"Honestly, what did you imagine this plan of yours would bring about?" Christine asked the Phantom in frustration. "That I would leave my child, my husband, and my life for a man who manipulated me and of whom I know so very little? Keeping in mind, that our first meeting after all these years ended with you threatening to kidnap my son!"
Friday had progressed quickly, having the four shows and new song to commit to memory. After each opening number, Meg returned Gustave to Christine, and the famous singer had gradually become more and more trusting of the other performers interacting with her beloved boy. He would leave his mother's side and go along with whomever was waiting in the wings for their act to begin.
Meg had said little to Christine, although she was friendly and obliging enough; but each show had seen the talented choreographer working by herself, off to the side of the wing, silently marking through dance steps that Christine assumed were meant for their duet. Christine had watched her friend from a distance, not wishing to disturb her process, whilst keeping one eye on Gustave and wherever he wandered. A few of the movements struck a familiar chord in Christine's mind…which then made her remember the operas they had danced together.
Clever, Christine smiled to herself, but then that smile quickly faded. Poor Meg. Her mother would be broken-hearted to see her daughter, now. Dancing provocatively in a side show and under the Phantom's control...
At the end of the night, the same as the previous night, Meg offered to take Gustave to bed. Christine received unwanted roses and discarded them immediately offstage. And when Meg did not reappear for the curtain call, Christine quickly made her way back to the guest quarters to relieve the blonde ballerina for the night.
And, again, the Phantom had come to call. This time, expecting his attendance, Christine stayed in her costume, perched on the chair that faced the door. She had locked the door, as a clear message, but when she heard the doorknob first turn after Meg's departure, the sound of a key unlocking the barrier soon followed. Not much of a deterrent.
Danton, she thought as the masked man entered. What an odd pairing, for a menacing man to have such a non-threatening name.
From there, the conversation had progressed as calmly yet awkwardly as the previous night, with the Phantom's unappreciated compliments and his pleadings for Christine to remain with him. When Christine confronted him with his own plans thrown back in his face, reminding him of his threats to take her son from her, as well as her harsh words of their complicated relationship, it was all he could do to not cross the room and shake her senseless.
But he quelled his anger and allowed Christine to continue her assault upon his character.
"And, furthermore, you kidnap my closest friend, force her to live away from all of her contacts, and now you still won't let her go?"
"Miss Giry is not your concern," he snapped. "She makes her own choices, and she is free to come and go as she pleases."
"But she won't! You have utterly ruined her future prospects, with this corrupt little show of yours. Her mother, God rest her soul, would be rolling in her grave if she knew of Meg's current whereabouts. Scantily-clad in those detestable costumes-"
"Which she designed, and are no more 'scant' than what you both wore during 'Hannibal,'" he pointed out.
Christine was set aback for a moment, hearing that her friend was directly responsible for the outrageous attire.
"We were dancing in a classical opera, en pointe, for a highly-respected, reputable theater!" she bit back. "Not strutting around a small stage in front of lecherous philistines!"
The Phantom took a breath, trying, once again, to steer the conversation back to where they had started.
"As I've already said, Miss Giry is NOT your concern. She can handle herself," he sharply spoke. "And, if leaving your son is such a concern-"
"Stop right there," Christine warned. The Phantom complied, albeit reluctantly. "I am sorry for you, that you had such a poor excuse for a mother."
He was justly surprised to hear his love speak so frankly about a mother he barely remembered.
"I cannot imagine not having Gustave with me," she went on. "And, if he had been born with a similar affliction to yours, I cannot fathom sending my boy away. Not even if his entire body was horrifically malformed."
It was difficult for the Phantom to keep an unaffected look upon his face. Inside of him, he felt every organ clenching in a sickly way.
"Gustave is as much a part of me as my heart. That is being a mother," she softly stated. "Madam Giry did the same for Meg, holding out hope that her daughter was somewhere in the great wide world, alive, and waiting to be reunited with her. It was why she begged me to keep that package with me, at all times. She hoped, eventually, Meg and I would find our way back to each other."
He perked up in interest, hearing Meg's story confirmed.
"And we did, through the strangest means, but Madam Giry was proved correct, wasn't she? A mother knows. I feel that way about Gustave."
"You don't have to abandon him, Christine," he quietly interrupted. His eyes darted over to the closed door that led to the room where the boy soundly slept. He moved from where he stood and knelt in front of where Christine was seated. She jumped in surprise. "Stay here," he pleaded. "Stay with me, love me, give me the love that I have starved for all my life. You love me, at least in part. I felt it when we kissed. I let you go, but you have haunted me ever since. Please!"
He grabbed at her hands that were perched on her lap, but she pulled away as if she had been burned. He retreated, then, sitting on the sofa as close to her as he could manage. They locked eyes, with very different expressions. His held such longing, such ardent pleading. Hers were evenly beset with pity and frustration.
She finally looked away from him, towards the door where he had entered her room without permission.
"I can't be held responsible for what you felt when we kissed," she shook her head. "I was overcome by my fear. You were threatening the life of the man I loved, the man I still love, and I felt such strong emotions colliding within me. Fear, pity, compassion…desperation…hope…"
The Phantom's eyes were watering, even as his insides were burning. He knew what was coming. She didn't notice his distress.
