To live again
Disclaimer- I don't own the Phantom. Or the books, movies, or shows.
The Paris Opera House had just concluded its last show before the holidays. It had been a complete success, and with out the looming fear of the Opera Ghost, whose body had been found several months prior, the cast was cheerful and happy as they packed up and changed. A young nobleman escorted a petite woman with curly black hair backstage. Dancers and singers alike waved and called friendly greetings to the handsome young man, who returned them with a good-natured grin. One young woman gave a happy cry when she saw him, and ran to throw her arms around him, red hair flying behind her.
"Dom! Dom, you came!" She cried.
"Of course I did, Colette." He reassured, hugging her back. "Darling, I'd like you to meet my little sister, Joelle."
The dark haired young woman gave Colette a shy smile, pale blue eyes gleaming. "So you are the woman my brother means to marry." She said softly, "I've heard so much about you, Colette, and you were absolutely amazing out there."
Colette hugged the younger woman enthusiastically, "Oh, thank you so much! Dom's told me so many good things about you! I hear you're quite a singer yourself, why haven't you ever auditioned? We could sing together!"
"It wasn't safe for her to be in the public eye." Dom explained. "She's been hidden away in a convent in Ireland for six years since Mother was murdered. There was suspicion that the man who killed her was trying to get Joelle."
"Oh!" Colette's green eyes widened, "How terrible!"
"It's ok." Joelle murmured, "I've always been nervous around crowds anyway. I don't like to much attention."
"Are you back to stay now?" Colette asked.
"Hopefully. Our mother's murderer has been missing for a long time now, and Father thinks it's safe to return. I am into my twentieth year now, anyway, so he wants to find me a husband over the holidays." There was a resigned tone to her voice, "He's so determined to find someone who can protect me."
"I would so love it if we could be friends." Colette chirped.
"That would be nice." Joelle smiled, "I'm glad the big lug finally found someone. He is, after all, approaching thirty, but love can neither be forced or rushed."
"I'm glad that someone else in this family understands that." Dom remarked sullenly, "Father means well, but I could never have loved any of those vapid court twits he was always tossing at me!"
"So much the better for me!" His fiancée replied.
"If you choose to see it that way." Joelle joked. "You've only seen the pretty things."
"You wound me, Joelle." Dom cried in a mock-hurt tone.
"Oh! We really must have a girls night sometime before the wedding!" Colette exclaimed.
"Just don't tell her too many horrid tales about me, sis." Dom insisted.
"Who, me?" Joelle asked innocently. Then, with a furtive glance, "I make no promises!"
Both women laughed.
"I just know I'm going to regret introducing the two of you." He remarked.
Two sets of eyes watched as the three young adults left, arm in arm. One pair was the sad, wistful eyes of a casual observer; the other pair was dark with insanity and possessive lust.
The second man grinned wickedly, "It's been years, but you can never hide from me, my dove. You will be mine, I swore it."
The first man regarded him with disgust as he disappeared, unseen, into the shadows.
The doors to the Opera House burst open, and Joelle was thrown roughly inside, her wrists bound behind her back. Before she could stand, a man walked over and dragged her into the stage area. Joelle's wrists were red and raw from struggling and her hair was loose and wild from the wind. She was dressed in a delicate white silk nightgown that was torn and muddied. Her kidnapper was a tall handsome man with tanned skin and a toned, muscular body. His jet-black hair was pulled neatly back from his face, revealing high cheekbones, stormy black eyes, and a regal aquiline nose.
"And now, Joelle, we will be together forever." He said confidently, "The day I first saw you I swore you would be mine, and now that day has come!"
"Eew! I was only four! You were fifteen!" She protested.
"Nonetheless, you were the loveliest creature I had ever beheld, and you've grown lovelier still. Truly, the angels must weep with envy! I was the son of the lowliest baron and you, the daughter of a duke, treated me like an equal!"
"You were a decent person then, Rojer, and Dom's best friend. Why would I not?" She looked away.
"Why do you turn from me, butterfly?" He cried.
"You killed my mother! How could you possibly think I would be ok with that, you monster?"
"Darling, your mother and I…didn't see eye to eye." He explained soothingly, running his finger down her cheek. "She wanted to keep us apart, Joelle. We couldn't have that, now could we?"
"She knew what you really were! She knew!"
"Perhaps, but if she knew, why would she keep us from our happiness? All she had to do was approve the union."
Joelle decided to ignore that one. "Why are we here?"
Rojer laughed and claimed her mouth with his own, kissing her hard.
She shrieked and tried to escape him.
