Title: le Visage dans le Miroir

Author: Rancid Melody

Summary: A ballerina from Rouen joins the staff of L'Opéra Populaire to prepare to take the position of a soon-retiring Madame Giry – assuming, of course, that 'all goes well.' Is there more to this cryptic reference than the ignorant Mireille Decker realizes?

Disclaimer: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra belongs to all those people who wrote it and stuff. But I reserve the right to stalk Gerard Butler. Until he notices, and gets a restraining order. Upon which I would have to use binoculars. Or something. Um. Heh.

Warning: I have not read the book. I have a Gerard-Phantom. Deal. However, my Gerard-Phantom will not be OOC. Also, there's some French in here. It's all translated at the end, if you don't mind scrolling down to check. However, most of it is easy to figure out, and what is not is not important to the story.

Chapter Title: la Lumière Crue du Jour

Acknowledgements: First and foremost, let me thank my wonderful betas, Shirl and LostSchizophrenic. I plan to repost earlier chapters with their advised changed made posthaste. To TheSiriusSparrow and Collins, thanks for keeping up! Collins, I hope that my keeping you away from cramming for midterms didn't do any harm!

Lastly, thanks to the latest new face, coloratura! Nice hearing from you!

I owe everyone an apology for taking so long to update. I had fully intended to write while vacationing in Steamboat, Colorado (I still can't believe I actually allowed myself to be coaxed onto a snowboard!). As you must have realized, that didn't happen. So I'm writing it now, on a Friday night. It's 11:33pm Central, and I'm exhausted, but I shall not sleep until I've made some progress with this chapter.

Christine kills all of my inspiration. Ugh.

Update: It is now 10:13pm Central, and I'm hiding from my family – my evil grandmother has come over to 'enjoy' Easter with us, and my mother is having a stroke trying to keep the house spotless. I'm trying to squeeze the rest of this chapter out of my brain.

Update #2: Drat, I forgot to post this chapter this morning! Ugh... sorry. Anyway, it's 7:50pm Central, and I'm posting this. Finally!


"I'm sure you two will be dear friends," Meg said enthusiastically as she took a standing position between me, as I reclined against the bedpost, and Christine, who was looking discomfited as she stood near the door. I noticed her dark eyes flicking towards the mirror with no small amount of nausea in her expression.

"Madame la Vicomtess, are you well?" I offered my most concerned expression to the petite young woman, taking a step forward – then wincing as the most ferocious gash on my ankle rebuked the motion.

Her expression cleared, and the near mirrored my own – though, I must say, I am most certainly the better actress. "I'm quite alright, Mademoiselle Decker, but is your foot ailing you?"

Caught. "I would be fine," I let my voice slip into a somewhat conspiratorial tone, "had dear Meg not given me that lovely mechanism that has reduced my legs to mincemeat!"

Meg clapped her hands to her mouth, face flushing. "Oh, Mireille, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize you might have trouble… I was so careful when I first learned-"

"Never you mind it," I waved her apologies away amiably. "Now, Christine, tell me about your wonderful new life with this Vicomte de Chagny I've heard so much about!"

Christine was abruptly a virginal maiden, blushing and stammering prettily. I resisted a gag for propriety's sake.

"Oh, well… he's extraordinary, of course, and so very affectionate, and… er, I really do adore him – he's so sweet, and childlike, and yet so caring…"

"Yes, but is he good in bed?" Meg snickered devilishly.

Her face went a very charming shade of pink, and she suddenly developed a speech impediment. "W-well, I-I- um-"

"Oh, don't be so crude, Meg!" I reprimanded halfheartedly, particularly aware of the extra pair of ears that were party to this conversation. I quickly deflected attention from myself, by directing my eyes to Christine in order to prompt: "Well, is he?"

As Meg's giggles and Christine's horrified exclamations left them to distract each other as only the closest of friends could, I lowered my lashes to glance at the floor, then gently stomped my right heel to chide Erik's eager eyes back, before he was noticed.

"So," Meg's voice was suddenly quiet, "Tell us about your… other man."

Christine's face fell, and lost its peachy hue. "I… must we?"

The blonde ballerina pursed her lips. "Well, I think that Mireille has a right to hear the story firsthand – I'm sure I haven't told it properly!"

