Summary:
Lizzie Hart, an ordinary opera dancer that has the skill of an assassin, agrees to help the mysterious phantom of the opera in exchange for singing lessons. But when she finds herself protecting Christine from the phantom, which side will she choose? How will she protect Christine without betraying the phantom and getting her and everyone she loves killed?
A/N This is my first story so please be nice! :) It takes place in both the movie version and the 25th anniversary play. If you guys have any questions about the story feel free to leave a review or message me!
Chapter 1
Lizzie
"It's Raoul," the dumbfounded, 17-year old girl that stood next to me said, with her mouth gaping open at the presence of this young man. Her brown eyes were wide with excitement as the young man that had previously said he would come to tonight's performance walked towards Christine and I. But the excitement quickly went away and turned to utter sadness as the man walked right past her, not giving her a second thought.
What I had learned early on in this opera house was that it was full of surprises. Some were good; like Christine recognizing the rich man as a childhood friend, and some not so good, like when I was told my mom had moved away. What a surprise that was.
I had only been six when I started working in the dancing compartment because our family had no title, and more importantly, no money. My parents worked for hours on end and the three of us still had to struggle. They told me I would live at the opera a few months later, because they couldn't pay for me anymore. Soon after, my father died of disease and without even a goodbye to her only daughter, my mom left and moved to another city, still anonymous to me.
After all the months of crying over my parents lost, I realized my mom had saved my life, for if I came home, I would have caught the disease. But it is still not right to leave without a goodbye. It should be a law. And from that day on, I never cried in their direction again.
"Are you sure it was him?" I questioned the young dancer at my side. Her long, blonde hair was tied with a ribbon behind her neck, and her brown eyes looked up at me, saying, 'yes I'm sure.'
"I've known him all my life, I…" she breathed in, "don't know why…"
"Ladies!" Madame giry interrupted her mourning and motioned us to get into position for our dancing act.
We ran to our positions as the first row of dancers gracefully leaped onstage, with other characters from this play, "Hannibal," hugged the outskirts of the stage. The music was mystic and energetic; matching the costumes the ballerinas were wearing which were also full of color.
I ran onstage, head facing the invisible audience that would soon be replaced by actual people, and leapt into the air with three other dancers beside me. All four of us, Christine, Meg; Madame Giry's daughter; and another dancer named Madeline. We had practiced so hard everyday to get each jump correct, and because we had been binded with chains, it had been a real challenge. But after about five months of training, we got it down.
The four of us jumped over the other group of dancers that had been running backwards toward us, and we all turned towards the red velvet seats and swayed our hips back and fourth. I wasn't the best of dancers, for I didn't really like being a ballerina, but I'd dance for a job.
My long, extremely curly, dark hair was bouncing loosely around my shoulders and my emerald green eyes were focused on one velvet seat, making sure I would not get dizzy. People had often said I was beautiful, making myself feel good, but it would immediately go away as they asked why my attitude didn't match. True, I didn't have a lot of friends in the opera besides Christine, and William who worked the lights, and a few stagehands, but what more did they expect from a 17 year old who had nothing? My attitude could get out of hand, every once in a while, but only if I were provoked- meaning to hurt someone I loved in some way.
I was very protective over Christine. I was afraid she would get displeased and leave me forever. I knew her father died when she was little, like me, and I think that was why we were best friends. We knew our each other felt and we knew how to comfort one another in times of need.
In my earlier years, my father had taught me how to protect myself if I was ever to be kidnapped. He showed me the way of the sword, and I often used those skills to threaten anyone who wanted to hurt Christine. I had only one sword with me at the opera, but I was sure I could use any sort of object to make a point.
Of course, Madame Giry always hated me for almost breaking some of the ballerina's legs for teasing Christine. She always had to find one way each day that proved I did something wrong, just because of that one incident four years ago. She always had a close eye on me, perhaps because of my curious behavior.
But my curious behavior would not be provoked if there weren't so many doors that lead to so may places I didn't know about. So many tunnels that wanted to be explored, and so many trapdoors waiting to be opened. Madame Giry said I was never to go into unexplored areas, such as the trapdoors, but if they were never seen, then why were they made? Who made them? So many questions provoked my curiosity, and I suppose that's why she always watched me.
My train of thought had been interrupted at the sound of a loud thud and my head got dizzy. I found myself flat on the floor with my Pointe shoe caught in a metal hinge that was conveniently placed were my foot should have gone. People's laughter echoed off the walls of the stage as I started to realize what had happened.
