Hello! I dont own Erik, Madame Giry, the Opera House or anything relating to POTO. I do however own Dr. Hammond.
The Phantom's Physician - Chapter 1 - In which the Physician meets the Phantom
The click of footsteps rebounded off the aging stone walls, green with algae and mold. Touch-light cast grotesque shadows as two figures rushed though the small corridor.
"Just a little longer Doctor." The leading figure called back to her companion, her voice hushed in the gloom. She walked with conviction and pride, her strides full of purpose, her arm holding the touch high. The flickering light fell on her face, making her look older then she was and outlined the faint look of panic in her eyes.
Behind her another followed, younger and less sure of their destination. Her green eyes darted from side to side, taking in the details of this less that ideal setting for her work. She had little choice with this Madame Giry paying good money not only for her service but for her silence and it wasn't as if people were breaking down her door, wanting a female physician.
To be truthful, she was not completely sure why it was Madame Giry had come to her. The Opera Populare had re-opened almost 2 years ago after the tragic 'accident' and was as popular, if not more, as it had been before. She remained the head choreographer and was a well respected woman. Neither her nor the Opera would have a problem procuring a more renowned and...male...doctor for even the lowest of staff.
But the fact that the duo was now traveling though the dark and dank catacombs that crisscross under the opera house she doubted this was a normal house call or that it was for a member of staff that needed her assistance. For a moment she entertained her imagination, perhaps it was a hidden child, a bastard of one of the dancing girls and a member of the aristocracy. Or perhaps it was some creature found among the shadows, an orphan lost many years ago, now found and half feral. She shook her head, starring into the green-gray darkness.
It mattered not what awaited beyond the torch-light, only that it was in need of her help. This was her belief, one that had earned her a reputation as a soft and second-rate doctor and it was this belief that landed her her current employment. When she was not crawling though dark, cold halls though a darkness that seemed to live and breath round her she was tended to the ailments of the convicts at the local penitentiary. She regularly was in the company of murderers, rapists, pedophiles, thieves, and freaks.
"We are here" Madame Giry's voice cut though her thoughts. Holding up a hand the older woman signaled her young companion to wait there. In a matter of moments the lair, for room is far to civilized of a word, was lit by a dozen or so candles. "Please, Dr. Hammond, Wait here a moment"
Madame Giry disappeared into a sub-cavern, leaving the young Dr. Hammond alone. Setting her large leather bag on the ground she glanced around, lowering the hood of her cloak so as to get a better look. The place was large and appeared to have been dug out of the very foundation of the Opera house. All around bits of paper, most half-burned, lay in disarray. The charred remains of drapery and tapestries lay among a number of blacked sculptures, many of them disfigured by what looked like melted plastic on the upper right side of their stone faces. Ash and soot pained the stone floor a misty black up until it met the shore of a green-black lake of sorts. Madame Giry had lead them through a tunnel built into the rock that, judging by the shards of broken glass that lay round the entrance, had once been blocked by a mirror. The only thing that appeared untouched by the reminisce of fire was a huge organ that sat high in the center of the crescent-shaped shore. It was grand and masterfully carved and did not appear to have even a speck of ash or soot perverting its dark, cold beauty.
"Dr. Hammond" Madame Giry's hoarse whisper called to her from within the adjoining room. It was a summon and so she collected her bag and began forward. This room was smaller and utterly bare save for a huge stone swan that sat in the center. It was been hollowed out into a large bed, red velvet and black silk covered the mattress. But the majesty of the bed was lost on the young doctor as she saw who it was she had been called here to help.
In the center of the mattress lay a man, almost lost in the layers of bedding. His shirt lay open, revealing a rather hurried and filthy bandage around his chest. She could also see a number of smaller cuts and horrid bruises on his arms, neck and the little of his face she could see. Blotches of thick blood shone on his black velvet pants, a number of large rips and tears showing the damage.
"What the hell happened!" Dr. Hammond stared then shook her head. This was not the time for stupid questions. She rushed forward, kneeling next to her charge. The chest wound was the most pressing. She cut away the bandage and began to clean it, sending Madame Giry to get as much clean water as she could manage, and proceeded to sow the gash closed. With that finished the worked on the cuts on his legs, though there was little she could do now without clean water, having used her own stash on his chest. Few of his injuries were bad, but he did have a broken leg and a number of broken ribs. He continued to lay there, only his soft breathing and faint pulse telling her he was still alive. He was lost much blood but the bleeding had stopped before she had arrived.
