Disclaimer: All Spider-Man 2 characters belong to Marvel. Phantom of the Opera themes belong to LeRoux.

Author's Note: And here is chapter two! The Phantom themes aren't in evidence here, but they will pop up later in the story. And I have no idea how you missed this, kod, there are four chapters of this up on my dA account! LOL… And for those of you wondering how Otto looks in this fic, Vorkosigan is working on a picture based on a scene from the next chapter. It's not done yet, but what I've seen so far looks good.

Musique de la Nuit

Two – Home

When had something so simple as getting food become such a terrifying ordeal? Otto had been living off the non-perishable foods left in his cupboards, but he was running low, and he wasn't looking forward to another meal of canned spinach and Ramen noodles. Getting more food, however, required leaving his safe haven and re-entering the world, and he didn't know if he was ready for that. But it was either go out or starve.

So Otto had dug an old, worn ski mask from the depths of his drawer, and pulled it on over a pair of sun glasses. His trench coat and duster were both scorched and fraying, but they were the only articles of clothing he had that would conceal both the actuators, and the scars that mottled his arms and chest. He'd be sweltering under so many layers of clothing in the August heat, but his over-abundant clothing would attract less attention than the actuators or the hideous scars.

The real challenge, however, was going to get food without the actuators to guide him. He wanted no rumor of his survival to slip out, nothing that would draw attention to him and what he had become, which meant he had to find his way to a grocery store without the aid of the actuators. It would be a journey through darkness, along once-familiar streets that would become strange, unknown, dangerous, even, with nothing to guide him but touch and hearing. Otto was trembling with fear as he exited through the back door of his home, the first time he'd left his sanctuary since he'd moved back in. The actuators sent him reassurances that they would assist him if needed, though they understood the need for anonymity.

Otto had fashioned a cane from a spar of wood left from the destruction of his lab. It was a poor replacement for a blind person's can, but it enabled him to take that first shaking step forward. Stepping away from the comfortingly solid brick into the unknown was enough to make his heart hammer against his chest, and his breath caught in his throat. He didn't have to do this; it wasn't too late to turn around and hide himself away from the rest of the world…

But if he didn't do this, he'd never again find the courage to leave his home and even though he planned to live out the rest of his days in the solitude of his home, there was no avoiding the fact that he'd have to leave it sometime. He forced himself to take a second step, and then a third. The actuators encouraged him every step of the way, and Otto made it to the street curb without incident. He heard soft, pitying murmurs of pedestrians as they veered out of his path, and the silent, steady footsteps of those who didn't care enough to get out of a blind man's way. He waited patiently for the sound of traffic to slow, indicating the light had changed and it would be safe for him to cross.

His destination was a small store two blocks from his lab. It was owned by a friendly elderly couple, and Otto had often slipped over there on lunch break back when Otto Octavius Industries had been a working facility. Otto was ashamed to have to steal from people who had been so kind to him back before his accident, but he didn't want to venture far from his home yet, and they were closest. And he knew they had insurance, so at least they'd be compensated for their losses tonight.

It was small comfort.

Traffic halted, and Otto tentatively stepped forward. He grunted as someone shoved past him, knocking him to his knees, and the actuators shifted furiously under his coat. Otto's mind clamped down on them, forcefully restraining them before they could wreak havoc on the careless pedestrian. It hurt that no one even offered to help him up, and he lurched awkwardly to his feet. He was disoriented, and cast about for the right direction.

The honking of vehicles as the light changed to green was enough to alert him; keeping the angry sounds to his right, he was able to cross safely. But as soon as he was certain he was safe, he leaned against the whitewashed surface of the closest building, leaning heavily against it as if it were a lifeline. He'd known he couldn't count on the residents of the city to assist him, but he was stunned by their rudeness. With his ratty coat and makeshift cane, he probably looked homeless. He didn't know what they made of the ski mask or his bandaged hands.

Swallowing his disappointment in mankind, Otto continued forward, staying within touching distance of the line of buildings to his right. He made it to the next street, this time making certain that no one was near him when he crossed.

Once across, then came the hard part: he needed to slip around the back and locate the rear door to the store. He'd never been behind the store before, and had only a vague idea of where the door was located. He followed the edge of the building on the street corner until he found a small street, almost an alley, really, where a vehicle could pull up to the rear of the buildings and unload. Otto ran his hand along the brick of the first building, felt the texture become rougher where it joined with the second building. He wanted the third in line… The stone became smoother under his fingertips, and Otto smiled in satisfaction. This had to be it; the front of the grocery store was composed of similar smooth stone.

