A French playwright is seeking to Opera Populairé hoping they will act out her play. From the darkness the phantom watched this stranger's long-term ambition unfold before his eyes… Recovery is the easy part, taking the first step will be crucial: Written in blood, sealed with a rose.

Reviews are greatly appreciated; flames are accepted.

Disclaimer: I do not own the razzle, dazzle of the Phantom of the Opera. Enjoy the story!

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Chapter 2: "Hidden behind reality…"

The ride was excruciating, the French countryside haven't received any rain lately, making the ground bumpy, and dry. The carriage bounced back, and forth as they make their way towards Opera Populairé. Célestine is starting to regret that she had defied her father's words… But who cares! She is going to get her play to be acted out for the world to see. Her life long ambition was going to be fulfilled after this long, crazy ride…

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Erik looked up as he heard a faint clicking of horse hooves against the cobble stone street. He knew that it was like a regular day; People on the upper ground riding on carriages, passing in front of the theater but never stopping. But this particular one stopped with a holt.

"Who would come to this rundown theater?" And then, there was silence that was threatening to choke the life out of him. No clicks, or clatter. No thumps, no thonks. No music… Not even a note of her angelic voice.

Pushing these horrid thoughts behind, Erik gathered up every once of strength he has to offer to himself, and left to greet their newly arrived guest. With a quick flutter of his cape… Erik was gone.

-

Célestine almost spilled out of the carriage. She had lost count of how many times she bumped her head against the ceiling of the buggy. She toppled backwards into the car again. In aggravation, she charged her body out of the carriage. Without thought, she banged her broad forehead against the upper frame of the door causing her to fall backwards again.

"Mademoiselle, are you alright?" The De Lorme's old carriage driver asked the young woman as he aids her to steady ground.

She nodded weakly as a throbbing pain filled every nerve endings in her body. Her hair was rearranged in a weird manner, her hat was lop-sided, the ascot pulled out from her vest. Can anything else be wrong?

Sheets of water started to pour, narrowing the distance between the bridge of wet, and dry.

"Go Mademoiselle, before you get drench!"

"Thank you Michael! If my father asks of your disappearance, say you went to get some fresh air!" The driver nodded before bringing the horse to a gallop. Céles waved to the fading carriage before pulling her bag over her head as the rain started to fall around her. She ran towards the opera house. Hoping to the door was open; she pushed it, but it won't budge. She gave it another push; no luck, the door won't move. She yelled out in annoyance, the semi-drench playwright tugged, pushed, kicked, rammed, and even tried talking to it. Still, no luck, the doors were completely sealed tight.

She let out a cry of either anger, annoyance, or it was just the chills that she was getting with every wisp of wind. Célestine's damp hands, fisted, and banged on the large doors before her. Someone is bound to be in there, please, anyone; I'm wet, cold and quite hungry. She banged on the door again. Seeing no results from her outburst, she leaned in as close as she can to the door to get away from the rain, but nothing was working. The water was soaked through her coat all the way down to her corset. Her hair clung to her cheeks, the hat sat droopily on the side holding onto every drop of water that has fallen on it.

Célestine don't even want to think about her play in her bag. But deep in the back of her mind she wondered how her papers were holding out, by this time the ink must have already ran, and the paper turned into mush. With her forehead against the door, she banged on it again.

"Please! Anyone!" She felt her forehead leave the comfort, and security of the cold door, and started to tip forward. The door creaked, and moaned against the ranging roar of the rain. Célestine lost her balance; reaching up desperately for anything she can take hold of to stop her descent.

Célestine plopped down onto the ground with a slushy sound. The hems of her skirt flipped forward revealing the wet knickers she wore underneath. Céles rolled over; she looked up at a pair of confused eyes, which belongs to the Young Meg Giry.

"Ma'am," Meg leaned down, and tried to help Céles off the floor, "Are you alright?" The younger girl helped the older woman to her feet, Meg had to look up for that her guest was much taller than her, "Can I help you?"

Célestine's hopes brighten up, "If you don't mind, may I see your manager?"

"What manager?" Meg asked.

"The manger of this magnificent theater…" Céles said moving her hands around.

"This theater is no longer under any management mademoiselle …" Meg replied with sadness laced deeply in her voice.

Céles gave her a stupid look like she can't comprehend, "no management? Then… what about the operas, the shows, the plays?"

