I. The Way Things might have been
Once back in her room, Madame Giry collapsed onto her bed. "My God", she breathed. "What's going on?"
The Phantom remained standing, though he threw his black cloak over a chair. "I wonder."
"Do you have any idea who those… people are?"
"Not the slightest", he admitted.
Surprised, Madame Giry realized that to hear this from him was comforting. No, he had nothing to do with those sinister men, they were nothing but intruders. "What are you going to do about them?" she asked.
He shrugged. "Find out what their intentions are, then chuck them out if I don't like what I hear", he suggested. "That's what I feel like."
"Are you sure you can handle them on your own?" she asked worriedly. There were at least four of them, counting their mysterious Master, and how was she to know how many of those servants they had brought? And how dangerous they really were?
He stared at her pointedly, and suddenly a booming voice filled her head. Do not forget who I am.
"I know", she sighed. "But that knowledge won't keep me from worrying about you."
Tugging at his jacket impatiently, he made an angry sound in his throat, something close to a snarl.
"Yes, alright", Madame Giry said before he had a chance to open his mouth, "I know you don't like to hear it, and I know you're perfectly capable of looking after yourself, and I don't regard you as a child, either. All I'm saying is that they look dangerous to me, and that I'm worried about your safety. And don't give me that look", she added as he grimaced, "because you can admit you're in trouble at least in front of me. Yes, you can, I mean it, so stop pouting."
"Pouting?" he hissed, his eyes flaring up dangerously. "Is this what you think?"
Madame Giry made herself meet his gaze stare for stare. True, he was very difficult to outstare, especially since one had to expect to be taken by some kind of strange feeling soon when trying to do so, but she reminded herself how she had seen him the day before, and that he would never harm her. "I think what I said", she replied evenly. Yes, and past time somebody finally told him straight out that he wasn't God and the saints all bundled together, for pity's sake!
There was an unpleasant sensation in the pit of her stomach suddenly, like a fist clenching around her intestines and pressing them together. At once her mind started reeling madly, swirling with torrents of thunderclouds. Her pulse was racing, and her palms moistened with sweat. Breathing became more and more difficult. Before her eyes, there were dancing specks of red and black, with bright yellow occasionally flashing up. The room swam in and out of focus as she tried to steady herself, but failed, and she sank towards the pillow –
Very abruptly it all stopped, and only a slight feeling of dizziness remained. She was lying sprawled on the bed, with the Phantom kneeling beside her, holding her hand and wearing an expression of concern. "Are you alright?" he asked somewhat breathlessly.
She assumed she was, but decided to let him stew for a bit. Whatever he thought he was, he had no right whatsoever to behave in this way towards her! "Where am I?" she asked back faintly, feeling that a question like this was definitely in place now.
"In your room, and it's around half past six in the morning", he answered immediately. "And we were just having a little argument about those unpleasant folks you met only a moment ago, remember?"
Now he didn't have to pretend that she was suffering from amnesia! But on the other hand, it showed that he was truly worried, which served him right. "Yes, I think so", she replied, then added, "dimly."
"I'm so sorry", he whispered, proving to her that he had a very bad conscience indeed – if he had any such thing, that was. "I didn't mean to, really."
"What did you do to me?"
"I don't know", he admitted. "I was just angry, I reckon."
Just angry. When he had cut down the chandelier, had he been just angry, too? Somebody able to do such things should be able to keep his temper in check just as well! Actually she felt like hitting him over the head with a broomstick, but despite his current meekness, such an action would be extremely unwise, so she settled for scolding instead. "Do you have any idea how serious this is?" she snapped, sitting up again. If she remained lying, it might well increase his worries, but it was just no position for scolding. "Continue like this, and you'll kill me next! What were you thinking, if you were thinking at all?" That last was a very useful question, which she frequently employed with the younger members of the Opera's ballet. "Until now I have always trusted you, although you didn't behave like you were exactly trustworthy, but after this display, I'm not sure anymore."
"Sorry", he repeated, not looking at her.
Madame Giry felt that a lot more of hard words were in order now, but she knew that there was a point from which on he wouldn't swallow them anymore, so she left it at that. At least she had made her point, and it had certainly had some effect on him. This was already more than it could normally be expected with him. "You're forgiven for this time", she told him, though with regrets – the broomstick, and just once, would have been so marvellously satisfying! "But don't you ever do that again."
"I won't", he promised, squeezing her hand he was still holding. She should have withdrawn it while scolding him, it occurred to her, because it somewhat spoiled the effect, but done was done.
"Sit", she told him, nodding at the bed, and he obediently did so straight away. No, not obediently, she reminded herself, but because he chose to. Whatever the reason, she felt a lot more comfortable if he sat beside her instead of towering over her. And a change of topic was called for, too. "How did you manage to be there so suddenly?"
"I waited on the stairs until they were gone."
"So you overheard most of the conversation, I presume?"
