Chapter Four: Shattered
"Faye!" I woke with a jump, eyes opening wide. I soon discovered that was a bad idea, as the drapes were not closed and the sunlight was streaming into my room. I was hit with an immediate headache as I covered my eyes and fell back down. I had vaguely caught sight of Madame Giry standing nearby and groaned softly. "Faye, get up!" She scolded, prodding me. I rolled myself up in the covers defensively, still not all the way awake.
"No…" I groaned softly.
"Faye!" She thwacked me sternly and I toppled out of bed in a heap of blankets.
"Ow!" The word escaped as a screech. "What'd you do that for?" I grumbled, trying to untangle myself. Blanket, nightdress, sheet, robe…
"Do you want to miss rehearsals?" The woman hissed, throwing my dancing attire at me.
"Yes…" I grumbled, finally discerning the mess of fabrics and rising slowly. I clutched my head and looked over at the window. There was a note. It was like waking from nightmares to another nightmare, though this wasn't much of a nightmare so much as it was reality… I picked up the paper wearily and broke the seal, clearing my eyes to read it.
'Ten 'o' clock tonight, same place.' Wow, he's so insightful sometimes… I thought sadistically as I tossed the letter aside. Madame Giry was watching me. I sighed and looked back at her.
"Who is he?" I asked. I knew she knew something about him, but she simply shook her head at me.
"Get ready for rehearsal," she stated, before leaving in a flourish of dark fabric. I frowned and glared after her, shutting the door and getting changed. I started contemplating the best way to disengage Monsieur Mystery's ropes so that he'd have nothing to threaten me with, but decided it would be useless considering how many ropes there were in that theater. I'd just have to think of something else.
I barely had time for a quick bite to eat before I whisked myself into the theater, just in time for rehearsal. Carlotta was looking exceptionally prissy today and I wondered if I'd ever hear the end of it. For some reason, she was the only person I'd ever felt the desire to rip the vocal chords from with my bare hands…
"See what happens when you let an amateur take a lead?" She declared to Piangi.
"Mademoiselle Lavonne is very much on time," Monsieur Reyer stated, moving down into the orchestra pit. Carlotta glowered and I found myself walking straight up to her, looking her in the eye evenly.
"Good morning Miss Carlotta," I said, almost through gritted teeth. She literally stuck her nose up in the air and turned her back to me. I raised a brow and crossed my arms before looking around to see if anyone was watching. Only a few chorus girls were. Flashing them a devious grin of sorts, my foot flew under Carlotta's feet and tripped her. With an unladylike squeal, she toppled over, skirts flying everywhere. "Oh, Mademoiselle! I'm so sorry!" I said with a sickeningly sweet tone, "Here, let me help you!" I offered a hand, which she smacked. She glared at me and rose on her own, still trying to straighten herself out.
"You better watch yourself, little snake!" She snarled. I just smirked at her.
"Oh trust me. I will. But just remember that snakes bite." I said with a bit of a dead voice. Her eyebrows went up, her eyes flaring with a stoked rage. The chorus girls were giggling, and even Piangi nearby, was trying to stifle a grin. Monsieur Reyer looked intrigued and I half-expected him to interrupt, but he didn't.
"You--!" She started inexpressibly before just screaming in rage.
"Snakes are also very sneaky, and cunning, Mademoiselle," I kept going. Her fingers hooked into claws and she lunged at me. I ducked out of her way and she fell off the stage into the orchestra pit. Laughing a bit to myself, I lounged back and looked down at her, keeping my distance. She growled like a terrier and tried to claw her way back onto the stage. I smirked. Monsieur Reyer was trying very hard not to laugh and Piangi had given in. "I'd hate to be such a nuisance, Mademoiselle," I stated, setting my jaw in a smug look.
"No one insults me!" She screeched at me in anger, "I am the lead in this show and I outweigh you in any song!" Her excessive make-up made her look a bit scary…in a clownish sort of fashion.
"Oh aye, outweigh." I grinned. I could tell I'd crossed the line with my comment because in a flourish, she worked herself up onto the stage and latched onto my ankles. I went toppling over but I couldn't help but laugh, feeling liberated now that I'd finally been able to insult her. Piangi worked her off of me and I stood again, brushing myself off. She gave me one final glare.
"You will never have a lead! You will never be as good as I am!" She growled.
"Well thank God for that." I replied, chuckling and moving back across the stage. The event put me in a much better mood for the day. Some of the chorus girls broke out into a giggly applause. Madame Giry was standing on the other side of the stage, glaring at me. "I apologize, Madame," I said, bowing my head. She said nothing but moved into teaching some new choreography. The whole time we rehearsed, Carlotta shot me an evil glare whenever she had the chance. I found it more amusing than threatening and just smiled.
