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"He's murdered before, who's to say he won't do it again?" A stagehand shouted after Andre and Firmin had broached the subject of Buquet's death.

"He's a monster!" Another shouted while the rest called for the monster's head. I shook angrily in the back, furious at all of them. How quick they were to blame him; how quick to make him a scapegoat for all the unfortunate events.

"P-please calm down l-ladies and gentlemen," Andre called out, gaining silence for a minute. "There is no proof that he committed-," Andre started but was cut off by screams of outrage. The others were jeering at him, calling for the Phantom's death.

"Who else could it be?" Charles shouted, much to my dismay. I had thought Charles would have been, unlike the rest, a little more open minded and not so quick to judge. "He's a beast that kills in cold blood!" Charles continued. At that, I had had enough and I furiously pushed past the crowd and walked out to stand before the managers. The group quieted as they stared at me standing before the managers shaking in fury.

"I will tell you: Buquet's death was indeed no accident and it was indeed perpetrated by the illustrious Opera Ghost!" I shouted out into the din. There was an immediate uproar at my statement.

"Silence!" Firmin shouted, gaining the attention of the company. It was then I felt a presence watching me from above. With a quick and discreet look upwards, I found a white mask within the shadows, cold fury on the man's face. I returned my gaze to Firmin just as he said, "And how would you know this?"

"I know this because I witnessed the act," I said loudly and clearly. The uproar started again immediately but this time, I silenced the crowd with a quick shout of "Silence". The company's attention returned to me and I felt the heated gaze of the presence from above seem to multiply tenfold. "But it does not mean the act was not justified." There was silence for a moment before-

"And how, mademoiselle, could you consider murder justified?" Andre snarled viciously at me. I turned to him and gave him the hardest yet coldest look I could- one worthy of 'O.G' himself. I no longer felt the heated glare above me and, when I glanced, only saw a look of confusion.

"Murder, my dear sir, is not justified. Killing can be justified if perpetrated under the appropriate circumstances," I hissed as slight tears came to my eyes, remembering the reason the Phantom had, indeed, committed the crime. "Murder is done in cold blood."

"And this was not, you say?" Firmin asked aggressively, shouts of agreement followed by the company.

"No, indeed it was not. The reason Joseph Buquet was killed is because- because-," I trailed off as the tears assaulted me, rendering me speechless for a moment. I felt a hand on my shoulder and glanced to see it was Meg, who wrapped her arm around my shoulder, offering silent comfort. I glanced upwards to see a remorseful and sad, twisted face in the darkness. Both gave the strength I needed to continue. "The reason he killed that vile wretch was to save my virtue and possibly my life," I told them before letting out a sob and falling to my knees.

"What?" I looked up to see Andre and Firmin as well as most of the company shocked, an emotion I could also feel radiating down from above in the rafters. I felt sorry for the poor masked man who was fated to live in darkness- a man who was, obviously, shocked I would speak up and defend him of his actions. It was obvious he had not been shown such kindness in a long time and, when catching a glimpse of his distraught face, it further proved this theory. "Marie- explain," Charles whispered throughout the backstage, followed by noises of agreement from the company in general. I nodded carefully and, wiping my tears, stood to recount my story.

"As all of you know, I was too ill for rehearsals and was unable to perform tonight's production of Il Muto because of it," I began, closing my eyes and concentrating on three things: Christine's hand now on my shoulder, Meg's arm on my shoulder, and the distraught presence far above on the catwalk. "I decided, rather foolishly, that I would climb up to the catwalks and watch the production with the stagehands- one particularly my friend Charles," I told them, opening my eyes. I still concentrated on the three yet I also shifted my focus to Charles and the company, all of which stood speechless. "When he, the Phantom, interrupted the performance, Charles left me alone to help restore order, promising to return afterwards. I stayed where I was and continued watching the performance and the ordeal with Carlotta. It was then that, as I moved to get a better view, I ran into a decidedly drunk Buquet," I said. I could see looks of horror on many of the stagehands' faces.

"Marie-," Charles started, probably to apologize for foolishly leaving me alone, but I stopped him with a raised hand.

"Allow me to speak, Charles," I told him, to which he nodded. "Buquet decided that he could spare a few moments before chasing the Opera Ghost once more and decided that I would be perfect for a bit of fun. Of course, he in his drunken state, would not allow me to get away with out receiving what he wanted: my deflowering," I spoke, a few silent tears escaping my eyes. I felt a squeeze on my shoulder and I glanced upwards at the masked man, who noticed, and immediately melted into the shadows. Though I could no longer see him, I still knew he was there. "He was starting to undress me when he was thrown from me. There- standing between him and I- was the infamous Opera Ghost." At this there was a bit of an outbreak.