He chuckled, "My little wildcat." He said fondly. "We are here, my dear, because beneath this very Opera House lies many hidden passages, one of which leads to the catacombs. We'll make our escape through there; head for the shore, where my ship awaits, and sail to Spain! Things will be like heaven there, my sweet Joelle; you'll grow to love it. I've built you a castle in Spain, my love; you'll live like a princess, with servants and jewels, and lace gowns. Your father will come to see, in time, that it's a good match, and welcome me back into your family. I have money now, Joelle! Lots of it! And you have to admit, dear, mine isn't such a bad face to wake up to, is it?"
"You're mad." Joelle spat. "You know damn well looks were never a concern for me, nor money!" She sniffed, "Money, pah! I know where you got that, too! Piracy! Your hands are stained with the blood of countless innocents! Men, women, children… Have you no remorse?"
Rojer sighed, "Ah, you'll come around." He smiled dreamily, "I haven't forgotten your voice, you know. Your song still haunts my sweetest dreams. Sing for me, songbird! Take me there again!" He kissed her exposed neck, tearing the top of her nightgown a little more to expose delicate, silvery flesh.
"Never." She hissed.
"I think you will!" He said in a singsong voice, toying with a notched dagger.
She stared at the sharp blade, horrified, "You…you wouldn't…"
He smiled ruefully, "You must learn." He whispered in her ear, "You must learn to be a good, obedient wife."
Her eyes widened, "F…fine… wh..what should I s..sing?"
He closed her eyes, trailing a finger down her throat.
She repressed a shudder as tears ran down her face.
His eyes opened slightly, regarding her dotingly, "Sing me something cheerful, my sweet. Something pretty you learned in Ireland." He kissed her temple, "Make me smile, pretty."
Joelle drew in a deep, quavering breath, "I know my love by his way of walking.
And I know my love by his way of talking
And I know my love, dressed in a suit of blue
And if my love leaves me what will I do?"
"Beautiful." He murmured, slipping his arms around her from behind, "Keep going, precious." He said, kissing along her throat.
Joelle fought back a sob.
"And if my love leaves me, what will I do?
And still she cries,
'I love him the best'
And a troubled mind sure can know no rest
And still she cries,
'Bonny boys are few
And if my love leaves me, what will I do?' "
She sniffled. Rojer was cutting open her nightgown, having grown frustrated with opening the laces with his fingers.
"Let her go, Rojer!" A voice called, full of cold hatred.
They both looked to the doorway.
"Dom!" Rojer exclaimed, "What a pleasant surprise!"
"Unhand my sister, whoreson." Dom growled, glaring.
Rojer thought a minute. "No, no, I quite like the current position. Besides, I fully intend to marry her, Dom. Don't worry about her honor. We'll be brothers then! Just like we used to play pretend when we were kids!"
Rage flashed in Dom's eyes, "You killing my mother and raping my sister is hardly a game." He said icily.
But Rojer ignored him, continuing, "And my mother's virtue is really none of your concern anyway, now is it?" Then it dawned on him what the other man had said. "Well then, I suppose you'll be joining your dear mother, old friend." Tucking his dagger away, he pulled out a large, wicked looking sabre. "En Garde." He said in a rather bored tone.
Dom sighed, unsheathing his own sword, "I never dreamed it would come down to this, Rojer. I never wanted to have to kill you." He said sadly, "What on god's green earth changed you so?"
"'Twas only the love of your sweet sister." He replied, toying with Joelle's hair. "Such a pretty thing, with such lovely hair…" He tossed her to the side. "Now be patient, my dove, while I remove yet another obstacle on our path to wedded bliss." He looked over at her, "Then I'll come and claim my prize…you."
Joelle ignored him, "Don't fight for me, Dom!" She screamed, "I'm not worth it! Go back to Colette! She needs you!"
Dom shook his head, "No. This has gone on long enough! He's tormented you for too long! You're my sister, I am not just going to leave you at the mercy of that monster! Father would die if he lost you too! No. This ends NOW!" He charged at Rojer, sword drawn.
Rojer blocked it easily.
"You can't win, you know, Dom. We trained together, remember? I know your strengths, I know your weaknesses; all of your moves! And let's be honest, you can only lose in this fight, while I only stand to gain! The odds are against you."
From the shadows, another man watched.
He had come upon first man and the woman earlier. Hearing a woman singing an unfamiliar tune with such obvious talent, he had grown curious, and went to investigate. When he had arrived, he found a tall, handsome man holding onto a terrified, familiar woman in a tattered nightgown, which he was cutting off her. He remembered the woman from earlier that night, laughing with her brother and his lover. Her name was Joelle Etienne. She was crying now, light blue eyes raining tears down her pale, smooth cheeks.
Before he could do anything, her brother, Dom Etienne arrived. The other man's name was Rojer, and apparently, the three had a bad history. Rojer was consumed by an obsessive love for pretty Joelle, sentiments that she did not return.
