A/N: This is story two of three that I've written for the Phantom of the Opera fandom. It was actually an attempt to make a two shot drabble. After leaving it for a month and then coming back to it, I decided keeping the two parts separate didn't feel right. So here's another oneshot. I'm actually pretty excited for this oneshot; I've always wanted to post something on Leap year day. :D
Disclaimer: -The Phantom I use in my stories is the Phantom of Andrew Lloyd Webber, with Joel Schumacher's re-interpretation (otherwise known as the "Gerry Phantom."). Not a single thing in this story is owned by me.
September 1860
His office was decorated in hues of blue.
That was the first thing Antoinette Giry noticed about Pierre Lefevre's office. People tended to notice the strangest things when they were nervous, or when they felt they were close to losing their job.
It wasn't her fault. It really, truly wasn't. Antoinette had felt her co-worker's bitterness and anger not long after she moved to the opera house with little Meg to instruct the girls 12 and under in the ballet corps. She had been hired to relieve Giselle, and had come to find that her new co-worker was not only overwhelmed, but severely incapable of training the girls to be as skilled as the Opera Populaire demanded. Giselle's disorganized and lax instruction clashed miserably with Antoinette's tightly organized and strict ways. Tension accumulated into a verbal spat, which resulted in broken bones and twisted muscles in Antoinette's right leg from being shoved backwards into a set of old props two weeks ago. Antoinette was able to continue teaching by maneuvering in a wheelchair.
But that was not why Antoinette was in Monsieur Lefevre's office. 24 hours ago, doctors tending to Giselle had informed the manager and the staff that the ballet instructor was permanently out of commission. A beam fell onto her, damaging her back. Pointing to Antoinette, Giselle's allies at the opera house sent her to Lefevre's office. One of the older ballerinas helped Antoinette maneuver herself into the office, and was waiting patiently outside for Antoinette to help her back down to the main level.
Monsieur Lefevre came in and shut the door. He gave Antoinette a weary gaze, which made her shift uncomfortably in her wheelchair.
"Monsieur Lefevre, I -"
"I know you did not cause Giselle to break her back," the opera manager said tiredly. "I think I know who did."
Antoinette relaxed. "You do?"
"Yes." Lefevre took out his kerchief and wiped his brow before going to sit behind his desk. "Are you acquainted with the Opera Ghost, Madame Giry?"
Antoinette looked at him, completely perplexed. "There is an opera ghost here? Surely it is a prank."
To Antoinette's surprise, Lefevre shook his head. "No, it is not. I personally think it is a moniker for whoever it is. And," Lefevre continued, giving Antoinette a level gaze, "this man appears to have grown fond of your style of teaching."
It was Erik.
It had to be him. That was the only explanation to the mysterious letters, the orders on how to run the opera house, the threats of blackmail, and the masterpieces that had been performed at the Opera Populaire over the past few years. Erik had clearly figured out how to make a living on his own while inhabiting the cellars of the opera house.
"Eight years," Antoinette whispered to herself. It indeed had been eight years since she had last seen him. While Erik had snuck in to see her wedding to her late husband, she never got to see him when she had visited old friends that were still working in the opera house. She had often worried if she had done enough to ensure he'd be able to sustain himself until he could figure out how to make a living on his own. If her suspicions about the cause of the events that had transpired over the past few days were correct, than it was clear that she had set Erik up well before she left with Gaston Giry eight years ago. Sitting outside the room she shared with her daughter, she was contemplating on picking up the scarf she was knitting for Meg when she heard a smooth baritone call out to her quietly nearby.
"Do you really think it wise that a cripple such as yourself be alone at night?"
With Meg's scarf and knitting needles clutched tightly in one hand, Antoinette narrowed her eyes at the cold darkness in the hallway. The only source of light came from the gas lamp she had next to her wheelchair. "Show yourself, Monsieur!" she hissed.