When rehearsals finally ended, I flounced off to my room in a better mood than I'd been in probably the past year. Another note awaited me, which I picked up gracefully, slipping my nails through the seal, before receiving a nasty paper-cut. "Ow!" I cursed silently, waving my finger and looking at the fine little red line. I rolled my eyes in aggravation before opening the letter.
'I failed to mention you should be prepared to dance this evening.'
I was starting to get slightly annoyed with the shortness of his letters, but perhaps he was too busy to write anything of significant length. Plus… I'd stopped answering them. Shrugging, I put the note aside and looked around. It was only about seven in the evening, so I still had three hours. There was a knock on my door.
Hesitantly, I moved over to it and opened it, to find one of the chorus girls out there. She introduced herself as Lynne and smiled shyly. "There eez a young Monsieur from ze extras zat would like to take you out to dinner tomorrow night." Her voice didn't sound particularly French to me, but I didn't question her origin.
"Oh, and who might this young Monsieur be exactly?" I asked, raising a brow. She giggled slightly. I could tell she was still very young.
"His name eez James, and 'e say that if you want to go out to dinner, 'e will be down in ze hall," she said carefully.
"Well, all right. Thank you," I replied. She smiled and pounced off almost childishly, disappearing down the stairwell. Shaking my head with a slight smile to myself, I changed out of my dancing shoes and bounded gracefully down the hall. It looked rather empty to me before my eye caught sight of a rather striking gentleman, waiting patiently in a lean against the wall, his arms crossed. He looked up as I strode down the corridor, eyes appearing to light up.
I paused. "Mademoiselle Lavonne," he greeted, bowing slightly. He was of tall stature with a well-kept mass of blonde hair, and strikingly blue eyes.
"…Monsieur James?" I inquired, raising a brow uncertainly. Why hadn't I recognized him at rehearsals? I would think that I would have… He smiled.
"Just James," he stated. I nodded slowly, looking at him suspiciously. For some reason, no matter how strikingly beautiful he was… I just wasn't attracted. And somehow, I thought that Monsieur Opera Ghost would not appreciate my going out to dinner with Mister Fancy Pants. Not that I wanted to…
"I regret to tell you that I cannot accept your dinner invitation… you see… my instructor… he is very strict with regards to my lessons, and I cannot stay out late anywhere," I said carefully. His countenance seemed to drop.
"I'd have you back early. At least by nine or ten 'o' clock," he tried again. Definitely British. I shook my head.
"Alas, I cannot," I stated, "But it was nice of you to offer and I didn't want to just leave you down here without an absolute answer." He looked offended.
"Oh…I…I see," he answered, straightening up and meeting my eyes. I caught my breath for a moment at the look he gave me. It was very… odd. "I thought your little…erm… display at rehearsals this morning was quite admirable." I raised a brow and had to laugh at his expression.
"Most men would classify me as an unkempt monstrous fiend," I replied. He burst out laughing at my comment as if I'd somehow broken the tension. I resumed a serious expression as his laughter died away.
"Where are you from, Mademoiselle?" He asked.
"Provence," I answered, nodding sagely.
"Hm, that region hasn't often been known to produce monstrous fiends, has it?" He teased, eyes flickering with self-amusement. I could tell that Monsieur James, if not completely selfish and ignorant, was at least a little too overconfident and pompous. I raised my head and cleared my throat.
"Well, you never know." I stated blandly. He didn't seem to be getting the impression that I really didn't want anything to do with him…
"Well I'm sorry you can't make it to dinner," he said, as if he were closing something, "But perhaps breakfast or lunch?" I felt the urge to smack him upside the head.
"I… don't like food." I responded. He laughed at that.
"You're French. Since when do the French not like food?" He asked, a puzzled but amused expression coming to his face. I was getting annoyed, and bored.
"I'm not a typical French woman," I replied.
"Ah. True." He breathed a sigh, still looking at me.
"Well, it was nice meeting you, at any rate, and perhaps I'll see you around." I shook his hand firmly and turned around, walking away almost abruptly.
"Er, good night! Mademoiselle…" I moved up the stairs, an aggravated emotion seriously threatening my good mood. I pushed it off. Mister British Perfect-Hair could go eat his own candle-lit dinners. He was, decidedly, the last thing I needed.
Sighing in a bit of a distraught manner, I returned to my room and contemplated which dance outfit I should wear tonight. Recently I'd been wearing only grays and browns, so I decided I might as well wear some color lest my instructor think I were afraid to address the vibrant side of things. The selected attire was a dark turquoise accented with black. The only problem was that there was no place for my rapier, and I still didn't trust this man…
My dagger, however, seemed to fit into the bodice perfectly, so hopefully that would suffice. I still had a good two hours or so until I needed to be there. After some contemplating, I shrugged and grabbed my dance shoes, heading down to the small practice room. This would at least occupy me for an hour or so…
The room was fairly empty, except for the piano player and a few chorus girls that appeared to be playing around in the corner with a new routine. Smiling vaguely to myself, I laced up my ballet shoes with the full intention of winding down. I stretched my limbs out a bit, before running over the choreography I'd learned for the show. By the time I'd run over that, the girls had trickled out and I had the room to myself (except for the piano player).
