DISCLAIMER: neh. Not much originality this chapter. All I own is Gabrielle. How sad!
Thanks mucho to Aubrey Daniels, Angleoftheopera, Rancid Melody, and kristinekat13. I 3 you guys!
Oh yeah, in case anyone's "discombobulated" over it, I'm usingmostly ALW/movie-verse facts, so don't shoot me if you're a Kay or Leroux fan. I just started reading Leroux's version this weekm and I'm liking it, so I might throw in some stuff from that into future chapters, but not until after I finish reading.
xoxo
"Ah, Gabrielle, just the girl I've been looking for," Madam Giry said warmly, stealing the girl away from her supper and sweeping her off to walk with her around the stage. "I believe my daughter has told you that we are trying to reopen the theatre for the viewing public."
"Yes, she mentioned it," Gabrielle said politely. "I think it's a wonderful, to finally get over the past and stop letting those old stories stop you."
"We'll be performing Hannibal, since it was the last successful opera we put on," Giry said simply. "We still haven't found a lead, though."
"That's a pity," Gabrielle sighed. "But I'm sure you'll find someone eventually. This is Paris, surely there's no deficiency of talent. Just step outside, and I'm sure you'll find"
"We want you," Giry said abruptly. Gabrielle stopped in her tracks and stared at the older woman in shock.
"Madame, with all due respect, whoever is casting must be daft," she laughed weakly, forcing a smile. "I'm a choirgirl, and most definitely not a soprano. What would you come to me for?"
"We're merely looking for a change," Giry said. "Something that will draw the people's attention. I believe that casting in you in this role will do just that." Gabrielle still stared at her skeptically. "Well, you're a rather pleasant sight, and your voice could be improved, undoubtedly, if it is even as bad as you say…"
"He asked you to choose me, didn't he?" Gabrielle asked knowingly. "I'm flattered that someone so…influential…has taken an interest, but I would much rather have it that I earn it myself." She paused, at a temporary loss for words, but remedied that condition rather quickly. "I will only accept the role if I'm better than any other who has ever performed it in this company."
"We've only had one, Signora Carlotta," Madame Giry said, purposefully neglecting to mention Christine. Giry did not feel that this young girl was ready to see how tightly she was interwoven into the entire situation.
"And what about this Signora?" she asked.
"Honestly?" Giry said, "I believe that Meg could have done the role better."
Gabrielle paused pensively, seemingly weighing her alternatives. "No one else wants the part?"
"No one dares," Madame Giry supplied.
"But why?" Gabrielle asked, the curiosity sparking in her eyes again, a spark that Giry desperately threw her effort into quelling.
"It's…just such a hard part to play," she lied. "It's one night, and one performance. Surely it won't be too much for you, would it?"
"No, no Madame," she said in resignation. "Not too much at all."
Gabrielle stormed into her room and began speaking rather heatedly at no one in particular. "You!" she said passionately. "You told Madame Giry to give me the part, didn't you?" She began spinning around, looking for the figure she sought. It wasn't until she paused in her spinning that she heard the voice behind her.
"You're the only one qualified," he said simply.
"I won't sing," she growled angrily, "Tell her you want someone else!"
The man grabbed her by her hair and pulled her so close that she could feel his breath on her skin as he spoke. "You will do as I tell you—"
"Don't touch me!" she shrieked suddenly, making sure her voice was loud enough to be heard outside. Footsteps could be heard running down the hallway towards the chamber.
The Phantom hurled Gabrielle to the ground and hissed angrily, "Say NOTHING, wench," he hissed. "The damage has been done." With a toss of his cape, he disappeared, dissolving into shadow once more.
"Gabrielle!" Meg shrieked, seeing the girl who it seemed that she had taken under her wing lying on the ground, "What happened? What's wrong?"
"I fell down," Gabrielle said shakily. "The hem of this dress is far too long."
"She lies," Madame Giry said quietly, parting the crowd that had clustered in the doorway. "The ghost has graced us with his presence once again."
"Then we'll find him!" Meg said, the rest of the dancers and choir whopping various proclamations of dissent.
