Act Two
On September 23, 1865, three months after the confrontation between the Viscount & the Phantom, the opera company was finally being given the break that it deserved. The slow season had arrived, a time for the opera to hone its skills and rest its workers. Even our managers, Andrea and Firmin, saw the necessity of this break. And needless to say, that is a rare occurrence! Diana and Erik continued their secret lessons, whatever lay between them blossoming into promise. The sky was dark, the sun yet to rise above the roofs of Paris asa lone figure slipped from the shadows. A chilled breeze blew from the north, and thick flakes began to fall, coating horse and rider as they made their way to the cemetery.
Silence, the tombs held their own council. The black cloak disturbed little as the cowled figure moved deeper in. He paused, getting his barring's and turning a different way. A rose of deep hue, tied with black ribbonslipped from his hand and into the snow.
Alone, with the flakes falling down from above, Erik knelt before Christine's grave. Several white roses lay at her tomb; his one red seemed to contrast sharply. The golden eyes shut; a deep sigh raked him, as if to shake his soul. They opened again, amber met marble, "I… I should have come sooner." A hand reached out, felt the chill of the stone even through the leather. "…when I heard that you had died. I did not come, I… I had not forgiven you yet." The gently carved angles gazed down in silence. "I wasn't brave enough, to forgive, to let it go… I was too weak. I've always been too weak. But I fooled you, didn't I. You neverdid seeme as anything but strong… I'm sorry…" The wind blew through his cape and seemed to pierce something inside. "I know that you sent Diana to me, she reminds me so much of you…" He ran his hands over the marble angels that guarded the door. A sad smile traced his jaw, and then faded into weak acceptance. "…I will never stop loving you Christine. I will always thank you for the gifts you gave me, even if they were painful when I received them… Oh…Christine…"
He raised his eyes upward, watching the dance of the falling snow. A swirl of snow flurries coated him; his rose was covered with it, the red turning white. Erik watched in silence as its color turned to match the other flowers. His eyes once more rose heavenward; "Christine?" The whisper grew in strength as the wind carried it away. "I have moved on with life, but not all have. Give them comfort and peace Christine, they will learn where to look, to find you…." From a nearby tree a fluttering was heard, Erik turned in time to see a lone dove fly past him and perch on the tomb's roof.
"She still wants us to get along, you can feel it here, the peace." Roul came out from behind a nearby tree, his cloak painted with the snow. Erik hissed softly, "You would think that of all people, I would know when I am being watched." Roul looked up, his eyes on the dove. "I don't think it's by accident that we're both here, right now." Erik rose to his feet, and despite his better judgment his gaze strayed to the dove on the small tomb's icy roof. He spoke softly, as if to himself. "She is still watching over us… I can feel her presence here, as if I could reach out and touch her." He turned when he heard a muffled sob escape from Roul's shaking form. He had turned away, as if embarrassed by his emotion. The amber eyes softened, deepened with shared pain. Almost timidly, he moved over to where the viscount stood shaking, and lay his hand on the other man's shoulder. "She doesn't want you to grieve anymore…"
Roul looked with surprise at The Phantom, his mouth turned slightly at the courners, a weak, soft smile."…I… its good to have someone who understands, this, this is more than I would have done for you." The specter did not reply, but if anything his hand tightened. Roul looked hard, deep into the lion eyes that Christine had described with such a mixture of fright and awe. "It's a long walk back to the opera, why don't you come to my town house for a while? There's sure to be a warm fire." Erik's eyes widened at the invitation. He seemed unsure, nearly spooking when the viscount reached out and, just as timidly as he had, placed a forgiving palm on his shoulder. "…That would be, fine. A fire sounds fine." Roul smiled, for the first time in a long time, he looked forward to getting home.
As the two men exited the cemetery, they were unaware of the spirit that watched them. With the two men she loved healing and safe, she smiled. Her form and wings dissolving back into the snow.
"I will always love you….."
"What is it Diana? Why are you so… for lack of a better word, springy?" Peter watched Diana with confusion as she threw her arms around him. She had been walking on clouds all day, and for the life of him, Peter could not discover why! "Peter! I want to tell you, but you must promise to keep it a secret!" Peter raised an eyebrow and shrugged, "Okay… so what's this big secret?" His expression earned him an amused glance from a passing stagehand. "Well, you know that my Birthday is coming up." Peter nodded with a smile. "I haven't forgotten!"
Diana nodded and continued. "I think that Kirsty may be planning a party, I overheard someone talking about it!" Peter smiled behind his hand, "So what's the secret then?" Diana looked at him with a sly smile. "Well, Kirsty doesn't realize that I know… and I don't want her to find out. I had to tell someone! Will you keep my secret Peter?" Peter laughed and shook his head. "Is that all? I was starting to think that by the way you were acting, well, you might be getting married!"