"Are you sure it was him?" One of the stagehands shouted. I closed my eyes and raised my hand to silence them, which they proceeded to immediately do. I nodded before opening my eyes.

"I am certain it was him, monsieur," I said but was again met with a minor uproar. The majority of the company shouted, clambering for more details on the Opera Ghost: was he like Buquet described? Was he hideous? Was he handsome? Did he have his ill-fated Punjab Lasso?

"It was his wish I speak of none of this to anyone," I said, interrupting the uproar. The silence and din returned as the company and managers hung onto my every word. "If respecting his wishes, I should not even be telling you this but I feel he deserves his name to be cleared," I told them. There were a few looks of shock and gasps but I raised my hand again to silence them. "I shall, therefore, respect his wishes and say no more than necessary."

"As I was saying before interrupted- Buquet proceeded to attack him, attempting to push him over the edge of the catwalk. The death of Buquet was both an act of self-defense and one for my protection, when he strangled that wretch. After asking I speak none of what occurred, he disappeared- vanished into thin air- just as a Phantom would," I told the silent company. "I believe him to be neither beast, monster, nor wretch but just that: a Phantom or ghost waiting in the shadows, trying his best to do right by this opera house," I continued to speak my opinion of him, trying to show my debt and gratefulness towards him without making it too obvious. I glanced above once more and saw a glimpse of a tear-stricken face filled with the pain of never having been shown kindness before now. It was, alas, a glimpse as the face quickly melted once more into the shadows. I knew though, that despite what I said, it was false.

I had only claimed him to be a Phantom for the sake of his reputation. In truth, both he and I knew he was just a man: one that had obviously never been shown kindness. One that felt emotion just as any of us, perhaps more strongly than any of us, and most certainly a man who was fated to skulk in the catacombs of the opera house, alone. I felt fury at whatever caused him to live like this, and sorrow at his pain. I knew that, should I ever have the chance, I would show him the kindness I could. However, the company need not know any of this, for I feared that if they did, they would use it against him and hunt him down. After all, for now they could not hunt what was not physical; they could not hunt a ghost.

"While it may not be my place to say so," I continued softly, having recaptured everyone's attention before saying, "I believe that his commands ought not to be ignored any longer. Not only has he saved me but many other ballerinas from the hands of that wretch, but his advice has long been useful for the prior managers and helped this Opera House flourish. I think we all ought to remember those times in the past years that his- er- not so gentle guidance has helped us to remain a prestige opera house in the entirety of the European continent. I think he deserves more credit and respect than… current people gives him," I said, looking pointedly at the managers. Many followed my gaze, resting on the managers, and murmurs of agreement filled the stage as the older also remembered the few fickle situations the opera ghost's commands had saved us from. It was, in truth, as much his theatre and home as any of us.

"Now, if you don't mind, I'm retiring to bed," I told the company at large. "Attempted rape, meeting Phantoms, and living to tell the tale is quite a trying day," I said, about to walk away when a note fluttered down from above me, landing neatly in my grasp. Christine, who stood next to me, backed several paces to Raoul, gazing fearfully at the note. Meg also looked slightly fearful, taking a step back while she and the company glanced upwards for signs of the note. I stared at the wax-skull seal on the front in wonderment.

"Mademoiselle, if you would please read the note," Andre said hoarsely. I nodded and ripped the seal, opening the envelope. I pulled a small letter from within and gazed at it before reading the contents to the company.

"Fondest greetings to you all,

I do hope that mademoiselle Dupoint has cleared any lingering doubts of the… unfortunate series of events to occur tonight. I thank her for mostly respecting my wish. It shall also be noted the kindness and loyalty she has shown me tonight.

I also sincerely hope she has convinced my managers that their place is in the office and not the arts. It is high time they respect that the commands I set forth are for the well-being of this Opera House.

For now, I leave you with this. Further instruction shall be sent at a later time and date.

Until then, I remain your obedient and faithful servant,

O.G."

I stopped reading the letter then and looked up and around the group. "That's all there is," I told them. There was a whisper immediately flying through the company. I looked to Christine, who was gazing fearfully and nervously up at the rafters, before she turned and fled, Raoul not far behind her. I handed the note to Meg before taking off after her.

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A/N: Alright! This is chapter two! Sorry that it's short! Anyways, from here on out, I'll only update if I receive at least three reviews! Just keep that in mind! I hope you enjoyed this chapter!

This chapter takes place right after they finish Il Muto for those who might be a tad confused. Anyways, again, I'm sorry if you think I'm going a little fast later on. Next chapter takes place in the Dressing Room in which Christine and Marie have a discussion.

Please review! :)