Chapter Fifteen

Secrets are hard to keep,
Precious secrets are impossible.

The same year, maybe two months later?

The sounds of the cast warming up were not the most melodious noises to ever be uttered, that thought was never even considered by anyone present. Practice makes perfect, and the Paris Opera demands perfection. However, Jonathan's mind was not on this now, he had other things to ponder. There were strange things happening in the theater, many strange and curious things… Diana was refusing to speak to him, his friendly acquaintance, the Viscount, seemed wary of him. Even Peter was behaving strangely. To the managers credit he had tried to ignore their strange behavior, knowing all to well it was his own doing. Oh yes, he could tell that Diana had chosen her side in this war, but what of the viscount and Peter than? Have they chosen the other side as well?

"Signore Perongine! Mademoiselle Grey! If you please!" the script manager narrowed his eyes. "We have a limited amount of time to memorize these lines!" From where he was standing Perongine comically mimicked the movements and lip synced to the frustrated script managers ranting. "I see you Perongine! Now stop it!" several members of the cast moaned in disappointment, for they had been enjoying the small show he had been putting on. From off the stage Madam Giry shot daggers at those who had been laughing. She understood the importance of learning ones lines well.

"Now, after seven! Five six seven!"

"Golsto ma pornagwe!"

Everyone was silent for a moment, then burst into laughter. "We do not say GOLSTO, we say GELSTOE! And it is Pormagwe, NOT Pornagwe! Try again!" "GOLSTO MA PORMAGWE!" Diana threw her hands over her mouth to muffle her giggles. "Nearly but no! GELSTOE! We say GELSTOE!" Perongine shook his head, "IT is no good! I cannot say Golsto! …See what I mean!" Most of the cast was holding their sides in anguished laughter, several had to sit down! The script manager wept hopelessly, murmuring under his breath about accursed foreigners. One member of the cast managed to gasp out, "At least it's not Roma's far reaching grasp!"

The fact that anyone remembered such a thing was astounding, but soon everyone was laughing about Roma's instead of Rome's and Golsto rather than Gelstoe! "Are you all quite finished? Or do we have to get into proper vowel use in singing?" all eyes turned to Madam Giry and most managed to quiet themselves. It helped that the woman carried a big stick. A walking cane, to be precise. Soon the act was once more under way, Jonathan watched with little interest. "Why aren't you up to something O.G.? What else is holding your attention…" a slight cough from behind caught (his) attention.

"Ah! Just the two men I was hoping to see." Andrea and Firmin looked about in puzzlement, other than the fact that the carpet had been changed nothing seemed amiss. "You asked us to come because you said something was wrong, I see nothing wrong! Well, minus the new carpet…" Firmin nodded in agreement with his partner. "What is the matter here?" Jonathan smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. "The problem is our agreement." Both of the past managers exchanged confused looks. Jonathan continued, "I agreed to purchase the opera house for the sole purpose of disposing the Phantom in my own way, so, where is he?"

Andrea nervously wiped his forehead, "Well surely you don't expect him to come out for no reason!" Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Oh I know that, the problem is that I have given him reason and he's not rising to the bait." Firmin blinked, and then shrugged. "Maybe he's dead!" He received a very dangerous look. Jonathan gritted his teeth together and snarled, "He can't be dead because I haven't killed him yet!" The former managers drew back, fear present in their faces.

…"So that's why you two fools sold out."

All three men spun about to face the voice, their efforts were greeted by cold laughter. "Really, I would have expected you three to know better." Out of the corner of his eye Jonathan saw a shadow moving behind them, his fists clenched in anticipation. "I think you may be underestimating me." The shadow paused, turning to go the other way. "…Are you so sure?" The time was now, Jonathan pulled out his revolver and fired it at the shadow. The bullet grazed the ghosts shoulder it seemed, but the phantom let out no sound. Finally, the voice returned.

"Look behind you Jonathan."

They all whirled just in time to see the shadow vanish before their eyes. Jonathan blinked, "But… that means he was in front of me! Which means he's now, wait, this doesn't make-" The sentence was never finished for a scream echoed up from the stage. The phantom stood his full height, his imposing figure seemed to materialize out of thin air. His eyes were fire, a skull mask served as his face. No one attempted to approach him, none dared to move any closer than they already were.

"So… it is war between us! Consider this fair warning!" the lights suddenly failed as if a gust of wind from the reaches of darkness had blown them out. By the time the light returned, the phantom was gone.