"Mademoiselle?" The piano player caught my attention, raising a brow. I looked over from my stance.
"Oh, euhm… Chopin," I stated, "Anything by Chopin." He flashed me an irritated glance before starting in on some flowing melody. The title of it ceased to exist in my mind as I worked freely on my balance and posture. After an hour of flowing pieces, twirls, leaps, and pirouettes, I finally decided I'd had enough. I had another hour to do as I wished and found myself wandering about the halls of the Opera House.
I suddenly felt as if I was being followed. Looking around, I didn't see anyone so I assumed I was simply paranoid. However, as I crossed the front foyer of the Opera House onto the stairs, I heard footsteps behind me. I raised a brow and paused on the staircase. The footsteps ceased. Moving a few more steps, I hard my pursuer follow more but halt abruptly as I stopped again. I turned my head and peered down into the darkness. "Oh, very funny," I stated evenly. There was no answer. I shook my head. "Very well. May the best man win." I bolted up the stairs rapid-fire, skipping steps as I did so and leaping atop the platform as I raced down the hallway. I tried to contain my laughter but skidded to a step as I nearly ran over Madame Giry.
"You are not to be running about like a three-year-old!" She scolded. I adjusted my stance and frowned, suddenly turning serious.
"Yes Madame," I replied. Sighing disgustedly, she shook her head and muttered something, walking off past me. Setting my jaw in aggravation, I lifted my head slightly and called back.
"Very funny, Sir James," I called. There was a brief silence before my pursuer revealed himself.
"How did you know it was me?" He asked, an unbelieving tone seeping into his voice as he rounded the corner.
"Well I'm not sure. It could have been the intoxicating sense of your inanity, or the distinctly British shuffle of your feet. Either way, I'm certainly no psychic," I answered sardonically, whirling around to meet his gaze.
"I resent that," he almost sniffled, raising his head. He paused. "What's inanity?" I snorted.
"Go to bed, James," Madame Giry called from down the hall.
"Yes. Go to bed, James," I repeated, turning on my heel and heading off to the theater. I was growing tired of aggravations. Swinging my ballet shoes from a restless hand, I pushed my way into the theater, noticing immediately that there was a grand array of candles lit on the stage. I raised a brow and shook my head, sitting on the edge of the stage and lacing my shoes.
"I see you've listened to me for once," He commented almost dryly from one of the darkened back rows. I squinted but couldn't see him. Shrugging, I continued lacing.
"It likely has more to do with the fact that I was bored or uncontrollably annoyed with theater personnel," I answered haughtily.
"I was under the impression that you automatically expressed these aggravations on the spot, after your little display with Carlotta this morning," he replied. I laughed a bit.
"Actually that was a result of built-up aggravation. I'm not terribly fond of selfish prunes," I said.
"As amusing as it was, I would advise you to keep such instances in check." He was somewhat scolding me. I finished lacing and looked up, quirking a brow at my teacher.
"Oh you can be certain that I will, Monsieur," I stated, "I have no desire to wage wars with unworthy opponents." With that, I rose up onto the stage and stretched once more, reaching and spinning lithely.
"Your dancing in the farewell number this morning was absolutely horrific. There is clearly no connection between you and Monsieur Delacrois," Erik commented.
"Scusez-moi, Monsieur," I shot back, shifting from my stance to put my hands on my hips. I glared at him through the darkness. "There is not much I can do when Monsieur Delacrois is still trying to avoid stepping on my feet! His voice is beautiful, but he lacks dance skills!"
"Then he was incorrectly cast," Erik stated calmly.
"If you have honest problems with that, bring it up with the manager," I breathed, waving my hand around at him. Taking another deep breath, I stretched my legs and leapt across the stage.
"I'll just have to work with you," he answered. He moved down the aisle and onto the stage, watching me for a moment from the side. I stopped and looked at him nervously.
"What?" I shot.
"I can already see that you are far too tense," he said. I groaned and turned my back to him, walking away.
"I'm always tense!"
"Well then, you must learn to relax," he hissed. He seemed angry with me. I sighed deeply and closed my eyes, opening them again and turning to face him from across the stage. "Pretend that I am Monsieur Delacrois and we are performing the farewell number," he said. I raised a brow and then laughed.
"You? Dance?" I stifled my laughter when he did not mirror my reaction. There was a long, awkward pause. He removed his cape and twirled it aside gracefully, moving into the light.