The music died off and the routine got thrown off and soon stopped as Christine came over to my aching body that still rested on the floor of the stage.
"Are you alright?" Christine asked me as she helped me get on my back and sit up. I heard the singers, dancers, stagehands, and the two managers that were introduced earlier in the evening murmuring about my clumsiness.
"Yes." I whispered back to Christine as I tried in vain to unhook my shoe from the golden hinge. I did not look up at her, for I could feel my face getting hotter with embarrassment.
"Lizzie, you're making a mess of things!" I heard Madame Giry shout and moments later heard the sound of the shoes hitting the stage floor, coming toward Christine and me.
"Its not my fault this hinge is here." I challenged her as the Pointe shoe finally came undone.
"Because of you we are going to have to redo the entire performance!" she continued. I heard groans from all over the room for we had been practicing all day and this was the final rehearsal.
"Why is this even here?" I asked her while pointing towards the little hinge that created my downfall. "Its not like there is anything down there." I said as I started to reach for the handle that was engraved in the trapdoor.
Her large walking stick came down on the handle to the trapdoor, barley missing my fingers by inches, making a loud thud. I noticed how quiet the opera house had gotten.
"You must never go down there!" she shouted.
"But why?"
She bent down next to me and whispered in a harsh tone "I didn't have to take you in. You could be on the streets. I don't want to do this now, or ever."
M. Giry got up from her bent position and said, "Now go get changed and go upstairs. I don't want to see you for this performance. We don't need your clumsiness."
For other people, working the lights and backdrops seemed pretty horrible, but I had worked up there many times before, learned some tricks, and made some friends. Of course, no one else would have this punishment; they would simply have to practice their part harder the next time. I didn't get why M. Giry didn't like me.
I got up from my seated position, and walked offstage. I could hear people laughing behind me, but I didn't know why; it's not like this hadn't happened before.
"Hey, look who it is!" Edward, a black-haired, 30-year old stagehand said as he saw me climbing up the stairs to the rafters. Four other men were surrounding him, drinking liquor and playing cards, looking up at me and asking why I was up there.
"Got kicked out." I answered shamefully. I swayed my long, beige skirts that tickled my ankles and looked at my feet. It took me about 10 minutes for me to get dressed and put up my hair, but rehearsals were still going on below, and it appeared they didn't have to do the entire play again, just the ballerina's solo part.
"Is William here?" I asked kind of shyly. I had no attraction to him, mostly because he was only 15, two years younger than I was, but, if you knew the stagehands, there would be gossip, even if he were more as a brother.
"Yeah, we saw him walk that way," Edward pointed into another direction "a little earlier."
"Thanks." I smiled at him slightly as I walked in the direction he told me to, and Edward turned back to his card game.
I followed a dark hallway that was dimly lit by only a few candles on the walls. My quiet footsteps didn't dare to echo on the walls on both sides, and my eyesight, very good in the dark was leading me from one hallway to another, until I found myself on the opposite side from were I came up. Screaming was coming from below, and I leaned on the beam that kept us from falling off and looked down to see, not screaming, but Carlotta singing her solo song, "Think of Me." I cringed when she hit the high notes and laughed when she didn't.
"Pretty horrid, huh?" a voice from behind me said. My head whipped around to see William walking up to me. I smiled sadly at him as I started to explain why I was up here.
"Oh, I heard." He interrupted me as I stated that my shoe got caught in a hinge. William had come to the opera just a few months after I had came because he had run away from his home. No one ever knew why. He had chocolate brown hair, which was usually covered with a hat, and warm, dark brown eyes. I always liked him for some reason, maybe because he was a really kind-hearted person that never lied. He even told Carlotta a few weeks ago that she was a horrible singer- but got a slap across the face, and although he said it was worth the look on her face, he had always been a little uneasy around her.
Suddenly, like a flash of lightening, a backdrop was loosened and then fell onto the stage, right on top of Carlotta- thankfully, because she was about to do her vocals. She screamed like a cat being put in water and yelled for people around her to help get the backdrop off. It would have been funny only for the fact that the managers would most likely blame me.
They were shouting for Buquet, the usually drunk stagehand that worked the backdrops as William and I ran towards the source of the accident to try and figure out what had gone wrong.
"For god's sake, man, what's going on up there?" one of the new managers yelled up at us. Buquet pulled on a levy until the backdrop was off the ground and back into place, and started to explain his story.
"As god's my witness I was not at my post," he started. Everyone tuned in to hear his explanation and the opera house got quiet. "Please monsieur, there's no one there, but if there is, well then, it must be a ghost!" he shouted so everyone would obviously hear.
