Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Thank you guys so much for all of your reviews! It makes me write faster!

For the sake of this piece, the drop of the chandelier did not occur during Il Muto like in the play...meaning it has not dropped...yet...hmmmm

Hands stretched out in front of him, the Victome blindly made his wave through the pitch-black caverns, nervously whipping around at every faint noise. Madame Giry had abandoned him several minutes before, saying that she would go no further...that it was as far as she could bring herself to capturing the masked man. Raoul was left alone to find Christine in the dark, and he was beginning to wonder if he should have at least brought several armed guards with him. His footsteps echoed emptily off the stone floors, and every so often he would let out a grunt as he roughly bumped into the various walls that lined the labyrinth.

After what seemed like hours of continuously descending into the darkness, Raoul looked down to see that he had come to a body of water. He remembered vaguely that the ballet instructor had mentioned a lake, but she was not able to tell him how deep it was. Rolling up the sleeves of his cotton shirt, he was about to step into the freezing liquid, when he suddenly noticed a boat floating gently to the side. He stared at it curiously for a moment, but he wasn't sure whether its presence there held any significance or not. Using it would certainly be less hazardous to his health than swimming across the icy mass, though. Slowly, the Vicomte climbed into the structure and took up the oar. He made his way forward, glancing back every so often to make sure that a pair of eyes was not staring at him from back upon the shore.

The Vicomte felt a chill go down his spine as he rowed into the frigid darkness. Christine had not been lying when she spoke of the Phantom's "world of unending night." Looking back, most of her words upon the rooftop had been true, and perhaps if he had taken her more seriously that strange day, better judgments would have been made over the last few months.

Finally Raoul spotted a glow of light in the distance, and he turned the boat slightly so as to approach it. To his dismay, though, he soon found himself face to face with a large iron gate. Through it, he could vaguely make out an illuminated structure of some kind, likely the candle lit underground home that Christine had so vividly described. Climbing out of the boat, he sloshed his way through the shallow water and up to the portcullis. Gripping the cold metal bars with his hands, he tried to push it open but found that it would not budge. Did he dare call attention to himself? "Christine!" he said softly, in case she was nearby and alone. "Christine?"

There was no response except for the steady drip of water throughout the cave. Frantically he began to rattle the gate, not caring now if he was seen. "Monster! Are you in there? Let her go!" Nothing. Perhaps the Phantom was taunting him, waiting in the shadows to make his move. Unless of course, they were not even there. That would explain the boat.

The Vicomte swallowed nervously. Up till then, he had been sure that the Phantom had whisked Christine off to his lair, and he had come fully prepared for a final confrontation with the mad man. Now, he wasn't sure what to think, but he knew that there was no way he was getting through the iron gate. Slowly Raoul began to back up. Unarmed and very much alone, he decided that it was time to return to the surface and plan his next move from a safer location. It was perhaps time to talk to people, to see if they had seen anything of his fiancée before he made any more rash decisions. Climbing into the boat, the Vicomte rowed his way back to the other side, continuing to keep an eye on his surroundings.

Once ashore and out of the gondola, he felt his way through the cavern, this time with a little more certainty, and made his way up the long stairwell. From a distance, he could hear a commotion taking place up above, the sound of footsteps pounding against the floor. As he exited the catacombs and walked briskly back to the staged area, he observed mobs of people rapidly making their way out of the opera house, shouting frantically to one another. Looking into the enormous room curiously, though, Raoul could see no immediate reason to flee. Finally he spotted Monsieur Andre standing to the side of the stage with a dazed look on his face.

"What is going on here? Where is everyone going?" Raoul asked, alarmed. "I still was not able to find Christine."

The manager turned to him, eyes wide. "We had to replace her in the opera," he stuttered. "We could not give refunds to the entire audience. It would have ruined us."

Raoul stared at him with raised eyebrows. "What? Whom did you replace her with?"

"Carlotta was the only one who knew the lines, so we placed her as Aminta against Piangi. Things...things were going fine for a while, but then they started their duet. One of the props fell from the ceiling, nearly crushing them both. There was a voice from above, and the chandelier started to shake. People began to flee. It was almost a catastrophe!"

"Well, what do you expect?" exclaimed the Vicomte. "You put Carlotta up there after everything? And I suppose the Phantom is still on the loose as well?"

Andre nodded numbly, and Raoul shook his head in exasperation. "I do not have time for this now. I have to find Christine... and quickly!" He left Andre and made his way through the onrushing crowds. If the Phantom had just been there, did that mean he did not have Christine? Frustration overtook him as he looked around aimlessly for anyone who could help him. Suddenly he spotted a young blonde girl making her way out of the room and remembered her to be Christine's friend and the ballet instructor's daughter. It couldn't hurt to ask.

