A/N: This chapter really launches things into the story line. I have a bit on the "Six months of relief," and then things should really get interesting. Oh, and much of this chapter that is song in the movie and the musical is simply spoken here. People, even those living in an opera house, do not traditionally burst into song to express every emotion. Enjoy, my lovely readers!
Cecily stood at the top of the staircase, gazing down over the crowd of impeccably dressed ladies and gentlemen. After last week's intrigue, the opera house was nearly bursting at the seams from all of the interested nobles. Each woman to enter was more elaborately dressed than the one before, and Cecily felt very plain in her simple gown. She turned away from the entrance and took a deep breath. Why was she so nervous?
"Cecily! So you can join us then?" Nicholai stood anxiously in front of her.
"I should hope so," chimed the Count, "looking as good as that."
"Thank you. I actually thought I was rather too plain in this crowd." She gestured toward a lady who seemed to be wearing three times the worth of the entire set and costumes for Il Muto about her neck.
The Count shook his head emphatically. "Hardly, hardly my dear. Simplicity is splendid. Those overgrown peacocks do not hold a candle. Not hardly." He smiled over at her, and she responded in kind.
"Shall we be off, then?" Nicholai asked, placing Cecily's hand in the crook of his arm.
"Yes, yes, of course." The Count started off, leaving Nicholai and Cecily to follow.
"I see you were relieved of your duties," noted Nicholai.
"Yes, a dear friend of mine was willing to see to some things." She smiled sadly.
"What is it?"
"It is just that she is leaving this week. She will be marrying the lead tenor. They're a beautiful pair and will lead a happy life, but I can't help feeling that I will be left all alone."
Nicholai paused in the back hallway that led to their box. "You will never be left all alone." A chill ran down Cecily's spine at the intensity of his words, and she stood speechless. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it lightly before continuing on their way.
The Count was already seated when they arrived. Nicholai seated her first, then took a seat next to her. The lights dimmed, and the opera began. It went well enough, and Cecily breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps Erik would let things be. When she felt Nicholai's hand brush her gloved ones, she smiled softly in the darkness. She slid hand slightly under his, and he took the hint, lacing his fingers in hers. Cecily continued to watch the opera, but that was not where her concentration lay.
Subconsciously, she began to mouth the words to "Poor Fool." It was a song that the chorus had practiced many times, and Cecily was glad that their work had paid off. The song was going splendidly. The feeling creeping up her neck was almost ignorable. Almost.
She tensed, and Nicholai felt it. "What is wrong? Are you alright?"
She forced herself to relax and smile. "Fine, fine." She squeezed his hand in reassurance, an action that suddenly turned to fear.
"Did I not instruct that Box Five was to be kept empty?" The voice rose in anger, a voice that was all too familiar. She turned to her left. Sure enough, there sat Raoul, brazen enough to have taken Box 5. Stupid boy! What was going to happen? Cecily's heart was in her throat, and she couldn't move. Nicholai clutched her arm to steady her.
His voice wrapped around her, sealing her in a cold cocoon. On stage, Christine was saying something, something Cecily couldn't make out…
She began to shake when the voice rang through the auditorium again. "A toad, madam? Perhaps it is you who are the toad…" Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned to Nicholai. "You have to leave. Something is wrong, very, very wrong."
"What is it?" His whisper was half-drowned out by Carlotta's voice as she attempted to restart the opera.
"Serafimo, away with this pretense! You cannot speak, but kiss me in my…" The sound that emerged from the diva's throat was so repulsive that every audience member cringed.
"Just go!' urged Cecily, her stomach growing tighter. "Please, Nicholai, I don't want anything to happen to you!"
"I won't leave you in danger, Cecily."
She put her hand to his face. "I cannot explain now," she whispered as Carlotta emitted another shriek. "I will be safe, but I worry for you."
"Cecily…"
"Please, Nicholai. Just go." Laughter rose through the air, a cruel maniacal laughter. She had heard Erik laugh before, and it had normally been a sweet sound, warm and beautiful like his music. This was no longer Erik. This was the Phantom. And the Phantom did not rest until his plan was completed. "Go!"