He nodded. "I followed you down, actually planning to catch up with you, but then remained hidden to listen. However, if they had decided to harm you in any way, I would have been there with you immediately."
"I don't doubt it", she said warmly, and indeed she did not. However he behaved if they were in private, he had always been there to protect her if she was in danger, and he would continue doing so. "But why were you following me?"
"Because I actually came up to see you in the first place."
"At this time in the morning?"
"I was going to warn you."
Of course, if anyone had known of the intruders, then it must have been him. She had been foolish to think that he might not. He was perfectly capable of looking after himself, of course – but still she worried about him.
"From my point of view, there are two options currently", he continued. "Either I wait somewhere up here and force them to come out into the open, or I go back down to deal with them. Each has its advantages just as well as its disadvantages."
So he had not only known about the intruders, but given their presence some consideration as well. Why was she underestimating him so much? Because of how she had seen him on the previous day? Well, maybe he possessed a soft core, very deep down, or at least a softened one at the current time, but this didn't mean that he had changed at all. She had to keep in mind who he was, and even more firmly than before.
"There is one thing I'm certain about, though", he said, with a sudden fierceness which almost made Madame Giry edge away from him. "That slimy green-eyed sneak dies."
She almost shuddered at the cruel determination in his voice. Indeed, she should not forget what he was capable of. "You mean the one who appeared in the opposite doorway? With those shining eyes?"
"I didn't see him, though I suspected so, but shining eyes sounds right. That would make him Lionel – and a dead man."
She looked at him, yet even though she saw the left side of his face, she might as well have seen the masked one, for his expression was unreadable. "Why?"
Instead of an answer, he stripped off his jacket and held out his left arm for her to see. The sleeve was torn from the elbow downwards, revealing a pair of thin, bloody scratches on his forearm.
"You had an encounter with him tonight." It was not a question.
His face was grim as he answered. "He tried to creep up on me while I was sleeping, but I woke in time to see him blowing out the candles – he doesn't like light, it seems – and he fled. I followed him, but it was difficult; his night sight seems to be perfect, and he must have a very sharp sense of hearing, and I think he knows his way around down there, which makes me somewhat uneasy. Although I reckon he might not be exactly intelligent. Once I caught up with him, but he jumped on me. I fought him off, and all I got is this, but he escaped. Half the night I've been giving chase, until I realized that there were more around, and that that creature – Lionel – was probably meant to lead me straight into their arms. So I came up here finally. To warn you. And I need to see your daughter. When she mentioned those eyes she had seen, I was already suspecting that there was something going on, but I wasn't sure then, though what she said confirmed my suspicions. Can I see her now?"
"I think she's still asleep." Had Meg really met that green-eyed… man last night? God, her own daughter in grave danger! And she had not known! "Don't go down again", she pleaded before she could stop herself. "Stay here, where he won't come looking for you! Not that I think you couldn't handle him", she added before he could get annoyed.
"So you want me to stay here and wait for them to come out? I'm not sure about it. It would mean to come out of my hiding, I'm afraid. Maybe that way they'll think twice before they strike at me – if this is what they intend; maybe they don't – but did it yet occur to you that I might be endangering others if I do so? You for example, and little Meg. Whatever they claim to be, you're the only friends I have." He paused, and Madame Giry knew only too well who he was thinking of now. "Maybe it's better she left", he said suddenly, yet his voice was tinged with bitterness. "For had she stayed, she would have been in danger. And I want her to be safe. Yes. And… happy." He fell silent, biting his lower lip, which trembled slightly.
To distract him from his grief, she frantically searched for another topic, but found none, except, "Should I clean those scratches, maybe?"
"Never mind."
"Have you yet gone to inspect the auditorium?" she tried. Not a good idea, either.
"No. And don't reproach me for the damage."
"It's not that bad, luckily. They're going to rebuild it, I think, although we might well stay closed down until the end of the season, if not longer." She sighed. No, they couldn't possibly do that. They simply had to reopen. Or else… Or else she and many others would stand on the street, unemployed, with no idea how to earn a living now. Herself, she was better off, her earnings had been decent enough, and she might find a similar position somewhere else, yet many of the others… And all because a certain Phantom thought killing off people and cutting down chandeliers was a perfectly ordinary equivalent of throwing a tantrum! She found herself wishing for the broomstick again.
"You'll be threatening to box my ears any moment now, won't you?" he commented sarcastically, and she assumed that at least part of her emotions had been showing on her face. "You don't understand, and I don't care. Maybe you haven't yet been in love properly."
How dare he! "No, I was thinking of hitting you with a broomstick", she snapped truthfully. "And repeatedly, you mark my words! And if you think I didn't love my husband, God rest him, then you're wrong, but you're equally wrong if you now think that every time we quarrelled we threw a lamp at each other's head, let alone a chandelier! It's you who have no idea how to behave when you're in love!"