Girls started screaming and men gasped at his answer.
A tale had been told to me when I first came to the opera, and it was about 'the phantom of the opera.' They said he had paper-like skin, no nose, a white gleaming mask and gold, sunken eyes. They also said, if you ever had the chance to see his masked face, it would be the last sight you'd ever see. Everyone around the opera was superstitious, saying "keep your hands at the level of your eyes" so you wouldn't get strangled by his lasso, and leaving box five open for his use during performances.
I didn't believe in this 'ghost' that haunted the opera because no incidents happened. Only small things like this, but nothing that could prove his existence.
"You find anything?" I heard William shout to me from another room. I almost forgot why I was here.
"No, nothing." I shouted back. I turned to leave the open room when something caught my eye- a door that I haven't seen before in my life. It sat at the farthest corner of the room, and even though it was wide open, I couldn't see anything past the lintel- it was pitch black.
My curious behavior got the best of me as I started toward the doorway that seemed to lead to the unknown. I stepped in front of the darkened doorway before me and tried to look past the darkness without going inside, but it was in vain. No light drained into it and no candles were lit inside. I peaked my head inside the doorway, to find it smelled like moss and the air was damp and heavy. My good eyesight found very faintly that there was a staircase heading in a downward direction just inside the doorway.
My eyebrows came up as I questioned whether or not to explore this staircase, or follow Madame Giry's advice and not go into unknown places. Obviously, I didn't want to follow the little voice in my head that said not to go down there, it was my nature.
I slowly took the first step down and found eerie silence following my footstep. How could this staircase be pitch black if the stage is right below it? I thought as I unconsciously took another step down.
It seemed like an hour as I took more steps down until someone shouted my name behind me. "Lizzie!"
I snapped out of my thoughts and whipped my head back up toward the doorway. William was standing in the doorway, only seven steps away from me. It felt like I was inside the dark staircase for a lifetime, and it looked like I was much father down than just seven steps- more like 20.
"What are you doing?" he practically yelled at me. "You don't know where this leads."
"I- I'm s- sorry." I stuttered defensively. He had never yelled at anyone, especially not to me.
"I don't want you to see you near that door again, and especially not going down there!" I was surprised at his sudden emotion, and slightly drew back for his booming voice.
William took a large sigh in, and motioned me to come back up towards the light. "Something is going on over here." He said in a lighter voice.
I gave him a questioning look as he walked away from the doorway, and carefully climbed up the stairs, for they were very large and steep. As I got to the top stair, and walked onto the wooden planks, I heard yelling from down below on the stage.
I ran to where William was standing, next to the rail, and looked down. Carlotta was screaming at the new managers while they tried reasoning with her.
"She's gone." William said in a sarcastic tone and as if on cue, Carlotta ran off the stage, crying of embarrassment with getting tackled with a backdrop.
Everyone looked frustrated and lost as the managers yelled and blamed other people at the misfortune they were having.
Even I was surprised at the sudden turn of events, for one moment the opera house sounded like a torture machine, and now it was, for the most part, quiet.
"A full house Andre" one of the two managers said, "we shall have to refund a full house!"
I looked down at Christine, who was talking to Meg, and got a creative idea. Christine was always talking about her singing an unbelievable performance someday, but I knew she was to shy to even speak to the rest of the dancers compared to singing in front of hundreds of strangers. I knew she was a brilliant singer also. Maybe I could help her…
"Christine Daae could sing it, sir!" I shouted from the backdrop platform over many voices. Christine looked at me like I was unbelievably crazy while the two managers looked up at me, then at Christine.
"A chorus girl?" the new manager named Firmin shouted in my direction. "Very silly!" The two managers shook their heads with lack of ideas and stared to talk again. I had to think of something fast in order for Christine to sing that night.
"She has been taking lessons from a great teacher…?" I lied as the confidence in my voice vanished and they looked back up at me again. I jumped down to a lower platform that was closer to the stage as I saw Christine's obviously dumbfounded face. The managers had a puzzled face as they turned back to Christine.
"Who?" they challenged her. Christine, who looked scared for her life, stepped toward them in evident discomfort with all the attention on her.
"I… I don't know his name, sir." Christine squeaked as she looked up at me as if saying, 'what are you thinking? I don't have a teacher!' The managers threw their arms up as they murmured their bad comments of Christine, and this obviously made me angry. I had to get Christine to sing tonight, or embarrassment would be set on Christine for life.
