A/N: I realize now I never liked E/C because part of the glory of Erik in my mind is his aloneness; without the dark and tortured existence, he loses half of himself. I always hated… well, too strong a word: disliked Erik's unmasking scenes here at ffn because no one was ever terrorized by his face. I know I would be…
XI: WHO IS THIS MAN
"Genius not only hears more sounds in the rushing tumult of life, but selects more harmonious strains from the din." –Radoslav Tsanoff
"It was a vision of something so clear, so true, it could only be a madness." –Amor Trask (Gemmel)
"A brilliant night indeed," said brightly, leaning to peer down at the sea of people below, speaking over the quiet sussurando—the murmur of hundreds of expectant voices. And indeed it was. The Opera Populaire was re-opening with the production of Il Muto with Jaqueline playing the part of the Countess. Rumors of her voice had been flying about Paris. Some said she was reputedly even greater than the legendary Christine. It was all rumor, of course. None outside the opera house had actually heard her sing.
Gerard cocked his fist and leaned his chin against it in thought. One day jaqueline was vehemently refusing to sing. The next one she resignedly acquiesced. The change was unsettling. She was notoriously stubborn, and had offered no reason for the sudden change. It bore thinking on, he mused as the murmurs ceased and the opera began.
At the final curtain call he was on his feet with everyone else, applauding in amazement. He had known Jaqueline was good, but still… the theater filled with roars of acclaim, and he saw her smile demurely with barely hidden happiness. Unconsciously the rhythm of his clapping slowed, and he leaned forward, putting his weight on the rail. Was it just his imagination, or did she furtively glance up at the shadowed recess of Box 5…?
His hands stopped and reached down to grip the rail. He could have sworn he saw motion. After a moment he narrowed his eyes, absolutely certain he saw the dark outline of a man in the "unoccupied" Box. His demanding gray gaze swept down to where Jaqueline curtsied with a wide smile, accepting the adoration of the audience.
Abruptly, it all clicked. Only two things could induce Jaqueline to sing. Father was clearly and absolutely dead. He had assumed Raian was as well, but obviously that bore further investigation. None of the eight men he had sent had ever reported success back to him. In fact he had head of nothing from them all. There had been no news of the discovery of the body which was how Gerard had wanted it, and yet…
Now the pieces of the puzzle fit neatly into place. Raian had escaped to the dark confines of the Opera Populaire. There was no Opera Ghost. His clever younger brother had merely taken up the fable for his own use. Raian was very much alive… no doubt laughing to himself as he outwitted his elder brother, managing even to secure a salary from him…
Raian was not laughing. Nevertheless he smiled, swallowing past tears that threatened to well up. His little sister, who used to lean against him as he played the piano, lifting her sweet voice in childish song. Now she stood with a beatific smile, gracefully accepting praise, a true primma donna. His little Jaq!
As the applause finally faded he pushed open the door from Box 5 that led directly to the Phantom's labyrinth. He could hardly contain his grin as he quickly walked the paths towards Jaqeuline's dressing room—a room that had once belonged to Christine.
"Raian!" she exclaimed when he was there waiting for her when she entered. He rose with a smile, holding her tight in a brotherly embrace. She leaned against him contentedly for a moment.
"You were wonderful tonight," he said, stepping back with his hands on her shoulders. She broke into a smile, and he grinned down on her. "So beautiful. Father would have been proud."
She nodded sadly, moving away, toying with her hair in the mirror. "You'd better go, before he comes in," she said brokenly, and Raian could only nod after a moment.
"I'll be back tomorrow," he promised as he paused by the door, then slipped across the hallway to the secondary entrance to the Phantom's dark haunts. He walked quickly, wanting to put a lot of distance between him and Jaq before Gerard arrived. Soon all sounds of celebration faded away as he progressed deeper into the cellars. Over the past weeks of rehearsal he had slowly become more an more accustomed to finding his way in the hidden maze—at least, to those few that he frequented. He paused at the edge of the lake to untie the infamous boat and pole it across the lake. Haunting music drifted over to him, echoing eerily.
He was halfway across the dark glassy surface when he realized there was only one source for that music. Of course, the Phantom was infamous for his voice, and yet Raian had yet to hear him sing, or do more than touch the keys of the grand piano in passing. Christine anted him too closely, or at least Raian suspected it was so. He valued his life too much to ask.
Yet now, as he swung around the final bend to the 'bay' that brought the lair into sight, the organ music assailed him full-force. Then for the first time he heard the Phantom sing. Immediately he understood Christine's title "Angel of Music". It was hauntingly sweet, almost sensuous, but full of its own dark madness—an undertow raging violently just beneath the calm and placid surface. It was a sweet melody indeed, yearning and passionate, ruled by the raging anger beneath. Raian stared at the dark figure leaning forward, fingers dancing over the keys with delicate precision that swept his soul into a strange new world…
It was only as the boat nudged the shoreline and the Phantom's haunting music ceased in a single triumphant chord that Raian remembered some of the words… "you alone can make my song take flight…" Inexplicable uneasiness stirred in him as he chained the boat to the ring on the wall and leaned the pole in its resting place. It felt peculiarly silent after the beautiful storm of the music.
"Raian." The young man looked up at his name. "I would meet our sister." He froze as the Phantom turned to him, lancing with his fierce green eyes. "Tomorrow."
Raian said nothing. The Phantom turned back to the piano, taking silence for acquiescence. Isn't it? Tomorrow.
