Phelan sighed as he scrubbed his scarred and aching body wearily. He'd have to come up with some sort of name for himself, before they began calling him the Opera Ghost as well. The whole reason for his being here was to eradicate the bad name of the Opera House, which would be hard to do as the Opera Ghost. It was hard enough to hide in the shadows. No, he thought suddenly, it's hard to hide in plain view. It's easy to hide in the shadows. For his entire life, he had hidden in the shadows. Now, for the first time, he had all attention that he never got as a child. All the attention that made it so much harder to hide. Especially with Meg. He recoiled physically. What the- don't bring her into this. Grimacing, he scrubbed hard at a patch of stubborn blood. It's hard enough to rectify this whole situation without bringing her into it. Look. She's a friend, if that. I've talked to her, really talked. That's it. He sighed as he closed his eyes. "That's enough. Meg Giry means nothing to me." The whispered words were drowned out by the drum of the shower, but he still spun and checked to see if there was a young dancer sobbing at his words. Curse my paranoia. Admittedly, I need it to survive, but if she was watching, there'd be more to deal with than just those words. He smirked as he shut the shower off and grabbed his towel off the grubby rack that held it. You're an idiot. As usual, he nodded in agreement with his unspoken pronunciation.After drying himself off, he pulled on his usual clothing of a loose black shirt, a pair of baggy slacks, and flung his towel over his shoulder. As he walked over to the door, he heard a faint whisper of clothing against the wood. Immediately on his guard, he slipped closer, soundlessly, and listened.
"I shouldn't be here." It was a girl's voice. A second voice, lower, but not by much, spoke next.
"Don't worry, babe. It'll be okay with me around. Let's go have a bit of fun, eh? No one ever comes into this bathroom." Phelan grimaced and opened the door. The two jumped in shock.
"You know, lad, date rape is illegal."
After putting the unwary pair in the hands of their very angry supervisors, Phelan strode off purposefully for the nearest entrance to the underground tunnels. He was fairly pleased. The only people who noticed him were the two youths, and they wouldn't remember anything but a scar-faced angry young man. Their supervisors were too intent on the two 'lovers' that they didn't even waste their breath trying to get his name. All in all, a good evening. Suddenly, he heard crying coming from a nearby hall. One that should have been empty. He turned almost immediately, almost unconsciously. He nearly stopped, paranoia nearly overriding kindness. Nearly. However, he kept going. As he rounded the corner, he saw Meg Giry and another young dancer sitting together. Meg had one arm around the girl's shoulders, and the other held a bandage firmly in place. He suddenly appeared before them, putting his skill at hiding to work once again.
"Pardon me, but I was wondering if I could help. I am a doctor." Meg looked up gratefully, completely ignoring the scars that marred his face.
"Oh, thank you, Monsieur. My friend here accidentally cut her hand on a sharp piece of glass she was handling. It's bleeding pretty badly, but..." Phelan nodded and knelt down. Taking the injured girl's hand in his, he carefully removed the compress. Blood began to runnel down his fingers.
"Hmm. This isn't good. You've managed to hit an artery, dear. Oh, Miss Giry, would you mind getting me a needle and thread?" She stood and raced off. Phelan mentally cursed as he realized his mistake. However, she seemed not to notice. He turned his attention back to the bleeding hand in his. He pressed the bandaged back onto the cut, and smiled encouragingly at the dancer, who looked pale.
"An artery? Am I going to bleed to death?" Phelan chuckled.
"No, of course not. Your friend did the right thing. However, you'll be much better after I sew the vessel shut. I'm afraid it'll hurt." The young girl, though wan with fear, smiled bravely.
"I'll be fine. I won't cry." The spirit of the dancer moved Phelan.
"You're a pretty tough girl, then. It's all right to cry, though. Don't think it's not. I cry all the time." The girl smiled at him, trying to cheer him up.
"Don't worry, Monsieur. Even if everything looks horrible, and you want to cry, you don't have to. There's always something good. You just have to look for it." Meg returned with the needle and thread as the bleeding girl finished speaking.
"Ah, thank you, Miss Giry." Phelan took the proffered items and threaded the eye of the needle expertly. He took the girl's bleeding hand with his own, the blood slicking his fingers. "Well, you ready?" The girl nodded slowly. Phelan gently pierced the torn blood vessel with the needlepoint, drawing a hiss from the injured dancer. Her hand tightened on his. Working quickly to keep her from fainting of blood loss, he stitched the gushing hole closed. He tied a knot in the thread, snapped it easily, and replaced the bandage. He handed the needle and the spool of thread back to Meg, who smiled at him. She turned to the younger girl.
"How are you feeling, Jaina?" Jaina moved her hand experimentally.
"I'm much better. Thank you, Monsieur Doctor. It feels much better." Phelan grinned and looked at his hand, and then at the floor, both covered in blood.
"Hmm. This is a bit of a mess." Jaina flushed.
"I'll clean it up, Monsieur Doctor." He waved the comment away with his clean hand.
