Author's Note: I do not own The Phantom of The Opera.
52
Kayla awoke with an unfamiliar weight surrounding her. Blinking blearily, she realized that the weight, instead of being the metaphorical feeling of anxiety that she had thought, the extra pressure was from the ballet rats snuggled at her sides, at her feet, and on the floor around her cot. "She's awake, she's awake!" Lina whispered from her position by Kayla's knee. Rubbing the back of her hand tiredly over her eyes, Kayla slowly sat up, the young dancers shifting carefully out of her way.
"Ugh… what time is it?"
"Nine 'o' clock."
"Thanks Amelia. I've got another hour… Now, who wants breakfast?"
"Can you tell us a story?"
Kayla felt her heart crack at the earnest tone. "Yes. Yes I can." Over crepes and eggs, Kayla recited Frozen, much to the little girls' delight. She had finished the story, and was in the middle of teaching them to sing "Let It Go" when Jamie stuck his head through the door. "Abbots? Are you coming to set prep?"
"Yep, just a minute."
Jamie withdrew as Kayla turned back to the girls. "Okay, from the top," she said cheerfully, keeping the quaver out of her voice. If she left them with nothing else, she wanted them to remember the song she sang and the stories she told. It was not much, but hopefully she could leave them with some happy memories before she vanished forever. "Thank you Kayla!" they chirped, gathering in clumps to hug her before scurrying off to ballet practice. They were all very excited; Kayla had made Madame Giry swear to send the ballet rats and the junior cavaliers home after this final practice, and she had dismissed the senior set crew as well. She had offered the same time off to the junior set crew, but all of the young stagehands had steadfastly refused. In an hour the cavaliers, the ballet rats, and every other individual who was not taking part in Don Juan Triumphant would be at home with their families, safe and well away from the Populaire. She was not going to have any innocent blood on her hands.
"I don't understand, why would we have to go out the stage door?"
Kayla sighed. "Because," she said with all the patience she could muster. "This is the Opera Ghost we're talking about. We know what he's capable of, and I don't want anyone to get hurt. So, if I tell you to get out, you get out, and you take everyone who's backstage with you, understood?"
"Yes, Abbots."
"Good. Spread the word, let the dancers know too. We don't want anyone to get hurt tonight. Okay, everyone, go get lunch. I'm going to see the managers." With that, the crowd dispersed.
Rapping her knuckles on the door, she waited for the door to creak open and for the familiar nose to peer through the crack. "Mademoiselle Abbots!" Andre cried, throwing open the door. "Please, please, come in."
Kayla stepped across the threshold, smiling ruefully. "Hi. How are you guys feeling about tonight?"
"We have a plan," Firmin said firmly, patting his own sleek hair reassuringly. "All the problems will be solved."
Biting her lip, Kayla stepped further into the room. "I just wanted to let you know, if something happens tonight, and I disappear, it's not your fault. Don't waste time looking for me, I'll be safe. I'm expendable."
Andre visibly recoiled. "What is the meaning of this, mademoiselle?"
"I might be taking a… break… from working for a while…"
"Is there something we have done wrong?" Firmin sounded aghast.
"No, no, no. Just… never mind. Just… don't worry about me. If anything happens."
"Mademoiselle, what could possibly happen? Our plan is fool proof!"
Kayla resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I have some suggestions. For if anything goes wrong."
"Nothing will go wrong, mademoiselle!" Andre assured, his voice overly boisterous.
"Of course it won't. But just in case, I want to make sure we can keep everyone – the audience, cast, and crew – safe. Do we have exits so people can get out if they need to?"
"Well, we have the lobby doors…"
Kayla stifled a sigh. "Never mind, I'll figure it out. I'll talk to the cops when they get here, is that okay?"
"Of course, mademoiselle, we trust you implicitly!" Firmin blustered. "But what would a woman like you have to discuss with the police?"
Turning back from where she was walking towards the door, she grinned, baring all her teeth. "If necessary? Saving all of our lives." She let the door slam shut behind her.
