A/N: Another chapter down! This is the chapter with the promised explanation of Monifa's past! Hope you like! I really appreciate reviewers! And please leave one, even if it's only like one word, or to say, hey u stink! I'd like to know!
Disclaimer: I do not own any sexy disfigured men of mystery with angelic voices or their stories; this means Erik. (sigh)
Chapter three: Present Past.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
Monifa took a last look at her reflection and made a few last minute adjustments. The least she could do to repay her uncle was to look suitable when she arrived for dinner. She was wearing a gold colored evening dress with puffed sleeves and a princess waist that just brushed the floor. It was one of her best dresses and suited her complexion well.
Just as Monifa put a last bobby pin in her hair to complete the bun a knock sounded at the door. When she opened it she was not surprised to find a girl about four years her junior waiting for her.
"I'm here to take you to your uncle Miss," she said in a solemn manner.
"Your not escorting me to a funeral you know," Monifa laughed, "I don't expect any sort of reverence because of my uncle." This earned a wide grin from the girl and Monifa saw her open up a bit.
"Sorry," she said also laughing, "I didn't realize I was coming off like that. By the way I'm Meg Giry."
"Monifa Firmin," Monifa replied, "But you can call me Nifa."
"I will," Meg continued "I suppose we best be getting to the front though, my mother will have my head if we're late!"
"I guess we better," Monifa agreed. "You're my first friend yet and you won't be much use mounted on a wall."
"You've got that right!" Meg agreed, teasingly putting a hand to her throat. With this they set off and chatted pleasantly until they got to the large front doors.
"Bye Meg. Come see me when you have some free time! I really did enjoy that!" Monifa said as she exited.
"I will! See you later Nifa" Meg agreed going back the way they had come.
When Monifa stepped out into the dimming light she realized it was now raining. Waiting for her under the overhang, was her uncle and a man she presumed to be his partner.
"Ah, there you are!" said Firmin, reaching out to take her hand. He placed a light kiss upon her knuckles and began introductions. "This is my partner Giles Andre," he said, glancing towards the man Monifa had noticed. "And this charming couple," he said gesturing to a couple she had not noticed before, "Are the Vicomte and Vicomtess de Chagny. Andre, Raoul, Christine, may I introduce to you, my charming niece Monifa."
"It's a pleasure to meet you all," said Monifa bowing. With introductions made the group headed toward the carriage. Before she could follow, Monifa's uncle gently grasped her arm and turned her around.
"Monifa, it's very good to see you." He said gently, "How are you doing? You know, I can hardly believe what happened myself. I can't imagine the shock it must have been. And with how it hit your father…"
Monifa could feel unwanted tears and that once permanent lump in her throat return. "I'm doing well," she replied, and at his skeptical look, added, "Really." Firmin could tell this was not completely true, so he offered a rare show of feeling (rare from him at least), and pulled her into a quick hug.
"I will be here to talk to if you need me. My office will always be open." Monifa was touched by his offer.
"Thank you Uncle, I'll remember that," she replied, then clearing the lump in her throat she joked, "We'd better catch up though, I'm afraid Andre looked hungry and won't wait much longer." This brought a laugh of agreement form her uncle and they quickly got into the waiting carriage.
0o0o0o0o
Raoul helped Monifa out of the carriage in front of the Populare at the end of the night and she made her farewells before departing. Entering the Opera, Monifa made her way to the back from memory, hoping she'd paid close enough attention earlier. Monifa found her way backstage and was amazed at how different it was from earlier.
In the dark the area backstage was another world, solemn and brooding. Void from activity and color, it would be most threatening to many and seemed just the right atmosphere to spark ones imagination to tales of ghosts and other horrors. Monifa appreciated this quality and smiled at the chills that ran down her back. It was thrilling. Making her way through the still maze she let her mind wander and stories unfold in her head. She decided that moment that she would have to explore further some other night when she knew enough not to get lost.
Monifa herd a shuffle of movement above her on one of the top level platforms and looked up, curious. She reached a gloved hand out toward a ladder, and checked to see if it was stable. She positioned herself in front and put her foot on the first step. As she was about to place her weight on that first step, a hand came from behind and grabbed her shoulder. Monifa felt herself jump before being spun around.
"It is not wise to be out of one's room late at night, or to go nosing around this area," Madame Giry scolded, "You might injure yourself and find no help."
"For heavens sake, you must have a thing for sneaking up on people in this place. That's the second time today!" Monifa averted the conversation from the warning.
"And when else did you have the opportunity to be 'snuck up on' today?" Madame Giry asked pointedly.