Diana laughed, "When that happens, I promise that you will be the first to know!" With a quick hug, Diana disappeared down the hallway. Peter smiled and sighed, "It will look really odd, seeing my little sister get married… who knows? Maybe I'll be married by then myself." Chuckling under his breath, Peter headed of in the other direction. "Me, Married… now that will be odd!"
Diana ran into her room and closed the door behind her, turning she found herself in Erik's warm Embrace. With a happy sigh she sank against him. "How was your visit?" Erik smiled softly and sat down on the bed, Diana lay against him. "It was wonderful, it… it almost feels like a weight has been taken of my shoulders…" He kissed her gently, "You were right, I should have gone sooner." Diana smiled and lay her head in his lap. A sharp meow of complaint caught her attention. Phantom sat on the floor looking pitiful. "Oh come up here silly! I haven't forgotten about you!" The cat leapt onto the bed and stretched out, looking at her with pleading eyes. With a smile Diana stroked the creature, her attention returning to Erik. He smiled at the cat's antics and slyly, pulled a piece of yarn from his pocket. Instantly Phantom sprang at the string, pulling it from Erik's grip and batting it about.
"While I was there, an odd thing happened… the Viscount was watching me, and I didn't realize it." Diana's eyes grew wide; Erik motioned her to allow him to continue. "We spoke, briefly, and I felt… it's hard to say, we could speak without anger towards each other… as if Christine was there, helping us…"
His eyes shone with a mixture of emotions, one of them confusion. His hand held hers tightly. "I think that now, Christine may find peace…" Diana squeezed his hand, her eyes looking into his. "I'm sure she will… she will dwell in heaven forever." Erik crumbled into her embrace, his head against her heart.
"I think, if I hear one more word about bonuses or raises, I will promptly proceed to vomit!" Andrea nodded to his partner as they looked over the payroll, his brow furrowing in frustration. "Do they expect us to pay them during this break!" Firmin shrugged and returned to his paperwork. "We lose more money during this period of the year than during the rest of the year combined!" The papers were sent flying from the desk by a sharp gust of wind, in a panic, both managers chased the sheets about the room. "Managers! What is the cause of all this chaos! Don't you know how to shut a window?"
Madam Giry ran across the room and closed the shutters. Deprived of the wind, the papers sank lifelessly to the floor. With an annoyed look, she picked the sheets from the ground and put them on the desk. Firmin blinked, "Madam, have you ever given thought to becoming a secretary?" He received for his comment an annoyed look from Giry, and an amused look from Andrea. "Monsieur's, you do need a secretary. However, I can promise! That will never be me!" Firmin chuckled and sat back down. With a sigh, Andrea joined him.
A knock on the door drew their attention, with an exasperated gesture Giry opened the door. A stranger stood in the doorframe; his dark eyes scanned the room casually. Andrea jumped to his feet, "And who the hell are you?" A smirk ran across the man's face, his eyes seemed to glimmer with an inner fire. "Forgive me, I forgot for a moment that I need to introduce myself." Firmin & Andrea exchanged looks, their eyebrows raised. "I am Count Emorenth, perhaps you've heard of me?" Firmin suddenly blinked, "Count Emorenth? What brings you to our opera house!" Andrea gave his partner a confused look, Firmin shot him back a withering glance.
"My love of the theater has attracted me to several places over the past few years… Your establishment rather jumped out at me when I came to Paris." His smile seemed charming, yet there was something hidden in his face that warned of danger. With seeming ease he admired the curtains and thick carpets. "So if I am not intruding, I would like to walk about your building. To see what there is to see." Once again Andrea looked to his partner, and fumbled at seeing his partner nodding like a puppet. "Please! Feel free to look around wherever you want!"
The count bowed to them, a sly smile graced his lips. With a polite nod to madam Giry, he vanished out the door. Andrea glared at Firmin, "Now will someone tell me what the Hell that was all about! Who is that man!" Firmin smiled and shook his head. "I'm surprised that you haven't heard of him! The Count is a wealthy and rather eccentric patron of the finest arts, the kind of person you tend to look for!" Andrea looked confused; he leaned back in his chair. "...Wealthy you say?" Firmin laughed, "Oh god Andrea, you are a true card! Yes, he is very wealthy. I had heard that he was in Paris, but I had no idea that he would come here! We could use to have a patron of his status."
