Hey, everyone. Firstly, I want to apologize to my Percy Jackson FF reader. I'm a really slow typer. I promise a new NGP will be up soon. Anyway I don't own POTO, blah, blah, blah, all that disclaimer crap. I only mention the characters of the original show, so does that really count as using them? Never mind. Just enjoy Love Without Sight. Yes, I know the original Phantom was a tenor, but I like baritones. They're more versatile.
Oh, and to Lila Caffee, no, I don't read other FF. That's not me. I write from my soul.
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The five new acquaintances stepped into the Opera House. Charlotte let out a gasp of delight. "Oooh! Maggie, this is amazing! How'd your grandma do it? It must have cost a fortune!" The old half-naked statues had all been replaced by fully clothed ones. A crystal chandelier ten times as elaborate as the on the Phantom had destroyed hung from the center of the ceiling. The creamy marble floors looked more polished than a mirror, and velvet hangings with glistening new gold cord hung from the walls. "C'est magnifique!" Charlotte snapped her fingers in imitation of Mamon.
"Merci, ma chérie." They all turned to see old Madame Marie Giry, Maggie's grandmother, descending the staircase. The former dancer's wispy auburn hair was fading to a soft gray in her braid and her face was lined with creases from smiling. "Welcome to the newly refurbished Opera Populaire. I am Mme. Giry, the manager. However, you are all free to call me Marie. My daughter Beth will be your dance instructor, and her girls, Kate and Maggie, will me playing Madame Giry and Meg in the show."
"Talk about a family operation." Edward snickered to Sandro.
"Monsieur Edward, neither le Fantome, nor I will tolerate ridicule." Marie snapped. "Therefore, please refrain from mocking anyone here."
"Wait. There's still a Phantom here? THE Phantom?" Charlotte cocked her head.
"Non. Not the Phantom your ancestors encountered, Charlotte. Our current Phantom is a descendant, like you." She turned back up the stairs. "Come on, we're only touring the Opera House once."
"So are we allowed to see the Phantom?" Sandro asked. "I'd be so honored to meet him."
"And a-speaking of the Phantom, Maria," Isabella broke in, "who will be a-playing the Phantom?"
"Isabella," Marie smiled mysteriously. "The answer to that question is stranger than you dreamt it. Now, please. Venez avec moi. Come with me." The group followed picking up new members all over the place. In the dressing room that had been Christine's, they met Chanel Vignette, the costume and set designer. Hidden behind a Hannibal elephant, was a drunken looking British junkie named Joey Wosten, who they later discovered was playing Buquet. In the Manager's box, they found Tomas and Andre arguing about the proper ways to portray Andre and Firmin in heavily Spanish-accented English. Finally, they had the entire cast onstage for Susana, the Barcelonan music director to warm them up vocally.. Beth and Kate Giry came in late.
"We're sorry, Mother." Beth whispered.
"Just warm them up! Then, Kate, get your script. We'll be doing a read-through." The read-through was going smoothly until Isabella was singing Think of Me.
"When you find, that once again you long to take----"
"OH GOOD LORD, SHUT UP, YOU HARPY!" The voice of a boy not much older than Charlotte rang through the theater. The fire curtain dropped with a loud bang! Maggie's hazel eyes darted around impishly before she sang.
"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera!"
"He's with us, it's the ghost!" Charlotte and the others joined in, turning the incident into a joke. The rest of the read-through went well, with a CD being used for the absent Phantom.
"Eh, bien." Marie announced. "You have an hour for settling into your dressing rooms and eating lunch. Then report back here for the blocking of the Prologue, Overture, and learning the music to Masquerade. Charlotte, stay for a moment. I want a word with you about Lecia." Lecia had been Mamon's given name.
"Who was that I heard?" Charlotte asked.
"The Phantom's descendant." Marie answered and pressed a crumpled paper package into Charlotte's hands. "Your grandmother sent this to me before she died. I was to give it to you during this production."
"What is it? "I don't know. That is for you to discover. Now go."
