What Doesn't Kill You…
MissCyraf
49
"Angel…"
The three of us left the wings, muttering between us.
"Right. Kathryn, Gwen and I will distract Firmin and Andre, you grab the keys. Firmin, left pocket. Ready?" I nodded feebly, glancing around the room nervously. Nathaniel took my arm, squeezing it briefly.
"Gwen, stop looking so suspicious. Be calm." I forced a wide smile to break across my face, beaming at everyone. We approached the managers, who were in a deep conversation with none other than Raoul and Christine. Well, at least Raoul. Christine fidgeted, her eyes darting around the stage hall rapidly. She must be looking for Erik. Bitch, stay away from him, or so help me, I'll wring your scrawny neck…The vehemence in the thought surprised me, I had never been possessive or particularly aggressive about anything before. But staring at Christine, I couldn't get past the feelings. We reached them, Raoul smiled when he saw me, bowing, and reaching for my hand. With one arm still tucked into Nathaniel's, I glanced over at Kathryn, who bent behind them soundlessly, as if cleaning and not affiliated with the rest of us. They took no notice of her, Firmin and Andre greeting Nathaniel and myself. It suddenly dawned on me why. Kathryn was dressed like she always was, low class, while Nathaniel was swathed in his costume, and I was wearing my green gown. We look like high class, or at least important, people. Raoul introduced us to the managers, who already knew Nathaniel. They continued their conversation, our presence not bothering them enough to change the topic.
"Everything is in order? The police are in position?" Raoul was demanding of the managers.
"Yes, Monsiuer Vicomte. Inspector Fauvre assured us that he had everything under control. He will have the demon caught and hanged before the night ends." Christine's eyes widened, fearfully glancing back and forth between them.
"Is he not to have a trial?" Raoul laughed brightly at that, patting his wife's hand.
"My sweet, dear Christine. No, only men have trials. The Phantom is nothing short of a monster, and we can be sure of his guilt. Do not worry, he will frighten you no longer." Watching the whole display, I turned furious, hating eyes on Raoul, who was still trying to comfort his wife. Christine looked miserable, and eyeing her, I began to doubt it was because she was afraid of the Phantom. She looks more afraid…for him. The thought came unbidden, I wanted to believe that she was a mean-spirited, cruel, selfish bitch, who didn't care at all about the man who had only helped her for her entire life. But her expression…Andre broke me out of my thoughts, abruptly changing the subject.
"Madame Shepherd, I must confess, you look very familiar to me." Andre commented, brushing his lips against the back of my hand.
"Yes, Monsieur, we have indeed met before. At the gala." Andre brightened at that, going off on the glory that was the gala. I restrained myself from rolling my eyes, his mindless chatter irritating. Kathryn, who had been kneeling out of sight, suddenly reappeared, standing and sauntering away. Nathaniel and I locked eyes, he nodded imperceptibly, and we excused ourselves.
Nathaniel gripped at my arm, catching my attention as I shook with rage over Raoul's, to me, betrayal. We reached the wings again before he spoke.
"This is happening, they are going to catch the Phantom tonight?" I had almost forgotten he was there, and glancing up at him, I nodded.
"They're going to try. But they won't succeed if I can help it." Kathryn swung around a curtain, clutching the key in white knuckles.
"Why." She demanded, hands on her hips, not giving me access to the key until I answered her questions. I could feel her anger, her hurt, in that simple word, and feeling horrible, I tried to answer.
"So I can get home, I told you." She shook her head viciously.
"No, why are ya 'elping the Phantom?! If 'e really does exist, he's a menace to us all! He's the enemy, Gwen, 'e's a monster!" It was my turn to shake my head, stepping forward to grasp her shoulders, to force her to look me in the eye.
"No. No, he isn't! He's changed, and he's good, and he's caring, and he wouldn't hurt anyone! And as soon as I'm gone…he's going to leave the Opera Populaire. For good."
"How can I believe you! Ya've lied t' me all this time! All this time, Gwen! How—how could ya do tha' t' me?" Experiencing a growing wave of shame, I hunched over, drooping.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Kat, both of you. I—I didn't think you would believe me, that you would think I was crazy and never talk to me again." I mumbled, despairing.
"Well, yer right abou' the crazy, anyway…" My eyes lifted back to hers, she was smiling, weakly. "I jus' don't see how ya go' t' know 'im, Gwen. The Phantom of the Opera!" I smiled back at her, she had gotten over being angry, and now was mildly impressed.
"He saved my life, Kathryn. From Fauvre. More than once. And I just…got to know him. That's why I trust him." She stared at me levelly, but then her eyes abruptly widened.
"Tha' man—the man you were talking about! Before!" She gasped, I gave her a slow nod, a little embarrassed. She now knew all of my secrets, even that I was in love with him. Nathaniel missed it all, coming back into the conversation from glancing around.
"What?" We ignored him. Kathryn smiled, new understanding shining in her eyes. I stepped back, opening my hand for the key. She pressed it into my palm, closing my fist around it, still clutching my hand. Her eyes became worried, and she glanced over at Nathaniel, who spoke.