"This theater is out of business mademoiselle…" Meg rubbed her arm reflecting her sad gesture, "My mother, and I are just here picking up our stuff… If you're looking to be a dancer, you're out of luck…"

"What about a playwright and a new play?" Célestine said hopefully.

"Meg?" The two looked up to see Madam Giry making her way towards the two girls. Céles curtsied as a greeting to Madam Giry.

"Who are you? Were you the one who was pounding on the door?" She said as she stood behind Meg.

"Yes ma'am…" Céles paused for a moment to see if she'll respond back with a loud shrilling scream. None. "I'm sorry to bother you on a day like this. But, I was wondering if I could see the manager. You see, I'm a playwright, I have a new play, and was wondering if the manager of Opera Populairé would to take my play under their wings, and make it take flight-"

Madam Giry looked at the Célestine with the kindest eyes. But, like her daughter, sadness was deeply embedded in her it, "Mademoiselle…"

"Céles… Célestine De Lorme."

"Mademoiselle De Lorme, I'm sorry, but this theater no long-"

Before the elder Giry can finish what she was saying Céles had to stop her, "Please. Madam, having one of my plays be acted out is one of my wildest dreams."

"Then you came to the wrong theater miss…" Giry said simply.

Céles's shoulders slouched with the feeling of failure, tears were forming at the corner of her eyes, "Please ma'am… There must be a way that I can speak to the former manager of this theater."

Both of the Giry looked at her, exchanging glances. Madam Giry let out a sigh; "I guess I can go fetch Firmin, and André tomorrow morning…"

Céles looked up at her, her lips forming a pleasant smile on her face, "Thank you so much, urm…"

"Giry… Madam Giry to you…"

"Madam Giry, thank you so much ma'am. I'll return bright and early tomorrow morning." The playwright curtsied again.

"Heavens no child, you're going to stay here for the night. It's pouring buckets out there. It will be difficult to fetch your driver. Us two might not be able to leave either."

"B-but ma'am…" Céles cringed at the sound of thunder.

"It will be easier if you've stay here for the night, Firmin, and André will be here bright, and early…" Giry said brushing a strand of hair away from her eyes.

"B-but… but… ma'am…"

Madam Giry waved her comment off, "Meg, show her to an empty room…"

"Madam!"

"Come on…" Meg grabbed one of Céles's wet hands and pulled her towards the inner realms of the opera house.

The sound of their footsteps faded with every second, Madam Giry sighed out quietly, "Erik, you're loosing your touch…Good thing the girl didn't notice you."

Erik removed himself from behind a large column, and looked down at Madam Giry, "You don't think she can do it do you?"

"Never loose hope Erik… Never loose hope…"

-

Célestine admired the dusted-covered, golden statuaries; the heavy, maroon curtains, the spider webs filled chairs; she let out a soft, "wow."

As they continue to walk, her sight fell upon a large chandelier that lay broken in the middle of the seats. Its crystals shimmered against the weak candlelight from backstage. How she longed to see the golden rays of Opera Populairé's grand chandelier.

Meg led her to one of the dressing room; the wet hems of Célestine's dress caught dust, and dirt that were left untouched for a year.

"I hope this room will suit you…" Célestine looked into the semi-lighted room, its wonderful mahogany colored walls contrasted to the large mirror, and the brick fireplace in the far corner.

"Will it suit me? If you put me in the kitchen, I'm already happy—this room is magnificent!"

"This used to belong to La Carlotta…" Med said lighting the candles that were about the room, it luminescent itself across the space, "And for sometime, Christine Daaé…"

"Christine Daaé?"

"Yes ma'am, she used to be the best singer here."

"What've happened to her? Is it true that she was kidnapped by an… opera ghost?" Célestine said as she whipped her head towards Meg.

"I should not say what've happened to her." The former dancer said as she treated into the hall.

"And why not?"

"I should not say madam, there might be ears on the wall."

Céles could see the uneasiness of Meg's answer; she decided to drop the topic. Smiling warmly, pulling the damp hat off her head, Célestine thanked Meg.

"No problem, it would be great to see some plays again. Mother, and I will be in our flat on the upper floor if you need us."

Célestine nodded at the leaving girl. With the click of the closing door, she was left alone.