"Oh come on!" I said as my attitude was setting in my voice. "Let the girl sing tonight! Unless you want to lose money the first night you're here!" I taunted them as I could see them reasoning if they should let Christine sing.
"You have nothing to lose." I added, and that seemed to make their decision. They turned toward Christine and told her to come center stage.
Christine looked as frightened as a lost puppy, and I didn't like putting her in this position, but a voice in my head said this would be very good for her.
"Come on, then." The managers coaxed her to come to the stage. Everyone surrounded Christine, anticipated to hear her voice.
She nodded toward the maestro and he began playing the solo tune on the piano for Christine. I could see her trembling before her lines even came to her, and I knew she was scared for her life, though it wasn't the first time tonight.
"Think of me" she sang softly, as if putting a baby to sleep. Confidence had run away a long time ago, and her voice trembled as much as her body. "Think of me fondly," she drew a large breath and looked to where I was standing. "When we've said goodbye…"
It looked like she was about to faint as she started to run off the stage and disappear forever, but I quickly raised both my hands, signaling her to stay and continue. Thankfully, she did.
"Remember me every so often, promise me you'll try." Her voice faltered.
"Come on, Christine!" I shouted to her, over the piano. She didn't look at me, but I knew she heard.
"And on that day, that not so distant day," something insider clicked as I heard her voice gain more confidence, "when you are far away and free."
Christine's eyes sparkled as she looked at the hundreds of red seats in front of her and she took the top of the stage.
"If you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me."
Christine was sure to sing that night as the managers looked at her with confident approval as she sang the rest of the song perfectly. I heard William come down to the platform I was now sitting on and came next to me to watch her sing the rest of the song.
I opened red curtains as Christine came onto the stage and sang, for I was still working the stage, and would be for the rest of the night.
William and I watched from the rafters as Christine sang like a bird. She sang with much hidden emotion, as if this role was made for her, and a couple times during the performance, I saw her give me a smile as if saying 'thank you!'
"Of me!" Christine belted out the last notes of the performance as she threw the red and yellow scarf and fell to the floor, kneeling on the ground.
I quickly closed the heavy curtains as an enormous applause filled the opera house. I could see everyone getting up from his or her seats to appreciate Christine's beautiful voice and as fast as I closed them, I drew the curtains back so Christine could do her final bows.
Her eyes fiercely sparkled with happiness at her large triumph and I backed away from the curtains, and clapped as loud as I could. I hurriedly walked from the plank I was on to get to a railing to see Christine clearly, but as I walked through the backdrop room I could help but looked in the direction of the mysterious door.
It disappeared! The door that once showed nothing but black, was gone. There was nothing on the wall that showed evidence that the door had once been there. I tilted my head, as if thinking if I looked at the wall in a different angle, it would appear, and patted the sword that was strapped to my side for security. The long silver blade attached to a metal handle that was engraved with a complicated design was the only sword I had ever owned, for the ones that I practiced with when I was little, were my dad's. I had made this sword in a little less than a year, 5 years ago.
I carefully walked toward the corner, as if something were to pop out, and steadily felt the cold wall. Nothing.
"Hmm" I mumbled as I suddenly applied more pressure on the wall. Suddenly, the wall pushed inwards, and as I drew back from sudden surprise, a small part of the wall was pushed back and opened on its own to show a darkened doorway. My eyes were wide as I watched the door open before my eyes, and the loud noise of stone drift away in the air.
The smell that I once smelled before had come to my nose- moss. I glanced behind my shoulder, making sure no one heard the loud noises of the door, and more importantly, to make sure William didn't catch me by this door.
I slowly backed away from the door, not knowing why, and inspected the wall next to it, and the door itself. Everything was so ordinary about the details of this contraption; I didn't know why I didn't think of pushing on the wall in the first place. I looked back into the pitch-black staircase, and was about to take a step in, but I heard the footsteps of someone below the floor I was on, and stepped back.
I heard voices of many people, and I figured everyone was filling in the main hallway backstage to celebrate, and somehow got the door to close, so it looked like a blank wall. I couldn't go explore it yet, there was to many people, and someone was to see me and tell someone.
I turned on my heel to go back to my dressing room, but on the table, there lay a left behind hat- just like the ones William wears. A sly idea was forming in my head as I walked toward it, and picked it up.
No one will recognize me I thought as I curled my hair into a bun, and then shoved it into the hat as I placed on my head. Loose hairs came out of the hat immediately and I tucked them behind my ear.
I took a lit lantern that hung from the wall nearby, and opened the door once more.
I took a huge breath inwards, and started my descend down the steep staircase.
A/N what do you think? please R&R!