"You stupid pips!" Gabrielle groaned over the ruckus. "How many times do I need to tell you that there's no such thing as ghosts!" she sighed and looked around at their faces, seeing that they were not to be deterred. "Swear to me, all of you, that if you find nothing tonight you'll stop believing these fairytales."
"And if we do find him?" Meg asked.
"Then I'll admit I was wrong, and you were all right." she sighed. "Go on then." She shooed them out of her room and shut the door. "Where are you?" she hissed into the darkness.
"You follow directions well."
Gabrielle jumped slightly as he materialized right behind her once again. "Not well enough, apparently, and I apologize for that." she said piously.
"No matter," he said. "I have my ways."
"Stay here." she said simply.
"Pardon me?" he asked, looking at her oddly. Had she just asked him to stay?
"It's only logical, isn't it?" she asked. "They won't think to look here if they just came from here. Just stay until they've come back up."
He stared at her suspiciously, then opted to sit in an armchair across the room from her bed. Gabrielle climbed under her covers and stared up at the ceiling, at the wall, anywhere besides the spot where her guest sat. They seemed frozen in place for nearly two hours, neither of them saying a word to the other.
"Maybe I should apologize again," she thought.
She looked at the grandfather clock in the corner and noticed that some two full hours had passed. She rolled her shoulders and pushed the covers off, only to find that it was absolutely too cold. She wrapped them around her shoulders as she sat up to look at the figure in the chair; he was quite asleep. She sighed and stood up, walking over to the chair. She took the blanket off of her shoulders and put it over him, muttering to herself in a sing-song voice, "Can't have monsieur le fantome freezing, can we?" Then she crawled back into bed under the thinner sheet.
"Thank you," a voice muttered quietly from the corner. Gabrielle opened her mouth slightly in surprise, but still pretended to be asleep.
Soon, there was a loud knocking on the door, shaking Gabrielle awake from a very shallow slumber. "Gabrielle!" Meg said loudly. "Gabrielle, hello? Why is your door locked?"
"Meg, stop pounding!" she groaned, feigning a pained voice. "I have a horrible headache, and I'm trying to sleep!"
"Oh, sorry," she said. "We…we didn't find anything, just so you know."
"I told you so," Gabrielle said quietly. She glanced at the corner, finding that the inhabitant of the plush red armchair hadn't stirred. She turned over and went back to sleep, assured that he'd leave once he realized that the coast was clear.
The next morning, Gabrielle sat up and stretched, yawning delicately. She jumped when she opened her eyes, realizing that she was not quite alone in the room. She stood up and noticed that the figure in the armchair had not yet budged. She strode over until she was standing right in front of him.
He really is one of a kind…she thought. He looks tired.
She took that short moment to look at every detail in his sleeping face— every fine line that was invisible from a distance, every shade and shadow, every crease in his lips. He was so unbelievably human, Gabrielle nearly forgot who she was looking at in the first place.
"I wonder," she muttered, staring intently at his white mask. Right now, it stood as the only barrier, the only thing keeping her from knowing that he truly was real. Without even realizing it, her hand began to move slowly out towards it. Closer, closer it inched along until her fingertips grazed the mask's surface. Her lips parted in curious anticipation as she nearly had her tiny fingers curled over the edge of the mask
Suddenly, as if he had sensed someone coming too close, his eyes flew open, and he leapt up, snatching her wrist in a vice-like grip. "You." he hissed. "So you planned this, didn't you?"
"No," Gabrielle said meekly, her breathe coming in slight gasps as she trembled slightly. Her knees were buckling under some unseen pressure, "I'm sorry, I—"
"Thought you'd lure the ghost here, did you?" he continued, his eyes brimming with crazed rage. "Thought you'd unravel the mystery all on your own, and tell all of your little friends—"
"No!" Gabrielle squealed, her face pale, and her eyes slightly unfocused as though she was having trouble breathing. "I didn't mean anything! I just…I…I…" her eyes rolled back, and she slumped onto the ground with a sigh.
