A/N: I understand that I'm leading a little bit away from the musical and not really following the book either. In a way, I'm spinning a new tale with the same characters and essentially the same plot line as a foundation, but I want to delve into the story more and create the imagery of what life in 19th century Paris must feel like.
Some of you are itching for more Erik, and I promise I will in time. It will be a slow burn. Not painfully slow as I know all too well the pain of reading through fifty chapters before actually reaching the juicy stuff, but the Phantom is still head over heels for our Christine and he is not magically going to seek another romance with a time traveler. That's just begging to be a Mary Sue. I rather take things slow.
Some chapters will be in Abby's POV. I'm not just going to leave her in a sedated state the entire time while Rose is being swept off her feet. I plan on developing her character as well and her relationships with those around her.
Please PM if you have questions.
Disclaimer: The Phantom of the Opera and it's characters purely belong to Gaston Leroux and anything related to the musical of course is Andrew Lloyd Webber's work. I proudly claim my OCs.
Title: The Wish
Description/Summary: A wish unintentionally uttered lands two sisters into a paradox as they come face to face with the infamous Opera Ghost and his rival Raoul. A story once spun out of love and betrayal spins into something more as the girls fight to survive in 19th century Paris without any indication as to how to get back to their own time. By changing history, dark passion ensues. R&R
Slash: Erik/Rose(OC) Raoul/Abby(OC)
Genre: Romance, Suspense
Chapter 3
"She laid her heart and soul right in your hands
And you stole her every dream and crushed her plans
She never even knew she had a choice
And that's what happens when the only voice she hears is telling her she can't
You stupid boy"
― Keith Urban
The room backstage bristled with a few cheeky stagehands as they lifted several of the dancers into their laps. It was hours after practice and as the day came to a close, many of the chorus girls and dancers rushed backstage in one of the storage rooms to listen to one of Buquet's many stories of the Phantom. Joseph Buquet, himself, stood proudly with a bottle of vodka hanging loosely from his hand as he leered at the girls. His long greasy hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes were noticeably bloodshot from drinking. Meg and I stood in the back as we watched Joseph pace the room, trying to create suspense as he started to speak. Upon walking in with Meg, I craned my neck to see no sign of Christine. She must be with her 'Angel of Music' taking lessons or lighting the candle for her father.
"Most of ye heard of our little Opera Ghost," Buquet sneered as most of the dancers eagerly moved closer to listen. Rolling my eyes, I raised an eyebrow as a tall tale started to unwind from Buquet's bias mind. In truth, I had almost forgotten the perverted man. "Some say his face is like death itself. To look upon it, would stop any man's blood." Gasps filled the room as a few girls paled. Glancing at Meg, I noticed an enthralled glazed look in her eyes as she drank up Buquet's words. Buquet continued to speak as I nudged Meg and nodded towards the door.
"I'm going to retire for the night," I whispered. Meg nodded absentmindedly before turning her attention back onto Joseph Buquet. Slipping out quietly, I made my way towards the stage. I had no intention whatsoever to return to my chambers, not when the curiosity within me begged to explore. The managers had gone home and some of the Opera's occupants were fast asleep. Navigating through the passage ways and stairs, I stepped onto the empty stage as my footsteps echoed softly against the walls of the theater. My breath caught as I studied the large infamous chandelier and the golden statues lining the walls. The dark theater seemed hauntingly luminous as my brown eyes roved over the empty seats. The only light came from the lanterns that flickered indignantly against the stage.
My eyes flickered involuntarily to Box 5. All previous thoughts dissipated as I pondered rehearsal and the unexpected letter. Was he there watching me as he said he would? Or was it a ruse to scare me into submission to bend to his will as his eyes were only set on Christine? The situation of the cold hard reality rushed back to me and I suddenly felt small. Being here wasn't as amazing as I had previously thought when I was in my time gazing at the TV screen with adoration and longing. Madame Giry and her strict personality drifted through my mind as I chortled. In all honesty, I had foolishly thought the elder woman would take Abby and I in with no qualms and with open arms no less. Of course, I didn't expect that I had to build a relationship with the characters I had felt like I knew my entire life, or that I had to work to earn my keep to survive. It was one thing to be behind a computer writing fanfiction or daydreaming about a blossoming romance with the enigmatic Phantom then to be here with a very deadly and vengeful Opera Ghost that wouldn't hesitate to kill me. It was truly a life or death situation that I couldn't afford to take lightly. Although, finding Erik would provide answers on how to get back home.