Once she had finished resetting the bones and caring for the most pressing injuries she began with the smaller, non-threatening ailments. Then, all too soon, she was out of things to do...all accept tend to the cuts on this strangers face...A face she could only half see for the right side had been covered by a mask as white as fresh snow. On her way here she had entertained herself with thoughts of bastard children and feral orphans but she had not expected this...She ran a finger over the smooth surface of the mask, wandering what it was that lay beneath. She had heard the stories from those who had been there when Christine Daaé had un-masked him before a full-house but knew all too well how stories had a tendency to grow.
Her eyes wandered over this man's face, wondering if it was possible that any of the stories were true. The part of his skin that lay bare was calm and relaxed and handsome in a darker, more exotic way. He had a strong but slim frame, powerful arms and legs that gave the impression of stealth and grace. He was tall, with large hands and the callused fingers of a musician. Asleep now, just about in the arms of death itself, he looked so very human.
Almost against her will her fingers curled around the cool edge of the mask, not wanting to break the image before her eyes but knowing that she needed to. But before she could pull it away from his face a hand reached out to rest on top of hers. Jumping Dr. Hammond pulled away, turning to face the wide, pleading eyes of Madame Giry.
"So its true..." The doctor turned back to her charged, half relieved she could allow this human image to remain in her mind just a little longer. "This is the fabled Phantom of the Opera?"
"Yes" the Madame answered, a strange edge to her voice. "If you have an objection to this work i can understand but i cannot stress enough how much in your...best interest...it is for you to keep this a secret." Dr. Hammond turned and was slightly taken aback by the look in the older woman's eyes.
"Did you bring the water?" was all she said, meeting her gaze. She knew the reason why this respected and important woman had come to a poor, young doctor like herself. No credible doctor in the city would come within a mile of this man and any back-street doctor wouldn't think twice about turning the pair of them in for a hefty reward. So Madame Giry had found her, Dr. Hammond, A woman with little future, no friends or family, nothing to lose but her own honor and beliefs. A woman who did no shy away from the scum of the earth and treated even the most gruesome like they deserved some ounce of kindness. There was no way she could turn her back on this man, no matter what he had done in the past.
"It is here" Madame Giry didn't even try to keep the relief out of her voice. It was strange how after all this man had done she still couldn't bring herself to turn her back on him. how when she found him, beaten and broken she had carried him back here and rushed out to find a doctor with little second thought. This man, despite his horrid transgressions was still like a son to her...and the things we do for our children... "Will he live?"
"I don't know." Dr. Hammond didn't look at her as she wetted a rag in the water and began wiping away the grim. "He was lost a lot of blood and this bruise on his head could have caused a concussion. If he wakes up then he will recover. If not...well, you will have your answer"
After all his wounds had been cleaned Madame Giry left to get the two of them supper, returning an hour later with bread, cheese, pork and some wine. The two woman eat in silence, but their mind's were in the same place. Once she was full Dr. Hammond took over watching the Phantom alone as Madam Giry had business above with the Opera. The doctor's own employer had given her leave for a few days.
When Madame Giry returned she found the young woman sitting next to the bed, a child's rattle in her hands. She gazed down at it sadly, running a finger over the handle, turning it so the beads inside tumbled softly. She knew for a fact this woman had no children...she lived alone and had no family in Paris and as she watched she got the feeling she was intruding on something very private. Clearing her throat the doctor jumped and quickly placed the rattle back in the large leather bag.
The two switched places with little chatter, Madame Giry taking over the vigil and giving Dr. Hammond the chance to stretch her legs. She wandered into the larger chamber and was once again drawn to the huge organ on his massive rock pedestal. She ran her fingers over the keys but dared not press any. Not even a slight layer of dust covered the keys, giving the impression that someone had been here recently and cared for it. Sighing she sat down, resting her head on the smooth side of the organ, remembering that last time she heard live music being played. It had been Peter, his slim fingers tripping clumsily over the keys as she had tired to teach him. They had laughed endlessly that day over Peter's lack of talent, though she knew he was only pretending so the two of them had an excuse. The memory was so saturated in light and happiness that for a moment she forgot were she was and basked in that golden glow. Closing her eyes she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of far away and long ago.
I would love to know what you think! Should i keep going or scrap it here?