He quickly located the store's back door. One of the actuators peered out from under the hem of his coat and reported that there were no humans to see. Otto gave them permission, and they burst from his coat, curving around to disable the door alarm and pick the lock.

From then on, it was a simple matter of seeing through the actuators' 'eyes' and selecting cans and boxes of simple-to-prepare meals and stuffing them into the duffel bag he'd brought along. The two upper actuators stayed at the level of his eye, to give him an approximation of 'normal' vision, while the lower two did the snatching, to keep him from leaving fingerprints.

When he judged he had enough to eke out an existence for another month, Otto made certain he'd done minimal damage to the store and, satisfied, vacated the store. The actuators pulled back into his coat, and Otto retraced his steps back to his lab. His stride became faster as he drew closer to home, and his stride was almost confident as he crossed the last street and walked the last few feet.

He'd done it! He'd gone out, on his own, and had achieved his goal! It was a small victory, but it was a victory, nonetheless. His scarred lips curled in a triumphant grin. He proudly climbed the three steps up to the door and reached for the handle. And then his sharp ears picked up a sound from within; the actuators turned up their receivers, amplifying the noise so he could identify it: voices.

His stomach twisted as he realized the truth: Someone had invaded his sanctuary. Someone was in his home!

XXX

This was a great idea, Rosie thought, watching the city slide past the taxi window. Beside her, Eve was splayed across the leather seat, a crooked grin on her face. When her niece had suggested they have a 'girl's night out' to celebrate their freedom from Michael's 'tyranny,' Rosie had been wary of yet another attempt to make her forget her problems. But, as she'd spent time with her enthusiastic young niece, Rosie had found herself smiling, really smiling, for the first time since she'd woken in the hospital. They'd gone on an impromptu shopping trip, where Eve had picked out a beautiful patterned scarf for Rosie to wear and hide the scars around her neck, then going out to dinner at an expensive restaurant and making complete fools of themselves. They'd capped off the night by seeing the latest teen comedy, which both agreed was bad, and they'd spent the entire time laughing at the unlikely antics of the teenage boys with their one-track minds.

It had reminded Rosie of her own high school days, when she'd dated the most popular boy in school, star of the football team and Homecoming King to her Queen. Her family had been so sure she was going to marry him; she'd even changed her plans from attending a university in California so she could attend ESU with him.

And then, one fateful day, she'd been waiting on the college steps for her friend Alison so they could have a study session. She'd been thinking of her poetry class and the T. S. Eliot poem they'd been analyzing when her thoughts had been rudely interrupted by a pair of students who'd just come from a physics class. One of them had been complaining about the workload their professor had dumped on them, and that he'd never understand it… And then his companion had launched into a complex – and very, very loud - explanation of the theory of relativity. She hadn't understood what he was talking about, but the passion with which he spoke had captured her attention, and she'd watched him with fascination. And then, to make a point, he'd flung out his hands and knocked the books from her grip. Immediately contrite, the student had helped her to pick up the scattered books and papers, and then their eyes had met…

"Aunt Rosie?"

His shy manner had made a striking contrast to his size, and she'd been enchanted by his old-fashioned genteel. He'd been so sweet, so kind… not at all self-absorbed, like her boyfriend. And there was a depth to him that she'd never seen in another man. Alison had been shocked that Rosie would dump a hunk like Jason for a "pudgy, homely, geek."

"Aunt Rosie? Are you all right?" Something poked her shoulder, and Rosie pulled herself out of her memories. Her heart sank as she realized she'd been losing herself in the past again; she'd been determined not to let it ruin her night.

"I'm all right," she said, though there was a quaver to her voice.

Eve didn't look so sure. "We're almost home," she said after a moment, turning to look out the window.

Home… There was a lump in Rosie's throat as she realized she no longer had a home; she was a guest in her brother's house, nothing more. Home… home was the couch where she and her husband had cuddled in front of the television, when she forced him to watch some romantic movie with her. Home was her kitchen, when she and Otto shared a meal she'd cooked, occasionally with his inept assistance. Home was the bed they shared. Home was his warm embrace, with her head against his chest and the beat of his heart loud in her ears… She drew in a trembling breath. She wanted to go home! She leaned forward and gave the taxi driver new instructions.