"Come," he beckoned me across the stage and I moved hesitantly within his reach. He took my hand, his other hand slipping around my waist and drawing me closer to him. I gasped slightly, tensing in his dancer's embrace. "You would be very surprised…" He whispered.
"I am…" I said, staring at him with wide eyes. He smirked before frowning in annoyance.
"Now release your tension," he commanded softly.
"Release…my…." The rest of the words vanished as he gripped my waist, forcing all of my limbs to go slack. I gasped, practically hanging in his arms.
"Now…where were we?" He asked rhetorically, smirking at my lack of response. He stepped into the choreography that I'd just learned earlier with ease, as if he'd practiced it for years. His movements were perfect and graceful as he led me across the stage, circling, winding, spinning, leaping… I was too astounded to comment but my body felt free and light as he whirled me through the air. There was absolutely nothing to weigh me down in this tender universe he had created with such poise and ease. After the dance, I was left breathless, hooked over his arms like a rag-doll.
I looked up at him with a fear flaring in my eyes. It was the first time I think, that I'd truly been completely afraid of anything. "Now that," he whispered, "Was magnificent." My breath was ragged.
"Thank you…" I managed softly, staring at his eyes, my brain sifting out the words I could say to him. "You were…" Before I could finish, he lifted me swiftly from the stance, jolting me back to reality. His eyes suddenly whirled about the shadows.
"Someone's in here," he hissed in a low voice, moving off into the shadows. I caught my breath and looked after him with wide eyes before I looked around.
"Mademoiselle?" The voice was easily recognizable, and I wanted to mortally wound the owner. I nearly slapped myself and turned around to face James.
"What do you want?" I asked in an irritated tone. He paused, looking around.
"Was there just you…? Dancing?" He inquired, still looking around suspiciously.
"Yes, there was only me, James!" I shot, "Now go back to bed so I can finish!"
"You come in here and dance alone?" He continued his questions. I was about to pull my dagger on him.
"If you have a problem with that, talk to me tomorrow. Now is not a good time," I said evenly. I grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him around, pushing him in the direction of the door, "Go, good-bye, and good-night!" Once he was gone, I breathed a sigh and shoved a chunk of hair out of my eye.
"Who was that?" Erik asked almost darkly.
"Inanity itself," I answered, shaking my head as he moved out of the shadows once again. "He's possibly more vexing than you," I added, bending to remove my shoes. I suddenly felt his grip upon my wrist, lifting me up. I lifted my eyes to meet his. He did not look happy. I wrenched my wrist away, shooting him an angry glare.
"What is your problem?" I snapped.
"After all I have done for you, you would still treat me as a criminal?" He demanded. I rolled my eyes, sitting to remove my shoes now.
"Erik. You are a criminal," I replied.
"What?" The tone of that one word from his lips made me regret my mere existence in the world. I bit my lip and didn't reply. "What did you just say?" He pressed. I shook my head and finished removing my shoes, rising and bowing my head to him in silence.
"Thank you for tonight, Erik," I stated respectfully. His eyes regarded me with an even glare. I turned away and started walking.
"Is that what you think I am, Miss Lavonne? A criminal?" He finally called after me. I stopped in my tracks and sighed, silently cursing my big mouth.
"So I've read…" I explained lamely. His anger bloomed before me like a raging torrent of fire.
"Do they know?" He shot, "Do they see? Do they understand? I live and I work by the veil of darkness! I dare not venture into the light, for people fear my hideousness! This face!" He growled.
"Erik…"
"Are you then, like those who dwell in this wonderful world of light? Seeking to make a mockery of the things you do not know, but the things that you fear beyond anything you'd ever truly know? Laughing in the face of an outcast who has spent years trying to find an identity and some reason to truly dwell upon this earth?" His voice cracked with passion and my heart broke. He turned his back to me and lifted a gloved hand to his forehead. His breathing was rigid. I carefully set my dancing shoes down and approached, touching his shoulder to let him know I was there.
I rounded his form, slightly intimidated as I was terribly short comparatively (or so I thought), and lifted his chin, looking into his eyes. There were tears in his eyes. It's the first time I'd ever seen a man broken like this. Every rage and sorrow existed in those eyes, and I felt an overwhelming sense of compassion. I looked down, closing his hand around mine. Lifting my eyes again, I smiled at him.
"Erik…" I searched his eyes imploringly. "Sometimes, to truly live, we must live in a cage to understand what it is to live." He blinked back the tears that threatened his eyes and nodded rigidly, pulling from me once more.
"Go sleep, Faye… you did well tonight." He vanished back into the shadows and I stared after him for several moments, feeling a mixture of emotions that I could not identify. Finally, I gathered my shoes and moved off the stage, returning to my room.
A/N: R and R. ee