Okay just so you all know... I LOVE PHANTOM!!! tee hee **gives a crazed look and then runs off laughing insanely** She's singing to bring down the chandeleir! I finished the book! Susan Kay you're next!
Disclaimer: No they don't belong to me… **runs off crying**
Chapter Three: Somewhere inside… hiding…
Excerpt from a letter to Christine written by Meg Giry-
Oh, Christine- you would be proud to see your daughter. It seems that the Angel of Music has found her as well. Christine, though her career seems to be blossoming I suspect all is not well with young Maggie. Sometimes, I see her and she is fine. Where as other times, she looks so ill. I believe that she is ill, Christine- and that she has been trying to hide it. I know that she has only been here for six months and only has been away from you two for a year but, Christine, I fear for the young one. Perhaps, even for a day you must come to us. She doesn't look well Cherie, I wouldn't ask you to risk such if it wasn't.
***
A cough echoed out before Adrienne started to sing again, sharing her confused thoughts through song.
"How come love is so strange,
not simple.
Why can't life just be easy?
How can it be,
That love, does fail me.
I feel so small
And cri"
"NO NO NO!" A shout cuts through the scene as Monsieur Reyer comes on stage. He looks at Marguerite and scolds her:
"Child we are here to act, not stare into space…" he kept talking.
Meg could sense something was wrong today- just by looking at the glassy shine on her eyes- she knew- she knew…
Marguerite felt dizzy and quite ill, worse than usual. She felt on fire but a chill kept biting at her spine, sending fingers of nausea to her stomach. It was getting harder and harder for her to breathe.
"Marguerite! Wake up, girl!" she couldn't make out anything he was saying past that point.
He pulled her to her feet and started to drag her to a different position. But what Reyer didn't realize was that he was making her world spin faster.
"What…?" She murmured, dazed.
Everything blurred and dimmed, spots appearing on what was left of her vision. The world lurched and she had the distinct urge to hold onto the ground…
**Oh, mama. I wish you were here.**
…and her knees gave out beneath her and…
Erik was confused. His young pupil, whom he had visited several times from behind the mirror, wasn't showing any of her usual glamour today. He couldn't see much from his position but he could tell something was wrong. His determined young student was so- distant.
He decided the only way he was going to see anything was to get a closer look. He stood in the shadows, in one of the various exits to the auditorium. That's when he noticed. Her eyes were glazed over; her skin was glistening from fever, not from the extremely hot lights that were, no doubt, not making it any better. He had the distinct urge to scream out "Fools, she is ill!". Her steps were wavering as the rude director tore her from her spot to center stage spewing directions. He forced himself to cling to the shadows as he watched Marguerite collapse- almost landing on her face, but that idiotic director finally did something right and caught her.
A loud chorus of mixed reactions came from the cast. Erik was concerned for Marguerite, and was angered that he couldn't go see what was wrong. He simply watched as Reyer shooed away the various gawking ballet rats as he called over a guard. After ten minutes, Marguerite was at her destination of her room while shouts of "call the doctor" still echoed throughout the halls. Meg had followed the guard out of the room but Reyer had stayed behind.
"What are you all staring at? Scene three, Maestro- the ballet- now!"
Erik would have laughed at the irony of the words, reflecting back to a time far too long ago when Carlotta was croaking. He shook his head as a dismissive gesture and followed suite to Marguerite's room.
*
Erik was pacing. He had gone to her room to discover they had started to undress her. He had then come down to his lair wait; it had been an hour now, long enough for him. He went up to his position behind the mirror to watch and listen to the current events. He saw the doctor inject something into the dreaming Marguerite and step back. He walked over to his bag, a silence forming that just screamed 'something is wrong'.
"Well?" said Meg anxiously.
" I'm afraid that Mademoiselle Daae is seriously ill."
**I could have told you that** Erik thought.
"Will she be all right? I mean, if we get her some medicine and-" Meg said frantically.
He just shook his head sympathetically, "No, I'm afraid not. Marguerite has gotten consumption. From the looks of it, she has had it for quite some time now. She doesn't have much longer, two weeks. A month at most. I'm sorry, it's horrible to see one so young die."
"But what about medications?" Meg asked.
"It would only prolong it a week or so, not cure it."
"I understand," Meg sobbed. "Good day, sir."
He opened the door, "My condolences." And left.
Suddenly, Marguerite who had only been shifting uncomfortably in her sleep was now tossing and turning violently. She was crying out, "Mama! Mama! I need you Mama!"
Meg, who was scared, tried to calm her down by stroking her hair. "Sh, sweetie, it's okay. Sh, now don't cry."
Her eyes opened slightly, "Mama?"
