A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Just for your information, I will try to update from now on at least once a week. School is really taking its toll on me. I've noticed that it's been eating my dividers:( Ah, well here goes! Don't worry, there will be plenty of Erik to come! ;)
Noelle's stomach rumbled gently. She ignored it. She had dealt with hunger before, and she would deal with this accordingly. She walked along the hallways, traveling wearily to rest. But before she was gone, a voice whispered gently in her ear,
"I will see you again." She whirled around, heart thumping wildly, looking for the source of the voice. But there was no one there. She tightened her robe unconsciously as she recognized it as the voice of the Phantom. A twisted sneer came over her face. Full of surprises tonight, aren't we, she thought, amused. But he will see me again. It was both a promise and a threat, echoing around in her brain. I will see you again.
Noelle was so lost in her thoughts, she did not notice the petite figure that came towards her and laid a hand on her shoulder. Noelle spun around, almost hitting Meg Giry.
"Sorry," Noelle muttered. It had been a long day, and after all that had just happened with the Phantom, she was uneasy and jumpy. She gently slipped the robe from her shoulders. She was too hot to wear it right now.
"Bon jour, Noelle," said the other ballet dancer. A quizzical smile was on the petite dancer's face.
"You don't look too well," frowned Meg.
Noelle sighed inwardly. Once more, she was assaulted by maturity. She felt ages older then the girl (she could not bring herself to think of the younger giry as a woman) who stood before her. Noelle also knew that what the other dancer was seeing was the signs of her fatigue. She was careful to hide the tips of her shoes behind her feet as well as she could. It was shameful to Noelle. Even now, she did not know what she would do. Noelle would not accept charity from anyone. She was far too proud for that.
"I'm alright... just tired," Noelle half-whispered. She felt worn and useless.
Meg frowned once more. The young dancer did not believe that Noelle was completely alright. She saw a half-dry sheen of sweat covering the other dancer's body, and her shoes were worn through. She had been dancing hard. Meg knew that dancing hard took a lot out of someone. She had discovered this through her own painful experiences. Noelle needed to eat and then sleep. Meg found that this was the thing that worked for herself the best.
"Well... mother and I were wondering if you would like to dine with us."
Noelle found herself strangely touched by the gesture. She would accept this gesture of kindness. It would feel good to be with other, civil human beings for a little bit. She remembered a time before Michael's rape, when she had regularly gone out to eat with other women and men, who were kind and friendly. She missed that. And it is your fault that you do not have that anymore, a little voice in the back of her mind whispered. You, Noelle de Chanter, were the one that provoked him to do what he did. It is your fault. Noelle forced the voice from her mind.
"I would be honored," Noelle said. She smiled at Meg, a forced smile that only existed because of social necessity. She had been raised well (even though her eventual downfall was ignoring her mother's teachings), and she would show it. She remembered social mannerisms from a life that almost seemed not to be real, not to be the one she used to live.
Meg smiled, a smile that illuminated her face.
"Very well. We shall pick you up in half an hour. Don't be late!"
Noelle nodded, and then waited until the other girl was gone. She felt like slumping against the wall, exhausted, but somehow motivated herself to get up. It was most likely the promise of food. She would not have time to take a bath, which was what she really felt like doing, but would instead would wash her upper body, including her face. There would be no time to wash her hair.
She hurried down the hall. She had checked out the bathrooms. They were hardly sanitary, but they would have to do. She could not complain. She had a bath, courtesy of Mme. Giry, before she auditioned, but had not taken a bath before that in weeks, perhaps months. No one cared about personal hygiene when they were trying desperately not to starve to death.
Noelle arrived and looked around her once again. There was gray tile all around, and grime everywhere. She grimaced and turned on a faucet to wash herself with a hardly sanitary bar of soap. There was no one else there, and she finished quickly. There was no makeup. That was alright; Noelle wore none. She dressed in a dark green, high-collared, stiff-fronted dress. She looked at herself in the mirror, hoping she looked acceptable. The face in the mirror seemed to mock her, staring back at her with an unreadable expression. She grimaced at it, and it grimaced back.
Finally, she went back to the ballet dormitories, which were now filled with chorus girls, or ballet rats, as she had learned they were called from listening to last night's gossip. Last night. It had only been a day and a half ago when this madness had all started. Noelle closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Meg was waiting for her, somehow slipping out of all the bustle to come over to her.