Kayla heard the clear voices echoing up the stairwell as she walked through the backstage. She was checking up on final props and costumes; the rest of the cast and crew were finishing their dinner, and Kayla had been too nervous to eat much. In addition to that, she had been distracted by the fact that Christine had yet to appear. Christine had spent most of the day in hiding, sometimes with Meg, but, more often than not, alone. At least Kayla had finally found her.
"Raoul, I'm frightened -
Don't make me do this...
Raoul, it scares me -
Don't put me through this
Ordeal by fire...
He'll take me, I know...
We'll be parted for ever...
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 ..."
Raoul's voice was smooth and calming, greatly contrasting with Christine's warbling half-sobs. Kayla sat on the floor next to the ached chapel doorway, listening to the song floating up the stairs.
"You said yourself
He was nothing
But a man...
Yet while he lives,
He will haunt us
Till we're dead ..."
Kayla stifled a laugh. Whispering to herself, she stared exasperatedly up at the rafters. "Raoul, if we get through this alive, we really need to talk about your bedside manner." Christine's voice grew stronger, pained and innocent.
"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 a 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 . . .?"
There was a long moment of silence, and Kayla debated heading down there and intervening. Christine needed someone else to talk to. Also, she hoped that Erik had not heard that complimentary interlude. But then Raoul sang again, softly and sweetly.
"Christine, Christine,
Don't think that I don't care -
But every hope
And every prayer
Rests on you now . . ."
Christine sobbed. Kayla jackknifed to her feet and marched down the stairs. Christine and Raoul were locked in a desperate embrace, the young soprano curled into his chest like a child. Raoul's head jerked up at the thump of Kayla's boot heels on the stone.
"Am I interrupting something?"
Raoul's eyes narrowed. "Yes, mademoiselle, unfortunately you are."
"To bad. I need to talk to Christine."
"I don't think – "
"Christine? Could we talk please? We should be getting you ready soon, anyway."
Sniffling, Christine wriggled out of Raoul's arms and stood up shakily.
"Christine…"
"It's alright, Raoul." Christine was even paler than usual, but there was a steely glint in her dark brown eyes. She smiled tentatively at Kayla before tripping lightly up the stairs.
"Mademoiselle."
"Go to the prima donna room, Christine. I'll meet you there in a minute." As the young girl scampered away, Kayla slowly spun to face Raoul. "Hi. Can I help you?"
"Mademoiselle, you have no right to address me or my fiancé in such as disrespectful manner."
Kayla cocked her head at him. "Dear lord. Do you ever think before you speak?"
Raoul laughed, managing to sound simultaneously amused and angry. "You are too familiar with your betters for your own good."
"My betters? Ha!" Kayla turned to go.
"Kayla!"
"Holy shit, what?!"
"I do not want you to be onstage tonight."
"I'm going to be in the wings, dumbass. In the balconies. As per my job description?"
"It is bad enough that I must risk Christine, I cannot risk you as well."
"Excuse me? You can't risk me? I am my own goddamn property, thanks! I'll go wherever I like!"
"I forbid you from being onstage tonight."
"Do you know what your problem is, Raoul? You're possessive. You can't stand to think that a woman has a life outside of you, and it drives you crazy. Like, are you going to let Christine sing after this is all over? Do you love her? Hell, do you trust her?"
"Of course-"
"Then why the fuck are you still after me?"
The ice in his eyes melted away. "I cannot help it, Kayla, I –"
Kayla held out a hand. "Nope. We're going to stop right there. You're engaged."
"Why are you so disgusted by my proposal?"
"Morals. Plus I have shit to do, I don't have time to listen to you try to convince me to be your side chick. On that note, bye."
Kayla bolted up the stairs before Raoul could say anything, and sprinted to the prima donna room. She had an Aminta to prepare.
Over the next couple of hours, Kayla raced between the cast dressing rooms, Carlotta's private dressing room, the prima donna room, and the costuming department, skidding across the floor like an overexcited puppy. "Kayla, Kayla, Kayla, it is fine. I can do dis," Carlotta chuckled as Kayla put the finishing touches on the diva's sultry makeup.