A towering figure stepped in front of her, wearing a black velvet cloak. Antoinette noticed his gold silk waistcoat as her eyes traveled up to meet a strong masculine jaw line, cool sea green eyes, and a delicate white mask covering the right side of his face. Antoinette's eyes widened in shock and recognition. The man smirked.
"Erik..." her voice came to a low whisper as she caught her breath and steadied it. "You look very well."
"Thank you." he replied smoothly. "You seem to be recovering from your fall."
"Oh." Antoinette let out a low, weak laugh, accompanied by a smile. "It will be four more weeks until I can walk again. The doctors did say I will need to use a cane for an undetermined amount of time."
"I am sure you will manage." Erik said quietly.
Antoinette sat in her wheelchair, temporarily transfixed at his jaw line. He's grown so much."Did," she began hesitatingly. "Did you hear about Giselle?"
"Of course I did." His lips curled into an odd smile that made Antoinette's stomach churn uncomfortably. "As Pierre Lefevre said to you earlier today, I am the eyes and ears of this opera house."
Antoinette's stomach dropped. "You crippled Giselle?!"
"She was a vile, bitter creature that was getting in the way of your progress," Erik replied dismissively with a casual wave of his hand. "You have been doing a magnificent job of improving the skills of the ballet rats. Giselle needed to be disposed of."
Antoinette's eyes narrowed at Erik. She was never entirely fond of the term ballet rats."My daughter has joined the corps, you know."
Erik smirked at the defensiveness in her tone. "And she has her mother's talent. Now," Erik said, stepping closer to Antoinette and crouching to the level of her wheelchair. "I should also offer you my delayed condolences."
Delayed condolences? Antoinette wondered to herself. Oh...Gaston. "I appreciate it." Antoinette said softly, regarding Erik carefully. There was still an uncomfortable churning in her stomach that wouldn't go away. It hurt her to realize this, but she was beginning to get the feeling that there were ulterior motives for her reunion with Erik. "Is there something else were you looking for, or is this simply a reunion between old friends?"
A small half smile tugged at the corner of Erik's lips. "Since I have been directing the opera house and composing my pieces, my salary has been at 10,000 francs a month."
Antoinette was impressed. "That is a comfortable salary."
"Indeed," Erik mused. His gaze bore right into her eyes. "But I need to double that amount."
Antoinette blinked, momentarily stupefied. "Double? But why?"
"That is none of your concern at the moment." Erik said swiftly, his eyes narrowing at her for a moment before continuing. "As part of your job at my opera house, you are going to help me get that salary - and any other necessities I need." Erik took a long pause and Antoinette found herself holding her breath. "Consider it your job security."
All Antoinette could do was nod mutely. The new tension he brought between them into the dimly lit hallway was palpable, and she felt that she had no choice but to comply with his wishes. He's changed, Antoinette realized bleakly, and I don't know if it's for the better.
She could only hope he had the decency to leave Meg out of any of his future machinations.
A/N: And there you have it. How was Gerik? Could you see him doing something like this realistically? His characterization was the one I was the most nervous about as I wrote this. Antoinette is a bit simpler: she's temporarily crippled, and is a bit shaken from thinking she was about to lose her job. She's a widow with a young child in 1860s Paris, so her job was most definitely not something she could afford to lose. Of course, Erik knew that very well. I imagine he would have been spying on her the moment her and Meg walked through the doors of the Opera Populaire. He would not, however, go as far as to watch her dress in her private quarters. I think he would have given Antoinette that amount of respect.
If it felt short to you, that's because this originally was supposed to be a two-piece drabble. Then, as I discovered with this story and the next one that I'm getting ready to post…I can't write drabbles. They turn into the equivalent of double and 4X drabbles.
Like "The Third Wheel," this story has not been beta'd for the same reasons as before. I wanted to get this out quickly for a sense of accomplishment. Like "The Third Wheel," this was also proofread somewhere between four to five times.
Reviews are greatly appreciated, as always. Even anonymous ones. I'm not fussy at all. =) I know I've done plenty of reviewing other people's stories without logging into my account before.