He had no sympathy for Rojer, even in light of his own past: The man was handsome enough to have any woman he chose, in spite of his meager inheritance. The man had looks, youth, strength, and a title of nobility; all the silly little things which women were wild for. Yet, instead, he chose to tear apart the life of a nice, fragile young woman whom he'd grown up with rather than simply trying to woo her. And for all his claims of passionate love for the girl, his advances were horribly rough and brutal, for which he could not, under any circumstances, be forgiven. And Rojer had killed the child's mother and planned to kill her brother right before her eyes.
A sudden horrible thought struck him.
As monstrous as this man looked to him, how horrid had he looked to others?
…to Christine?
Perhaps he had not become an honorless pirate, perhaps he had not murdered countless innocents (he firmly believed that nobody he had killed had been exactly 'innocent'.), or tried to rape the woman he loved (let alone any woman; he was a virgin, much to his chagrin.), but what he had done was only steps away from those extremes.
Nearly overwhelmed by guilt, he returned his attention to the scene before him.
Poor little Joelle.
She was on her knees, hands still bound behind her back. Fear, misery, and…-guilt?- were plain on her face.
'Poor child,' he realized, she blames herself for this.'
The men, meanwhile, were too evenly matched. If one caught the upper hand at any point, it was only ever brief. Realistically, there was a great chance that they would both die.
But then Rojer's hand disappeared.
And flashed out again holding a dagger!
He stabbed Dom in the stomach and the man went down.
"DOM!" Joelle screamed, lunging at Rojer, kicking and screaming. Rojer fought back, finally throwing Joelle roughly off. She landed six feet away and he loomed over her menacingly, hands still red with her brother's blood.
"STAY AWAY FROM ME!" She shrieked, voice trembling.
"Scream all you want, Baby doll." He said sweetly. "Nobody will hear you. It's just you and me now, darling. Who did you really expect to save you anyway? That moronic Opera Ghost?" He laughed derisively, "He's been dead for half a year now, the ass! We've won! Someday you'll see that this is our day of triumph. But for now…" His eyes glittered with a primal hunger. "Now, I take my prize…you!" He reached for her.
The man in the shadows sprung into action with the Punjab Lasso. It soared in a graceful arc through the air, meeting its mark perfectly. The rope tightened around Rojer's neck and he clawed at his throat, gasping for air. The man stepped into view, holding the rope tight until Rojer dropped to the ground and ceased his struggles.
Joelle stared, big eyes wide and wary. Her face was cut, streaked with tears and blood. "W..who…?" She managed.
He gave a small, graceful bow, and a reassuring smile. "I am the Opera Ghost." He said gently.
She gave a small, slightly hysterical laugh. "Oh? How ironic! Well, you look like an angel to me, Monsieur!"
Gently, carefully, he untied her wrists, wincing, in spite of himself, at the bloody rings left behind.
When her hands were free, she ran to her brother, falling to her knees beside him. He was still breating, though it was very shallow. Carefully, she leaned over and listened to his heartbeat. That done, she was about to begin inspecting his wounds, but when she looked at her shaking hands, she was overcome by a storm of helpless tears.
The "Opera Ghost" walked over and gently touched her shoulder.
She looked up at him.
"May I?" He asked softly.
She nodded, "Of course. My hands… they won't stop trembling… If I touch him, I'll only end up doing further harm."
After a few moments inspection, he remarked. "If we remove the dagger now, he'll only start losing blood faster. We need to get him to a hospital."
Joelle nodded dumbly, trying to cover herself with the tatters of her nightgown.
Taking her hands to still them, the "Opera Ghost" laid his coat gently over her shoulders and carefully lifted Dom. "Don't go into shock just now, Joelle, dear." He urged, "Come with me. Be strong for your brother." She obeyed, closing the coat.
When they reached the hospital, the "Opera Ghost" laid Dom gently in his sister's arms. He leaned his face close to hers, to whisper in her ear. "I must go now, Joelle. Tell no one of me."
Dazed, she kissed his cheek before he backed away, "I swear it, Angel." She murmured.
Several hours later, Joelle's father and Colette arrived at the hospital. She told them everything up to when she was on the ground, with Rojer about to "claim his prize."
"He's dead now." She concluded.
"How?" Her father asked, looking at her bandaged wrists. "Who saved you, Jo?"
She sighed, "My Guardian angel, Father." She replied softly. "Please don't press me further, I gave my word, that's all I can say."
A nurse's approach saved her. "Monsieur Etienne, Madmoiselle Etienne, Madmoiselle Stéver, the young Monsieur Etienne will survive, and make a full recovery. But the doctors inform me that it would be wise for you to take the young Madmoiselle home to rest."
That night, Joelle snuggled close to her rescuers coat, wondering if she really had been saved by the Opera Ghost, or merely some brave man who wished to remain anonymous?
Perhaps they were one and the same. She mused, before sleep claimed her.
Whoever it was, he had been quite charming, and she owed him far more than her life.
End Part One