A slight chough from the corner reminded the management that Giry was still present. "I don't like him, monsieur's there's something about him that I don't trust. I've heard that he has interests in things he should not." Firmin nodded, his eyes returning to his paperwork. "He's eccentric, there's no doubting that. However he would most definitely be a good patron to have." Madam Giry shook her head, worry plainly seen in her eyes. "I'm going to keep an eye on him monsieur's, pray that my suspicions are ill founded."
Peter Gray raised an eyebrow at the sight of a stranger prowling about backstage. The man had an air about him that hinted at cockiness, his gait plainly spoke of it. Peter shook his head, whoever this man was, he had no business going backstage. With a sigh he turned back to the prop he was suppose to be moving. The giant Elephant seemed to smile down at him. The darn thing had to weigh at least a metric ton! Where on earth were the two other stagehands that were going to help him!
"Looks heavy, are you going to try to move it alone?" The man stood behind him, his eyebrows raised. Peter shook his head, "No, I'm waiting for two others." Peter avoided eye contact, hoping that it would cause the man to lose interest. It did not, "Perhaps you can help me, I've heard that this theater has a legend of some sort… Do you know it?" A deep feeling of annoyance swept through Peter, didn't this stranger have anything better to do than bother him? "Are you referring to the Phantom?"
The eyes of the stranger seemed to sparkle at the answer, "Yes, I believe that's the one. Do you know it?" Peter nodded, "Everyone at the opera knows that story." The realization that this man could be a patron of the opera finally occurred to him. Inwardly Peter winced; any rudeness on his part to this man could prove disastrous. "Would you be so kind as to tell me this story?" To Peters surprise the man helped by putting his shoulder against the prop. With the added strength both men pushed against the prop, slowly, the wheals began to turn.
Peter laughed as they shoved the Mighty Elephant into the wall. "I didn't think that two men could move that giant thing!" The man nodded, "How do they do that during a performance?" Both exchanged amused looks, Peter let down his guard a little. Perhaps this stranger wasn't so bad. "I'm going to chew out the others who were supposed to help me, thank you for your help." He received a smile, both men leaned back against the prop to catch their breath. "So where were we? Oh yes! I had just asked you about that story!"
Peter nodded, "Yes, the Phantom of the Opera… I remember when I was first told that story." The man nodded, and then extended his hand. "Forgive me! I didn't introduce myself again! I am Count Emorenth," He smiled, "But my friends call me Jonathan." Peter realized that this was an invitation and grinned, taking the counts hand. "Pleasure to meet you! I'm Peter Grey." Jonathan's smile widened, "You're not by any chance related to Diana Grey are you?" Peter nodded and Jonathan shook his hand, "How perfect! I hope to meet with Diana later today! It's a thrill to meet you Peter! Truly it is!"
Both men sat down in the empty theater, Peter tried to remember how he had first heard the story. "Now lets see… oh yes, I had just joined the company and was being shown about the catwalk!" Jonathan nodded, "How did it look up there?" Peter smiled, "Well, let's just say a fear of heights would prove unfortunate!" Both laughed, Jonathan pushing a hair from his eye. "In all honesty, I can see why!" Peter thought back, "Well, the stagehands were showing me the ropes. I suppose that, out of the blue, I wondered aloud how my sister Diana was doing." Peter smiled, "So then a stagehand asked me if she sang, and I said yes…"
A troubled look spread over Peter's face, "So then the man said (If it's the phantoms will, she'll do well) or something like that." Jonathan mused over this quietly, gesturing for Peter to continue. "I remember asking, what's the phantom? And the answer I received was this." He took a deep breath, "The phantom Prowls the theater, and he owns box five on the grand tier, when his orders are not obeyed, terrible things happen."
When Jonathan took his leave, Peter found himself with a bad feeling growing in the pit of his stomach. Something in his new friend eyes had worried him… he seemed too interested in the ghost. With a sigh he brushed away the feeling, there was still work that needed to be done.
From the shadows, Madam Giry watched quietly. (This is worse than I thought… I must inform O.G.! This patron is a danger to us all!) With a rustling of skirts she disappeared into the shadows. She was unaware that Jonathan had seen her retreat. With a smile he followed, as silent as her shadow behind her. He watched with interest as she pressed something on the wall, it triggered a reaction. With a groan of protest the wall opened. The ballet mistress lit her lantern and vanished inside.
To Jonathan's dismay, the wall sealed up behind her. (She must have used a lever on the inside.) His thoughts wandered past the wall, to where she was going. With a soft chuckle the count leaned against the wall. The device she had used was in his sight, he knew that, but what had she pressed? (Oh well, she's eluded me this time. She protects you well Phantom, but I will find you.)