The masked man stared down at her in surprise, disdain, and the almost imperceptible modicum of concern. "Stupid girl," he muttered, disappearing once again
Gabrielle woke up again about an hour later, her eyes reeling from the sudden glare of the sun. "Ugh, my head," she muttered, pushing herself up from the ground. Her mind now erupted with realization of what had happened just earlier. She then noticed another letter on her vanity table. She picked it up, but left her room before opening it. She stepped outside and began walking down to the main stage, remembering that she had a rehearsal scheduled. She opened the letter, reading it reluctantly and not eagerly awaiting the anger that awaited her in it…
Mademoiselle…I apologize for having alarmed you so severely, but you surely would have been far more alarmed had your hand moved a hair's breadth farther. You'll find that I was not once known as the Devil's Child without reason.
-O.G.
Gabrielle sighed in relief. He wasn't planning on having her head on a platter for the earlier incident after all. Suddenly, without any opportunity to back in this sweet relief, someone took her by the wrist and pulled her into an alcove in the walkway.
"He was with you, child!" Madame Giry hissed conspiratorially. "After all I've done to prevent him from taking you, you call on him and hide him—"
"We cannot change what has already been done," Gabrielle said in a very blank, careless voice as she carefully turned her wrist, having had it yanked so harshly for the second time that day. Giry's jaw dropped slightly, undoubtedly surprised that Gabrielle was showing no regret or remorse. "I'll do precisely as he asks if that is going to prevent harm from coming upon myself, upon you, or upon the Opera Populaire. It has been my dream to come here, and even he will not stand in the way."
"You do not knowing what you're about to do," Giry said.
"I know precisely what I'm about to do," she retorted confidently. "Rehearse." Then, she stormed off to the stage again, Madame Giry a few steps behind her.
"Well, finally you arrived," Firmin said, spreading his arms grandiosely.
"Yes, I overslept a bit," Gabrielle sighed. "Meg can tell you how horrible a headache I had last night. But I'm feeling quite well now." She walked up to the stage.
"That's quite fortunate," Andre said. "Now, if it would suit you, would you please take the song from the top? I believe that we ought run through it as soon as possible."
Gabrielle froze in place as the music started playing, but felt herself start to loosen as the introductory chords waxed into the melody. She inhaled deeply and merely let her lips became a gate through which some sort of magic would pass…
Thinko f me, think of me fondlyWhen we've said goodbye
Remember me once in a while
Please, promise me you'll try
When you find that once again you long
To take your heart back and be free
If you ever find a moment
Spare a thought for me
"Firmin, the girl's not terrible," Andre said, rubbing his chin. His co-owner merely nodded. The two men then looked at Madame Giry for her opinion.
"She is most definitely not terrible," she nodded. "Far better than I had first estimated."
We never said our love was evergreen
Or as unchanging as the sea
But if you can still remember
Stop and think of me
Think of all the things we've shared and seen
Don't think about the way things might have been
Think of me, think of me waking
Silent and resigned
Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind
Recall those days; think back on all the times
Think of the things we'll never do
There will never be a day when I won't think of you
Giry stood with her arms crossed, dumbstruck. She had hoped that the girl wouldn't be spectacular at all, that Erik would have found that he had not found another Christine, and that this new girl was nothing special. True, this girl sounded nothing like Christine, but she had something all her own—a tool that Erik, no doubt, would to desire to sculpt as his new masterpiece.
Flowers fade, the fruits of summer fade
They have their seasons, so do we
But please promise that sometimes, you will think
Everyone took in a breath in anticipation, but released it when, with a beaming smile, Gabrielle executed the long trill with playful air, her head bobbing happily and exuberantly.
Of me!
"My god, Gabrielle, what were you thinking, not telling us you could sing that way?" Meg said, scurrying up to the stage excitedly. "That was beautiful."
"I suppose it was alright," she replied, blushing brightly.
"You might want to sing it louder," Firmin suggested gently, "I'm not sure your voice will carry the whole way with the weak acoustics of the theatre."
"Oh, yes," one of the choirgirls muttered loud enough for only Gabrielle to hear. "I'm not sure anyone would be able to hear you in, say, box 5."
"I'll be sure to practice then," Gabrielle said clearly. She wasn't about to be angered by the accusation behind the comment, not when she was so proud of having finally overcome her greatest fear. She felt that if her father had been among them that day, he would have been pleased.