A/N:
Lots of sassy!Amy in this chapter.
Merry Christmas! Or, for those of you who don't celebrate, have a great day!
-Han
Chapter Seven
"Erik!" Amy called as she stepped out of the boat, face aglow with excitement. "Erik, are you here? I have something to tell you!"
Silence greeted her, and she frowned. Erik was rarely away. Perhaps he was attending to business elsewhere in the theater? She couldn't imagine him being anywhere else.
Amy shivered a little. It was quite cold down here, and she hadn't had time to change out of her tutu and pointe shoes before hurrying down to the lake. The news she had to share was too urgent to wait, but Erik wasn't even here.
Frustrated with him for being gone, frustrated with herself for not just leaving him a note, she rose up en pointe, lifting her arms above her head. She started a series of pirouettes, imagining she could hear music. This was how she had always gotten rid of her irritation over the years: by dancing.
She did not know how long she danced, alone by the lake, releasing the stress of the past few days. All she knew was that at some point, the music in her head became real, Erik's gorgeous tenor weaving around her in a wordless song. Finally, breathless and sweating, she concluded her dance, ending in a split on the floor with her torso bent over one leg and her hands resting on her ankle.
After some moments, she rose slowly, looking at Erik. He stood beside the lake, hands folded in front of him, a curious expression on his face.
"What?" she said quietly.
"I have never seen you dance before," Erik admitted.
She quirked an eyebrow at him. "Really?"
"Yes," he said, mirroring her action. "Now, may I ask what exactly you are doing down here?"
"I was looking for you," Amy said. "And when I couldn't find you, well…"
Erik frowned slightly. "Why were you looking for me?"
A small grin came to her face, and she stepped closer to him. "Did you see the cast list for Beauty and the Beast?"
"I regret to say I have not," he said, a glimmer of interest in his dark eyes.
She barely kept from squealing as she caught his hands in hers. "Guess who the leading soprano is," she said breathlessly.
He appeared to consider it. "Hmm… is it that Miss Abadie? She had a very pretty voice, if I recall."
Amy narrowed her eyes, releasing his hands and whacking him not-so-gently on the shoulder. "No, you idiot, it's me!"
He laughed, actually laughed and smiled and everything, and Amy realized two things. One, this was the first time she had ever heard him genuinely laugh; and two, he had dimples. She was transfixed by these facts, and almost missed what he said next.
"I am not surprised," he told her, touching her cheek. "You're magnificent."
She gave him a cheeky smile to hide her embarrassment. "I am, aren't I?"
He frowned. "Shall you become a spoiled diva, then?" he asked her severely, though there was still a teasing undertone that would be easy to miss if she didn't know him so well.
"Oh, I'm quite sure of it," she said cheerfully. "Soon I shall even rival La Carlotta, the prima donna some years ago, if I am correct."
Erik winced visibly at the thought of the woman. "She was a terror," he agreed. "And completely unfit for my stage, if I might add."
Amy laughed. "Erik, I'd love to stay and practice with you, but Madame Giry will be wondering where her star has got to," she said with a wink. "I'll see you this evening, then?"
He nodded. "Will you be moved to the Prima Donna room?"
"I don't think so," she said. "But I'm not sure. Why?"
"There is a passageway behind the mirror in that room. If you are moved there, it will make it far easier for you to slip away for our lessons," he informed her.
She brightened. "Well, let's hope I'm moved, then," she said. She hugged him quickly, the embrace lasting only a second, then went over to the boat. "Goodbye, Erik."
It wasn't until she was halfway across the lake that she realized she forgot to ask where he had been.
~O~
Something was wrong. Amy could tell as soon as she entered the room. The ballet girls were clumped together between the bunks, all whispering anxiously. Some were even crying.
"Amy!" Clara spotted her and immediately rushed over to her, her dark eyes rimmed with red and her face soaked with tears. "Amy, where have you been?! We were so worried!"
"What has happened?" Amy demanded, ignoring the question.
"It's Ashtyn," Clara said, sniffling.
