Natalie came to life with a low moan. Her muscles ached, and she felt slightly nauseous, but she was warm and as comfortable as she could hope to be. She looked around and found herself to be in a clinic of some sort, cots lined against one wall with basic medical supplies stored on shelves on the opposite wall. A silver haired woman sat dozing in a chair nearby. Natalie decided against waking her; curiosity could wait. Meanwhile, The young woman contemplated her situation. She felt safe here, but knew it was temporary.
Leaving Paris, though scary, seemed to be the best option. She had often traveled when she was very young, but had not left the city since the age of seven. She wondered where she was now. She wondered if she was correct in thinking the window she had climbed in had belonged to the Opera house. If so, was she still there? She glanced back at the sleeping woman, but saw only an empty chair. Soon a girl who looked to be only slightly older than herself entered. The girl's dark blue eyes sought out Natalie's nearly black ones.
Antoinette approached the girl with a warm smile, holding out her hand, "I'm glad to see you are recovering! My name is Antoinette Giry. There's no need to tell me how you ended up in the chapel if you don't wish to, but if I can assist you in any way please let me know."
"Thank you so much Mademoiselle, you are too kind. My name is Natalie. May I ask where I presently am?"
"Please call me Antoinette, and you are in the clinic of the Opera Populair."
Natalie's eyes seemed to light up momentarily, but then it was gone, "I will leave soon, I do not wish to impose on the hospitality of everyone here."
Antoinette had not missed the girl's hidden enthusiasm for the Opera and quickly offered, "Why not take a job here, if you are in need of one that is. There are usually openings of one kind or another."
Natalie offered a rueful smile, "I really wish I could be a part of the Opera. Working here would be more than I ever hoped for, but I'm sure you've realized that the injuries I've sustained were hardly an accident. I think I must leave the city." Natalie could not hide the misery this was causing her. Tears were starting to form from fear and from being forced to give up what she saw as the opportunity of a lifetime.
Antoinette bit her lip, "Natalie, I do not think it would be wise for you to go off alone into the country. Please stay here. Paris is full of people, and this enormous building and staff are sure to keep you hidden from whoever hurt you. I've known many to find refuge here."
Natalie, already extremely tempted to stay, was completely persuaded by Antoinette's encouraging words. She realized sadly that she would not be singing, no she would never go on stage to be seen, but at least she could be a part of each masterpiece in whatever small way they would allow.
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"I delivered the letter to them, Erik. The managers will not so easily give into extortion. I know you don't have the means to purchase all the things you want, but th..."
Erik interrupted with a smooth reply, "Extortion? I am not, my dear, engaging in any such thing. I am simply asking for a salary. A man wishes to receive wages for his work does he not? I have improved this Opera tremendously and intend to continue to do so, and I wish only for a modest compensation."
Antoinette snorted, she hardly considered 20,000 francs a month "modest". Erik scowled, but then regained his composure; "In any case, you need not concern yourself with it. They will give me my salary or suffer the consequences. I have put so much of myself into this Opera and it has so instilled itself in me that we are now one and the same. The Opera belongs to me and I shall see that it is taken care of."
"I won't be delivering any more of your letters, Erik," Antoinette whispered, disturbed.
"Do you not hold the same loyalty for me that I hold for you, Antoinette?" the Phantom asked rather sadly, "I will not ask it of you again then. Thank you for your assistance, limited though it may have been."
As he disappeared into the darkness, Antoinette's eyes focused on the dresser. A box of her favorite candies had been left there. They were a thank you gift, she hoped, and not a parting gift. Antoinette felt a motherly responsibility for the boy's actions. She feared, not for him, but for the rest of the Opera, what would happen once she had no control over him whatsoever. Suddenly she realized: she no longer had any control over the boy, no, the man.