V. One Companion
"Bloody hell!" Raoul exclaimed, completely unable to decide where to look first. "That's quite a collection!"
He heard the Phantom's light footsteps behind him, then the door was pulled closed. "Keep your voice down", his rival said harshly.
Raoul chose to ignore him. There were more interesting things to pay attention to. All those long, long rows of costumes, lines and lines of them! Dust was in the air, and the distinct smell of mothballs, and the gas lights were dim, truly giving this place the feeling of somewhere deep down in the cellars. And to think that they were just on the second level, not too far beneath the ground compared to where the Phantom dwelled… One could spend a lifetime here, just exploring.
Which probably was what the Phantom had occupied himself with, apart from spying on Christine.
"Those are just the archives", the Phantom said dismissively. "They are barely used now. The actual costume rooms are a level further up."
"But nobody ever comes here, right?" Raoul guessed, tugging at the sleeve of a heavy brocaded gown.
"This is correct", the Phantom said stiffly, seemingly unwilling to agree with him.
"Right. And what do we do now?"
"In my case, pick up some things I need. In your case, change into a more suitable attire."
"What?" Raoul looked down at himself. Was there anything wrong with his suit? Then he understood. "Ah. We're going to get dirty."
"And I don't want to hear your complaints about it."
"Right", Raoul repeated, already starting off along the rows. "Right…"
"There's a mirror at the other end of the room. It has a few blind spots, but it's good enough for your use. Mind you don't take too long admiring yourself."
Raoul ignored his remark. This might even be going to be some fun, and he wouldn't let the Phantom spoil it.
Searching through the numerous rows of old costumes, he found several things which might fit him, and some which might be quite interesting to try on. That marine blue velvet jacket, for example, he might look good in that. Or that pale green one. Or how about that nice red vest? Christine might like it on him. Oh, and there was a large feathered hat…
"Don't even think about it", the Phantom growled, turning up so suddenly behind him that Raoul almost jumped. "Plain black, for preference, and something you can move in properly."
"I wasn't going to wear that, anyway." He had only intended to try it on; that was a difference. Tugging at something black sticking out between what seemed to be a pair of voluminous pink petticoats, he added, "That better?"
"Check what it really is first."
There was nothing to be said against this, of course. Raoul pulled the item off its hanger – and at once snorted with laughter. He was holding another petticoat, but a many-layered and very lacy one, and all in black.
"Nice choice", the Phantom chuckled. "Might even look good on you."
Raoul hurried to put the thing back where he had taken it from. "No, I'm not wearing girls' stuff! Besides, I bet that itches."
"Have you ever worn a woman's clothes, then?"
"Yes, once." Raoul grimaced. "For a theatre production at my boarding school. It was a sky-blue woollen dress, and it was horrible." He continued down the aisle between two rows. "How about you?"
"Once, too", the Phantom admitted. "When I was a boy. Right in this room. It was the most dreadful pink dress you can possibly imagine."
The mere idea made Raoul snort anew. "And, did you like it?"
"No", the Phantom replied promptly. "I kept tripping over the hem, and I hated the corset."
"The corset?" Now this was getting better and better!
"Yes, curse the thing. Claire insisted to put me in one."
"Madame Giry, you mean?"
The Phantom nodded. "Her exactly. When she was still a giggly ballet girl."
"And she put you in a corset?"
"Yes, for the fun of it." The Phantom shrugged. "You'll have to imagine her a bit like Meg. She'd do that, too, with a kid she'd decide to adopt as her little brother."
Like Meg? Yes, Raoul could only too well imagine Meg doing such a thing. Madame Giry had been like that, so very mischievous? And now she was so stern and serious? Funny, that. He wondered what Meg would turn out to be like one day. "And did she tie it properly?"
"I don't know, but it certainly was too tight for my taste."
Yes, those things had a tendency to be so, as it seemed. Raoul shuddered. "As it's meant to be, then." Crazy things, corsets. "Women wouldn't faint so much without them." He wondered why they still wore them, then. Well, women could be a bit odd sometimes.
As he looked at the Phantom, the man was wearing an evil smirk. "Gives you a reason to unlace their corsets for them, doesn't it?"
And though Raoul hated that smirk, he couldn't help but grin along. "And grope at their breasts, right? But discreetly."
The Phantom's grin widened. "I didn't expect you to be that crude, kid." Raoul was surprised to see a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "Dear me. What would your mother say?"
Raoul shrugged. "Smack my hindquarters, no doubt." She had done that often enough when he had been younger, and he wouldn't put it past her to do it again. "That was what she did when I groped at a woman's breasts for the first time. I was nine, and the woman in question was a serving girl, and rather gifted in that area." He snickered at the memory. "How about you? Ever had a chance to do that?" And pray it wasn't on Christine!