On a lighter note, Madame Burboise seemed to tolerate me.
Meg had introduced me to Madame Burboise earlier after practice. The petite blonde had winced at her mother's strict order and explained to me in hushed whispers that the Seamstress was a hard, tough woman that was not one to be trifled with. She was known for her frankness and brutally honest mouth. Meg had told me of how many stagehands and stable boys had their ears boxed by her massive fists. Although, she was a religious woman and feared the Phantom. This of course, had me shaking, when Meg left me with an apologetic glance standing outside the woman's costume room. By walking in, my eyes had widened considerably at the long row of racks with costumes hanging loosely on hangers. A large woman sat in front of an old-fashioned sewing machine. Her hands deftly fixing holes in a dress. I watched silently, impressed by how her large fingers could delicately sew the openings closed.
Her hair was braided in the middle of her back. The blonde strands mixed with grey, signalling that she lived many years. When she turned at my entry, however, I was forced to keep my shock hidden as I noticed the scar that ran down her eye to her cheek. It had made her all the more intimidating as the stories Meg had whispered crossed my mind once more. Smiling weakly, I stepped cautiously forward with my hands clasped behind my back. "Hello, my name is Rose-"
Her hand raised, stopping me from speaking. Her features were impassive as they appraised me. "I know who you are. Antoinette sent you, ja?" Russian hinted heavily at her words as she spoke deeply and tiredly. After giving a nod of confirmation, she waved toward a gold costume that the other dancers wore for Hannibal that laid in a neat pile. "Take it and get out."
Picking up the cloth, I paused. "Did you make these yourself?" Although I risked aggravating the hardened woman that seemed as if she had no quarrel tearing me apart, I couldn't help my curiosity. The woman in question tensed, before giving me a thoughtful look.
"Some of them, Ja." She answered, gesturing to some of the costumes and nodded towards the one I held currently. "Most of them are shipped in from manufacturing factories, you stupid girl." The insult barely registered as she didn't say it harshly. "I mainly mend what needs to be fixed."
I sat down on a nearby stool and sighed dreamily. "I rather be doing this then dancing. My sister is the dancer, not me." The woman grunted at my words and eyed me curiously. "Are you from Russia? I've always wanted to visit, I heard it's beautiful."
Burboise sighed heavily with a faraway gleam in her eyes. "It is, Ja." She proceeded to tell me about the many towering factories in the city and the rolling hills in the countryside. Her tone softened considerably as she spoke of her homeland and the lines in her face seemed to disappear as she smiled, making her look considerably younger. It seemed as though she was lonely and misunderstood. Because of her intimidating stature, she must have dealt with people cowering from her heavy stare and making fun of her relentlessly. I was surprised at how quickly she opened up to me and I was sure she was too, because after a few minutes, she glared at me and bellowed for me to get out with a string of Russian curses saying I wasted her time. After scurrying out the door, I smiled slightly at how similar she seemed to Erik.
The light blue dress that Meg had lent me swirled around my figure as I twirled. My chin tilted towards the heavens and my arms stretched outward, I closed my eyes. For once, I pushed everything to the back of my mind, focusing on this moment, on the now. In this moment, I was free to be me.