Confused, Nicholai nodded and slipped out, Cecily watched him until he was in the entry, where formal guards were posted. Erik would not harm him so obviously. He was safe.
The laughter started again, louder this time. She ran from the box and down the stairs. "Behold! She is singing to bring down the chandelier!"
"No, Erik, not that," she breathed, running faster for the stage. Her knee throbbed under the stress, but the fear in Cecily's mind overcame it. As she approached the stage, the managers were desperately trying to entertain the unnerved crowd with the ballet.
"Ladies and gentlemen, please! The performance will continue in ten minutes' time when the role of Countess will be played by Miss Christine Daae." The distraught girl was pulled on stage, then back behind the curtain to change costumes.
"There Erik! You have your way, now leave it in peace!" But she knew it was not to be.
Above her, the catwalks were shaking. A long black shadow pulled her eye, and she began to climb to the top. The violent shaking of the cables made it difficult, and her hand slipped several times. "No, Erik, no, stop," she mumbled. She glanced down. Meg was out of step, her eyes constantly glancing upward. "Meg, don't look at this. Something is happening I don't think anyone wants to see."
One last violent shake threw her from the ladder. She groaned emptily, the wind knocked out of her. Above her, where all eyes could see, dangled the still-twitching body of Joseph Buquet. Screams erupted in the audience, and terrified ballet girls ran from the stage toward their dressing room. Cecily heard the swirl of a cloak beyond all the chaos, and her eyes caught his burning green ones. Then he was gone.
She took a painful breath and rose to her feet, and was immediately nearly knocked back off them as Christine hurried past, her face twisted with fright and Raoul in tow. "No! To the roof! We'll be safe there!"
The roof. Now that Nicholai was safe, she turned her attention to the young couple. Raoul was in danger, and depending on her actions, possibly Christine as well. She had to get there before them. She had to stop him!
Darting to the wall, she ripped open the door to the labyrinth. "Damn all this uphill! Why doesn't anything happen on ground level!" At the end, she paused. There was noise from the other side, and Cecily didn't want to barge in and make things worse. "As if they could be worse at the moment," she thought, her mind casting back to the image of the dying Joseph Buquet.
"All I want is freedom, Raoul, just a world with no more night. And to have you always beside me to hold and hide me." The voice was Christine's, and Cecily was certainly happy she hadn't barged in on this. But where was Erik, surely he had followed them up here? "Order your fine horses, then!" Christine exclaimed, a joy in her voice that had not been there in a long time. "Wait for me at the door!"
Risking a little, Cecily peeked out the door. Raoul kissed Christine as they began the descent down the stairs. She stepped out into the cold night air, letting the chill settle her frantic body. Perhaps things would not get worse after all.
"I gave you my music. I made your song take wing! And now, this is how you've repaid me: you've denied me and betrayed me!" The sorrow in Erik's voice cut Cecily to the quick, but her eyes searched the roof for any sign of him. There! Next to the statue of Nike, he was knelt in the snow, his focus on something in his hands. What was it?
"He was bound to love you when he heard you sing! Christine! Oh, Christine!" Erik's body shuddered, and Cecily wanted so badly to run to him and comfort him. She would have too, if Raoul and Christine's words had not floated back up the stairwell to Erik and Cecily's ears. Their confessions of love to one another were too much for the already broken man to stand. His frame stiffened and he dropped the thing from his hand. It was a perfect rose, tied with a black ribbon. Christine must have dropped it.
Erik climbed the statue, positioned like a rider on a horse between the goddess of victory's wings. "You will curse this day!" He screamed into the air like a madman. "The day that you refused all that the Phantom asked of you!" He whipped around, his keen senses picking up something behind him. He caught the closing of the door in the gargoyle. There were footsteps in the snow. So the righteous little busybody had seen. "Cecily, what have I told you about that curiosity of yours? Curiosity did, after all, kill the cat."