"What comes next?" I crossed my arms over my chest, considering. Then, meeting his eyes, I began to fill them in to the rest of the plan.
"We're meeting Fauvre under the stage, and the trade will happen during the intermission. I'll go through the mirror, and Erik will escape. That's it. Now, I have to go."
"We will come with you," Nathaniel started, Kathryn nodding vigorously.
"No! No, you can't. If Fauvre knows that you were helping us, you'll go to jail for the rest of your lives. You can't come." Kathryn looked rebellious for a minute, and then conceded.
"Fine. But if ya need us, we will be righ' 'ere." I realized then that I was saying goodbye to them, and swung an arm around both of them, pulling them into another hug in the crooks of my elbows.
"Thank you both so much, I know I wouldn't have survived this if it weren't for you," I muttered at them. Kathryn had started to cry, and as I pulled back, she wasn't ready to let go. The audience had begun to roar, soon the show would begin, and I had to get ready. Nathaniel gently unwrapped her from me, I gave him a flash of a smile out of thanks.
"Good luck, Gwenny." She mumbled, turning to cry on Nathaniel instead of me. I whispered my goodbye, and then left to go look for Erik. The goodbyes had been extremely painful, and it was difficult to refocus on the task at hand. I ducked out of the stage hall in search of Erik. After a good half hour though, I still couldn't find him, he wasn't in any of the normal places. Deep down, I knew he wouldn't be, I was just hoping to have a little more time with him before I left.
I was afraid, a familiar fear that had dominated much of my recent life at home. Erik, though, countered that fear. Not because he himself was reassuring, most of the time he wasn't and hadn't been, but because I had to stand up for myself in front of him, I had grown to believe more in myself. I'd had to, and now every time he was around, I was reminded of that strong person. I needed that reminder now, as well as his support and comfort. He could be in his lair, preparing to leave the Opera Populaire for good…I returned to back stage of the theater, my thoughts still churning on Erik. Where will he go? He's so talented, he could get any job, really, but his face…The mask would always give him away, prevent him from living with people. And even if somehow others could get past it, he never could. Seating myself in a far corner, I felt entirely disheartened. I had a life to return to, but Erik didn't, and most likely never would. Erik…
More thunderous applause broke into my thoughts, I quickly realized that Act One had ended. Intermission. Oh God. Adrenaline began to pump through my system, heart racing, palms sweating. Relax Gwen, relax! You can do this! You have to! I stood, wiping my sweaty hands on my dress. As the actors quit the stage, flowing around me into the wings, I silently said goodbye to the Opera Populaire. Then, head held high and key in hand, I strode to the center of the stage, unlocked the trapdoor that lead to underneath the stage, and dropped inside.
o o o o o
Christine felt faint. Her husband and the managers were going to hang her Angel! I must warn him, I must stop this! She still feared him, but over the past months she had felt a growing longing to hear his voice again, to once again be urged to sing for him. She had realized that she still felt a sort of loyalty to the man, whether Angel or Phantom, that had tutored her for so long, he had become too important to her throughout her life for her to just forget him.
Now, as they spoke of killing the very man to whom she had recently felt so loyal, she began to panic. Her life was with Raoul now, she knew it, but if she could somehow just reach him, just warn him…Maybe he will take me back. Become my loving angel once more. He has to, I am his everything!. It was a fleeting hope, a ridiculous one, she knew, but couldn't help it. Then that awful redheaded woman had shown up again with one of the actors, smiling, but her eyes had given away much deceit. When Raoul had said the Phantom was to be caught and hanged, the woman's eyes had become alarmingly cruel, filled with intense hate, reminding her distinctly of the very same look her Angel had given the young lord in the past. Something is happening. She knows something! This woman has been in the Opera Populaire, the night of the disaster. And she is well acquainted with the actors…Could she—could that harlot be the woman my Angel is sacrificing himself for? Impossible, how could he? This woman is trash, filth! Just see the hate in her eyes, the lies behind them, she must be trying to harm him! I must warn him! The woman and the actor had shortly left, excusing themselves. Christine's eyes remained on the redhead, delicate anger and distrust overwhelming her senses.
"Raoul, darling, I believe I saw Meg over there. May I speak with her before the show?" She asked innocently, widening her eyes at him. He softened immediately, smiling at her and running his fingers lightly through her curls.
"Of course, dearest. Just stay in sight, no wandering off now," She had nodded in agreement, having no intention of actually keeping the promise. Heading towards the stage, and slipping behind the curtain, she made her way through the back room to the doors that lead to the halls. Holding her beautiful gown aloft, she began to run towards the dormitories. Arriving at her destination, she knelt before a pair of white, carved, double doors, listening to see if anyone was still inside. Determining that the current lead soprano was out, she let herself in. Though it had been mere months since she had been in her old dressing room, it had felt more like years, the room had changed completely in her absence. The one thing remaining, though, was a large golden gilt mirror that hung on the wall, and as she approached it, her fingers found the latch that opened it to the passages beyond. Please be there, Angel. And please forgive me, I have grown so much since we last parted…The mirror sliding open before her, she stepped into the passage she had gone down before, hand in hand with her Angel of Music.