"Let's go," said the blonde happily. She lead Noelle out into the corridor, where the elder Giry and Christine Daee were waiting.
"Bon jour," whispered Noelle. She was not sure how to behave in front of Madame Giry, and so kept her face tilted towards the ground.
Cold but kind, strong fingers caught and held her chin. She looked up into Madame Giry's brown eyes.
"There is no need to be so formal with me, child," the elder woman said in a thick French accent. "Come, let's to supper."
They went to an middle-class restaurant; middle-class because it was not one of the ones where you were seated and waited on hand and foot. Noelle counted the money in her purse and almost grimaced. She hoped she would at least have enough to pay for her own portion of food.
They sat down and placed their orders. Noelle watched the other women at the table moodily, only half-listening. Her thoughts began to wander slowly back to the experience she had before, with the strange man who refused to tell her his name. If he had a name besides Phantom, that was...
Noelle would not have known that she was being spoken to unless Christine Daee had nudged her gently. She stared at the other girl's soft, curling brown hair, slowly coming back to reality.
"I asked if you like it here at the Opera Populaire," Mme. Giry repeated, a slight frown on her face.
"Yes, it is... nice," managed Noelle. "I am very glad to be here." There was no way Noelle could express her gratitude to Madame Giry for not first turning her away immediately at the door. But to do that, she would have to explain the reason she had become poor, and that would be too much. The older woman had asked no questions, immediately accepting her.
Madame Giry had took one look at Noelle, and had immediately offered to pay for the meal. Noelle had declined politely at first; she detested charity. But then she had took one look at the menu and blanched. She could not afford anything on the menu. Her face burning with shame, she had asked if Madame Giry's offer was still valid. No one had seemed to notice her faux pass, and she was grateful.
Noelle ate her dinner quickly but with great relish. Everything was a delight. She could have hardly cared though; it was food. It would have to tide her over until lunch the next day. She was offered wine, but declined. She had grown to loathe it after her rape. She watched as the rest of the women ate, still not finished. Noelle had learned to eat her food quickly before it could be stolen from her. She watched Meg and Christine laugh, and felt a pang of envy. It had been a long time since she had been that carefree. She wondered if she ever would be again.
"I... must leave," she said into the silence at the table. Guilt tore at her. She had not been very good conversation. It's your fault, the voices in her head whispered. This, Michael, everything. It's all your fault. You should just crawl into a corner and stop being a drain on the world, the voices beguiled her. She ignored them as best she could.
"Thank you for this. It was... wonderful," Noelle breathed as she stood up and walked away. She was so preoccupied with her thoughts, she did not notice that the elder Giry had left the table, after putting a hand on the younger's arm.
Noelle stepped out into the street. She was tempted to scream, or to cry. Emotion seemed to want to burst from her, in a wave that she knew was inappropriate. She felt a hand on her arm, and almost recoiled before she realized it was Mme. Giry's.
"I'm sorry... did I startle you?" the ballet mistress was quick to ask.
"It's alright," said Noelle. There was a bit of a pause before the elder woman asked another question.
"Noelle, what happened to you before you came here?" She asked quickly. Noelle almost recoiled in shock from that question. She decided to answer it cryptically.
"We all have our own demons, Madame," Noelle said with a sneer. Madame Giry nodded distrustfully.
"You know you are safe at the Opera Populaire," said Madame Giry. Noelle nodded, almost smirking. The Phantom had said something like that. She was as safe as she could be from everyone else; the only danger now came from herself.
"That will be all," the ballet mistress said with a trace of almost motherly tenderness in her voice.
Noelle nodded and walked down the street, eyes straight ahead, clouded and unreadable with thought and hurt. She did not even feel the concerned eyes watching her go.
Antoinette watched Noelle leave. A frown was on her face. Something Noelle had said... We all have our demons. It reminded her of Erik. The girl herself almost reminded her of Erik... the way she moved, the constant sadness in her eyes. She wondered what Erik thought of Noelle. She would doubtless find out, in the next letter he sent to her. She felt sorry for the girl. Whatever had happened to her, it must have been bad.
Antoinette put those thoughts from her mind as she looked to her daughter. A smile swept across her face as she thought of her little Meg. Her little Meg who was not so little anymore. Almost all thoughts of Noelle faded as she sat down to eat with her two daughters, for that was how she thought of them.
