A/N: Sorry for the extremely long delay. I just haven't been inspired to write for this story as I'm currently writing another...I have a terrible habit of starting in the middle and working my way out...oh well. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and please leave me a review!
To THE PHANTOMISS OF THEM ALL: thank you for your review...I'm not a quiter, don't worry! However, discouraged would probably be the correct word. Anway, I appreciate the encouragement!
When she reached the ballet room, Meg could hear the demanding cries of the prima ballerina, Cosette.
"No you fool! Ugh! You girls are hopeless!"
Meg frowned. She knew it would be too late to direct everyone to her orders. Cosette was unbelievably stubborn and would not give up her place without a fight.
"What's going on here?" Meg asked when she entered the room.
Everyone turned to look at her. The younger girls had the most pathetic pleading looks of help.
"Well, well, well, how wonderful of you to join us. You do understand that you and your mother are late. Since neither of you cared to don us with your presence, I took it upon myself to begin practice." Cosette brushed back a loose black curl from her ivory face. Her icy blue eyes stared intently back at Meg, challenging her to remove her authority as prima ballerina.
"What kind of practice would that be, Cosette? Everyone should watch you prance around like a half wit?" Meg raised a brow, her hands on her hips. The girls gasped from her comment, their eyes wide with fear.
Cosette glared evilly at her. "How dare you! Do you honestly believe you're any better than this pitiful lot?" She indicated the girls with a wave of her hand. "If I had not bothered to enter the corps at this God-forsaken opera house, the ballet would be absolutely atrocious!" She was walking ever so slowly to her, stalking her as a lioness stalked her prey.
Meg smirked at her accusations. This girl did not frighten her in the least.
"Is that what you think, you selfish brat?" Meg spat. "Tell them the truth, Cosette. Had you not come to the opera house, your father would have disowned you. He hated that his only daughter would sink so low as to become a dancer. To him, you were no better than a whore on the street."
Meg was not prepared for the violent blow as Cosette's hand made contact with her cheek. The stinging sensation was so overwhelming that tears threatened to spill from her eyes. It took all of her pride to look back up at her abuser. As her watery brown eyes made contact with cold blue ones, Meg could see the tears streaming down Cosette's face.
"You bitch…" Cosette whispered hoarsely. "How dare you speak of what you know nothing about…?"
Meg fought desperately to hold back a satisfied grin. She hated Cosette more than anything, and now she had finally broken her defenses. For a few moments, they kept eye contact with a deafening silence. Meg knew that everyone around them was waiting for her to make her move, but she held still.
"What is the meaning of this?" Madame Giry broke their trance, but their gaze never faltered.
"Nothing, mama. Just a little disagreement…"
"Why aren't you practicing? Did I not instruct you to do so?"
"Oh we were, Madame!" One of the girls cried.
"And yet here you all are, standing around doing nothing. Break this up at once!" Madame Giry ordered as she came to stand between the two dancers.
"I'm afraid I'm not well, Madame. I must rest in my dressing room." Cosette said quietly.
"Leave if you must," She replied with an agitated sigh. She turned to the other girls. "And anyone else who is not prepared to work will leave immediately! I do not have time for your silly arguments!"
Cosette rushed out of the room, her pride beaten mercilessly into the ground. The rest of the girls took their places at the bars and began their stretches. Meg followed, standing towards the back of the room. As she stared at her reflection in the vast mirrored covered wall, she thought about Erik.
Why couldn't he love her? Was she not pretty enough? She was taller than most girls, her and Christine sharing a similar height. In contrast to Christine's dark russet curls, she had long golden hair with very loose curls. She was thin, a dancer's build, but not as tiny as Christine. She had a larger chest than the young brunette and a bit more curves to the hips.
Maybe it was her voice. She would never be good enough for him because Christine had the voice of an angel. Where had she gone wrong? She tried so hard to please him!
'Oh just stop it! You're only thinking of yourself at a time like this? Christine is ill! She could use a friend right now…' Meg scolded herself.
"Your feet, Meg! Turn them out!" Her mother shouted, bringing her back from her thoughts.
After practice, she would go and check on Christine. She was extremely worried about her, but she wouldn't deny the itching curiosity of wanting to know what had transposed the night before. She would not be abrupt, but maybe lead Christine into telling her. She would have to be sure she didn't push her too far either. Christine was incredibly distressed and what she needed was compassion, a shoulder to cry on.