In her dressing room, Charlotte opened the package and an envelope and leather diary fell out. Charlotte picked up the letter, half-expecting another package and envelope inside this one. But instead, there was a letter in Mamon's spidery handwriting:
Ma petite-fille chérie,
I have watched over you since your parent's death. Now my life is almost over, and you are ready to assume the legacy of our family. I have the diary of Christine Daae, which I now pass on to you. Open it. Read it. Use its knowledge, ma petite.
Loving you for eternity,
Mamon
Tears filled Charlotte's eyes. "Oh, Mamon." Mamon had always called her 'my darling granddaughter' in French. Charlotte lifted up the diary, humming the lullaby her father had written for her when she was three weeks old. She turned the pages absentmindedly, then stopped short. On the last page, was the signature of 'Erik Mulheim, The Phantom of the Opera.' She read the letter again. And again.
*****
It should be obvious that the read-through had not gone unnoticed by the Phantom. Erik Mulheim the Sixth had been unpleasantly shocked to hear Isabella's voice coming through the secret microphones and TV set that had been installed so he could watch rehearsals as well as shows. He was so irritated by the girl's shrieking voice that he'd used the 'ventriloquism' microphone to shout "Oh good lord, shut up, you harpy!" and had used his control panel to drop the fire curtain. But hearing Charlotte's voice was magical, as if a choir of soprano angels had manifested in one being. Seeing her through the two-way mirror of Christine's dressing room was even harder. Was this what the original Phantom had felt? This incessant longing for a girl that, deep down, he knew could never love him back? His feelings were only proven when a boy who looked a hell of a lot like Edward Cullen entered the room. What girl would want Erik when she could have that so…so….goddamn perfect boy? It was just plain irrational, given the petty can't-see-past-the-hot-body opinions of girls these days.
"I can't." he moaned. "I just can't do it. I'm not you!" He yelled at the portrait of the first Phantom. "I'm not you! Oh, Jesus! I'm talking to a portrait! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS GIRL DOING TO ME?!?!?"
Charlotte's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Go away, Edward!" She had spun to face the 'perfect' boy. "I told you, it's over!"
"Lottie, please!" He grabbed her hand, trying to pull her closer. "Give me another chance! You honestly don't believe we don't have a shot? We were perfect together!"
"That," Charlotte retorted, "is total BULL SHIT!" She was screaming now. "Don't you get it? I dumped you! We're over! We may be playing Christine and Raoul, but that's not real! If the Phantom had offered me the choice he'd given Christine, I'd have chosen you just to let you die!" She slapped him.
"Lottie, you can't mean that!" He gasped.
"I can, and I do! Oh, and guess what else? After the Phantom had you sufficiently Punjab Lassoed, I'd stay with him!" She snarled. "Now get out!"
It was all Erik needed to hear. In a flash, he had his mask on, was pushing himself across the lake and dashing up the spiral staircase to the mirror. When he got there, Edward was talking again.
"Fine, Lottie. I'll leave, but I won't stop feeling the way I do about you. My offer still stands." He tossed a ticket on the vanity. "It's up to you." With that, he left the room.
"You'd think it was a fuckin' engagement ring!" She muttered. "Asking me to the Andrew Lloyd Webber Film Festival at the Cinema Royale! Can't the idiot see how Maggie looks at him? God, he's such an---" Erik saw the chance he needed and he took it. He sang with his full baritone voice, letting the sound flood both the room and his soul.
"Insolent boy! This slave of fashion! Basking in your glory! Ignorant fool! This brave young suitor! Sharing in my triumph!" He stepped through the mirror and reverted to speech. "Don't be afraid, Mademoiselle Charlotte. I'm not going to hurt you. My name is Erik Mulheim the Sixth, and I'm the current Opera Ghost."
Charlotte smiled graciously. "You are welcome, Monsiuer Mulheim. Well, this is technically your Opera House, right?"
"Yeah. Marie has the rights to do all the improvements, but I own the place." He sat on the ottoman and there was an awkward silence.
"I don't suppose you own a Punjab Lasso?" She asked casually.