"Everything has to be perfect," Kayla muttered, intent on smoothing out Carlotta's eyeliner.
"Kayla, it is fine. Da chorus is ready, da dancers are ready, and I am ready. Someone else can get me into my dress. You need to go and get ready now."
"I don't have anything to get ready for…"
Carlotta glared at her. "Do you think I am stupid enough to think dat da precious phantom would let 'is precious manager onto his stage in dat?"
Kayla looked down at her dust stained pants and faded burgundy shirt. "Oh. Right. I suppose."
"Go. Get it. And den go get ready with Daäe, she needs da support."
Kayla leant down and hugged the prima donna. "Thank you so much, Carlotta."
"Why ar' you thanking me, Abbots?"
Kayla blinked back her tears. "For being a friend. We can call each other that now, yes?"
Carlotta pondered this for a moment before her crimson lip curled. "Yes, we can. I will allow it."
"I'll come see you later, okay? But stay safe tonight."
Carlotta tossed her hair, recently coloured ebony black. "Dis is da Phantom's Opera, did you think I would do anything else?"
Kayla gave her the thumbs up and shot out of the room.
As she twisted the door handle of the dormitory, she was struck with a sense of nostalgia. She had lived here for months, worked here for months, and after tonight she'd never see this place again. Fighting back tears again, she walked into the dancers' dormitory for the last time. It was desolate, Madame Giry having arranged for the possessions of all the Populaire residents to go to their relatives, out of harm's way. The room was not empty, despite this. There was a form bent over her trunk.
"Hey, Erik."
The Opera Ghost jumped a little bit. Kayla laughed. "I just scared the Phantom of the Opera. Nothing I ever do in the future will ever live up to this moment."
"How amusing, Kayla."
"What are you doing with my stuff?"
Erik looked down at the messenger bag hanging from his gloved hand as if he had forgotten it was there. "I… I just wanted to make sure you have everything. I thought I would bring it down to my house for you."
A smile blossomed across Kayla's face. "You're really sweet. I was going to do that, actually."
Erik, inexplicably, smiled back. "I thought… if this night ends how all sense tells me it will, and if I have to flee… you could come with me."
"Come with you?"
"We could leave France, travel the world. You and I, we could create the most famous operas of all time, I could write the music, you could design the sets and costumes… if Christine makes the decision I hope she will, she can sing for us."
Kayla's heart broke. "That sounds perfect, Erik. Absolutely perfect."
"But if the magic that brought you hear catches up with you and takes you home… I wanted you to have your things. Just in case."
His deep voice was so earnest that Kayla had to laugh. "Thanks, Erik. Everything's in there?"
The Opera Ghost peered into the bag. "Everything that you brought with you.. your sketchbook, your paints, your outrageous cosmetics... And your Masquerade mask. Something to remember this world by."
"I don't think this world is going to be something that I forget." Kayla held out her arms. "May I?"
Erik set the bag down and practically rushed at her, hugging her tightly as he lifted her slightly and spun her around. Kayla wrapped her arms around his neck, grinning like a madman. "My little magician… thank you."
Kayla pulled back and looked at him sternly, dark blue meeting dark green. "Nuh uh. This isn't goodbye. Not yet, you hear me? If anything happens tonight, I am going to stick with you and back you up, you got that? Don't you dare say goodbye."
Erik chuckled darkly. "Very well, Kayla. Until tonight."
Picking up her bag and slinging it over his broad shoulder, the Phantom of the Opera disappeared into the dark. Kayla fanned her face, letting a few tears slip down her cheeks. "My goodness. Remember when I used to make fun of Samantha for being so desperately in love with the Opera Ghost. Damn if I regret that now."
Knocking on the door, Kayla waited patiently for Christine to unlock it and pull it open nervously. The young soprano had a dressing gown wrapped around her. "These costumes are rather scandalous, aren't they?" she whispered, opening the door just wide enough for Kayla to slip through. "But quite beautiful."