In one fluid motion he was on his feet and glaring down at her, his eyes ablaze. "Don't – use – that – tone – on – me!" His voice sounded strained; it was obvious that he was having some difficulty with controlling his temper.
Maybe he needed to be told the truth, but Madame Giry knew when not to push her luck. "Alright", she said with a soothing gesture, "alright, I won't."
He exhaled, seemingly trying to calm himself, and his fists unclenched. This had been close, Madame Giry realized, very close indeed. As well as who he was, she should not forget that he had very little patience. Changing the topic had been a mistake; he was much easier to handle when miserable and hoping for pity than when in a towering rage and looking for something he could rip to shreds. She was glad that Christine was out of his reach now, and especially the young Vicomte, for who could say what he would do next if his mood was as foul as it was now?
"She is still mine", he muttered. "Mine."
"Alright", Madame Giry repeated. She was not going to discuss matters of property with him now, even if she thought that considering a young woman property was a most outrageous thing. In his current mood, he would find it outrageous that she disagreed with him, and maybe he would not be able to keep himself in check, then. And simply shouting at him might catch him by surprise, but his surprise would not last long. No, shouting at him required either a very guilty feeling or a very meek mood on his side, and both were extremely rare. Better to weather the storm and wait until he calmed himself. There was nothing else she could do.
He slumped down onto the bed beside her once more. "And don't argue with me", he said wearily. "I don't feel like arguing now."
"I won't", she replied, hoping that this meant that it would soon be over again.
For some time he just sat beside her in silence, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, then he spoke again, very quietly. "What exactly did I do wrong? With her, I mean."
Another dangerous topic. "I think she was afraid of you", Madame Giry answered carefully.
He nodded. "Just as I feared. And there won't be a next time. Not for me."
Astounded, she cast him a sideward glance. How he could jump from one mood to another with barely a pause was remarkable.
"You know", he continued, almost dreamily now, "I might have been happy with her. Maybe I would even have come out of the cellars for her, out of those dungeons, if she just wanted me to. I would have done anything she asked of me. Anything." He sighed heavily. "Well, done is done, and I had better get over it. And besides, if she had stayed… that sneaking bastard was down that night already."
At once a realization hit her that had not occurred to her before. "But when he was down in the cellars… do you think he might have harmed her on her way out?"
"No, she's safe."
"How do you know?"
"Because I can feel her." He was smiling fondly to himself as he said so. "I know she is alright. Right now she is…" His smile broadened. "Oh. She is waking up."
Madame Giry gave him a questioning look, but when he failed to notice it, she asked, "What do you mean, you can feel her?"
"Exactly what I say", he replied enigmatically, obviously very caught up with something only he could hear. The smile lingered. Then he closed his eyes, and she could see that his lips moved slightly, as if he were speaking to himself – or…
"You're not… rummaging around in her mind, are you?" she asked suspiciously. Could he, over this distance? She knew that he somehow seemed to possess the ability to guess what was going on in her mind if he looked someone in the eyes – or read someone's mind, maybe, although she did not like that idea. Not that it was always accurate, but he had gotten the point with her every time he did it, so that she now was careful to avoid his eyes if she wanted to keep something to herself. There were other things she knew for certain, like the trick with his voice in her head, or that his gaze could possess a certain hypnotic power if he wanted it to, the latter something he had been aware of as early as when they first met already, although back in those days it had been rather crude and unsuccessful equally often as not, while now it seemed to be a very highly refined skill, very subtle and differentiated. But he needed eye contact, he always needed eye contact to make his mind tricks work.
Or close proximity, in case of his dream trick. She knew that he had done that with Christine a few times, though she was not sure how often exactly, and she knew that he could manipulate dreams to a certain extent. Several years ago, he had even bothered to explain, and she recalled that he had said that because in sleep the mind's defences were abandoned, the dreamer positively radiated what he was dreaming about, and that he could get a general idea if he was close enough, and give the dream a few prods in the direction he wanted it to go, if he concentrated hard enough, but that complete manipulation was impossible due to the lack of eye contact.
So what was he doing now? Madame Giry suddenly had the suspicion that his powers had increased greatly since he had last explained about them, and this was not a very comfortable feeling.
"No. I'm just saying good morning." His smile had not yet disappeared. "She's so sweet."
Suddenly a memory struck her, of something Christine had once said: that she believed that her Angel was always with her, and that sometimes she could even feel him watching her. At that time, she had assumed that it was just the girl's imagination running wild, but she wasn't so sure anymore now.
"Not a good idea", he murmured suddenly, making her frown at him. His lips moved a bit more, silently, then ceased, then moved again, just as if she were witnessing a whispered conversation, but saw only one of the whisperers. Could it be that he was… talking to her?
After some time he straightened, his expression as if waking from a dream, but a hint of the smile still lingered around the corners of his mouth. "You may well have a visitor today", he announced.