Amy knew the name. Ashtyn was one of the younger ballet girls, but quite talented at the age of fifteen. Ashtyn always greeted everyone with a smile, and she and Clara were close enough in looks that some thought they were sisters.
A feeling of dread grew in the pit of Amy's stomach. "What about her?"
"She's – she's dead."
"What?!"
Clara broke down in sobs again, and Amy wrapped a pale arm around the shorter girl's shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. "What happened?" she asked, raising her voice so the other ballet girls could hear her.
One girl, a tall young woman by the name of Halette, spoke up quietly. "Ashtyn went out for some air during practice. She said she was feeling faint. Just a minute ago, one of the stagehands stepped out in the back alley, and he found her… her body." Halette's voice wobbled on the last few words.
"How was she…?" Killed. Amy couldn't say the word.
Halette's face paled. "She was strangled," she whispered, leaning closer to Amy. "By a rope that looked like a noose, but she wasn't hung."
"It was him who killed her!" a girl wailed, and a ripple of terror passed over the group. The speaker looked barely fourteen years old, and Amy struggled to remember her name. Mallory? No, it was Majori.
"Who?" Amy had a horrible feeling that she already knew.
"The Phantom of the Opera! He has returned!" Majori looked like she might faint.
Amy's thoughts were racing at a million miles an hour. Erik? There was no way… but what if he had? He had threatened to kill her before, and Rose said that years ago he had murdered two men... but he was Erik. He was her teacher, her friend, her –
Amy gently passed the still-distraught Clara to Halette. "Majori," she said as she made her way through the knot of dancers. Majori blinked repeatedly, tears leaking out of her pale blue eyes as Amy knelt in front of her and took her hands.
"Majori, listen to me," Amy said, her voice firm but kind. "There is no Phantom of the Opera. And if there ever was, he is long gone."
"But –"
Amy brushed a tear from Majori's cheek. "I don't want anyone else spreading rumors about a ghost," she said, standing up and looking around at the rest of the girls. "Nobody else needs to be frightened. Ashtyn's death was a terrible thing, but there is no reason to blame a ghost."
Most of the girls looked relieved at Amy's logical statement. She guessed they were all so distressed from Ashtyn's sudden death that none of them could think clearly. She herself was in a daze, but she was trying her best to keep a level head in the situation.
Someone touched her shoulder, and she turned to see Rose, whose anger was only thinly veiled. "Amy, could you come with me?" she asked quietly.
Amy swallowed hard. "Of course," she replied, following Rose out of the room. She could feel curious eyes watching them, but paid no heed to them.
As soon as they were out of earshot, Rose rounded on her. "Amy, I told you he was dangerous!" she all but shouted. "I told you he was dangerous and I warned you and – you didn't listen! And now look what he's done!"
"Lower your voice, Rose!" Amy cried. "There's no proof that he killed her. You know there isn't!"
Rose set her jaw angrily. "There's enough proof for me," she said stonily. "Your so-called teacher is a murderer. No matter how much you like him –"
Amy's cheeks flamed. "I don't like him –"
"– he's still the Phantom," Rose went on as though she hadn't spoken. "You have to stay away from him before he kills you too."
"It's none of your business who I choose to spend my time with," Amy growled. "Until I have proof, I won't believe that he was the one who killed Ashtyn."
Rose stared at her in disbelief. "Amelia Jessica Pond –"
"Don't you dare!" Amy stepped closer to Rose, intending to intimidate her. She was a good six inches taller than Rose, and used that fact to her advantage. "Go back to the others now. I need to speak with Madame Giry."
Rose glowered. "I thought you would be smarter than this," she said as she walked past Amy.
Amy didn't bother to reply as she headed down the corridor. Fortunately for her, she didn't have to go too far before she found Madame Giry.
"Amelia, I must speak with you," Madame Giry said, hurrying toward her.
"What a coincidence. I was just looking for you too," Amy said coldly, and the ice in her voice was enough to pull Madame Giry up short.
"You are aware, then, that Ashtyn is…?"