"I'm gonna pick up the pieces and build a Lego house
If things go wrong we can knock it down
My three words have two meanings but there's one thing on my mind
It's all for you
And it's dark in a cold December, but I've got you to keep me warm
If you're broken I will mend ya and keep you sheltered from the storm that's raging on, now
I'm out of touch, I'm out of love
I'll pick you up when you're getting down
And out of all these things I've done, I think I love you better now
I'm out of sight, I'm out of mind
I'll do it all for you in time
And out of all these things I've done, I think I love you better now, now
I'm gonna paint you by numbers and colour you in
If things go right we can frame it and put you on a wall
And it's so hard to say it but I've been here before
Now I'll surrender up my heart and swap it for yours
I'm out of touch, I'm out of love
I'll pick you up when you're getting down
And out of all these things I've done, I think I love you better now
I'm out of sight, I'm out of mind
I'll do it all for you in time
And out of all these things I've done, I think I love you better now
Don't hold me down, I think the braces are breaking and it's more than I can take
And it's dark in a cold December, but I've got you to keep me warm
If you're broken I will mend ya and keep you sheltered from the storm that's raging on, now
I'm out of touch, I'm out of love
I'll pick you up when you're getting down
And out of all these things I've done, I think I love you better now
I'm out of sight, I'm out of mind,
I'll do it all for you in time
And out of all these things I've done, I think I love you better now
I'm out of touch, I'm out of love
I'll pick you up when you're getting down
And out of all these things I've done, I will love you better now
I'm out of sight, I'm out of mind
I'll do it all for you in time
And out of all these things I've done I think I love you better now
I'm out of touch, I'm out of love
I'll pick you up when you're getting down
And out of all these things I've done I will love you better now"
The last verse hung in the now silent room as I stood smiling. The imaginary crowd stood and the applause roared throughout my head causing me to bow with a giggle. The song "Lego House" by Ed Sheeran was a personal favorite of mine. Its sweet melody still played in my mind as I hummed happily to its tune. The hairs on the back of my neck raised as I felt another presence as I did in Mom's room. For a moment, my blood ran cold as I stilled. The only sound was my nervous breaths that as my chest rose and fell quickly out of fear. Turning to head back where the dormitories were, I gasped when I caught the glimpse of a white mask in the darkness. Though as quickly as I seen it, the evidence of his presence disappeared just as quickly.
"Wait!" I cried, my fear forgotten as I called after his retreating figure as the sound of his cape flying behind him followed. My face flushed at the thought of Erik hearing me sing. Picking up the skirt of the blasted dress, I rushed after him. The urge to see him, to speak to him was overwhelming. The fact that the Phantom was dangerously known for the multiple murders in the Opera House and his days as an assassin in Persia escaped my mind as I continued my pursuit. My hands gripped the wall blindly as I struggled to adjust my eyes to the darkness. Frustration bubbled within me as I slowly moved forward. My efforts were futile however as I didn't know the passageways by heart.
"Rose?" A small petite hand grasped my shoulder causing me to jump, startled. Christine with her brunette curls falling around her face in a waterfall of silky strands illuminated by the candle in her hand, gave me a concerned look with confusion etched across her features. "Are you alright? What are you doing here alone?"
My mouth opened and closed as I struggled to come up with an excuse, probably resembling a fish in the process. "I must have been sleepwalking," I muttered weakly, deciding not to mention my foolish idea to sing onstage and how I tried to chase after the Phantom. Deciding to quickly take the attention off myself as I noted that Christine didn't quite believe me as her eyes shone with obvious disbelief, "were you with your Maestro?"
Christine brown eyes widened. "Oh, Meg," She sighed at her friend for slipping her secret carelessly out. "You must keep this to yourself, Rose! He doesn't like others knowing our meetings. Only Madame Giry and Meg know." Her eyes pleaded with me for my silence to spare his wrath. If she only knew what I knew. Grasping her hand that wasn't holding the candle, I smiled reassuringly and nodded.
"You can count on me," I winked. "So if I may ask, who is this mysterious Maestro?" Even though I already knew, I needed Christine to trust me for my plan to work. If I could get Christine to fall in love with Erik, Abby and I might be able to travel back to the future. It was a hopeful attempt, but an attempt nonetheless. I wasn't sure how much more 19th century I could take. Earlier this morning, Meg had given me chalk to whiten my teeth when I was forced to describe what a toothbrush was. I inwardly shuddered at the memory.
Christine flushed slightly at my question and fidgeted. "When my father died, he sent an Angel of Music to watch over me. I know it must sound silly, Rose, but it's him." Her eyes held a faraway look to them as she smiled dreamily.
"I believe you," I smiled gently. The hatred I had felt for Christine previously dissolved as I beheld a naive girl who missed her father and was tricked into believing there was a part of her father teaching her. As I lay in bed that night staring at the ceiling, my thoughts drifted towards Erik and how I was going to manage to talk to the estranged Phantom.
A/N: Review!