"More by accident. And I don't know how old I was", the Phantom answered curtly. "Here, how about this?"
Not very talkative where his own experiences were concerned, now was he? The woman in question might just have been a younger Madame Giry… and she might well have boxed his ears for his little accident. Grinning, Raoul lifted the indicated black shirt up to the dim light to examine it. It was made of a rough fabric, and it might just be his size. "Right", he agreed, "certainly better than my own."
"See you find something more." With this, the Phantom headed down the aisle determinedly, striding purposefully towards a dark corner of the room. Raoul assumed he was going to produce his mysterious secret weapons now – if there were any at all.
The girls had doubted their existence just as well, but he had not backed the girls up, because making them stay had been troublesome enough, anyway. Finally Madame Giry had arrived and taken them into her care, but until then, not even the Phantom's unsettling glare had sufficed to convince them.
Rummaging through a pile of clothes on the floor, Raoul heaved a sigh. Why did women have to be so complicated? They expected you to guard and protect them and let no harm come to them, yet when you really tried to do so, they complained! Why did they have to complain? He was being a gentleman, that was all!
But maybe it was best not to think about it too much. Women could drive you insane, his father used to say. And his father knew, he truly did, being married to Raoul's mother…
No, he would not think about his mother now, either.
Trying to concentrate on it, he changed into other clothes and then went in search of the promised mirror, which he found at the end of the room, just as the Phantom had said, and just in the state the Phantom had mentioned, with a few blind spots marring its surface. Raoul studied his reflection critically and then decided that the broad belt he had picked looked amazingly good on him, but that he would need something to tuck into it, like… his revolver, for example. He hastily retrieved it from the pile of his discarded clothing, refusing to imagine what would have happened had he forgotten it. And if he buckled his sabre belt on and left that loose vest open… yes, that looked quite dashing, especially with that short cloak. The gloves also were a nice touch, if maybe a little warm; they were more leather gauntlets than anything. But they made his reflection – he drew himself up proudly – that of a warrior. There only remained something to do about his hair. Binding it back seemed a good idea, yet a concept he even more liked was to still wear it open, but make the strands stick together with hair tonic or something like that, so he would appear to have a wild mane. And dye it black, maybe, or at least patches of it. And grow a moustache; it was fashionable, anyway. Raoul frowned at himself, trying to appear grim. Small chance to find any hair tonic in here. Yet perhaps if he found an interesting hat… He tried a cap hanging nearby, yet quickly decided against it. But how about this funny turban thing, the black one with the little white plumes at the front? Now that was worth a try!
"You look like an idiot", the Phantom stated, his reflection ghostly appearing behind Raoul's. That one could step so lightly with such heavy boots! Well, not quite as heavy as usual, perhaps, rather of a softer leather, but still boots. And that one could convey such a substantial threat being dressed so simply hardly seemed fair. All the Phantom wore was a pair of tight-fitting black trousers and an equally tight-fitting black shirt, and he was girded with only one dagger – the other he had left with the girls, which had slightly helped to convince Meg, but only slightly. His bright eyes glittered maliciously from behind a black mask covering most of his face. Yet what struck Raoul as odd were his gloves: While on his right hand he wore a fingerless one tied with thin leather cords just beneath his wrist, his left was in a rough, padded gauntlet almost up to his elbow. Strange, his attire seemed so practical otherwise – until Raoul realized what he was carrying, together with his sabre belt. "Oh man!" he breathed. "Where did you get that?"
The Phantom answered his look of astonishment in the mirror with a smug little smirk. "Oh, from down here. I just improved it a bit."
"That thing looks amazing."
"It's even better than it looks. They used it for some horribly romantic Meyerbeer stuff some time ago, and I couldn't help serving myself. Only the range might still be worked on, but I'm afraid not much. It will do for my purpose, however."
Raoul still was quite impressed. An archaic weapon, but one which definitely had style. "Are you any good with it?"
"Trust me to that, kid."
Yes, he rather tended to believe so. And he suppressed the urge of asking if he could have a go with it. Of course he had occasionally played with bow and arrows as a child, but those had been self-made and never any good. This one, however, even though currently carried unstrung, looked… real. And so did the quiver bristling with grey-feathered arrows the Phantom carried along with it.
"Let me guess", Raoul said. "Your plan is to creep up on them and shoot a few silently, and then run for it."
"It might be roughly summed up like that", the Phantom conceded. "Yet you missed an important point: I'll have to climb to reach them, yet I won't have to run too soon."
Raoul frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Look, I happen to know this place, and better than they ever will. There's a trapdoor in that hall's ceiling, and the ceiling is so high up that it lies in shadow more or less even with all their braziers lit. That should give me some time; we might calculate five shots, maybe even more, if I'm lucky. And then, when they come up looking for me, I'll use you as a bait to take out some more."
