Hey! Well, I think that this chapter is going to be the one! I think that this is going to be my favorite chapter that I'll write in the whole story! Meanwhile, I am rewriting this story, so at this point in time I still kinda don't know what I'm going to do with the last couple of chapters, but as of what I know is going to happen, this one is still going to be my favorite! Anyway, I only own Darla, Jordan, Brandon, and a couple of others, and other accounts own other characters. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!
It was a quiet night in the Opera House, which was a rare gift as of late. Mike and Leo had already returned to their own homes, as had Alexandra and Will. Piper sat alone in her room, silently braiding her hair, and Darla lay in her bed in the dormitories, looking out into the cold winter sky. It was lonelier tonight than it had been before, and her mind kept drifting between her own thoughts and Christine's. Eventually, she decided that she was going to do something about them, and she quietly got up, pulling a thin blanket around her for warmth. She silently opened the door to leave, and she found Brandon outside, knowing that he had wanted to keep watch on her so nothing could happen to her, but he had fallen asleep. It was sweet. She smiled softly at him, before she silently walked past him, going down the steps and out into the courtyard. She nodded to the carriage-driver, handing him a small bag filled with coins. "Where to, mam'selle?" he asked.
"The cemetery…" she said quietly, and he nodded.
He counted the coins, and she walked into the backroom, where there were many different dresses and cloaks that she could choose from. She picked out a black dress and cloak, and when she turned to go get changed, she noticed there was a bouquet of red roses sitting on a table. She decided that she'd bring those, also.
The carriage-driver prepared the carriage, beginning to hook everything together and to prepare the horses, when he was struck over the head by a mysterious figure. Brandon, back in the dormitories, woke with a start, and immediately saw that the door was still opened. His heart jumped into his throat as he lept forward, looking into the room, and he saw that Darla was missing. Darla, down in the courtyard, walked out to the waiting carriage in her new dress, and without looking up, she sat down. The cloaked man turned his head only slightly to look back at her. "To my father's grave, please…" she said softly, and he turned back around. He ordered the horses forward, and they pulled away from the Opera.
Brandon jumped down two stairs at a time, and he stopped in front of the window overlooking the courtyard, and saw the carriage pull away from the Opera. His heart was beating loudly in his ears as he scrambled down to the courtyard. He was terrified that she was taken again. When he got down, the actual carriage-driver was conscious again, and he stumbled toward him. "Where have they gone?" he demanded.
"The cemetery…" he mumbled.
Brandon scanned the room, and he quickly rushed over and jumped onto a white horse that was already saddled. His heart was pounding painfully loudly, as he prayed that he wasn't too late. He prayed that she hadn't been taken again.
"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came… that voice which calls to me, and speaks my name…"
The carriage pulled into the gates of the dark and looming cemetery, and Darla silently got off, and motioned for the carriage-driver to leave her. He did, but as he made the turn around the cemetery to return to the Opera, he looked back at her and watched her longingly, and while Darla could not see, a white mask peaked out from under the man's cloak.
As Darla walked through the cold and snowy cemetery, she felt Christine… quiet, a little. It didn't feel as though Christine was controlling her completely, anymore, and she stopped, before she made the decision to continue on. "Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing… Her father promised her that he would send her the Angel of Music… Her father promised her… Her father promised her…" she whispered to herself, smiling sadly as she walked amongst all the tombs.
"You were once my one companion… you were all that mattered… You were once a friend and father – then my world was shattered… Wishing you were somehow here again… wishing you were somehow near… Sometime it seemed, if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here… Wishing I could hear your voice again… knowing that I never would… Dreaming of you won't help me to do, all that you dreamed I could… Passing bells and sculpted angels, cold and monumental, seem, for you, the wrong companions – you were warm and gentle…" Darla sang softly, continuing to walk through the old graveyard. "Too many years fighting back tears… Why can't the past just die…? Wishing you were somehow here again… knowing we must say goodbye… Try to forgive… teach me to live… give me the strength to try…! No more memories, no more silent tears… No more gazing across the wasted years… Help me say goodbye…! Help me say goodbye…"
Approaching the large mausoleum, she sunk to the ground at the base of the steps, and looked up at it. It was the mausoleum of Gustave Daaé – Christine's father. Darla looked down for a moment, and she could finally understand what Christine was feeling. Darla thought about visiting her own mother's grave, for years, after she had died. She had been too young to remember her before she had died, but she always remembered being brought there as a child after she had passed. Suddenly, there was a warm, familiar feeling that enveloped all around her, almost like a comforting hug. She looked back up at the mausoleum, searching for answers.
"Wandering child… so lost… so helpless… yearning for my guidance…"
Darla was familiar enough with the story that she knew that this was supposed to be Jay singing, but her heartbeat quickened because it wasn't. She looked around nervously, with too many conflicting emotions to name, and she felt an urge to continue singing just so she could hear the mysterious and strangely familiar voice again. It was then that she realized she had been given the choice. "Angel or father… friend or Phantom…? Who is it there, staring…?" she sang.
"Have you forgotten your Angel…?"
There was a loving softness in his voice, that almost made Darla want to cry. It gave her a soothing, calm feeling that she hadn't really known since this had all started. "Angel… oh, speak… What endless longings, echo in this whisper…!" she sang, standing as she looked up into the tomb.
