That night I had another nightmare. The worries I harbored from earlier that day manifested in terrible images.
I was wandering through the dank moldy cellars of the Opera. I had the feeling I was searching for someone but didn't know who and I had to be on guard in case the Phantom popped out of some dark corner or trapdoor. It was quiet save for the steady rhythm of dripping water. I went down all flights of stairs and turned countless corners. The whole dream seemed to be a constant rhythm of repetition…stairs and turns, stairs and turns. I finally realized I was looking for Joseph but that I was also afraid to find him; afraid of HOW I would find him.
I slowly approached another turn and could see a chamber dimly lit by the grey world glaring through a tiny window. Odd. I couldn't recall seeing any windows in the deeper cellars before. As I plucked up the courage to keep going, I thought I heard voices…whispers, reverberating off the mossy walls. And then, as I entered the chamber, it all went so quiet. I stared out the window at—nothing, just pale shapeless light. I heard a small barely-audible noise behind me and prepared to turn and face Erik or the vision of Joseph's lifeless body doing a swing dance from the high beam. But it wasn't Erik or Joseph…
A noose gently swayed from a beam, tap-tapping against the wall, catching in the dull grey light. 'I know that wasn't there before!' my mind exclaimed. I dropped to my knees and started to cry. It was meant to scare me—a warning. The noose did not hesitate to claim my brother it would not hesitate to claim me. Erik wouldn't hesitate…
Suddenly, he was standing right in front of me, kneeling down and helping me up. There was no malice in his eyes, no tricks. Regret? Remorse?
The last thing I remember thinking before waking up short of breath was how I didn't understand why he was so gentle with me when a millisecond ago he'd filled me with terror; why he gave a damn when a millisecond ago he would've killed me without a second thought. Killing, saving. Insanity, humanity. Good, evil. These thoughts plagued my mind as I yanked a blanket around my shoulders and went out, seeking solace on the stairs between the first and second cellar, battling a simple yet loaded question that had presented itself long before these dreams—who is Erik?
I hadn't expected to see him that night and was therefore startled to hear his deep voice shatter my disturbing recollections.
"Grandest social event of the year, tomorrow…I'd hate for you to collapse from sheer exhaustion before it's even started."
It took me a moment to spot him, for he was standing opposite of where I'd thought I'd heard his voice, leaning against the wall of the second cellar stairwell.
"Why aren't you in bed?" He inquired almost paternally.
I sighed heavily. "Couldn't sleep. You?"
"I don't sleep."
"Insomniac?"
"My body is just…wired differently from most."
"Mmm. You must have the immune system of—,"
"A god?"
I smirked. "—or a fish. Barely eat, rarely sleep…"
It was his turn to smirk as he walked about languidly. "More nightmares?"
"What do you know of it?"
"Ah, I'm all-seeing, all-knowing, remember."
"Hmmph. In the future, keep my bedroom problems out of your crystal ball."
He caught the innuendo and appeared shocked before remembering 'Oh right, this is vulgar Maggie Buquet speaking.'
"You know, you're really quite…"
"Obnoxious? Offensive? A kick in the pants?"
"Well, that's certainly one way to put it, but for lack of a better term…yes."
"So I've been told."
"You're quite different from most."
"Most girls."
"Most everyone."
"It's time we celebrated our differences."
"The point I'm trying to get across is that…you're a rather remarkable woman. And I don't give compliments lightly."
There he goes again—pulling the switch. Why do you do that? Apparently, I'd voiced that last thought aloud for he looked at me quizzically.
"Do what?"
"Nothing…never mind." There was uncomfortable silence before I asked a question that had been chewing my mind since receiving the note yesterday.
"I don't mean to pry, but I have to ask…what's going to happen tomorrow night?"
"What do you mean?"
"In your note you said it would be an 'unforgettable evening.'"
The look he gave me…I couldn't discern between caution and guilt, like he'd been caught in the act. Just what that shameful act was I didn't yet know.
"Yes," he replied flatly, "I simply meant it will be an enjoyable affair."
"Nah, I don't buy that bollocks. I know you."
He cocked his head, amused. "Do you?"
"You're up to something."
"Oh I do wish you'd trust me." He mockingly implored.
"I'd sooner put my faith in a ghost." I retorted.
The corners of his mouth tugged upward into a strange small grin—almost as if he'd forgotten how to smile, really smile, and not out of spite or Phantom pranks. Then, it disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"You should get some sleep."
"I'm not tired."
His eyes flickered downward, pondering something. "Would—would you—possibly consider—joining me on a short walk?"
"…Alright."
Sometime later I was on the Opera's roof, my brother's charcoal gray long-coat draped over my nightdress. Erik stood a few feet away. The sky was clear and there was a receding blanket of snow on the ground from the previous morning.
"You ever notice how magical the night looks after fresh snow?"
He didn't reply—just stared out into the vast city. I continued to babble on.
"It's like we're one of those intricate snow globes. No matter where you are, no matter how the world may appear at the time, snow is a breath from God…or angels, crying tears of euphoria, filled with hope for peace and serenity; erasing all scars of the earth…giving it a fresh and flawless start."
I was almost lost in the tranquil peace the night granted me until my thoughts strayed and my tranquility plunged into familiar heartache…I frowned. But with snow comes ice…there are always two opposing forces.
