For those of you who know Andrew Lloyd Webbers, Evita, I could recall the time she went to Paris and suddenly took ill. So I thought that I could mix the two famous stories/musicals together and pinpoint the exact reason why it was in Paris Eva took ill.
The Rainbow tour.
"I will miss you, my little Eva," Peron sighed, kissing his wife's eyelids. The press snapped picture after picture of the Argentine Rose and the President. "Be safe, return to our country in victory."
Eva looked up at her husband. "I promise. I will capture mighty Europe in one try. It shan't be hard at all."
Paris.
Eva sat at her vanity, fuming. Everything had started out fine, but in Italy, the accusations of being a whore were unexpected. She finished there quickly and left for Paris as quickly as possibly. Now she sat looking in the mirror carefully applying makeup for the opera tonight. After all, if she wanted to capture this society, she must attend their prized opera, at none other than the Opera Populaire.
"You don't have to do this, you know," came the male voice behind her. Eva's eyes lifted to the right end of her mirror. There stood the commoner who she saw so frequently. Che that was his name. He stood shaking his head. "You might regret it you know."
Slamming her hands down on the table, she yelled, "You have pestered me enough!! You pressed me into everything I have accomplished. Now you warn me to stop and stay!! What good is a conscious if it pulls you apart?!"
The door flung open, revealing a worried servant. "Is everything alright, madam?"
Che's reflection was gone. "Yes. Everything is fine."
The shadowed figure deftly picked up a paper from the stand. He tucked it down under his arm in his cloak. Then, walking quickly, he found the Rue Scribe gate and unlocked it.
'I need to see this,' the Phantom thought. 'If the rumors are true…' he pulled out the paper. The headline blazed across the page:
Eva Peron to Attend Opera During Diplomatic Visit
Phantom yelled in frustration. "Why? What does she need here? Her filthy Argentine fingers are deep enough in the other places!! Let my Paris be!!"
"There is a way."
Phantom whirled around. Che stood behind him, head cocked to the side like a dog. "Who are you?"
"That's not important, what is important thought, is how to stop Evita." He bowed low to Phantom. "I am here to help."
"How?"
"There is a sickness slowly growing in her body. At the rate it is going now, she will live many years before there is any signs of pain." Che took a step closer. "I know you can fix that."
"Yes," Phantom whispered, turning to a cabinet behind him. "Yes, this," he pulled out a small vial, "will do nicely." He turned back to Che. "How do you know-?"
The room was empty.
Eva approached the two managers, who were both whispering over a scrap of paper in their hands. She tapped her shoe impatiently. They both looked up, startled to see her standing there.
"Madame!!" one exclaimed. "Please allow me to show you to your seat, there has been a slight change of plans."
"Oh? I hope there is no trouble?"
"No, no. You will be sitting in box five, it is our finest here." He beckoned her with his hand. "Come, come. The show is starting."
Eva sat upright in her seat. Finally the second act closed and there was the rustle of the crowd getting situated for the next act. "A drink?"
Eva jumped at the sight of a man offering her the platter. His fedora was pulled low over his eyes so she could not see his face.
"Yes, thank you," she said accepting the wine glass and taking a sip. "You may leave now."
The man exited the box and immediately his behind the curtain and opened the false wall. The phantom pulled off the hat and watched. Eva had drunk all the wine and was standing near the edge of the box. She swayed and took a few steps back.
"Are you alright, Madame?" one of the managers asked.
"I'm fine," snapped Eva. She stumbled over towards the curtained wall. "I'm just…just…tired." With that, she fainted.
The funeral.
Che made eye contact with the husband of the late Evita Peron. "You can cry for a body in despair. Hang your head because she is no longer there, to dazzle, inspire and betray. How she lived, how she shone, but how soon the lights were gone."
Leaning over the glass case, Che planted a kiss over her lips, silently thanking an unknown angel. An angel of death.