By the time rehearsal was finished it was noon. The younger girls eagerly exited the room in anticipation of a hot lunch. Meg, on the other hand, stayed behind, wanting to put an extra hour of practice in.
"You will overwork yourself, my dear," her mother said.
"Sacrifices must be made if I want to be the best. I'll be fine."
"No, don't be a fool Meg. You could do serious damage to yourself if you keep this up."
Meg turned at looked at her mother. When rehearsal began, her mother treated her no different than any of the other girls…which, in all honesty, was to be expected. Had her mother given her special privileges of any sort, she could only imagine the horrors of being a dancing version of Carlotta.
Madame Giry walked up to her daughter and embraced her. Meg returned the hug and rested her cheek on her mother's shoulder.
"If you could only know how proud I am of you, my darling."
Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Tender moments between mother and daughter were not a rarity, but they also did not happen on a daily basis.
"Thank you, Mama…"
"Now, you've had enough for one day. Besides, you are becoming much too thin. You must eat!"
Meg did feel a bit dizzy. With a nod of her head she began to follow her mother out of the practice room and down the halls to the kitchen. When they began to walk past the stage, they heard the distinct outraged cry of the former prima donna.
"Are you calling me a liar, signor!"
"What business would I have sending you a letter!" The Vicomte shouted back.
Meg and her mother exchanged knowing glances and hurriedly made their way to the grand entrance hall.
"I'm finished with this damned opera house! You would have a good for nothing chorus girl replace me!"
"Signora, really. All we've heard since we're arrived is Miss Daae's name…" Andre said, sounding rather tired and annoyed.
By that time, Madame Giry and Meg appeared at the end of the staircase.
"Miss Daae has returned, Messieurs."
"Wonderful!" Firmin exclaimed. "Then I believe that adjourns our meeting!"
"Richard, please." Andre scolded. "Where is she now, Madame?"
"I thought it best she was alone. She was not well." Madame Giry replied.
"She needed rest," Meg added.
Raoul took a few steps closer to them. Worry was clearly written over his face, his brow furrowed. Meg glanced at the letter that he held in his hand and caught a glimpse of the signature…O.G. 'Of course, who else could possibly be behind this?' She thought.
"May I see her?" he asked pleadingly.
Meg felt a surge of sympathy for him, but looked away when her mother responded, "I am sorry, Monsieur le Vicomte, but she does not wish for any visitors."
"What does that matter! Will that wretched girl be singing!" Carlotta cried.
Turning her gaze back up to the staircase, Meg glared at the arrogant diva. The woman was truly a heartless bitch…
"I was told to give this to you, messieurs," Madame Giry said, indicating the managers, and taking the note from the pocket in her dress.
Carlotta made a grab for it, but Firmin easily swiped the letter before she could touch it. Breaking the red skull seal and removing the note from the envelope, he read the letter's contents aloud. Raoul, Carlotta, and the managers were clearly perplexed and outraged by the 'Ghost's' demands.
As Firmin finished with "a disaster beyond your imagination will occur…" Meg visibly shuddered. She did not doubt for a moment that Erik would hold true to his word. However, it appeared the managers' faith in this threat was minimal. They were more concerned with the loss of business if Carlotta chose to abandon the Opera Populaire.
"Poor Christine," Meg whispered.
"The Vicomte sent this! It's all a ploy to help Christine!" Carlotta shouted, pushing her way past the managers, Piangi following close behind, as well as her servants.
"That is absurd! I did nothing of the sort!" Raoul countered angrily.
"Oh, this is insane…" Firmin muttered. "Signora, this changes nothing!"
"A chorus girl! A pathetic, little brat has replaced me!" Carlotta burst into tears as she raced to her dressing room and began tearing down her paintings.
"It is all right, Cara…these fools don't deserve you!" Piangi shouted angrily as he glared at the managers.
As the angry shouts continued from the dressing room, a crowd began to form around the outside. Meg had never seen so many happy faces in her life. This entertainment was almost as exciting as a successful production. She could also sense the rising anger in her mother. Madame Giry's job was to keep order in the opera house, and, in turn, keep the Phantom's outrages at bay. How could she do that when the managers wouldn't even listen to her?