A warm light began to flicker welcomingly from inside the tomb, and the metal doors slowly began to creak open. "Too long you've wandered in winter… far from my far-reaching gaze…"
"Wildly my mind beats against you…" Darla sang, stepping up towards the tomb.
"You resist…"
"…yet your/the soul obeys…!" they both sang.
"Angel of Music! You denied me, turning from true beauty… Angel of Music! Do not shun me… Come to your strange Angel…" "Angel of Music! I denied me, turning from true beauty… Angel of Music! My protector… Come to me, strange Angel…"
"I am your Angel of Music… Come to me: Angel of Music…"
Darla stopped in front of the tomb, on the top of the stairs, and her thoughts were racing. This had to be Jay… It… It had to be. It has to be Jay. She felt Christine begin to take control again, as Brandon suddenly appeared in the cemetery on the back of the horse. "No, Christine, wait!" he yelled, and she turned.
"Raoul!" she gasped.
"Whatever you may believe, this man… this thing… is not your father!" he exclaimed, gently touching her arm as he walked past her, making sure that she was alright, before he put himself between her and the tomb protectively.
Darla noticed movement on top of the tomb, and she gasped. It… It should've been Jay, but it wasn't. It was a man that both Brandon and Darla knew wasn't another camper, so Jay hadn't been switched as Nico and Brandon had, but Darla almost seemed to have a reaction like she knew him. Brandon couldn't focus on it, though, as the man swung his sword wildly at Brandon, and he had to quickly react to the attack. Brandon was knocked backward by the man, and he jabbed at him, but Brandon quickly hit it away, before he turned and jumped over the side of the mausoleum simply to save himself. Darla watched in horror as the man jumped after him, swinging his sword wildly. They chased each other around the graveyard, and Brandon struggled to keep up with the man, obviously not having as much experience with a sword as the other man. He sliced at Brandon's arm, immediately drawing blood, and Brandon yelled in pain. Darla gasped in horror. Brandon finally managed to gain the upper hand on him, quickly attacking him and making him loose his footing, before he managed to kick his sword away. Brandon raised his sword to finish it, but Darla suddenly panicked, stepping forward. "No Raoul!" she exclaimed, and Brandon's head turned to look at her. She looked horrified, and she kept looking down at the man, truly distressed. He was staring back at her, also. "No… Not like this…"
Brandon looked back down at the man, whose ice cold blue eyes were locked on Darla, and he frowned. He still didn't understand why Darla looked as though she had known the man, but the way he was staring at her gave him a sudden surge of protectiveness. But, knowing that Darla would obviously be upset if he killed him, he put his sword back in it's sheath, and went back to her. She was still staring at the man, so he grabbed her arm, and pulled her back to the horse with him. He pulled himself up onto the horse, and pulled her up in front of him, wrapping his arms closely around her. As they galloped past him, the man rose to his feet, and Darla turned back to look at him for a moment, before they disappeared in the snowy night.
The unidentified Phantom looked in that direction for a few minutes even after they had disappeared, breathing heavily from the fight, before he growled and turned away. "Now, let it be war upon you both!"
"We, have all been blind, and yet the answer is staring at us in the face. This, could be our chance, to ensnare our clever friend…" Brandon said, in a hushed tone, as he, Mike, Leo, Piper and Alexandra walked through the back-hallways behind the stage in the Opera.
Mike nodded. "We're listening." he said.
"Go on." Leo encouraged.
"We, shall play his game – perform his work, but remember we hold the ace. For if, Miss Daaé sings, he is certain to attend." Brandon explained.
"We are certain the doors are barred!" Mike said, piecing everything together.
"We are certain the police are there!" Leo added.
"We are certain they're armed!" Brandon agreed.
"The curtain falls; his reign will end!" they all agreed.
. . .
The police chief marched his troops into the Opera Populaire, surprising some of the guests. The Phantom was already doing his own worked, though, sliding into once of the mechanics rooms, and making his own adjustments. He then snuck through another door, which obviously wasn't one that the stagehands used, or even knew about. Brandon was walking around, looking for Darla, and he eventually found her down in the chapel below the Opera. She was sitting in front of the candles, with Christine's father's burning brightly, and she had her head cupped in her hand. She turned slightly when she heard him walk toward her.
"Raoul, I'm frightened – don't make me do this…" she said quietly, and he realized that she had been crying. She sniffled, standing up, and he immediately hugged her comfortingly. "Raoul, it scares me – don't put me through this ordeal by fire… he'll take me, I know… we'll be parted forever… he won't let me go… What I once used to dream, I now dread… if he finds me, it won't ever end… and he'll always be there, singing songs in my head… he'll always be there, singing songs in my head…"
She walked over to the large stained glass window, of an angel, and sat down. He went over and sat beside her, wiping her tears with his thumb. "You said yourself, he was nothing but a man… Yet while he lives, he will haunt us till we're dead…" Brandon sang softly, and he took her cold hands in his. Darla looked away for a moment.
"Twisted every way, what answer can I give? Am I to risk my life, to win the chance to live? Can I betray the man who once inspired my voice? Do I become his prey? Do I have any choice? He kills without thought, he murders all that's good… I know I can't refuse, and yet, I wish I could… Oh God – if I agree, what horrors wait for me, in this, the Phantom's opera…?"
Brandon paused, before he squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Christine, Christine, don't think that I don't care – but every hope, and every prayer rests on you now…" he said softly, and she looked away, before they leaned together and shared a long, tender hug.
~Batman's Favorite Daughter~