Eve's eyes widened. "What are you doing?" she asked. "Dad says that someone bought that place!"

"I know," Rosie said. "I… I just need to see it." She couldn't explain it, but she had to see the place she had called home for so long, and this was the first time she'd been out of Michael's supervision. "Don't worry; I won't do anything illegal," she said.

"Bummer," Eve said. "And here I was thinking you were the one cool member of my family."

Rosie laughed, but it was a hollow sound.

The taxi pulled up in front of the brick building that had once been the home of Otto Octavius, Industries. The sign was still there, as well as the Latin inscribed above the door. Rosie asked the driver to wait and climbed out. Eve followed, her eyes on her aunt. Despite her glib remarks, she was clearly worried for Rosie.

"It looks abandoned, doesn't it?" Rosie asked as she studied the stone face. There were no lights within and a quick peak around the side showed that the window hadn't even been repaired, only covered with plastic. Whoever had bought the building hadn't put any care into it, and that infuriated Rosie. She strode back to the front entrance and put her hand on the door handle. She was unsurprised to find that it was locked, but she didn't expect to find the spare key was still hidden in one of the cracks in the mortar surrounding the door.

"Uh… should we be doing this? Isn't it trespassing?" Eve asked.

"I thought you wanted me to do something illegal," Rosie said. The key turned in the lock, and she pushed the door open. "There's no one here; no one has to know." She stepped under the archway, into the shadowed interior.

She amended her earlier assumption that no one had taken care of the place; someone had cleared the detritus from the accident. Perhaps her brother had, when he'd come to collect her possessions. Eve stared around, wide-eyed – she hadn't seen the lab since the accident, and she was clearly stunned by the changes. "It's so… empty," she said.

She was right, Rosie thought. Otto's presence had filled the lab, making it warm, alive, inviting. Now… now, it was just another place where Rosie didn't belong. She walked further in, hoping to find some signof her previous life.

The only thing she found was the barely recognizable remains of the fusion reactor, the culmination of a lifetime of research, now a warped and twisted hunk of metal, making a mockery of her husband's work.

"Is that…?" Eve asked uncertainly, reaching out to touch the deformed crescent.

"It's what's left of the reactor," Rosie said numbly. "This is where everything went wrong. This is where my husband died. But Michael won't tell me how! I don't know if it was quick, or if he was in a lot of pain, or…" A sob welled up in her throat, making it hard to speak. "What if he suffered? What if he was mortally wounded, but spent weeks clinging to life in a hospital, in agony? What if he was in the room next to mine, and the doctors wouldn't tell me? What if he died where I could have been there with him, but wasn't?"

Eve patted Rosie's shoulder awkwardly. "Dad won't tell me anything about it, either," she admitted. "I… I'm sure he didn't suffer."

Rosie turned her back on the reactor. "I think I've seen enough." She didn't want to see if their bed was still there; she was afraid to find that someone else had been sleeping on it, or see someone else's clothes in the closet, or pictures of another happy couple arrayed on the dresser. "Let's go."

As they exited the building and walked to the waiting taxi, Rosie said, "I need to know what happened. Will you help me find out?"

"I promise I'll do whatever I can to help," Eve said seriously.

"Thank you." It was good to know that she had someone on her side. And she needed to know the truth – no matter how horrible it may turn out to be.

XXX

Otto had slipped in the back door as silently as was possibly, and concealed himself in the shadows behind the archway between closest to the reactor. One of the actuators had curled around the stone, keeping low to the ground with its pincers only slight parted, to keep the glow of its lights to a minimum. Through that narrow slit, Otto watched two shapes examine the remains of the crescent. There was enough light filtering through the plastic-covered window to illuminate their features, but what he saw made him question his sanity. Had he finally crossed that line between genius and madness? Because what he was 'seeing' wasn't possible… He questioned the actuator, but it curtly told him that the image was exactly as he saw it. And the voice he heard, amplified through the actuator's receiver, was achingly familiar – perhaps a little huskier than he remembered, but there was no mistaking it.

And then the two women departed, leaving him again alone. But now, there was something different, as something deep within him long thought lost was rekindled. Once again, his whole world changed, and Otto threw back his head and laughed hysterically. She was alive!His Rosie was alive!

To Be Continued…