Chapter 22: Let the Dark Waltz Begin

A/N Thanks to all of my reviewers! I don't know what I'd do without you all! And an extra-special thanks to Potosynthesis, my new beta! Right, and those dictionaries you all wanted…you see…they were invisible. Yeah, that's it. You actually do have them, you just can't see them…Right, now on to the story now, I'm not sure how much longer this phic will be. I mean, I've known them to get past 40 chapters, but I believe this one will come to a close sooner or later. After this, I'm starting a new phic where the Angel of Music really exists…but so does Erik. Probably will have a tragic ending, I'm not positive yet though… You'll get more info on it later. I'm not sure, but when I read this first section of the chapter Philippe almost reminds me of….Erik?

The carriage arrived at the opera around noon, the embroidered de Changy symbol reflecting the mid-November sun. Philippe stepped out, muttering a word of thanks to the driver before walking through the double doors of the Populaire. Ordinarily, he would've stopped to admire the fine architecture and angelic art of the Grand Room, but today he had more important things to tend to.

Noticing his presence, a maid approached him. "Excuse me, Monsieur, but could I be of any help to you? I noticed you looked a bit lost…" Her features were worn from the hard work of her job, but he imagined she would've been a very pretty girl, had she been born into a wealthier family. Trying to ignore her odor, he replied, "Yes, I am looking for a…" he pulled a card out of his coat pocket, and upon reading the script, "M. Pierre Vonedeaux?"

The woman looked a bit surprised at his request. "Monsieur, are you sure; the stagehand? Surely someone from such elite aristocracy as yourself wouldn't…"

"I am not mistaken. I need to speak with Monsieur Vonedeaux." His icy tone told her he was very sure of whom he was speaking of. "Now, would you be so kind as to direct me to his whereabouts?"

"Y-y-yes, Monsieur. He is working on stage at the dress rehearsal." He began to walk off to the stage area, but turned around to face the maid before exiting the room. "Speak of this to no one." She bowed her head in understanding. He was sure she wouldn't tell someone, anyway. It was not proper for a simple maid to approach an aristocratic figure. Surely, she would receive a painful reprimanding, should anyone find out. He continued his journey to the stage, thinking, "This is too easy."

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The violin was finished. Christine marveled at the work of Erik's genius. As the young girl looked up towards her fiancé, tears slowly trickled down her cheeks. Erik wiped away her tears with his thumbs, and whispered, "Hush, mon amour. No more tears. We must put the past behind us…and begin to look at the future we have."

The hint of a smile played across her lips. "I know, love. I know." Erik gently placed the violin back on to the work table as he lowered his lips to hers, joining them in a tender kiss.

"Will you play it for me?" she asked gingerly. He looked at her quizzically.

"What would you like me to play, Cheri?" Christine slapped him on the wrist playfully. "Forgetful man! Have you already forgotten the purpose of the violin?" He smirked at Christine's false anger, and then he continued to pick up the violin. After placing a significant amount of rosin on the bow, he began to play the rich melody he had entitled Dark Waltz; the song Christine had been so fascinated with since she had first read the music. Each note sent shivers down her spine, still amazed by the sheer beauty of it.

The piece ended, and he replaced the violin to its rightful place in the case. "Do you-" But before he could finish his question of approval, Christine's lips met his in a euphoric kiss. She was proud of him, and she wasn't about to hide her feelings. After they had pulled apart, he grinned and added, "Perhaps I should play that piece more often?"

"Perhaps you should." She kissed him again, savoring every moment.

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Philippe walked onto the stage arrogantly, ignoring the ballet dancers who were stumbling to keep time and yet still keep their curious eyes on him; wondering what could possibly be so important that he would interrupt rehearsal. His eyes quickly met those of an annoyed ballet mistress, who he knew as Madame Giry, the little Daae whore's adoptive mother.

He cleared his throat, signaling that he wanted the rehearsal stopped in order to speak with her. His measly attempt was in vain. The dancers seemed to stop for just a fraction of a second to see Giry's reaction, obviously praying that they would have just a moment of a break. "No!" She yelled. "You do not cease to dance until I permit it!" As she racked her cane against the wooden floors to the beat, the young girls quickly reformed their places. "Now," she said, resuming her composure, "If this young man finds he has the right to interrupt my dress rehearsal, then now let it be known to him that he is to wait until the end."

Philippe made an attempt to speak up, but one hard gaze of the ballet mistress' told him he would just have to wait until she was finished with the stagehand in order to talk with him. This was going to take awhile.

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Meg waited anxiously at her dorm. Her sprained ankle had allowed her to stay in her room, rather than go to practice. It also left plenty of time for Jean to sneak in and visit her, as her mother was busy with the other ballet girls. Jean was so amazing. His kisses were heavenly, and his blue eyes as mysterious as the sea. She wanted to spend each and every minute with him…and soon she would be able to. He had proposed to her-proposed!-, and of course she had agreed. He said he would return within an hour's time, and little Giry could hardly wait. As she sat on the bed, Meg daydreamed of her wedding. She saw her beautiful pearl colored dress that looked right out of a storybook; and Jean waiting at the altar, beaming….

"Meg!"

The young woman was snapped out of her trance as Christine's voice echoed through the small dormitory. She smiled "Oh, Christine! How are things...down there...with the Pha- Erik?"

Christine really did wish Meg would quit acting so unfriendly about hers and Erik's relationship. He is a man, not a thing! Her good friend had obviously let the rumors she had heard get to her. "Everything is just fine, Meg,", she replied, smiling, "but, please, try to understand that all of what you have heard from Jammes and the other ballet girls is not true. In fact, hardly any of it is."

The petite blonde frowned. She hated seeing that she had upset her best friend, but, oh God in Heaven, she was engaged to a murderer! "Chrissy, do you ever worry about your safety? You cannot deny that he has murdered countless amounts of people! The man is insane! He could kill you, or mother, or...or...or...anyone at this very minute!"

Christine seethed with anger. How dare she insult Erik, and herself, like that! "You have no right! No right to say such things about my fiance!"

The two girls who had been so close just 10 minutes ago had now let their friendship fester into enemy status. "Christine! Really! THINK ABOUT IT! Think! He's killed in front of our very eyes during two operas! Who knows what he's done before you! I 'm only protecting you!"

"Well, the next time, don't help me!" Meg felt the sting of Christine's palm against her left cheek. The silence was interrupted only by her quiet sobbing and the loud sound of the slamming of a door.