1Disclaimer: I still don't own this. Just making sure you know that. Okay, go ahead, thanks!
Chapter 4
Enemies Meet
Meanwhile, Raoul sat in his box, never once suspecting that he was being observed by a dark specter across from him, which he was totally unaware of to begin with. Erik had mastered the art of invisibility. Raoul sat back in his seat, after leaning forward so far as to drive any doubt of his "love" for Christine from any spectator's thoughts. He drummed his fingers on his leg for a moment to keep himself occupied; hearing Christine sing every single night had gotten old. Not that she wasn't talented, but her rather high-pitched voice reverberating throughout the opera house had gotten to be a bit painful at times. He never allowed his face to betray his thoughts, however, and he endured the rest of the opera with a look of rapture and love on his face, and stood immediately to his feet, clapping enthusiastically, "bravo"-ing, and "encore"-ing with the rest of the crowd when it at last ended. He quickly made his way backstage unhindered–his relationship with Christine had gained him access to the backstage area at all times–and looked for the rising star of the Opera Populaire.
"Raoul!" A small, gloved hand waved at him above the heads of chorus men and women in their frills and feathers swarming around him.
He'd been spotted...
"Christine!" Raoul waved a feather out of his face and pushed through the crowd towards her.
The chorus girl fell into his arms as she reached him, breathless and radiant, "Did you hear the applause tonight, Raoul?"
"Of course I did, darling, they drowned out even the sound of my cheers. I haven't heard what they're saying in the lobby yet, but I'm sure it's wonderful."
"Oh, Raoul, would you go and see while I change?"
Thank you!!
"If you insist, my dear. I shall return as soon as possible."
"Thank you." She kissed him, then turned and made towards her dressing room.
Raoul pushed his way through the crowd once more and made his way out of the backstage area to the lobby, which was crowded, but considerably less cramped than backstage. He breathed deeply, grateful for the cool air wafting in from the open doors and the lack of a certain chorus girl's presence. In his relief, he nearly forgot his mission until a nearby cluster of people reminded him.
"Who is this Christine Daae? She was sensational!"
Oh she causes a sensation alright--an annoying, nerve-snapping sensation every time I see her...
"I'm afraid I've never heard of her before."
Lucky you...
"She does look familiar."
"If I may be of service," Raoul stepped next to the aristocratic woman who had just uttered these words, "Miss Christine Daae is a new star in the Opera Populaire. She has performed numerous times and has only recently been discovered as the bright jewel she is and given more prominent roles in the operas here."
"You seem to be very familiar with this opera house, sir."
"Indeed I am, madame, quite familiar."
"Your name, sir?"
"I am the Vicomte de Chagny, mesdames and messieurs, at you service."
"A pleasure, monsieur Vicomte."
"The pleasure is mine."
"Monsieur Vicomte!" Andre joined the group with a pat on the young patron's shoulder. "So pleased to see you, as always."
"Monsieur, the pleasure is mine."
I'm full of pleasure, joy and rapture...
"I see you've already met my friends, Monsieur."
"Indeed, I have."
"We were just discussing your new star, Andre, this Christine Daae." an elderly woman in the group addressed the manager of the Opera Populaire.
"Yes, indeed she is a very talented performer." Only Raoul could sense the discomfort in the manager, no doubt caused by Carlotta, the opera's resident prima donna, and her jealousy of Christine, put into the form of threats. "In fact, the Vicomte here is a rather close friend of Miss Daae, isn't that right Monsieur?"
"Yes, she and I are rather...attached." Unfortunately...
"Oh!" the elderly woman chuckled, "Do you mean to say the two of you are betrothed?"
"Very nearly, madame, very nearly."
Something caught his eye above him on the balcony: a black-cloaked figure in a mask watching him, then turning and disappearing around a corner.
The woman was speaking to him again, "Congratulations, monsieur, congratulations, she is a very lovely young woman."
"She is, thank you." He tried to hide his distraction.
"Monsieur Vicomte has attended every performance she has been in since they began their romance over six months ago." Andre beamed.
"How wonderful!" Another aristocratic woman in the group exclaimed, "enchanting!"
"Quite the Don Juan." a gentleman chuckled.
Andre cleared his throat uncomfortably at the coincidental usage of the Phantom's opera title. "Yes, I have often jested of naming an opera box after him, but of course, that may imply that the box is off limits to our other patrons, which could cost us business."