"Oh, thank you very much", Raoul grumbled. He did not like the sound of this.
"Of course", the Phantom continued, ignoring his interjection, "you ought to be dressed for running, just like I'm dressed for climbing. Means no cloak, kid. You only look like a crippled bat in it, anyway. And take that stupid hat off."
Raoul glared at him. "You watch your tongue with me", he growled. "If I'm to put up with you, then learn to sound a bit more civil, right? Or I'll tell Christine what you've been calling me."
"She'd find your hat just as ridiculous", the Phantom said coldly. "Well?"
Scowling, Raoul put the funny turban back where he had found it. He wasn't attached to it, it really was rather ridiculous, but he hated the Phantom telling him so. Then he let the cloak follow, this time with a feeling of regret. It had looked rather nice on him. Crippled bat! What a jerk!
"I'm glad you did the right thing", the Phantom commented in a tone of sarcasm Raoul did not like at all. "Now, if you please, let us proceed."
Us. He said us. And he had not said that before too frequently. But to think he would accept Raoul as an equal would be a mistake, Raoul knew it. He would never do that, not even if Christine asked him to. Well, perhaps he would if she asked, but the important point was that she had not, so there was no use in idle speculation.
I should kill him, Raoul thought, I should kill him to do Christine justice. But at the same time, he knew that Christine would never forgive him if he did. Back in Christine's old room, shortly before they had departed, he had seen it once again, this strange understanding without words, this mysterious… something they shared. Love on his side, pity on hers… but that was not all. That was not all.
The trouble was that Raoul did not understand it. He realized that it was there, whatever it might be, but he could not comprehend its nature. It was too subtle, too delicate for him to see.
And whatever it was, it made Christine want them to get on with each other. And if this was what she wanted, he would do it. It would be hard, close to impossible, but he would do his best.
Only then he realized that he was standing there in the middle of the costume room, gazing at nothing in particular. And the Phantom was watching him, his expression – or what was visible of it – impossible to read. But could this be a little smile of amusement? And not even an unpleasant one? Raoul could not tell for sure, but it might just be.
He cast the mirror another brief glance. In his black attire, he would probably make a bait which could melt into the darkness behind him easily. At least he hoped so. And if not… he still had his sabre and his revolver. Only his face might still stand out, but there was nothing to be done about it short of painting it black, which he certainly wouldn't do.
Or was there?
He swallowed. Very well. "I should like a mask", he said.
Their eyes met, and a moment elongated into eternity. Raoul thought to feel the Phantom's gaze boring into his, and through his eyes into his mind, until the back of his skull. He shuddered. Was this what Christine had frequently felt when looking into those eyes? Then, at last, the Phantom lowered his gaze and turned away and disappeared between the rows of costumes without a word.
Raoul swallowed again. Had he taken offence at his request? There had been absolutely no offence in it, but everybody knew the Phantom was somewhat… deranged. What if he got one of his killing frenzies now? What if he chose to sneak off on his own?
Heavens, what would Raoul tell Christine if the Phantom did?
There was the sound of footsteps coming closer swiftly, and once again he found himself facing the Phantom – only that this time his old rival was holding out a mask for him to take.
Raoul put it on without hesitation and then regarded his reflection in the mirror. It was a rather fancy one, he saw, covered in black feathers and sprinkled with a few gold ones. He even found he liked it.
Turning back to the Phantom, he nodded, indicating he was ready to go. Yet to his astonishment, the Phantom remained standing where he was… watching him. Just watching him. "Will you then submit to my leadership?" he said at last.
Raoul answered his gaze without blinking. Those eyes were… peculiar. Heat and cold were swirling in them as if in a wild gale, yet beneath them, beneath the fog they created… those eyes were just like everybody else's. Human eyes. And deep down inside them, there was a hint of something Raoul had not seen before in them. A hint of… what? Vulnerability? Fear? And at once he understood that he was not the only one afraid not to be accepted.
He did then what he preferred doing: He just spoke his mind. "Love is a peculiar thing, don't you think? A short time ago we were mortal enemies for a woman's love, and now, for the same woman's love, we are companions. And for this love, I would follow you to the end of the world."
Slightly, very slightly, the Phantom inclined his head – the kind of bow reserved for an equal.
My God, I will never be able to kill him later on now I've looked into those eyes…
The Phantom cleared his throat before he spoke, but his voice still had an uncertain, husky sound to it. "For now, we stand united under the banner of vengeance."
Raoul nodded, and at once he felt a grin steal onto his face. He could not resist the temptation to give the Phantom a playful nudge in the ribs. "Sounds good, Erik."
The Phantom nudged him right back. "That's still Phantom to you."