"Sometimes it feels like you're imprisoned in that snow globe. The water's closing around you and you can never catch that damned pocket of air before you drown…drowning in a world of winter."
I tore my eyes away from the stars to glance at Erik, who was watching me intently. I suddenly felt very self-conscious. "But what the hell do I know. I just sound like a little girl who believes in faeries and St. Nicholas." I sound just like Christine. "Beliefs that get you nowhere in life but the gutter."
"Why do you insist on degrading yourself so much?"
"Why do you?"
"That's not what I asked. There's so much more to you than meets the eye, like a complex puzzle or some sort of paradox, and I…well, being a man who needs to know what makes everything tick, I typically don't like what I can't understand but—,"
"No one does"
"—but you're a rare exception. Maybe it's alright I don't have you all figured out."
Back to Mr. Nice Guy, eh? "Glad to know I have your stamp of approval." I joked.
The conversation dwindled after that, both of us fishing for something to talk about. I said the first (perhaps unintelligible) thing that crossed my mind.
"Are you nervous about tomorrow night?"
"No. Why?"
I shrugged. "'Just wondered if you were having second thoughts about Christine going with that other bloke." I swear ever muscle in his body locked up and he turned away.
"Why do you always go one step too far? You could be such a bearable companion if it wasn't for that mouth."
"Obviously, I struck a nerve. It was a simple question."
"Well, here's another," he rounded on me, "What the hell is it you're hiding that you're too scared to sleep at night?"
"How would you know whether--,"
"I know something's going on inside that vexing mind of yours, something you strive to repress from the public eye but have not succeeded. You're practically an insomniac, don't deny it."
" 'Could say the same thing 'bout you! The way you eat and sleep, I don't see how you're still standing!"
"It's my lifestyle—one I've been accustomed to since childhood and have had plenty of practice in. Somehow, I suspect that is not the case for you. So what's the story?"
"None of yer damn business is what it is!"
"Christ, you're a stubborn old cow. No wonder you're a spinster, you're utterly impossible!"
"Oh you're hardly a walk on the beach, Monsieur. Everything has to be perfect, no such thing as mistakes. Everyone's inferior to you, everything has to belong to you, everything has to go your way! Oh yes, I can see how you'd be so much easier to live with!"
Somewhere in the midst of our banter, my accent grew thick and strong like it always did when I lost my temper.
"Vindictive harpie!"
"Eat my soul, ye stubborn-ass brat!"
Shocked silence hung in the air and then…I cracked up, laughing.
"What could possibly be so amusing?"
"Us!" I choked out. "Do you realize how ridiculous we are?"
My laughter died down, though I continued to smile and could feel the tension in the atmosphere dissipate. "Listen to us. We sound like an old married couple at each other's throats all the time."
He gave me a funny look and I cleared my throat, turning my attention back to the city landscape. "Well, I'm feeling a little tired. I think I'll go back to bed."
I paused inside the doorway, realizing he didn't follow. When I turned back to ask if he was coming he beat me to it.
"Go ahead. I'm going to remain out here, awhile."
"I'll see you at the ball tomorrow?" He nodded. "Goodnight Erik."
I thought I heard a small gasp emit from him. Had I never said his name before? Before I closed the door behind me I thought I caught a "good night" in return but wasn't sure. I had no more nightmares that night.
It was late afternoon and everyone was in a fine frenzy. The masquerade was only hours away and everybody was rushing about with last minute decisions and revisions. I made sure I wasn't needed before I snuck down to my room to put some things away before meeting Edel. I was met with a surprise. A yellow rose in full bloom, fixed carefully through the keyhole. If I recall correctly, yellow roses conveyed warmth and friendship.
There was no note or any hint as to who could've left it. Jacques didn't seem the type and it was difficult to picture practical Erik as a romantic. Still, the sweet thought that someone had left it for me, added with the suspense over my mystery costume, made me feel elated. After placing the rose in my water pitcher, I crept back upstairs, taking care that no one saw me, and slipped out of the Opera.
"Edel, you look magnificent!" I greeted her.
Edel's costume was 17th-18th century pirate. I used to hear stories back home of infamous female pirates—Anne Bonny, Grace O'Malley…Edel made a very convincing rogue.
"Wait until you see your costume, you'll just die!" Chockfull of energy and mounting suspense, we raced upstairs. She threw open the door, shouting "Voila!"
My hands immediately flew to my mouth as I gasped loudly. There, on a mannequin in the middle of the room, stood my gown. I barely recognized it as Edel had predicted. I caressed the fabric, still in awe that this was my dress.
"So, what do you think?"
"Oh, Edel…I'm really at a loss for words. It's so beautiful!"
"That'll do. I'm pleased you like it."
"How ever did you manage to accomplish this on such short notice?"
Her mouth curved into that fabulously sly smile as she wiggled her fingers. "Magic hands."
I rushed over to her and (not usually being a very huggable person) took her hands in mine, squeezing them in grateful thanks. "Thank you, Edel."
She squeezed back and leaned in to kiss me on the cheek. "You are welcome. Come now, off with that cap and those clothes. We have much work to do and such precious little time to do it."
A/N: Alright my lovelies. I absolutely swear to God, next chapter is Masquerade. The mystery costume will be revealed as well as some other little surprises…hee hee hee.