Erik

Silently, I watched as our former managers struggled to return a state of calm to the staff and actors. The Count was preoccupied with the drape he had shot, staring at it quietly. This one is trouble; more than I could ever have realized. He has a light in his eyes… one I know too well. A hunter's light, a killer's light. It had been a long time since I had revealed myself so dangerously… the adrenaline from it was still running threw me! Oh yes… it is surely war between us now, more even than before. I smiled, not nicely either. "It is not I who has underestimated you Jonathan… it is you who has underestimated me." As the adrenaline ran its course, a feeling of some mild regret washed over me. The man was responding to what I had done to him in the past, I could not blame him for wanting me dead. We are tigers, both of us, built for revenge and perhaps nothing more…

I step through the mirror into Diana's room and sigh as her arms go around my neck. She doesn't say a word, she doesn't need to speak for me to feel her worry. "Erik…" She is weeping… I never wanted this… "Diana." Her head reaches its favorite resting place against my shoulder. "You don't need to worry about me." Her eyes meet mine, a thousand fears swirling in their emerald depths. "What if he had hit you! A bullet can still kill you Erik! You aren't a real Phantom!" I pull her close, "I'm not going anywhere."

Her eyes meet mine again, there is something bothering her… something she is afraid to say… "You'd better not go anywhere…" her mouth touches mine and I lose all traces of the chill that I was carrying with me. She is my life this woman, the very air I breathe. I… I couldn't live without her.

Diana

He disappears, knowing once again before I do that someone's coming. "Diana? Are you all right?" drat it all! I have been bending over backwards to avoid that man! "…Yes, I'm here Jonathan." He stops outside the door. "Good, good. I'm checking all the dressing rooms to make sure all's well. Do you need anything?" I can picture him leaning against the wood, his ear to the grain. "…No, thank you Jonathan, but I'm fine, really." A sigh. "…Well, may I come in for a moment regardless? I promise, I won't take too much of your time."

With no other option I get up and move to open the door. It hits, rising in the back of my throat but I suppress it. Until I have a lavatory at my disposal I will not! Not in my dressing room! "Diana? Are you sure you're all right?" I open the door. "Yes, so sorry Jonathan, Something's not agreeing with me. That's all." His eyes narrow, "that's a filthy lie Diana, unless something hasn't been agreeing with you since you came back from holiday. What is it? Do you need a doctor?"

"How… how did you know how long this has been…"

"I heard a stagehand worrying, bad luck, he thought."

"I don't understand…"

The chorus has been fretting over you, and Giry has been keeping closer watch."

Had I given it away? No! I had been so careful! "Diana, let me help you. Please… I want to." His eyes hold mine; his hands reach out and brush my hair from my cheeks. "…sir, I mush ask you to leave… please leave, if you would assist me-"

"I would do more than assist you, but not a word, never a word!"

"Sir… please, your fright-"

"Your looks, your laughs, you're haunting me!"

"Stop! Please monsieur!"

"…Forgive me, I didn't want to frighten you. I'll go." He turned, his eyes dark, angry, and then he was gone.

"Alright everyone! Please remain calm! We will gain nothing from hysterics!" Most of the chorus and cast understood this logic, but that hardly matters when people are in a panic! Peter shot Giry a helpless glance and ran after the stagehands. "Hey! Calm down people!"

"Madam Giry! Peter! What happened here!" Kirsty pushed her way through the frightened crowd to the stage where Giry stood. The ballet mistress sighed, "Oh you know, just another ghost sighting." Slowly but surely, the vast theater emptied as frightened members of cast and crew retreated to their rooms. "Well, that went beautifully… what possesses that man!" Kirsty smiled at Giry's minor outburst, knowing well how rare an occurrence it was for the older woman to loose her composure. "Will he ever learn?" Giry shook her head no, a small smile at the corner of her mouth. "Never! Not until the end of the world, or the end of himself, whichever comes first!" Kirsty grinned, then sombered. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No, not this time… but our manager is in serious danger, and so are our former managers. Kirsty blinked, a puzzled frown seeping into her mouth. "Andrea and Firmin? What have they done now! They aren't even in the building anymore!" Giry sighed and sat down, motioning for the young dancer to do the same. "Well, they were here today. In fact… they're probably still in the building right now." The ballet mistress froze suddenly, her attention focusing on the door. Footsteps were descending slowly, loudly, down the stairs outside. Both waited until the sound was no longer audible, before daring to breathe. Giry wiped her face with her handkerchief and looked back at her companion. "It seems that they sold the opera house to the Count so that he could hunt here at his leisure." Kirsty's confusion was as plain to the naked eye as an elephant on the stage. Giry sighed, "I'm not talking about wild game Kirsty…"

The confusion morphed into a look of shocked understanding. "Lord above… the man is truly possessed…" Giry nodded, the worry in her eyes well hidden from the child at her feet. "It's ironic; the two of them have that much In common." Without another word the two separated, Giry remaining behind on the stage. The dim lights seemed to be warning her, offering one last chance to flee before this Atlantis they had all constructed over all these years came crashing down around them. One more chance, just one...