-

Erik made his way down to the underground hallways. He could see clearly that, t-this girl- no woman, whose features hold age, and wisdom that was closely to his. Her prettiest was emphasized by the pleasant nature that showed on her face. Her graceful pose, and soft gestures adds to all that she was.

Erik shook his head rigorously to rid the horrid thoughts from his head. He was surprised, even scared to see himself standing in front of the two-way mirror that was made into a doorway, so he can gain access to teach Christine when she was present.

He watched Céles taking in every feature of the room. Célestine pulled every withering rose bouquet and threw them all into the fireplace. Old paper: wet or dry, pieces of wood were all victims to her fire. Taking a candle, she threw it into the clump of stuff, which all burst into flame. The golden glow caressed over her soft skin. Célestine's full lips tugged upwards at one thought of accomplishment.

Erik couldn't pull himself away from his current position, her beauty almost made him press his face against the cold pane to get a closer look. Céles turned around reassuring herself that she was alone, before shedding her damp coat, draping it over a red velvet chair. She unclipped her soggy ascot and threw it on the chair. Moving forward to the vest, which was still dripping wet, she pulled it off and hung it near the fireplace to dry.

Erik breaths quickened at the sight of her, his heartbeat was racing, vapor started to appear on the mirror. He could feel heat rising to his face. She unzipped her skirt letting it drop to the ground. Erik could see she's an owner of an elegant pair of never-ending long legs. She gathered her skirt, and blouse and draped it over the fireplace. Erik's knees unbuckled as this new sensation filled him from head to toe. He fell, banging his head against the mirror, and went down on his knees clutching his head.

Frighten by the sound, Célestine lunched up, letting out a loud yelp, clutching her loose corset to prevent any cleavage from showing.

"Shit!" Erik whispered loudly.

"W-who's there?" Célestine crossed her legs, and stumbled over a chair. She fell on her back with her legs arching up towards the ceiling, "who's in here?" she yelled as she rolled off the couch. Erik managed to look up from all of the pain in his head. Her emerald colored eyes cloaked with fear and confusion, stared back at him; her beauty was luring him into her again.

His attention was torn away from her aura when Madam Giry, and Meg burst into the room, "Bless the dear saints above, I could hear you from the attic!"

"There's something in the mirror, on it, in it… near it!" The playwright stuttered as she struggled to tie her corset. Madam Giry gave no second thought, and moved towards the mirror.

Her hawk like eyes scanned the mirror until it stopped on a shadowy figure wearing a white mask, with sheepish looking grin on his face. Giry gave the figure a what-the-hell-do-you-think-you're-doing look, causing him to scratch his head like a monkey, shrugged his shoulders and give a wider grin.

"Is anything there?" Célestine asked as Meg finished tying her corset to a close.

"No, must have been a rat…" She said turning from the mirror.

"That was no mere rat, I heard a bang!"

"Maybe it was the thunder you've heard." Meg said quietly, knowing very well what—no, who's behind that illusion of a mirror.

Célestine, not letting go of her own reason yelped, "It was a pretty loud bang madam. The thunder can't cause a noise like that. It'll be muffled by all of the walls."

"You never know. Now come, it was a pretty eventful day, you must get some rest." Madam Giry tried to persuade the woman. Meg helped the writer on to the couch.

"But madam-"

"No buts, you must sleep." Célestine knew she had to drop the subject. Madam Giry actually lives here, possibly knows the theater like the back of her head. She was in no position to argue in a battle she can never win. Célestine dropped her head, and nodded.

"Get some rest please Mademoiselle De Lorme, delusion comes with tiredness." the door was slammed shut.

"I am not delusional!" Célestine fussed. She stood up from the couch, and walked over to the mirror. Her tired self image stared back at her; touching the cool surface, which heated under her palm giving her an eerie feeling.

Erik was looking straight into her eyes. Fog appeared, and faded with ever puff of breath she let out. He wanted to walk up to the pane to take a better look, but he can't risk her seeing the horrid scene that was forever imprinted on his face.

Angered by the reality of his world, Erik retreated into his world of darkness.

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Finally the second chapter! I'm sorry for the slow update. I know what you all are thinking; "THERE'S NO FIREPLACE IN THE DRESSING ROOM!" Yes, yes I know there's not. But you can imagine there is one, can't cha? XD

Reviews are greatly appreciated.