Monifa grinned sheepishly, "Well you see, I got bored after you left me in my room this morning and I… well I found my way to the roof top," She stuttered, "It turns our one of the workers had seen me. He said he'd been outside moments before and the wind was strong enough that he worried for my safety."
"The Opera house if not a safe place to wander alone, at any time," Madame Giry warned, "You are not at home anymore, my dear, and you must be careful. For all our sakes."
"You thought I was alone? No, no, you see I've got this mouse in my pocket...," but seeing the serious look on the older woman's face she grudgingly said, "I understand. I promise to be more careful."
"Now, I trust you can find your room by now?" Giry asked, and at Monifa's nod said, "Then go on, get to bed." The older woman watched as Monifa started toward her room and when she was out of sight looked up before shaking her head and walking off.
Finding her room, Monifa drew out her key and unlocked the door, letting herself in. She had already dismissed the warning reasoning that she'd never promised not to go out alone, just that she would be careful. After changing into her nightgown she sat down on the chair in front of the vanity table.
Tonight had been very interesting. Dinner had been fun. She'd enjoyed the company of the other couple, and was grateful for it. She got enough stares with out being the only company of two older gentlemen. Raoul had been charming (if not a bit foppish, she admitted), and Christine kind. Both had eased her mind of a nervous thought of the attitude the people of Paris might have.
When Monifa started combing out her hair, the emptiness again closed around her. Whenever she brushed her hair, memories of her mother came to mind. It had been a nightly ritual. Every evening her mother would sit and talk with her about the day as she combed her hair, and the two would laugh and share stories. This had always been one of Monifa's favorite times of the day. It was the only time when she had her mother all to herself, and she had learned many things from Aminia. She had missed her dearly, ever since that fateful day.
Monifa had spent all of her life in one of the French colonies in Africa. That's where her parents had met and fallen in love. Aminia, her mother, was African, and a local leader's daughter. Her grandfather had not approved of the marriage and only his mother's pleas had kept her father from complete disownment. For this reason, and because her mother could not bear to leave her home, her father had stayed. He worked very hard (having lost his inheritance), made wise investments in mines, and started an agricultural estate.
So Monifa grew up in a colorful and exciting world. She had gotten used to the odd glances she'd recieved from the workers and residents of the small settlement a few miles outside of the estate. They had never been very kind. They resented her father because of his self-made success. And some of them where very racist and didn't like that he had married an African.
Last year, when she was about twenty-one (still at home because she had not married), her grandfather had died and her father had returned to France to bring his mother to stay with them and be cared for by their family in her old age. The trip took longer then he expected and he sent news he would be away another month.
It had happened about two weeks before he came home. They'd had similar things happen on a smaller scale before, but it had never been this bad. A few times they had attempted to get to him through them, but their little mobs where usually stopped by the law enforcement.
That wasn't the case this time, and her father hadn't been home to protect them, though heaven knows there would not have been much he could do. She had been very lucky to escape, but her mother hadn't been. She was killed before they mob was stopped, and Monifa had seen it all as they held her in place. She had seen them brutally beat her mother to death before turning on her. They managed to get in a few hits before she'd lashed out at them and gotten away down the cellar. The news crushed her father; he blamed himself for not being there. He'd gone into a deep depression and sent her to live here because he couldn't bear to see her hurt if such an event should happen again.
Just thinking about it brought tears to her eyes; she missed Aminia and her father so much. After finishing up she went and sat down on her bed. It hurt to cry, but it hurt worse not to, so she let the tears flow. Much later, when the tears started to dry up she still sat quietly as sleep evaded her. Even though the tears where gone, the images stayed and Monifa was haunted by pictures of the horrible night. Unbidden she started to tremble, something she had never done before the accident, and she hated it. It made her feel so weak. There was nothing she hated more than weakness. When caught off guard like this, the only thing she could do to clam down was sing. So she sang.
The song that came to mind was her mother's lullaby, the one she'd not heard since the age of three. Monifa didn't know exactly how she remembered it, but it was like something from her soul, and her beautiful alto voice carried it wonderfully. It didn't take long for the exhaustion of travel to combine with her grief and catch up to her. She was soon sleeping soundly.
Not once did she know or think of the man who had paused in a near passage. He stopped, and for a brief moment forgot what he was doing as the pained tenderness in her voice sank into him. Then bewildered at this reaction he left quickly and quietly, just as he had come.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
A/N: Yeah, it all sounds a bit childish I know, but the experience would be traumatic so I really think it would affect anyone in a bad way. And back then, women stayed at home until they where married and she wasn't so she was still at home. I hope you liked it! Thanks again for the reviews! Keep 'em coming!