Inside, she smiled. No longer was she young enough to run away. Too much of her had already joined with this building, she would not abandon this ship, she would rather go down with it. Her eyes trailed about the room, "Past the point of no return, the final threshold, who in this game will win, and who will burn?"

"What do you want us to do monsieur? We don't even know what has transpired there since the night we sold you the accursed place!" Firmin nodded in agreement with his partner, and took another deep drink from the wine glass. Both were keeping carefully out of reach behind the desk. They didn't want to let lose the Anger below the surface. He had left them perturbed but calm, and had returned in barely masked frustration. "Beyond the obvious suggestions we are, I fear, of no help to you." Both were met with Jonathan's piercing glare. Andrea shrugged it of and returned to his brandy, Firmin, however, began to sweat. "I no longer even care how it is done! Just as long as I see him dead!" The glass flew from his hand and shattered on the hearth "There are simply too many places in this cursed building for him to hide!"

Andrea cleared his throat, "We can tell you're frustrated monsieur, we also tried several times to win with the Phantom, and a lot of good it did us!" Once again, Firmin simply nodded, his eyes however, remained on the shattered glass. For a moment, a calm glazed its way over the count's eyes. However, it was short lived. "Mark my words, gentlemen, I will find him out." His eyes took on an almost demonic glow. "Then when I settle my score with him… well, I'm not commonly a violent man." His attention once more shifted, the wood armrests of his chair were punished by his fierce, clenching grip. "The problem is bringing him out into the open, there must be some way… …"

Firmin coughed lightly, desperate to change the subject. "Well, what else has been happening? Why the new carpet?" Jonathan grinned, suddenly much calmer. "The strangest thing really! One of the stagehands broke the valve that pumps up the lakes water, and it started gushing out into the theater! It almost got out of hand, we could have put several more rows underwater." Andrea smiled, "Well, that also explains the new seats." Firmin grinned suddenly, looking over at his old partner. "Must have cost a pretty penny to fix." Andrea nodded, then paled. "Yes… a… a great deal of money…" Both Jonathan and Firmin failed to mask their amusement at the extent of Andrea's stinginess.

"Good God man! Do you ever think about anything but money!" Andrea shot him an indignant look, but was, somehow, unable to find an answer to defend himself. "I think about other things…" His companions smiled indulgingly, but they continued to have minor laughter spasms all throughout the remainder of the evening.

Erik

In the shadow of the clock on the mantle, which ticked a cheerful ten, Diana sat. Her eyes intently following the crackling flames, as they preformed their leaping dance in the roaring hearth. Beside her, I reclined on the living room sofa, my puzzled thoughts seeming out of place in the peaceful scene. I raise an eyebrow behind my mask, what is that woman doing? I would to ask her… but every time I try I can't form the words to say. There's something different about her, but what is it?" "…damn." She looks up at me, "Erik? Is something wrong?" I can't help but smile. "Yes Diana, there is something wrong. I'm tongue tied."

For a moment we both laughed, her laugh has always put me at ease before. Not tonight, tonight it only makes me more nervous. "Diana?" She sits down beside me, curling up in the blanket. "Yes Erik?"

"Is there… well I trust that you would tell… what I mean is, Damn…"

Now she's got my confused look, what an interesting mess. "Were you perhaps, wondering if I was… different?"
"That's it exactly! So what is it? Is it a new Perfume? What?" She's got that smile again… "I was waiting till I was sure, and I also wanted to surprise you, but you'll know soon anyway. Erik…"

She takes my hand, funny, my hands have always seemed small and frail, but against hers they seem stronger. Her other hand joins the first, and both move my hand until it rests at her waist. "Erik… do you see what I'm trying to tell you?"

Suddenly, I do. I understand it all. How could I have been so… I didn't think it was possible. "Diana… are you… are we… … I, I'm going to be a father?" What could I say? I'm going to be a father… me… her arms have never been more inviting. I'm going to be a father. "Are you happy?" those arms around me, angel arms. "Yes, I am happy… Diana…" her eyes hold mine, I fell in love with those eyes before I even knew her. She pulls me down beside her. "I love you Erik, and your child will love you." Her lips met mine, dear God… I'm kissing my wife, my wife, which would have been enough. And now…she's giving me the ultimate gift, our child. My child, my... What did I ever do to deserve this? I'm going to be a father. "You are my life Diana… I love you so much, so very much."

The fire soon went out in the great hearth, but the lovers remained warm, wrapped tightly around each other, their gentle breaths the only sound in the stillness. And in that peace so deep, Erik never thought about the one trait he would loath to pass on, ...his face.