"Mademoiselle Giry!" he called. "Meg!" She turned to him with surprise as people continued to rush by.

"Yes, Monsieur?" Though not formally acquainted with the handsome young Vicomte, she knew that he was Christine's fiancé. All of the ballet girls were quite envious over the engagement, though Christine did not talk of it often.

"You have not seen Christine lately, have you? I cannot find her anywhere, and I am worried."

Meg hesitated, biting her lip. "No, not of lately. But yesterday she mentioned something odd to me. I do not remember her exact words..."

"Please tell me, Meg."

"She said that she did not know if she could go through with today. That she felt very conflicted about everything. I asked her what she meant, but she would not say."

"Is that all?"

"Yes, Monsieur."

Raoul sighed. "Thank you, Meg. You have been most helpful." As Raoul gazed around, he began to realize that perhaps the Phantom was for once not the direct cause of his problem.


Within seconds, Erik had gone back through the dressing room mirror and was making his way along the dark corridor and to the boat. Before he departed, he wished to retrieve several items from his lair, knowing that it was possible that the police force would go down looking for him in his absence. Once he was out of the walls of his domain, he would be an easier target, and he wished to secure another weapon besides the deadly lasso.

As he was about to begin the trek down the stone steps, Erik suddenly heard the sound of loud singing above him and froze at the top of the stairs. He would have recognized the impassioned words anywhere. They were the words of his opera.

...what raging fire shall flood the soul? What rich desire unlocks its door? What sweet seduction lies before us?...

Darting back upwards and into the shadows, he listened more closely and recognized it to be Piangi's tenor voice singing the first part of the duet...his duet...their duet. Gritting his teeth in fury, he flew back to the staged area, wondering if Christine had suddenly decided to return and play Aminta. If she had dared to, there would be hell to pay, for his whole plan would be destroyed that night.

Rapidly he made his way up to the rafters to take a closer look at the stage without being seen by the armed guards. Just as he settled his gaze downward, the female part of the duet began.

You have brought me to that moment where words run dry, to that moment where speech disappears into silence, silence...

The noise cut his ears like knives, and he cringed in disgust. It was the voice of La Carlotta-singing Christine's part! They must have put her in to appease the audience, as she was the only other one who had known the lines. He glared down furiously as she sang the words boisterously, strutting around the stage and waving her arms around dramatically. Piangi stood somewhat stiffly to the side, uncomfortably awaiting his next part. Many of the audience members were shaking their heads at the spectacle, muttering quietly under their breaths. Before Erik did anything else that night, he would put a stop to this catastrophe. Don Juan Triumphant would not be assailed in such a manner.

When will the blood begin to race, the sleeping bud burst in to bloom... The couple began to approach each other on stage for their dance, awkwardly trying to fit themselves into the sensual movements that were scripted.

Trembling in fury at the sight, Erik searched for a quick way to silence them. Looking upward, he saw a large piece of wooden scenery that was painted to represent crimson haze hanging above them and made his way over to the lines holding it up. With a quick motion he tugged the rope from its pulley and sent the heavy mass plummeting to the ground with a roar. It landed within feet of the tenor and the prima donna on the stage, sending shards of wood into the air around them. La Carlotta gasped in shock and gripped tightly onto Piangi's shoulders as the floor shook beneath their feet. Many of the audience members flew up from their seats in horror. A silence hung over the opera house as people waited for what was to come.

Taking this quiet moment to use his ventriloquist skills, Erik echoed his voice menacingly throughout the expansive room, still hidden deeply within the shadows. "Don Juan Triumphant has met its end! If everyone does not immediately remove themselves from my opera house at this moment...they will find themselves in quite the disaster!" To prove his point further, he yanked one of the ropes above him that held the massive chandelier, causing it to sway slightly over the room.

As the shadow of the enormous lighting structure floated over them threateningly, the audience gasped and began to flee, not wanting to be crushed by the structure should it fall. For a moment, the armed guards looked for a place to aim their rifles, but the owner of the rasping voice was not within their view. Soon they were given the order to move out as well, for there was no way they could get a clear aim of the Phantom with the mob of people surrounding them.

Erik watched as the crowds quickly ran out, amused slightly by the chaos below. Without Christine, there was no Don Juan Triumphant. Had he not made that clear in his note? "After that performance," he though bitterly, "the managers had better obey his every whim."

At the same time, though, the rush of people provided him with an opportune time to take his leave. No one would notice him within the crowd. Jumping down and grabbing a wool scarf that had been left by a member of the audience, Erik wrapped it around his face and pulled up the hood of his Don Juan costume. He chose not to return to his lair. It was time to find Christine. The lasso would have to do as his sole weapon.