Kayla set the bundle of clothes on the settee as Christine sank back into the chair in front of the dressing table. The brunette examined her face in the mirror. "I barely recognize myself."
"What's there not to recognize? You're Christine Daäe, the miraculous up and coming diva, daughter of Gustave Daäe, and one of the most talented and kindest people I have ever had the fortune to meet." Kayla gave one last check over Christine's makeup, and then checked her hair. Everything was perfect.
"I don't feel like myself."
Kayla sighed. "Do you want my honest advice, baby? You need to step up your confidence game. There is a really brave girl in there, and you can't hide behind Raoul, even if he thinks that's your place."
Christine whipped around, her face outraged. "He thinks that's my place?!"
"That's my assumption."
Huffing, Christine sank deeper into her chair. "I'm not a child. I can stand up for myself."
"Yes, you are a child. But I am also a child. Hate to break it to you, but I don't think there's ever really a point when you feel like you're not a little kid."
"But I don't need Raoul to protect me."
"No. No you don't. If you want that relationship to last, you're going to have to communicate and you're going to have to be on equal terms."
Christine nodded. Kayla noticed again the steely glint in her doe eyes. The child that had come with Madame Giry to the opera house all those years ago was slowly disappearing. "How come you are so smart, Kayla?"
Kayla let out a peal of laughter. "I'm not smart, just experienced." She picked up the bundle on the settee and unfolded it, staring at the threads of crimson swirling across the black vest, running the silky fabric of the dress shirt through her hands. Tearing open the buttons of her work shirt, she let it drop to the floor, pulling on the new one and quickly fastening the shiny ebony buttons. Pulling her arms through the vest, she stared at herself in the golden mirror, yanking the hems of the vest into place.
Christine bounced in her seat. "Come here, I want to do your hair!"
It was too adorable a request to refuse, so Kayla sat patiently as Christine expertly braided. "Look," she said, pointing at the stage manager's reflection. Kayla tilted her head to the side, marveling at the shine of the scarlet ribbon Christine had woven through the blonde braid. "Now we match," Christine smiled, leaning her head against Kayla's. Kayla looped her arm around Christine's waist, hugging the younger girl tightly. She was going to miss her surrogate sister.
Later, after a discussion with the police about getting the audience out of the Populaire at the first sign of danger, Kayla joined the set crew in the wings. "Okay. A few final reminders: if it looks like anything is about to go wrong, get out. Gather everyone you can and get out of the Populaire, understood? I don't want anyone to get hurt."
"What about you?"
"If I tell you to get out, you get out. Don't waste time worrying about me, worry about everyone who's backstage. Is that understood?"
Everyone nodded, looking at each other nervously. Kayla took a deep breath. "Okay, guys. This is it. We've done all we can, and it's out of our hands now. Let's get this done."
The set crew swarmed around her, clinging to each other and to her, hanging on for dear life. "Alright, gents," Jamie announced, his voice muffled. "Let's do this. For Abbots!"
"For Abbots!"
Each of the crew members came up to give her hugs of their own before disappearing into the backstage on their way to their positions. Jamie was last. "You stay safe. You hear me? Write if you can. And I expect you to visit."
Kayla choked back a sob. "I'll try, Jamie."
He squeezed her tightly, patting her shoulder comfortingly. "Okay. Now let's go make this an opera to remember." The murmurs of the audience silenced abruptly, and the violins began to sing.
The Phantom's Opera had begun.
Author's Note: Next chapter - Don Juan Triumphant. Almost there.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favourited, followed, etc, and to Guest, Liandra2428, and guest for their reviews.
I appreciate the support from all of you guys. And if you want to experience this story all over again, I have also posted it on Inkitt, along with one of my original short stories. So if you want to support me on another forum, please do. (And next time there's another fanfiction contest, I'm totally entering this. You guys have boosted my confidence so much.) Hugs and virtual cookies for you all!
Love, Tierney
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