"But not love. I never felt love. I'm sorry," her voice gradually faded to a whisper. She looked back at him, speaking those final two words with genuine apology and surprise, seeing how miserable he looked.
Christine didn't know what to do, in that moment. Do I comfort him? Do I usher him out of my room? What is the right decision? What reaction will help and what might anger him further? She looked back at the door, with a resigned indifference.
The Phantom stood, and the tears cleared from his eyes. The burning within him relit a passionate fire. He stared down at her, narrowing his eyes in anger. She did not acknowledge him in any visible way. This enraged him further.
"Six shows tomorrow, my angel," he forcefully reminded her, as he strode toward the exit. "And you have an earlier call time, to rehearse your duet with Miss Giry and meet with our seamstress for final alterations of your costume."
He glanced back at her. She sat stiffly, her eyes looking in his direction, but seemingly cutting through him…as if he wasn't there.
"This is not our final conversation, Christine," he promised harshly. "I will not give up on our love so easily."
She looked directly at him, then, narrowing her eyes.
"I will honor our less-than-honorable agreement, performing these last nine shows tomorrow and Sunday. I do this as an apology to you, for not being able to live up to your ridiculous vision of the woman you believed me to be," she countered. "Then, Raoul will return, we will leave Coney Island with Gustave, and we will NEVER see you again."
The Phantom's jaw clenched in fury, and he went to speak, but he was halted by Christine's following statement.
"And, in these next two days, I will convince Meg to leave with us, to rectify the terrible misfortunes you brought upon her."
He bared his teeth in a snarl, especially infuriated with the idea of Meg leaving Phantasma.
"Perhaps that will be the one beneficial thing to come from all of this mess," she spoke thoughtfully, apathetically. "Meg will finally be returned to her home, with these last eight years being no more than an unpleasant blemish on her past."
"You will regret this night," the Phantom darkly vowed, the words passing through his gritted teeth. Before Christine could react to the thinly-veiled threat, he darted out of the room, stalking back toward his own sleeping quarters.
Christine stared at the closed door, then rose to lock it behind him.
What else can he do? she wondered. This is not the catacombs of the opera house. He has no upper hand, here. And I'll tell Raoul everything, when he returns. She turned off the lamps in the room and then went to change for bed. She moved quietly, watching her slumbering son breathe evenly under the covers.
What can he do?
Saturday morning started earlier for Christine, Meg, the musicians, and the musical director, Mr. Bailey. Greta and an assistant were also in attendance, bringing the costumes to the performers, so that the alterations and rehearsal could utilize the same window of time before the first performance of the day.
Meg was stretching and doing little exercises, preparing to fully dance what she had choreographed. She watched Christine, who was simultaneously doing vocal exercise warmups, whilst being fitted. To Christine's dismay, the dress was a recreation of the costume that she had worn for the climactic number of "Hannibal," with rich, white fabric, a full skirt with silver starburst embroidered embellishments, and an off-shoulder, plunging neckline.
Meg looked to her own costume, much simpler in design, with a white, firm, corseted top, plain straps, and a full tulle skirt. An obvious imitation of a moment she and Christine had shared together at the Opera Populaire. Walking back across the stage, leading Christine from the small underground chapel to her lavish dressing room… Christine sang that she felt she was surrounded by her Angel of Music, even then, and Meg had felt a chill go up her spine as she, too, felt watched by an unknown presence.
Apparently, the Phantom of the Opera was, indeed, watching them from the shadows, as the two girls dressed in white confided in each other.
"Are we ready? Addie? Madam? Can we please begin?" Mr. Bailey asked, impatient to start.
"Would you like me to dance, as well?" Meg asked, more used to hearing herself referred to as Addie than by her true name.
"Not yet, no," the director shook his head. "I would like you to sing alongside the Vicomtess twice through, making sure that we are all on the same page, first."
"Please, you may call me Christine," the songstress called out, with both hands over her breast, and the costumers pinching fabric and making adjustments.
The director smiled, pleased with the noble woman giving him permission to forgo formalities.
"Very well," he said mostly to himself. He raised his baton and the pit resounded with the flowing music of the duet.
Christine and Meg sang, taking their turns, quickly finishing two successful run-throughs of their short song. While Mr. Bailey gave slight corrections in tempo and dynamics to his musicians, Meg gave Christine a brief description of where on the stage she would be moving. Christine nodded in understanding, slowly leading the two seamstresses downstage and to the right, where she could stand and not interfere with the choreography.
Greta and her assistant worked at a harried pace, trying to perfect the ornate costume, while Christine sang. Meg danced around Christine, stopping only when it was her turn to sing, reaching out for her friend during those fleeting moments. Christine suggested, as an ending, for them to hold hands, as a nod to their already joined voices. And, at the last note, both embraced in a harmonious act.
At last, Greta was satisfied with her work, and Christine was led to the dressing room to change back into her robe. The rest of the sewing would be completed before the late morning's performance. As they left the main stage, Meg called out.