I fidgeted, leaning back against the bed frame, "That's really alright; she mustn't feel compelled to relive such things for my sake…" Or the sake of others

"Well, it isn't so horrible…" Christine mused morosely. "Or, it wasn't, until the end…"

I bit my tongue, leaning further against the bedpost as I dreaded whatever she could possibly say.

I certainly didn't expect what I heard.

"I… I wish that it had happened some other way. That he had met someone else, before her met me – that he could know I was not the only woman he could direct his heart to. That he… had loved somebody else – but for his own sake, rather than mine… even if I had never met Raoul, I fear I could not have loved him, truly. I… am not that passionate; am not that devoted, or that… dark. I… he was so dark, so very, very dark, that his very soul was distorted by the horror of his face. I feared him so wholly, he with that voice that drew me in like a siren's song… he had that power over me, so much that I loathed him, by the end, until I realized… that the world had set him on this path… irrevocably. And because he had chosen me to love, and I could not return those feelings, I had spurned his final chance at… sanity, even. I wish… I only wish he could have found that happiness…"

Oh, honestly. She sounded as if she was making this up as she went along! How could she wound my phantom that way?

Well. My phantom. That was new.

And not good. Not at all.

Meg finally cleared her throat, speaking gaily. "Well! That was… enlightening! Now, Christine, you must tell Mireille about the baby!"

Uh-oh.

Christine's expression slowly became more vibrant, as she pressed a hand to her stomach in the classic position of a newly expectant mother. "Oh, Raoul and I are so terribly excited! I am a bit worried, though… Philippe has gone through three wives with no heir, and Raoul speaks of the possibility that the Comte is… infertile. If so, we simply must have an heir, in order for Raoul and he to assume the title upon Philippe's demise… if this isn't a boy, I worry that Raoul will be disappointed. He would never tell me this, of course, but I can read his expressions quite easily – I love that about him…"

Dear Lord, since when had I become Christine de Chagny's second confidante?

"Anyway, I think that, if it is a boy, we will name it either Phillipe or Raoul – my husband has always been somewhat traditional, at least in the nominal venue… if it is a girl, I would like to name her Abigail, after my mother, but Raoul had suggested Wisteria, after his great aunt – current matriarch of his family. She's very unhappy about his marriage to me, you see, and he is so very eager to appease her-"

Why did she expect me to be interested in this information? Goodness, I felt as if I might pass out from sheer boredom, combined with no small amount of anxiety…

"She's not quite as frightening as I had expected, from the way she's spoken of – really, she was rather chilly when we first met, but she became much kinder after a few glasses of champagne..."

Oh...kay, I needed to get this child out of here before I became bad company. "I'm terribly sorry, my dear, but I'm afraid I needed to review my notes before I retired to my bed, and it is reaching a rather late hour..." I turned to the richly carved clock I'd been so delighted to find and commandeer from one of the currently uninhabited rooms. "Yes, it's past the ninth hour! We'll simply have to catch up later, shall we not?"

"Oh, my apologies, Mademoiselle! I had not intended to keep you away from your work!" Christine said, eyes large, "Please, do let Meg and I excuse ourselves. Shall I see you tomorrow?"

"Christine is going to sit in on the rehearsal!" Meg informed me brightly. "Won't it be nice to have another opinion on your choreography?"

Feeling a rather sharp pang of dread, I could only keep the bitterness from the words that escaped me. "Were you not a chorus member in your days here, Madame? I did not know you were a ballerina as well!"

Christine blinked. "Oh, well, I was not, but I thought I might be able to help..."

"Of course," I said tonelessly, fixing a smile across my features once more, "I shall anticipate your commentary!"

Ridiculously long farewells ensued, and then I finally closed the door behind the giggling pair, leaning my head against the door with a relieved sigh.

When I turned around, Erik was halfheartedly brushing dust from his coat, the visible side of his face twisted with remorse and ache of heart.

I sighed again, my eyes sinking closed momentarily in so to adjust my mannerisms to handling the woes offantôme d'opéra assuming he would allow me to do so.


Translations:

Le Visage dans la Miroir – The Face in the Mirror

La Lumière Crue du Jour – The Garish Light of Day

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