle.
"Like you, my mother's gift was a mask," she started to weep; "only it was not a mask over my face, but a mask over my soul and my entire self!"
The Phantom had to take a deep breath. What she was saying was now stabbing him. Again, he touched his new face, his now attractive face that he could only dream of having before. If she could make him beautiful, why couldn't she make herself?
"But if your magic can make others change, why can't it make you?" the Phantom bent over her and asked, softening his voice even more. "If you can make me good-looking, why can't you make yourself?"
"My powers don't work that way," she sighed, "my powers allow me to control others, but never myself."
"But why, why don't you have a name?" the Phantom asked, "Did your mother and father not give you a name when you were born, like all other parents do?"
"I don't know," the Mastermind shook her head, "although I was not born ugly as I am now, my parents often treated me as if I did not exist. I do not know. Maybe they had known what I would become later in life. Or maybe I never should have been born. I really do not know."
"But why don't you give yourself a name?" the Phantom asked, "Surely you can give yourself a name that you like."
"What's the use?" she raised her tear-smeared face from her hands and looked up at him, "it's been like this all my life and I guess I'm already getting used to it. If everything that I have endeavored on could not change a thing, how can something as trivial as a name do any good?"
"You will feel different with a name," said the Phantom, "because a name symbolizes who you are. Like me, when during my lifetime I have been seen as either a ghost or a demon, but deep inside I knew myself, because I, even if just I myself alone, knew that I am no ghost, no demon, no angel, and no genius, I am Erik. That is what I truly am, no matter what the others think of me as. I am just Erik, and that is what something as simple as a name can do for you."
The Mastermind wiped her wet eyes with the back of her hands. The Phantom took out a white handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her. She took it shyly and gently dabbed her eyes with it. Now, at least in the Phantom's eyes, she was no longer a domineering, menacing evil being, but more like a lost little girl, who desperately longed for support and guidance.
The Phantom heaved out a deep sigh. "Come," he said, himself surprised at the rather gentle tone of his voice, "we'd better go down there and do something for them before they break out into a riot. And then we'll get back to work and continue on what we've started, and hopefully this time, with the participation and help of them, which I'm sure, will make the process easier."
"You... you are willing to help me now?" the Mastermind stared at the Phantom with disbelief. All this time up until now, she had been refusing to admit even to herself that that was what she wanted and needed from the beginning.
The Phantom nodded, "if you promise to allow me and everyone else to go back to where we came from when everything is finished, I believe that I am willing to devote my best effort to what you wish to do. I trust that you have spoken out your heart, and for that, I suppose I can stay and help you until you need me no more."
The Mastermind nodded and smiled. Sadness suddenly drifted away from her face like clouds drifting away from the sky. She got up from the floor and for a while, she and the Phantom just stood facing each other, neither saying a word. The Mastermind's eyes were red from crying and her face pale from grief. But the Phantom's words had brought a little twinkle to her dull green eyes.
"I promise, Erik. I will send you back to Paris the moment the work is done," her voice was hoarse from her screaming and crying. "And I also promise, I will no longer be brutal toward the others. I will send them home as soon as everything that needs to be done is done, too!"
The Phantom nodded and for the first time, softened his expression toward her. His face, for the first time, appeared to be light and free of shadows.
"And let this be a new start for you as well," said the Phantom, "and I will help you in making sure that this will not end as another failure to your life."
"You will?" the Mastermind looked at him, like a child who has gotten a wish granted after days after days of entreating.
"Yes. And first, I will give you a name!" said the Phantom, taking her hand into his and squeezed it.
"A name..." she mumbled, as if it was a word that she has just learned.
"Yes, everybody has a name, and everybody needs a name, and so do you," the Phantom again smiled.
"A name... what kind of a name?" the Mastermind asked like a little girl.
"Well," the Phantom thought for a moment, "one name that I cannot seem to forget... Margarita, the beautiful lady from Faust." he stared into space wistfully, as if hearing the gorgeous soprano in his ears.
"What?" the Mastermind again stared at the Phantom startled.
"That opera has long been one of the most popular pieces performed at the Paris Opera. And I can still hear its melody, its beautiful arias, and see its elegant ballet," the Phantom said, as if drifting into a dream world.
"Margarita, Margarita?" the Mastermind muttered, as if she was fascinated by the mere sound of it.
"Yes," the Phantom said, staring at her, "don't you like it?"
A radiant smile beamed from the Mastermind's dark face, "Margarita, yes, I like it. No, I love it!"
The Phantom nodded, "then, that's it. Margarita!"
"Oh, Erik, you are being so kind to me!" the Mastermind smiled and said passionately; her hands now trembled with joy. "I am someone now, for now at least I have a name that can prove I exist in this world. I am no evil mastermind, and I am no wicked old woman. I am Margarita! I am nothing else but Margarita!"
The Phantom nodded gently. He did not want to say anything more. But suddenly, he stared at the woman in front of him flabbergasted, not believing what his eyes were making him see. Right under his eyes, the Evil Mastermind, now Margarita, seemed to be slowly transforming. Her green eyes were turning light, watery, and their colors were shifting into a beautiful deep emerald color, and her black eyelashes were growing longer and thicker. Her dark, disheveled hair was straightening out and turning silky and shiny, and the lines and the droopy skin on her face were disappearing, replaced by fresh, pink, hale looking flesh. Her lips were turning thin and cheery red, and her entire countenance looked as if a dark husk has just been peeled off. A smile arose on her now tiny, moist little lips; bring out two small dimples on her now smooth and young looking cheeks. The Phantom had to stand back almost five steps before bringing enough poise to look at her with a straight face. She had transfigured right before his very eyes, like a flower bud blooming with unnoticeable speed. And not only was she merely changing, she was growing, and the entire air about her seemed to be changing, and all the feeling that she was bringing to anything seemed were going through a make over. Her bony hands were now white and fleshy, and her chest was growing full while her body at the same time grew steady, slender, and graceful. Not only was she growing, but she was also growing young, growing pretty.