Chapter 39

Erik had waited impatiently, in the flies for Piangi. When the man finally came back behind the curtain, Erik jumped down. Before Piangi said a word, Erik knocked him over the head. Pulling the man out of the way, Erik took his place. When he emerged, from behind the curtain, he almost lost it. Poppy was kneeling on one knee pulling leaves off of a red rose. Her long straight red hair was curled, and framed her white face. A pure white rose was in her hair. She was wearing a white off shoulder peasant shirt. A tight black corset made her small waist smaller. Her skirt was gold with a short shimmering black overskirt. An angel and a seductress all in one. When he began singing, he saw her jump and shudder. She turned, and he saw her white eyes, but not her scars. She had applied make-up around her eyes. She looked like a beautiful, unearthly angel. When it was time for her part, she threw her voice in it. Finally, they reached the top of the bridge above the stage. Taking her in his arms, he asked his question, slipping a ring on her finger. Erik waited, terrified. Her head rose. She looked shocked. A flash of fear crossed her face. At first he was afraid that she was about to deny him, when she cried out, "Erik! The chandelier!"

Erik heard a groan and a snap. He looked out at the auditorium. Saw the chandelier shudder then began to fall. The long single chain that did not break glided the chandelier down toward the orchestra pit. In a panic the people began to run for the doors. The tremendous chorus of screams arose, operatic in magnitude, Carlotta's voice rising above the others. The chandelier crashed into the pit, causing the pit to burst into flames. Holding Poppy close, he jumped from the balcony, grabbed a hold of a rope, and swung easily down onto the stage.

Poppy let out a breath of air. She looked up at him, her dead eyes calm. The smoke insulted her nose, the screams hurting her sensitive ears. "Erik, we must do something! We can't let the Opera House burn!"

Erik nodded. He looked around; most of the people have gotten out. But the flames were spreading quickly. They had about five minutes to think and do something before the opera house becomes engulfed in flames. "Have any ideas?"

Poppy closed her eyes. They needed water. A lot of it. But how…."Erik. I think I know. The machines under the stage…the ones that uses the water from the lake…."

Erik knew. He grabbed Poppy to pull her out of harms way, but she ripped her arm free.

"Erik. There is no time. You can't do it alone. I will have to help."

Erik sighed, but she was right. He will need help. He pulled her behind the curtains. Leading her to a system of ropes, grabbing one he placed it in her hands. "Take this. When I say, start counting. Count to hundred. When you reach hundred pull this rope." Poppy nodded, gripping the rope tight. He spared a few seconds to kiss her. "I love you. Start counting." He turned and ran though the back stage. Just as he started down the steps to under the stage he heard someone yell.

"You!"

Turning he saw Firmin. He inwardly groaned, this was all that he needed. Someone pointing fingers.

"This is your fault! You damn…"

Erik was about to lose patience, "I have not the time for this!" he snarled, "I'm trying to same this Opera house from going up in flames. If you shut up and help me stop the flames, I'll forget that you are an incompetent imbecile."

Firmin flinched, "What can I do?"

"Follow me." Was all that Erik said. He disappeared down the stairs. Firmin hesitated, and then followed. He found The Phantom at the series of lead pipes. He was moving and reconnecting the pipes. "What do you want me to do?" The Phantom glared at him.

"I want you to move that end so that it faces toward the orchestra pit. That is where the fire is." He said it carefully, as if Firmin were a child.

Firmin nodded; he moved the end of the pipe, the pipe rolled. At first Firmin panicked, thinking he did something wrong, until he saw The Phantom nod. Firmin watched as the pipe somehow became suspended by several ropes. The pipe had been reconnected so that it faced the orchestra pit angled slighty upward.

"Count to fifteen."

Firmin jumped. The Phantom had appeared suddenly beside him. Firmin began to count. "1…2…3…is this going to work?"

The Phantom glared at him as he steadied the pipe. His eyes seared a hole into him.

Firmin swallowed and began to count again, coughing as smoke filled the area. "10…11…"

XxX

Poppy was coughing. Her lungs burned. Tears ran down her face. She began to sweat as time passed and the flames got closer. " 97…98…99…100." She pulled the rope, and felt it suddenly rip upward, cutting her hands. Poppy then heard a loud bang then a hissing noise. More smoke filled the air. Poppy moved backward, coughing.

XxX

Firmin heard a rushing sound, then saw the pipes jerk hard, knocking into him. He heard a crack then pain shoot up his side. He bent over, holding his side. Cold water ran acrossed his shoes. White smoke filled the small room. He began coughing again. Suddenly he felt hands on his shoulder.

"Come on fool" It was The Phantom. He glided Firmin up the stairs.

Erik led Firmin up the stairs. The man had been a surprise. But a help. Leaving him down there to suffocate on smoke seemed…wrong. Erik led him to where Poppy was. She was coughing violently. "Poppy?"

She looked up. "Erik? Oh thank god!" she ran to him, wrapping him in a warm hug. "Did it work?"

Erik looked out at the auditorium. The flames were indeed out. The first five rows of the seats were ruined. As well, as the orchestra pit. The chandelier laid broken, a mass of metal and crystals. Half of the stage was burned as well. But it was all fixable. "Yes, it did work. The Opera house is fine. Only trivial damage." He hugged her close until she winced. Erik pulled her away and looked at her. She was holding her hands at an awaked angle. "What happen to you hands?" he didn't give her time to answer. Erik took a hold to them, and gently pride them open. Poppy shuddered with pain. Her hands were cut deeply. The tender flesh tore open and bloody. The rope must have cut into her hands. "Oh, Poppy. I am so sorry." He took his handkerchief and tore it in two. He carefully banged her hands.

"It's fine. They'll heal. I'm sorry about your opera…."

Firmin had been holding his side, Looking out at the damage. Finally he snapped out of it. He tried to glare at The Phantom. But, found he couldn't. He was surprised, for he found his self grateful that The Phantom had saved the Opera house. He saw Poppy standing awfully close to The Phantom. "So, you are The Phantom of this Opera house?"

A pair of yellow eyes and a pair of white ones turned to face him. He grew uncomfortable under the stares.

The Phantom bowed elegantly, "I am, Monsieur," He mocked. Nodding at Poppy, "This is my..." he paused, lost for a moment. He glanced at Poppy.

Poppy step forward, "his…fiancée."