Chapter Twenty Two
Hello again! Good call on Kirsty! There's no relation at all, but not long ago I wondered if I'd done that without meaning to, cause I keep thinking Christine when I read Kirsty. But as said, no relation. She's got more in common with Meg to be honest…
Moving on! Yay moving!
"Madam Giry! Where are you! Hello! Is anyone there!" Peter raised an eyebrow as he stepped out of the shadows, bracing himself as Kirsty barreled into him. Both fell to the floor, and the lamp that Peter had held shattered. "Ow… that was a shock. Darn it! There goes the only lamp I own…" Peter reached out in the darkness, "Are you alright Kirsty?" her hand met his. "I…I think I'm fine… what were you thinking standing right in the way!" She pulled closer, her eyes scanned for him, knowing that he must be in front of her. "If my memory serves me, I believe I was minding my own business… doing nothing to provoke fate…" Kirsty sighed, raising her eyes to the heavens.
"Well I was trying to find madam Giry, but instead it seems I ran into you." Her eyes continued to search in the darkness, a sigh escaped her slumped form. "Peter… after tomorrow night… things will never be the same, and…" Peter's hand closed tightly around hers. "Are you afraid of what tomorrow will bring?" her eyes closed and she shuddered. "I'm terrified Peter, I thought Diana could tame the demon in Erik, I see now that I was wrong. I've been living a lie for so long… and tomorrow night, the world will end for all of us all over again!" even in the cover of darkness she turned from him, desperate to hide her tears.
"Kirsty… his plan will never work… not if he plans to run with Diana, he doesn't have time to kill Jonathan! I can't believe he's serious; it must be some kind of double play. It seems he's famous for those!" A small smile played over Peters face. His expression changed at the sound of footsteps coming down the passage. Both froze, watching with wide eyes as a small glow appeared at the bend in the walls. Erik held their gaze for a moment, golden eyes catching the flickering light of the lantern he carried. Silently he crossed the distance between their forms, bending over to lift Kirsty's chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "We are all living lies Kirsty. That is the heart of the theater, the silence into which those lies are poured." Her mouth opened in protest, only to be gently covered by the cup of his gloved hand. "You need not stay, your role in tomorrows play is a small one. You can be honest to yourself and run as far from here as your legs can take you, telling yourself, that you are a coward….
Or, you can live the lie for one, more, night. And tell yourself you are brave, and draw your strength from that which is the heart of us all." He removed his hand, placing the lantern on the ground before them. Silently he turned to leave, pausing at the turn in the passage to look over his shoulder. "We will all honor whatever decision you make, and we, will always be ready for your return, should you chose to leave. Some things last forever, one of these, is the theater of lies." A small, grim smile stole over the Phantom's features, and he was gone.
As the sun set the next evening, the patrons of the Paris opera took their seats, the critics filling in the back rows behind them. The upper class took to the balconies, but this night there was no small talk in the hallways or on the great staircase, and the theater was as quiet as a tomb. Behind the scenes Diana watched from the safety of her lovers embrace as the cast took to their places, she broke free when Meg passed by, pulling the older woman into her arms with a sob. Meg held her tightly, whispering good wishes before releasing her and running to her place. Peter and Daroga worked with the set and crew preparing the stage. Up on the grand Tier, Raoul kept his eyes open to judge what precautions Jonathan was taking, carefully counting the numbers of the police force inside the theater.
Two ushers served as the link between Raoul and Daroga, relaying the information. The lighting crew moved silently, sneaking up behind the officers and startling them into giving chase, leading them to where the stable hands and boiler room workers waited, below the trapdoors. In the audience, members of makeup crew dispersed themselves, taking seats at the locations they had been told to sit at. Out at the theaters entrance the rat catcher and several ballet dances arranged a makeshift barricade to hold of any outside help, all wearing masks.
A signal was given; the officers were safely out of the action zone. Step 2 was free. The doors to the exits in the theater were closed, and the orchestra began it's tuning, the last sets were put in place, the stage crew spread out, moving above the audience just out of sight in the rafters. The light crew regrouped, most going to their normal places of action, the remainder joining the ushers as door guards and sitting in reserved seats. With a haunted looks, Kirsty and Peter handed out the officers muskets to the cast on the stage. Quickly the weapons vanished under the men's costumes. Meg eyed one with distaste as she hid it within the folds of her skirt, passing another to Giry who took it and slid it silently into her dress.
Another signal, step two was completed. Erik held Diana against him with demons possessiveness in his eyes, slowly; he released her into Peter's care, then vanished into the wings. The stable hands led seven of the theaters horses out around the theaters exterior; they were there for the slim chance that the manager got past everyone else. "Peter… this is wrong, so wrong… I want him gone from here, but to murder…" Peter's haunted eyes met hers. "Whether it is or isn't, it's too late to stop it. I want to stop it, to let the police take him… at one point, he was my friend. Still I cannot believe this will play as Erik said it will! And at the same time I hope it does! I hate him! For what he did to you, I want him dead!" The two looked over at Kirsty, who sat shaking in the corner, "We will have blood on our hands… all of us…forever…"
…Daroga leaned against the wall, eyes shut. "Can I let this happen… can I justify another stain? Another death, I don't know that answer Allah, only that I must stay near him… or he will have no guide… Oh I helped him in my little ways,
I tried to be a friend.
And though he may deny it all…
He knows it in the end,
That my heart has never faltered,
Nor my will ever bend,
No…"
A cry from the stage, the last plate was placed on the table, the last curtain ready to be pulled. The cast shuddered and moaned, but braced themselves for the storm that must come. Somewhere in their midst the golden eyes flickered. "He has stood a lonely fortress high,
With walls I could not breach,
And even when his spirit died,
His heart I could not reach,
But he never lost his passion…
And I never lost my speech,
To let him know…
No,
That one cannot clip the falcon,
When his wings begin to grow,
…And you cannot close yourself to what you learn, you need to know…
That the greatest gift of life…is letting go…"
The crowd grew still, the wealthy and less so clung to their seats, the theater held none of its usual gaiety. It might never have that again… "In my youth I found a brilliant man,
With Anger on his chest.
So I helped him in his paths, till he was stronger than the rest.
But he was like a lion, and roared and scratched my breast
Till I let him go…
And then as he sprang away from me, and I first heard his song,
Part of me was cursing that I'd helped him grow so strong!
And I feared he would grow lonely… for I knew his road was long…
But even so…
…I could not clip the falcon, when his wings began to grow,
And will not close his heart to what it feel's and needs to know…
That the hardest part of life… is letting go."
The bang as the doors of the theater slammed shut for the final time, the lights dimmed…
"…Like a fire in a forest, his life has burned a cost,
…now just when he has found himself, is he fated, …to be lost?"
The stage was still, the cast look to him to give the next signal. He is frozen. A hand reaches out to his shoulder… he turns. Giry's eyes are dim in this light, but they hold the shine of determination.
Giry: "…And it's only in an opera that the plot can have no end."
Daroga: "And only in the music is our fate a lasting friend…"
Giry: "We feel it in the moments, before the show must end,"
All: "And we know…
We cannot close the curtains, on the last act of the show,
And we cannot stop the end to what we knew must come and go…"
Giry: "…Yes, the hardest part of life…"
Daroga: "…And the fullest part of life…"
Both: "And the truest part of life…"
… … …
Erik: "…Is the letting go."
Theme for song taken from Children of Eden's "Letting Go."