There was a tap on Meg's shoulder and her and her mother turned to see the Vicomte standing behind them.
"Madame Giry, Mademoiselle, I must speak with you both," he pleaded.
Meg gave her mother a sympathetic look. Surely she wouldn't turn him away?
Madame Giry sighed and led her and the Vicomte to a quieter, more deserted place. "What can I do for you, Monsieur?"
"I am no fool, Madame. Messieurs Firmin and Andre may be to not heed your warnings, but I know you wouldn't discourage their decisions for no reason. Please, I'm listening…tell me what you know."
For a moment, it felt as though her heart had broken. Meg could see the love he had for Christine in his eyes. He only wanted to protect her. It was almost enough to make her want to tell him everything she knew…
"I can only tell you what I've been trying to tell them," her mother said, indicating to the managers with a wave of her hand. "If you do not wish for an outbreak at this opera house, you would follow the Ghost's demands. It is as simple as that."
"Surely there is more to it then that! I fear for Christine's life! She spoke to me of the Angel of Music…"
Meg couldn't help the small gasp that escaped her lips. Raoul looked over at her with curiosity. Immediately her eyes were downcast, pretending as though nothing he said had mattered.
"Monsieur, you must believe me when I tell you I know nothing more than you presume. I only know that when the Ghost is kept happy, no disturbances arise. When he is angry he makes it quite clear that he is displeased. It has been this way for years."
Raoul was about to protest when she continued. "Rest assured. Christine is being well taken care of. No harm shall come to her, I promise."
In a flurry of pinks and reds, Carlotta raced back out of her dressing room screaming at the top of her lungs, the managers chasing after her.
"Now if you will please excuse me, Monsieur," Madame Giry nodded and turned to leave, Meg following close behind.
She looked over her shoulder and saw that he had turned and walked towards the chapel. Poor Raoul…he only wanted to help. But she knew that he wasn't about to give up that easily either.
The party followed Carlotta all the way to the entrance of the opera house until she finally reached the doors. As she flung them open, she was greeted with a whirlwind of excited auditors, clapping and shouting…for Christine. Roses and other flattering gifts were being pushed forth by men, begging to get a glimpse of the young star.
Carlotta smiled sadly and stepped back as the managers closed the doors. She stood there, staring blankly in complete disbelief. Piangi was clearly as dumbfounded as she, for he said nothing.
Andre stepped closer to her and said sympathetically, "You're public needs you."
"We need you, too," Firmin added.
It seemed to Meg that Carlotta would refuse. Her face quickly changed from dejection to irritation.
"Would you not rather have your precious little ingénue?"
Meg looked to her mother. She closed her eyes and lightly shook her head.
"The world wants you, Signora. How could we deny them?" Firmin replied.
That satisfied Carlotta enough. She turned and smiled gaily. "Very well, you will have your star. How can I desert you now?"
A visible sigh of relief escaped the managers.
"Piangi," Carlotta called.
"Si, Cara?"
"See to it that my dressing room is put back together."
With a wave of his hand, he dismissed her servants and they rushed the belongings back to her room.
"Wonderful!" Andre exclaimed. "Now, Signora, if you would just come with us…we will organize the paper work."
Firmin and Andre happily escorted Carlotta and Piangi to their office. Meg could hear her mother mumbling under her breath.
"Arrogant fools."
"Mama, do you think he will really do something terrible?" Meg whispered.
"I do not know, my dear. He does not make threats without the intention of keeping them. However, as to the level of seriousness, I cannot say. We can only pray it is not too terrible."
That wasn't very comforting. As she watched her mother walk away, she contemplated on what she should do. She had originally planned to check on Christine, but for all she knew, she could be sleeping. And she couldn't just let the managers get away with this! Were they that stupid to possibly risk the lives of everyone in this opera house!
Meg finally decided that she had two options: She could either inform Erik now, or ignore it and…possibly risk him being terribly angry at her for not telling him. So that was that. She would just have to march down five stories beneath the opera house and let him know. And, just maybe, she could get him to set the managers right without violence. This whole thing could be fixed before rehearsals started!
She beamed at her ingenious idea. She could save this production, and she would do it right now…