"Nope. I prefer to use Phantom powder."
"What's that?" She asked.
"A deadly intoxicant. My dad invented it. I use it on the rats in my home. Anyway, I overheard you talking with Mr. Cullen."
"Cullen? Oh. You mean Edward Finalman." "He has a real last name? He looked so much like Robert Pattinson, I was sure you'd had him walk out of the Twilight series."
"I wish! Edward Finalman is the opposite of Edward Cullen, when it comes to personalities. The worst part is that he's stuck on me."
"But you broke up." He fiddled with his white half-mask.
"Actually, I dumped him. Last year, we were playing Mary and Jesus in Jesus Christ Superstar We'd been going strong for two years, and after I sang I Don't Know How To Love Him for the last time, I realize that what I'd said was true, yet it wasn't. I suddenly saw Edward's true colors. He wasn't a Romeo, he was Gaston. He just saw me as a…mannequin."
"I don't think I'm following your analogy." Erik said.
"Okay, it was like he saw me as a doll he could wave around and say 'this is my girlfriend.' There were sparks, but no actual fire."
"Oh, now I understand." He smiled at her. "Hey, I'm just curious. Did you mean it?"
"Excuse me?" She cocked her head to a thirty degree angle, just like his mom had when his dad had said he had big news. "Did I mean what?"
"What you said about making Christine's choice.,"
"Oh. Yes. Yes, I did mean it." Her hand touched a worn leather diary with 'C. Daae' inscribed on the front on top of the vanity. A call sounded.
"All cast members have forty-five minutes left." Marie's voice spoke.
"I should go." Charlotte rose. "I haven't had lunch yet."
"Okay." The left half of his face turned a warm pink. Could I…umm…" He trailed off.
"You can visit as much as you like. Can I visit your home?"
"Yeah, just give me some time to clean up. I'm like sloppiness embodied."
"Oh, you should have seen my room back home. Mamon used to say 'I know you can do better, ma petite. Is it really that hard to keep your boudoir tidy?' She, on the other hand, never even had a wisp of a wisp hair out of her bun. Oh, God, I miss her."
"What happened?"
"She passed away last year. She'd taken care of me for three years…well, actually we took care of each other. My parents died in a car crash on New Year's Day of 2005. It was my fifteenth birthday, and we were coming home from an Avenue Q showing. A truck slipped on an icy patch and rammed into the left half of our car. Mom and Dad died instantly, and I was in the hospital emergency room with an arm and leg broken. Mamon flew out from Paris on the next flight over. After that, she took charge of my upbringing."
"I'm…" He trailed off. What do you say for a girl bearing this much loss? "I'm so sorry. My mom got cancer when I was thirteen. She died nine weeks later. My dad didn't even care."
"That's awful!" Charlotte whispered. "Well, do you want to hang out at my hostel sometime?"
"I think I'll pass. For all I know, it's a black hole."
"Good choice. Well, I'll see you later." She slipped out the door.
Erik drank in the details of what had just happened. "Yes! She's not in love with Cullen! Finally, I have a shot!" He lowered his voice. "And I know I'm going to use it"-----------------------------------------
Well, that's chapter 2.
Charlotte: Gaston?
Me: From Beauty and The Beast. I made you a Broadway nut, you should know this kind of stuff.
Erik: Well, please explain why you gave both of us sob-stories about our parents.
Me: It was supposed to get the two of you to bond through trauma.
Charlotte: Yeah, remind me why we have to be 'together.'
Erik: Hey!
Me: DIDN'T YOU READ CHRISTINE'S DIARY? DON'T YOU KNOW?
Charlotte: I thought I was hooking up with the first Phantom.
Erik: You want to date someone who'd be over 150 years old?
Me: Oh my god, do you know how much I'm stretching my limits just to allow you two out of the story? If I gave Charlotte the first Phantom, Lila Caffee would Punjab me. But she probably will anyway. So shut up or it'll be Kate and Joey taking your places next time. Anywhoo, to my readers, please review!