"Greta? Do you need me to try on my costume, as well?"
"Nein! I know measurement, schon! Johanna put it in dress room, ja?"
Meg didn't answer, as Greta never waited for a response.
"Are we finished, Mr. Bailey? Do you need anything else?"
"No, no, I think that will work just fine, Addie, thank you." The man waved her off in dismissal, focused on placing the sheet music in the correct order for the weekend's performances.
Meg left the stage and met Christine in the ladies' dressing room. When her friend was decent, they returned to the guest room to eat their breakfast together.
"Gustave?" Christine called out.
The boy was not in the parlor, so the young mother crossed to the opened bedroom door to peer inside.
"Gustave?"
Meg waited patiently, pleased to see that a silver tray and cloche was left on the small dining table in the room.
"Gustave!"
Meg's attention snapped back to Christine, hearing the panic in her friend's voice. The brunette soon reemerged, filled with worry.
"Meg, he's not here!" A sudden awareness came over Christine, and her eyes widened in terror. "Oh no! He's taken him! Meg! He's taken Gustave!"
Meg ran over to her friend, who looked as though she was close to fainting.
"Christine, calm down, I'm sure Gustave is fine-"
"NO, Meg," Christine cried. "You don't understand, he came here, again, last night…the Phantom." Meg cringed, although it was not a surprise. "I angered him, refused him, again. He said before he left…" The mother suddenly trailed off, momentarily catatonic.
Meg shook her hard enough to break her from the trancelike state. "What, Christine? What did he say?"
Christine slowly turned her face to her old friend.
"He said, 'you'll regret this night'…"
Although she knew better than to doubt Erik's ability to follow through on his threats, Meg didn't want to alarm the worried mother further.
"Christine," she spoke soothingly, "it wasn't him. I'll bet Gustave was bored in the room, and we went to find someone to talk to. You know everyone loves him, here."
"Not everyone," the mother contradicted.
"Stay here," Meg calmed her friend, gently leading her to the sofa. Christine sat reflexively, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. "I'll go out and find your son. I am absolutely certain he is fine. I'll be back, and we'll all have breakfast together. You'll see. Stay here."
Christine nodded unenthusiastically, staring at the floor.
Meg hurried from the room, first heading to the stage. Some performers were already warming up, anxious to start the longest day of their week. Gustave was nowhere in the small theater. She went from dressing room to dressing room, sweeping the areas with a wide glance, then moving onto the next.
In the kitchen, Gangle, Fleck, and Squelch were partaking from the pantry.
"Have any of you seen Gustave?" Meg questioned breathlessly.
Fleck and Gangle exchanged a knowing look but said nothing. Squelch smiled and nodded.
"G'mornin' Miss Addie! Gustave went with Mr. Y!"
Meg paled, and Fleck and Gangle studied her response.
"The boy was here," Gangle admitted, looking rather bored by the whole ordeal. "We gave him a snack, since he was hungry."
"Then Mr. Y entered," Fleck continued. "We introduced Gustave to him. He offered to show the boy more of the backstage area, and Gustave happily went with him."
Fleck and Gangle went back to eating, ignoring Meg, while Squelch gave her another wide grin.
Meg ran back out. Where could he have taken him? There was one obvious spot, but…no…Too obvious? Meg rushed to the Phantom's chamber.
When she was outside Erik's door, she stooped to look through the keyhole.
Gustave was under the painting of his mother, staring up in awe. Erik was sitting on the piano bench next to the large instrument, his arms folded, and watching the young boy with mild amusement. Meg stood and knocked loudly, knowing that the door would be locked. It was always locked.
In seconds, Erik opened the door, not expecting to find Meg on the other side.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, not wishing to startle Gustave. "Christine is hysterical, worried that you've taken her son, which you have already threatened to do! What were you thinking?"
She went to cross the threshold, but Erik blocked her entry with his larger body.
"How dare you come to my rooms and question me!" he hissed back, drilling into her eyes with his own deathly glare.
"Let me see him!" Meg pushed against Erik. But he held his position.
"Miss Addie!" Gustave called out, behind the larger man.
Erik's eyes shot up in surprise, and he stepped away quickly to let the little boy pass. Gustave shot past his newest friend and latched onto the blonde woman's legs. Meg looked up to Erik and gave him her most disappointed look, before addressing the boy.
"Come on, Gustave," she lightly admonished him. "You've given your mother a terrible fright, running off like that." She took the boy's hand, and he gave a half-hearted pout.
"I went to find my friends," he answered softly.
Meg turned to leave, ignoring Erik and focusing on Gustave. As they made the short trek to his mother's room, Meg heard the door slam behind them.
"GUSTAVE!" Christine screamed in relief, once they had entered the guest room parlor. She fell to the ground on her knees and embraced her son.
"I met Mr. Y! He has a picture of you on his wall! It's so big!"
Christine's eyes flitted up to Meg's, who nodded stiffly in confirmation.
A loud knock rapped on the door, and the two women abruptly turned their heads toward the sound. Before either of them could issue a command, the handle turned and the Phantom entered.
"Mr. Y! You need to show my mommy your picture, too!"