One heart's darkness
Disclaimer: I own copies of the books by Gaston Leroux and Susan Kay, and copies of the movie soundtrack, both in English and German. I own several drawings of Gerard Butler, because I did those myself, but that's it...
Erik: AND your Erik plushie! (She doesn't even really have one, just let her believe that, it makes her happy)
Me: Oh, yeah, I almost forgot. I don't own Erik, though, he's just living with me for a while.
Erik: The food is good and she lets me play my music. I can't complain.
Me: (whispers) Just don't tell him that Christine came by looking for him and I told her to hit the pavement. He might be a little mad!
THANKS to my reviewers. You make me do happy-dances!
And Wendela dearest, the song IS sung by Minnie Driver, really. I don't say that stuff unless I can prove it, so here, some facts about the movie from the Internet Movie Database (IMDb):
- The singing voice for Minnie Driver was provided by Margaret Preece, a singing teacher from Solihull, UK.
- Although Minnie Driver's singing voice was dubbed by a vocal double in the film, she does contribute the film's end title song, "Learn To Be Lonely," written specifically for the film by Andrew Lloyd Webber.
Check it yourself if you don't believe me:) As for your other critiscism, I won't comment on that, just see if you like this chapter better! I'm not mad, don't get that impression, please! I aim to please, after all:)
Chapter Twelve
Jean was halfway down the corridor, when he heard the frantic cries of the younger girl.
"Maddy, say something. Don't just sit there like that, you're scaring me! Madeleine! Maddy, wait!" The voice had changed from frantic to sad.
He realised what he had done, how much he had hurt that young woman. Feeling disgusted with himself, he turned back, sprinted down the hallway and back into the room.
The older girl was gone. The other one was still sitting on a large bolt of cloth, tears on her face, but the sobbing had ceased.
"Where is she?" he asked, a little breathless.
"Gone," the girl replied with anger in her voice, "why? Haven't you hurt her enough? She is just a woman like any other, with a heart that can very easily be broken!"
"I wanted to apologize," Jean mumbled, feeling lost. And as he stood there, his gaze fell upon the mask on the floor, which he recognized from the ball. He picked it up, and as he stared into the fake visage's empty eyeholes, the vivid image of her face seemed to pale before his inner eye. Instead, the memory of her voice returned.
Perhaps not all angels were beautiful…
dbdbdbdb
Erik entered the Chagny mansion with a feeling of trepidation. He would have preferred to stay at home, after what a still shaken Julie had told him.
He and Raoul had picked her up in the dressing room, and she had told of their encounter with the young aristocrat, but Erik knew all too well that Madeleine would want to be left alone.
So he had gone with the de Chagnys.
Raoul made him enter the dining room alone. He and Julie would wait another twenty minutes.
The room, like every other one in the mansion, was large and elaborately decorated. High arching windows opened up to the magnificent garden with its rose bushes, flower beds and trees. In Spring and Summer, that must have been a sight to behold, but now there were no blossoms, no leaves, only the bare skeletons of plant life, hardly a comforting view.
There was a large piano made out of mahogany, which Erik's fingers were almost itching to try out, and the huge dining table with its ten chairs was set for four. Highly detailed tapestries adorned the walls and a picture of Christine in her costume as Marguerite hung over the marble fireplace. In all the splendour of this aristocrats' home, a silent figure almost passed unnoticed. At least she would have, had she not been the centre of Erik's world, the subject of his thoughts and the purpose behind his every breath, no matter how much she had wronged him.
Christine was already seated at the table, gazing out the window with a forlorn expression on her face. She was dressed in a grey satin dress, with black stitching at the hem and a ornate picture of a rose on the bodice. The dress was long sleeved and had a fairly high neckline. It made her look older and more conservative than Erik had ever seen her. Her long hair had been put up in a simple chignon.
The Vicomte had been right. There were heavy bags under her eyes and she had clearly lost weight. Her cheeks were hollow and even her hair had lost some of its natural lustre.
At the sound of the door closing, she turned around and gasped when she saw him standing there. Her heartbeat quickened. He was dressed in immaculate evening clothing, as usual. The black suit with the dark burgundy brocade waistcoat accentuated his tall, slender figure and the only sign that age didn't pass him by was the one silver strand in his black hair, which was combed back over his head. The golden eyes bore into Christine's cinnamon ones from behind the white mask.
He didn't say a word, simply opened his arms. And she came. She ran to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, buried her face in his chest and held on, clutching him with desperation.
"I love you," she whispered again and again, "I love you, I love you, I love you! Forgive me, please!"
He held her just as close. "You know I love you! But Christine, how, how could you? Better yourself, if indeed my daughter gives you a second chance. I don't want to count how many I have given you, or how many you would still deserve!"
"I don't deserve another chance, you're right," she said, pulling away slightly, "but I will take it gladly if it is given."