Amy nodded grimly. "And the other dancers think Erik is the one who killed her," she said, not bothering to hide her skepticism. "Madame Giry, I would appreciate it if you put a stop to such rumors at once. The girls will listen to you more than me."
Madame Giry narrowed her eyes. "Has it not occurred to you that such rumors could be true?"
Amy threw her hands up. "Not you, too!" she exclaimed. "Erik has changed, I'm telling you. He didn't kill Ashtyn!"
The ballet mistress sighed. "Amelia, he has killed in the past –"
"Save it. Mademoiselle Tyler has already lectured me." Amy rolled her eyes, which was probably very disrespectful, but she was past caring by now. "Are we still going to perform the show, or is it being cancelled because of Ashtyn's death?"
"The show will go on," Madame Giry said, a little stiffly. "The managers sent me to tell you that they would like to move you to the Prima Donna room. I myself do not think this is a wise decision, but…"
Amy shrugged. "If the managers wish it, I will move there," she said firmly, and that was that.
~O~
Amy sank down on her new bed, exhausted nearly to the point of tears. Everyone had been given the day off practice, which was a bad choice, because most of the ballet girls spent the extra time crying or being utterly terrified of a 'ghost'. Amy, Halette, Rose, and Meg Giry were the only ones able to console the others, and on top of that, Rose refused to speak to Amy.
Now the long day was finally over, and all she wanted to do was sleep. The bed in the Prima Donna room was much softer than the bunk she'd previously been sleeping in, and she was tempted to just curl up and sleep without bothering to take off her leotard or shoes. It would be so easy…
"Amelia?"
Amy looked up sharply at the voice. A familiar figure was stepping out of the large mirror on the wall, and his eyes landed on her.
"Amelia, what are you doing?" Erik's vaguely disapproving tone was more than she could bear at the moment, and tears flooded her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said stiffly, turning away so he wouldn't see. "I must have forgotten our lesson."
Erik's footsteps were nearly silent as he crossed the room. "It's not like you to forget. Something happened, didn't it?"
She choked out a laugh, a tear dripping down her cheek. "You could say that."
"What is it?"
Amy looked up at him. "The 'Opera Ghost' has returned, that's what."
Erik's visible eyebrow lifted, and he took a small step back. "… Excuse me?"
She wiped her tears away. "Ashtyn is dead, and everyone thinks you did it," she said bluntly. "She was strangled with a rope."
Emotions flickered in his eyes; shock, sorrow, hurt and – somewhat frighteningly – a dark anger. "And people assume that this means I have somehow returned from the dead," he said dryly. "I'm sorry about your friend."
Amy mumbled a 'thanks', then looked up into his eyes. "I knew you didn't do it," she said quietly. "Madame Giry and Rose were trying to tell me to stay away from you. But I told them that it wasn't you."
Erik stared at her, looking bewildered. "You did?"
"Of course," she said.
"For all you know, I could have done it. And yet you defended me," he muttered.
She rolled her eyes, giving him a half-smile even as tears continued to spill over her lashes. "Why does that surprise you? Did you really think I'd believe that? You, killing an innocent teenager without reason?"
"I tried to kill you when we first met," he reminded her.
Amy laughed then. "I know you did. Erik, the point is, I don't think so little of you that I would suspect you of murder for no reason."
He reached out and caught a tear off her chin, and her heart stopped. His face was blank and emotionless as he gently brushed away the drops on her cheeks, including one at the corner of her lips.
"You look tired," he said softly, straightening, but his hand still lingered by her face. "Sleep. I will allow you to miss this one lesson."
"Thank you," she managed, looking down at where she was gripping her skirt so tightly, her knuckles turned white. If Erik noticed, he didn't comment on it.
He brushed his thumb directly over her lips, then let his hand fall to his side and stepped away. "Goodnight, Amelia," he whispered, turning quickly and leaving through the mirror.
Amy ran her fingers through her unbound hair as she stood. Her eyes were heavy with sleep as she changed into her nightgown, but when she curled up beneath the sheets, it took a long time for her to fall asleep.
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