"No, sweetie. I'm afraid she's not here."
"Meg?" she asked, realizing.
"Yes, it is I."
"Oh Meg, you must write Mama a letter, she needs to know of my condition. That I - I mean- I think that I am dying, from consumption." She lifted her hand when Meg attempted to speak. "No, you have to tell her. And tell her that the Angel of Music will keep me company until she comes. Tell her, Meg. Promise me that you'll tell her. Promise!" She grabbed Meg's arm, a threatening gaze burning in her eyes.
Meg had never seen Marguerite so angry or aggressive, it frightened her. "I promise, little one. I promise."
Marguerite's gaze and grip immediately softened and she smiled but a cough took her by surprise, wheezing where she should be breathing. Meg handed her a handkerchief and rubbed her back until the violent coughing slowed to a stand still. Marguerite pulled away from the handkerchief, wincing at the bloodstains that polluted the once white cloth.
"Sorry," she said drowsily, already snuggling back into the covers.
"Maggie?" Meg said, worried.
Marguerite smiled softly. "Don't worry, I'm not giving in yet, I'm just a little tired. With some rest, I'll be right as rain in the morning. Just write that letter and send it as soon as possible." Her eyes shut and she was asleep within minutes.
Meg smiled at the sleeping child that was automatically pulled into a frown, "Poor child." She left then to write a certain letter to a special someone.
*
She's dying? He's going to loose another Daae? No, he had some healing books from his Persian friend; maybe there was something in there. And they are just leaving her there, all alone, tossing and turning under five blankets.
**That wont do… well Erik, at least this time you tried to avoid taking them down below.**
He pushed the button and the mirror swung open, permitting him access to the occupied room. The violent tossing had started along with the whimpering. And as if by impulse, he reached out and touched her arm. He hadn't even realized he did it until she slowed her movements. She hadn't flinched from his cold touch, it actually calmed her. The whimpering was still evident though and he took the young girl into a fatherly embrace.
"Sh…" he started to hum a wordless lullaby.
The whimpering stopped and she relaxed completely, going into a dead slumber. He loved this girl he knew, he was doomed to love the Daae's. But it wasn't like the way he loved Christine, it was more like he loved her as a father would a daughter. She had crept under his skin without him noticing and settled into his heart as if she always belonged there.
**I'm getting soft.**
He smiled at that thought, lifting the light youth from her bed still wrapped in the blanket. He carried her oh-so-carefully past the mirror which closed gently behind them.
~*~
Disclaimer: No they don't belong to me… **runs off crying**
Chapter Three: Somewhere inside… hiding…
Excerpt from a letter to Christine written by Meg Giry-
Oh, Christine- you would be proud to see your daughter. It seems that the Angel of Music has found her as well. Christine, though her career seems to be blossoming I suspect all is not well with young Maggie. Sometimes, I see her and she is fine. Where as other times, she looks so ill. I believe that she is ill, Christine- and that she has been trying to hide it. I know that she has only been here for six months and only has been away from you two for a year but, Christine, I fear for the young one. Perhaps, even for a day you must come to us. She doesn't look well Cherie, I wouldn't ask you to risk such if it wasn't.
***
A cough echoed out before Adrienne started to sing again, sharing her confused thoughts through song.
"How come love is so strange,
not simple.
Why can't life just be easy?
How can it be,
That love, does fail me.
I feel so small
And cri"
"NO NO NO!" A shout cuts through the scene as Monsieur Reyer comes on stage. He looks at Marguerite and scolds her:
"Child we are here to act, not stare into space…" he kept talking.
Meg could sense something was wrong today- just by looking at the glassy shine on her eyes- she knew- she knew…
Marguerite felt dizzy and quite ill, worse than usual. She felt on fire but a chill kept biting at her spine, sending fingers of nausea to her stomach. It was getting harder and harder for her to breathe.
"Marguerite! Wake up, girl!" she couldn't make out anything he was saying past that point.
He pulled her to her feet and started to drag her to a different position. But what Reyer didn't realize was that he was making her world spin faster.
"What…?" She murmured, dazed.
Everything blurred and dimmed, spots appearing on what was left of her vision. The world lurched and she had the distinct urge to hold onto the ground…
**Oh, mama. I wish you were here.**
…and her knees gave out beneath her and…
Erik was confused. His young pupil, whom he had visited several times from behind the mirror, wasn't showing any of her usual glamour today. He couldn't see much from his position but he could tell something was wrong. His determined young student was so- distant.