Erik looked into her eyes and saw just how much she had matured in these past years. He had fallen in love with the innocent girl and now he was discovering the grown woman. And he loved that one even more.
dbdbdbdb
Jean had been wandering the opera corridors for a couple of hours now. His opera cloak had gathered dust and his voice had become hoarse. He was just passing the dressing rooms once more and called out, for maybe the hundredth time that day, "Madeleine! Julie de Chagny said I might find you here! Please, Mademoiselle, if you hear me, speak to me!"
He had almost given up hope when a voice from behind one of the doors answered.
"What do you want from me, Monsieur?"
He tried to open the door but found it locked.
"I wanted to apologize! What I did was unforgivable, I know, but I had to tell you this. You have been on my mind for the entire week!"
The silence lasted for a while, then he heard the key turning in the lock. He waited for the door to open, but since it didn't, he opened it himself and entered.
The dressing room he found was very clean, but apparently wasn't being used. There were no brushes, make up articles or other indicators of an occupant.
A small vanity table, with a matching chair in front of it sat directly across from the door, an armoire and a larger wardrobe occupied the left portion of the room and wall, but what caught the eye most of all was the large wall mirror. It was floor length, with a golden frame and it made the room appear larger, almost as if it were a doorway…
Three rather small gas lamps bathed the room in soft yellow light.
Jean took a few more tentative steps into the room and called out, "Where are you?"
The door fell shut behind him, and he turned around quickly. His breath caught in his throat when he saw the frail figure leaning against the wood.
She wore a black dress with a rather low neckline. Silver stitching on the hem and the sleeves contrasted with the dark velvet. A black cloak with burgundy lining lay around her shoulders and her chocolate coloured curls poured down her back, half hiding the white mask on her face.
He became aware that he was staring and quickly averted his eyes.
Madeleine hadn't paid any attention, though, as she had done some observing of her own. She always watched him, whenever he came to the opera. To her horror, she had found that behind the façade of a living corpse, their was a very vibrant girl's heart and spirit. A heart, which always beat faster when he got close and which almost stopped when he smiled. A heart, which had just now betrayed her and which was still being beaten up by her mind, who told her that opening that door had been a very foolish idea indeed.
It was too late now, anyway, and so she decided to deal with the situation as best she could.
"You have been calling for me all day," she observed, "What do you want, Monsieur Des Cars?"
He was surprised that she knew his name, but after all, if she was friends with the Chagnys, who frequented the Opera Populaire, she might have seen him or Suzette before.
"I wanted to apologize!" he said quickly, "My behaviour was ghastly and I didn't want to hurt you."
"I'm sure you didn't," Madeleine said, the soft timbre of her voice now cold enough to freeze lava. "They never want to... they scream, they stare, they hurt you in what they think is self defence, but they never stop and THINK! Think about that it might be a human being they are hurting... not just a beast!"
Her voice had turned steadily bitterer and she finally pushed away from the door and brushed past Jean to put her forehead against the cool glass of the mirror.
And suddenly a realization hit him.
"You're the Phantom of the Opera, aren't you?" She turned around to face him, her amber eyes regarding him with mild amusement.
"Interesting. I talk about wanting to be regarded as human, and you call me a ghost!" Her light laugher didn't sound offended, though. "But yes, you are right," she went on, "I am the one they call the Phantom. One of the two, at least!"
"There are two?" She didn't respond, just smiled knowingly, until Jean gave her an answering, slightly boyish smile and held out his hand.
"Well, Mademoiselle Phantom, I'm pleased to make your acquaintance."
She didn't take the hand, and her smile lessened. "I doubt you could call it that. You won't see me again."
Jean's face fell. "Please, mademoiselle, don't be angry with me, I beg you," he caught her arm as she walked past him, "I was told to hold onto an angel if I ever found one!"
"I am no angel!"
"I heard you sing. And it certainly felt like heaven!" He released her arm. "I want to get to know you. I won't betray you!"
Madeleine's heart seemed to skip a beat and she felt hot tears prickling in the corners of her eyes. How she hated crying!
"I have to go now," she said finally, "but you'll hear from me."
He was relieved. "Until then, mademoiselle... I'll be waiting."
She smiled and walked past him out of the room, checking first if the dimly lit corridor was empty.
"And I stand by what I said," he called after her, "you are an angel! And beautiful!"
Madeleine ran. She didn't slow down until she had reached the shore of the underground lake, there she broke to her knees, hiding her face in her hands and sobbing. Her heart felt like it was being torn in two and yet… he had seen her face.
Hope was a horrible thing to feel.
A/N: Now, this is as detailed as it will get, most likely, at least in regards to what people or things look like. That's just the way I write, sorry. If you don't like it, you won't like the rest of the story either. Which would make me cry... a little... :) Nah, but really, I hope you like it! Let me know, your reviews are appreciated!
Oh, and for those who guessed that Jean is supposed to look like Gerard Butler, here are your Erik plushies! (hands out plushies). And LiTTleLoTTe1991, you get your Madeleine plushie. (hands her one) There you go:)
Love you all!
P.F.A.