"Naturally." The elderly woman beside him replied.
The dark presence continued to haunt the mind of the young Vicomte. "I'm afraid I have something I must see to, at present." he explained, "Forgive me. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintances, mesdames and messieurs, good evening."
"Good evening, monsieur Vicomte." the party bid him farewell as he walked away as quickly as he could without being impolite.
Raoul walked out onto the balcony and looked around him. There was no sign of his dark phantom anywhere. He looked up at the second story balcony, the level he had seen the mirage at in the lobby. It was vacant.
"Monsieur Phantom?" He whispered loudly to the air, for who else could it have been?
But there was no answer except the wind in the trees. His answer reminded him of the probability that his hair had been mussed, so he reached into his vest pocket and retrieved an object he never failed to be without: a comb.
Insolent boy,
this slave of fashion,
basking in her glory.
Ignorant fool,
this brave young suitor,
sharing in my triumph...
Raoul froze, "Who-who is there?"
"The Angel of Music." Erik stepped out slowly from behind a great stone statue.
"You!" Raoul gasped and stepped back.
"I." The eyes behind the mask strayed to look at the comb in the Vicomte's hand, then he laughed. "What is you plan of defense, monsieur? To style me to death? My hair is not so tidy as yours, to be sure, but I really think you'd have a bit more tact considering your upbringing. You could have sent one anonymously with my paycheck."
"What do you want?" Raoul lowered his hand.
"You already know the answer to that, monsieur. I want you to leave Christine alone, to stop this selfish quest for her heart."
"And why would I do that?" Blast! I have no sword!
A low chuckle came from the masked figure, who did have a sword. "Well I would think you'd hate to have your perfect face scarred, to say the least."
"Is that a threat, monsieur?"
Erik drew his sword slowly, "If you do not know the answer to that, my young fop, then I'm afraid there is really no hope for you."
"W-wait!" Raoul stepped back, "It is a threat!"
"No monsieur...it is a promise."
Raoul's eyes widened even more as the phantom advanced, "I have no weapon!"
"It's in your hand, monsieur...your comb." Erik walked towards him steadily. "Will you reconsider?"
She's not worth it...no! I can't let him win! Yes I can...she's not worth it...my face...my life!
"I–" he began to surrender, when a constable, armed, walked out onto the balcony on his patrol.
Erik's keen ears heard him. He whirled around and saw the guard, who's eyes widened at the sight of the opera ghost.
"Guards!" he shouted, drawing his pistol with a trembling hand.
Erik disappeared without a trace, and the guards saw no assailant when they came.
The guard blinked. "Monsieur Vicomte, are you alright? What has happened?"
"I'm alright." They won't believe it was the Opera Ghost... "it was an enemy...I was threatened," promised... "but that was as far as it got. May I have an escort backstage, as a precaution?"
"I will do so personally, Monsieur Vicomte." The guard bowed.
Raoul combed his hair, then went with his armed guard to Christine's dressing room.
"Raoul!" Christine's welcoming smiled turned into a concerned frown when she saw the guard. "Is something wrong?"
"I'll tell you in a moment," he turned to the guard, "will you wait here until I return?"
"Yes sir."
Raoul placed a wad of bills into his hand. "Good man." He placed his hand on the small of Christine's back and propelled her into her dressing room.
"What happened?"
"Your Angel of Music tried to kill me!" he suppressed a yell.
"What?" her eyes widened.
"There, on the balcony, he told me to leave you alone, or he would kill me."
Christine was silent.
"But of course," he took her hands in his, "I would never leave you, my dear." If only I could!
"I know, Raoul." she sank into his arms. "Just be careful."
Oh how I will!
"What did you hear about me in the lobby?" She tried to smile.
"Everyone was enchanted, my darling. They all wanted to know about you, who you were, where you came from." He stroked her cheek. "And I told them."
"You know, Raoul," she said softly after a moment, "I couldn't have gotten this far without Erik."
Does she care for him
"Yes you could have." He looked at her, "Never underestimate your talents, my love." He kissed her. "I must go. I will see you tomorrow."
"Alright."
Raoul shut her door behind him quietly, then walked towards the exit with the guard at his side.
This isn't over, monsieur Vicomte...
Raoul whirled around, but saw nothing.
Tonight I was interrupted and your life was spared...do not make the mistake of thinking that that will happen again. Do not fail to comply with my wishes, monsieur, and remember that I see all...