He decided the only way he was going to see anything was to get a closer look. He stood in the shadows, in one of the various exits to the auditorium. That's when he noticed. Her eyes were glazed over; her skin was glistening from fever, not from the extremely hot lights that were, no doubt, not making it any better. He had the distinct urge to scream out "Fools, she is ill!". Her steps were wavering as the rude director tore her from her spot to center stage spewing directions. He forced himself to cling to the shadows as he watched Marguerite collapse- almost landing on her face, but that idiotic director finally did something right and caught her.
A loud chorus of mixed reactions came from the cast. Erik was concerned for Marguerite, and was angered that he couldn't go see what was wrong. He simply watched as Reyer shooed away the various gawking ballet rats as he called over a guard. After ten minutes, Marguerite was at her destination of her room while shouts of "call the doctor" still echoed throughout the halls. Meg had followed the guard out of the room but Reyer had stayed behind.
"What are you all staring at? Scene three, Maestro- the ballet- now!"
Erik would have laughed at the irony of the words, reflecting back to a time far too long ago when Carlotta was croaking. He shook his head as a dismissive gesture and followed suite to Marguerite's room.
*
Erik was pacing. He had gone to her room to discover they had started to undress her. He had then come down to his lair wait; it had been an hour now, long enough for him. He went up to his position behind the mirror to watch and listen to the current events. He saw the doctor inject something into the dreaming Marguerite and step back. He walked over to his bag, a silence forming that just screamed 'something is wrong'.
"Well?" said Meg anxiously.
" I'm afraid that Mademoiselle Daae is seriously ill."
**I could have told you that** Erik thought.
"Will she be all right? I mean, if we get her some medicine and-" Meg said frantically.
He just shook his head sympathetically, "No, I'm afraid not. Marguerite has gotten consumption. From the looks of it, she has had it for quite some time now. She doesn't have much longer, two weeks. A month at most. I'm sorry, it's horrible to see one so young die."
"But what about medications?" Meg asked.
"It would only prolong it a week or so, not cure it."
"I understand," Meg sobbed. "Good day, sir."
He opened the door, "My condolences." And left.
Suddenly, Marguerite who had only been shifting uncomfortably in her sleep was now tossing and turning violently. She was crying out, "Mama! Mama! I need you Mama!"
Meg, who was scared, tried to calm her down by stroking her hair. "Sh, sweetie, it's okay. Sh, now don't cry."
Her eyes opened slightly, "Mama?"
"No, sweetie. I'm afraid she's not here."
"Meg?" she asked, realizing.
"Yes, it is I."
"Oh Meg, you must write Mama a letter, she needs to know of my condition. That I - I mean- I think that I am dying, from consumption." She lifted her hand when Meg attempted to speak. "No, you have to tell her. And tell her that the Angel of Music will keep me company until she comes. Tell her, Meg. Promise me that you'll tell her. Promise!" She grabbed Meg's arm, a threatening gaze burning in her eyes.
Meg had never seen Marguerite so angry or aggressive, it frightened her. "I promise, little one. I promise."
Marguerite's gaze and grip immediately softened and she smiled but a cough took her by surprise, wheezing where she should be breathing. Meg handed her a handkerchief and rubbed her back until the violent coughing slowed to a stand still. Marguerite pulled away from the handkerchief, wincing at the bloodstains that polluted the once white cloth.
"Sorry," she said drowsily, already snuggling back into the covers.
"Maggie?" Meg said, worried.
Marguerite smiled softly. "Don't worry, I'm not giving in yet, I'm just a little tired. With some rest, I'll be right as rain in the morning. Just write that letter and send it as soon as possible." Her eyes shut and she was asleep within minutes.
Meg smiled at the sleeping child that was automatically pulled into a frown, "Poor child." She left then to write a certain letter to a special someone.
*
She's dying? He's going to loose another Daae? No, he had some healing books from his Persian friend; maybe there was something in there. And they are just leaving her there, all alone, tossing and turning under five blankets.
**That wont do… well Erik, at least this time you tried to avoid taking them down below.**
He pushed the button and the mirror swung open, permitting him access to the occupied room. The violent tossing had started along with the whimpering. And as if by impulse, he reached out and touched her arm. He hadn't even realized he did it until she slowed her movements. She hadn't flinched from his cold touch, it actually calmed her. The whimpering was still evident though and he took the young girl into a fatherly embrace.
"Sh…" he started to hum a wordless lullaby.
The whimpering stopped and she relaxed completely, going into a dead slumber. He loved this girl he knew, he was doomed to love the Daae's. But it wasn't like the way he loved Christine, it was more like he loved her as a father would a daughter. She had crept under his skin without him noticing and settled into his heart as if she always belonged there.
**I'm getting soft.**
He smiled at that thought, lifting the light youth from her bed still wrapped in the blanket. He carried her oh-so-carefully past the mirror which closed gently behind them.
~*~