The Phantom of the Opera II

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Part II of The Phantom of the Opera II (repetitive, huh?)

As Christine Daae turned on her heel and tore out of the Opera house, chaos sprung up in the audience, and the count yelled out, "Everyone remain calm!" The audience may have dismissed the stories as rumors, but there were those there that had a friend of a friend whose cousin or whose aunt or whose relative had been in the fire. Those that were somehow associated with the famous fire were considered the authority on the matter, and as Mortimer returned breathless with a saber, hurried whispers broke out and the entire crowd looked on the brink of stampeding out of the opera.

Meg opened her heavy lidded eyes and pushed herself up on her elbows. She ached and felt little bruises appear on her back as she stared wildly around at the startled faces of the audience and the stagehands that were surrounding the Phantom.

As she climbed to her feet her heart beat frantically and she stumbled over to where the door was being blocked by Mortimer. The count was holding the curved blade in his strong grip and there was a nervous smile playing across his features. The phantom was oddly blocked in.

"Don't touch him," Meg screamed as she planted herself in front of the Opera ghost. She tried desperately to put Christine out of her mind and drew in a raspy breath. The count gazed at his star as though she was mad. "My dear, this accursed er…man…is playing a terrible jest on my behalf, and I will not have it!…he is a criminal. Stand back."

Meg remained where she was and turned to face Erik. Her eyes pleaded with him to escape, for she knew of the trap doors that littered the stage, and that if he so wished, he could vanish or at least fight. She remembered the night he fought his way out with Christine in his arms. But he stood still and his blue eyes silently remained blank.

The count raised his blade, taken aback at the man's silence and lack of resistance. Meg's hand shot out and she tried to slap the blade away, but two men behind her reached forward and pinned her arms to her sides. She struggled, and felt the curtain brush aginst her back as it tried closed in around them. Outside, a few men ushered everyone out with promises of a full refund. But the curtain remained stubbornly half open, and the audience refused to leave without at least discovering the end to this story.

There was a yell as Meg tried to lift her head and see what was in front of her. The phantom was pushing aginst the bulk of the stagehands, and the count was trying to hold order with the blade that was pointed precariously at the Phantoms back. With a desperate twist, Meg was free and she ran to her beloved and pulled him away.

They got to the end of the stage as Meg registered the smell of alcohol ensnare itself in her nose. Suddenly, a large man stood in front of her and with rough hands pushed her aside. He grabbed at the Phantom, and held him in a death grip as the count came and, looking as though he would sincerely regret it, reached forward with a shaky hand and tore away the white ivory mask. An all around gasp filled the hall and once again Meg fainted, her body limp in Barnaby's hands as he caught her just in time.

The count pushed back his barely controlled anger as he put a hand on his wife's arm and pulled her to the front of the stage. The mask in his hand fell to the floor and Barnaby reached out a hand and took it. The audience was laughing, and the Count threw out a fake harsh laugh that only his wife knew was as false as the Phantom she pretended to be. "What a funny joke, no? As you can see, certain of my employee's find the whole Ghost business rather amusing," he said with a grin. His vice like grip squeezed tighter on his pale wife's arm. She stumbled. "I am so sorry to have interrupted your performance! It shall commence it ten minutes time…In the meantime I ask for your patience as we revive dear Ms. Giry. Thank you."

As the count dragged his wife back to their apartments, Meg was being doused with water by a little ballet girl who was giggling hysterically. Meg came to and groaned as tears made their way down her red cheeks. Was that her Christine? Or was it another joke? Did all this mean that the Phantom was truly dead?

Meg once again climbed to her feet and soon all the cast was merry faced and assembled on stage. Nervous laughter went around as Meg opened up the door and the actor portraying her husband came out. Everything seemed so funny now that it was all a joke. No body commented on little Meg's strange display of behavior, or the countesses. All were simply relieved.

When the performance was over, many swore to buy more tickets, commenting that this was the most fun any had ever had at an opera. "You'd swear that it wasn't rehearsed," one man said to his wife as they climbed into their carriages and left the Opera. She nodded, and as they drove out of sight, two pairs of red eyes watched the scene below from Apollo's lyre.

Christine Daae sat with her dress spread around her on the ground of the fifth floor under the looming statue of Apollo's lyre. It was a clear night, and a cold wind threw an icy blast in her face. She felt some relief as she recalled the unveiling of the fake Phantom. At least it was not him…Her long brown curls flew back and she shivered inside Roual's cloak. As she thought of her husband, left oblivious back at home, she smiled ruefully. He thought she was attending to a sick friend as he and his family celebrated the holidays.

She felt terrible for abandoning the swear she had made two years ago as they fled from the burning Opera house. "Never go back, Christine! Swear to me that you will forget that man and your life there! Swear it," He had cried as they rode away with all due speed out of Paris. "I swear it," she had replied.

Her reason for coming back brought hot tears to her eyes. Meg, her Meg was not dead, but singing at the Opera. The opera that had foolishly been rebuilt. No rumors of the Phantom's fury reached her ears, and so she felt it safe to journey back. She had to see Meg, to tell her she was okay, and to see her beloved friend once more. In her heart, she knew there was more to it, but just for now, she thought sadly, I will try to forget the angel of music and his lies…

She stood up and felt the full force of the wind. It had only been two years ago that she had sang her love song with Roual. She closed her eyes tight and tried to summon that happy memory. All that came to mind was the day Erik had sang it to her, and the night her carried her back to his home as he set flame to the opera. Her eyes opened in a flash and she soon found herself running down the stairs of the opera, until finally she was at the old dressing room she had called her own for less than a year.

The door opened easily, and Christine cautiously stepped inside the dark room. As she lit a match lying on the side of a candlebra, light filled the room and she gasped. Instead of her little costume rack, or her bed, there was an assortment of instruments circled around an ungodly felt only right to sit down on the dusty wooden bench. She gently placed her long fingers on the dusty keys, and looked around before ever so gently pushing one down. A loud groan filled the room, and she hastily removed her hands. Did he hear it? Did he know she was there? As she pushed the seat back and sprang from it, a leather case fell from the ceiling and hit her on the head. In dusty lettering, Don Juan Triumphant glared back at her chalk white face. Christine had always wondered what the ending was supposed to be…

Christine gave the work a final fearful glance and then with scorn, threw it across the room. She stepped back, and looked above her sharply. There was no gaping hole where it could have fallen. Just a small vent and Christine knew that it had not simply been lying there and had happened to fall accidentally. She felt her stomach heave, and new she was soon going to retch from anxiety if she did not leave. Erik…why can you not leave me be, she thought. Was his ghost here? God forbid…was he here, with her now?

She backed out of the room, and in her superstition, cried out before the lantern was blown out and before she would run out of the Opera and back to her hotel, "I hate you Erik! Leave me be you monster!"

Christine stayed away from the Opera house, but before returning home, she wrote a letter to Meg, and paid a maid in the Opera to give it to her. It read:

Dearest Meg,

I know you must have been wondering where I have been. I cannot tell you all of what happened the day the fire broke out, except that The Phantom of the Opera let Roual and I go after he took me. Roual and I married, and now live far enough away so that he can never find us. Oh Meg, how I have missed you and mama! I tried to come back, but Roual forbid it! I wanted to find you, and take you and mama with us, but you disappeared! Oh Meg, please leave that place at once! It is not safe, and I fear he will come after all of us again…I know he is not dead…He told me this was not over before we left. While he lives, we will never be free. I will return to get you on the eleventh anniversary of the day I came. That way, only you will know, should this be intercepted… Meet me in our secret place, at midnight. Dress warm and just know I love you Meg.

-Christine