"No, no. You ought to clean your hand off, first. I'll get this." He pulled the towel off his shoulder and wiped his hand, before a thought struck him. "Wait, if you'll excuse me. It's pretty late. Shouldn't you two be in bed?" Meg shrugged weakly.
"Well, Monsieur Doctor, we were just... walking." Phelan smirked.
"Walking? Well, you're lucky I found you. Of course, when your instructor finds out about this..." Jaina squeaked, and Meg's face went pale.
"Oh, please, Monsieur Doctor, we were... well, we were going to the old shower by the owners' offices. I thought maybe..." Phelan chuckled, trying to hold in his laughter. If he got too loud... "We had heard that someone was going to be using them, and we thought..." Phelan finally sat down on the recently vacated bench, laughing.
"This is just too funny. You know, I caught two other people trying to get in there as well." He wiped a tear from his eye with one hand. "So one pair of young lovers, another pair of peeping toms. I wonder who I'll meet next?" Meg blushed, as did Jaina. The younger dancer looked ashamed.
"Well, Monsieur Doctor, we weren't going to be spying on the person. We just wondered if he was going to be singing. The new Ghost, that is." Phelan's smile faded, to be replaced with wonder.
"Hmm. You were willing to risk punishment just to hear some lunatic sing in the shower? You really are tough, Miss..." He inclined his head slightly, and Jaina curtsied, embarrassed.
"Farraday. Jaina Farraday." Phelan grinned.
"Miss Farraday. Well, I'm surprised. I hope you've learned your lesson, though: if you're going to catch a song or two in the middle of the night, you shouldn't juggle broken glass." He tossed his towel on the ground, and swabbed the floor absentmindedly with his foot. "Perhaps I ought to go to this bathroom tonight, too. It seems my towel has become somewhat... dirty." He grinned. Suddenly, Meg frowned.
"Monsieur, I'm a bit confused. While I'm glad that you were here to help Jaina, but... a couple things don't add up. First off, you knew my name, and Jaina told you hers, but you don't want to tell us yours. Second, you've got a towel, and your hair is slightly wet. Finally, how old are you, anyway? You don't seem old enough to be a doctor." For the second time that night, Phelan tried in vain to restrain his laughter.
"You're pretty forward, aren't you?" He shook his head as Meg began to flush. "No, don't worry. It doesn't offend me. So, let me go backwards. I'm nineteen. I'm, shall we say, not an actively employed doctor, but only because of my age. I like to think I'm much better than those kooks out there." He grinned. "As to the second, because I just finished taking a shower." He stood up and grinned at the pair of dancers, winking at Meg. "As for number one, you can call me Phelan." Meg looked shocked.
"Wait... you're... what?" He shrugged.
"Well, I get sick of the shadows sometimes. Of course, you realize that you'll have to keep secret. I like to be able to mingle at times." Jaina looked confused, and she tugged at the older girl's sleeve.
"Meg, what's he mean?" Meg stood transfixed for a second, staring into the face of the man who had saved her only a week ago.
"You?" Phelan nodded.
"Yup." He turned to Jaina. "Perhaps, my dear, while tonight you didn't hear any music, you ought to come back sometime. I must warn you, though, it wouldn't be a good idea to do more than listen. I hear that this new Ghost, who calls himself the 'Nightbringer', loves an audience for his music, but not for his body." Meg turned, still pale, and smiled weakly at Jaina.
"Jaina, would you mind running the needle and thread back to my room? Thanks." As the young dancer left, oblivious, Meg turned back to Phelan, who stood silently, an amused smile on his face. "Nightbringer?" He shrugged.
"I want to get away from the old image of the murdering lunatic. Changing the name will help, I hope." She glanced down at her feet for a second, lost for words.
"Thank you, Phelan. That's twice now that you've saved me. Well, okay, you saved Jaina, but..." She trailed off. "You know what I mean." Phelan nodded.
"Don't worry. It's not like I have anything else to do around here than stalk you." He grinned at Meg's expression. "I'm just joking." She stepped closer, and alarm bells rang in his head. He stilled himself, though. It wouldn't do to flee from a young girl who owed him her life. Actually, when you put it like that... She smiled at him.
"What was that about coming back sometime?" Shrugging, he felt another alarm go off in his head, this one deeper and more urgent. He crouched down to look her in the eyes.
"Exactly what it sounds like. I love music, and I love singing, but people walking in on me while I'm taking a shower... listen, Miss Giry, I have to go. Sorry, but it's urgent. Good night." As he bade her farewell, he took a step back and jumped. He disappeared into the shadows as an older man rounded the corner.
"Hey, you! What are you doing up so late?" Suddenly, Phelan appeared right behind the startled guard.
"Good morning. I can answer your question, by the way." The guard stiffened.
"Are- are you the Opera-" He cut the older man off sharply.
"No. The Opera Ghost is gone. I am, instead, Nightbringer. I mean no harm here, as I was explaining to this young girl. She carries a message from me. Please deliver it to the owners tomorrow, by the way. Now, I'll be off. Harassing old men and young girls is quite boring." With that, he left, chuckling.