Disclaimer: I own zilch of the original book, musical, etc. Wish I did.
Backstage the normal pre-performance chaos reigned. Dancers stretched, Piangi ambled through tugging at a twice altered but still to snug waistcoat. Carlotta's dog yapped at the maid for another treat. Few in the cast worried about the reception of this new opera, they would be paid regardless. A couple of chorus members joined Carlotta's entourage, joking that if Don Juan Triumphant failed here the crew at the Moulin Rouge could perform it. "It's certainly crude enough for that end of town", stated one girl as she unsuccessfully tugged at her low cut bodice. Carlotta nodded in agreement. "Si, and zee worst part isa that little rat singing zee lead." Mme. Giry gave a furious scowl as she bustled through with props in tow. "You should not speak that way in the presence of the composer!" as she looked around, knowing that it was most probable that he had heard the comments.
"The composer is not 'ere, and if 'e were 'ere I would…." Carlotta was cut off quickly. "Are you certain of that Signora?" Mme. Giry said harshly. "Surely you of all people would be aware of the problems that can occur when the Opera Ghost is displeased." Unable or perhaps afraid to retort, Carlotta stormed off.
Christine remained in the shadowy corner. Unable to shake the feeling of being watched, she looked anxiously around and then above the backstage area, yet saw nothing abnormal. A deep breath did nothing to quell the wave of nausea and nerves inside her. Closing her eyes only helped replay the events which had led to this evening. If only I hadn't gone to the cemetery…if I weren't such a fool, such a traitor… if only… if, if , if… Her eyes clinched tighter in an attempt to stop the errant tears. Raoul had seemed so confident as he told the plan he and the managers had concocted.
"Surely that monster," as Christine cringed at the word he held her hand tighter.
"That thing will not want to miss his opera's premiere, especially if you sing the lead." He mistook her fearful look as worry about her safety. "Do not worry love. The best marksmen will be stationed all over the auditorium, one shot is all they need."
"But…" she started.
"There are no buts Christine. This is the only way and it wouldn't even be necessary if you had let me finish him at the cemetery."
"I told you Raoul. I could not have a murder at my father's grave. Surely you can understand." Christine had tried not to look like the traitor she was. She could not, would not risk the destruction of her Angel.
"I sincerely doubt he would have obliged your favor had the roles been reversed my dear. As it stands, this is the option left to us. As long as he lives, he will haunt us 'til we're dead."
Christine hugged him close. "Forgive me, Raoul. I am so sorry."
He clutched her tight, feeling quite the hero yet oblivious to her true meaning. He lifted her chin and glanced into teary eyes. Giving her a soft smile, he leaned in to kiss her lips, but Christine jumped up.
" I will be late for the rehearsal. I must go."
"Wait, I will escort you. You do not need to be alone in this place."
"I am hardly alone Raoul. There will be people everywhere, and how seeming would it be for you to be seen at my quarters?"
" I thought you were going to the stage." He looked at her curiously.
"I will after I retrieve my music from my room. Do not worry about me. Unless I am late and then M. Reyer will have my head."
Raoul laughed lightly. "You are the star now, my love. But if you insist I cannot deny you. I will see you for dinner after the rehearsal." Christine squeezed his hand as they left the chapel and parted at the end of the corridor. Dashing to the dormitory, she grabbed her music and then looked for paper and pen. Finding them she hurriedly scratched several lines, stopping only to blot away where a tear fell. Sealing the letter, Christine rushed out the door while fervently praying Mme. Giry would know how to convey the message.
The orchestra tuning brought Christine back to the present. Taking another deep breath she walked quietly to Mme. Giry. Before Christine could open her mouth the older lady spoke softly. "I have not seen Erik." Christine's eyebrows arched quizzically. "He has a name child. All I could do is leave the letter where he might find it. I'm sorry, but he has not been communicative of late."
"Yes, Madame. I understand. Thank you for trying." Christine willed her voice not to break. Mme. Giry watched her and sighed as Christine walked back as the stage manager called for people to get in their places. Find the letter Angel…Erik… please.
The last of the audience found their seats. Looking across to Raoul, the managers nodded. Turning to the chief marksman, Raoul whispered instructions and then turned back to nod at Andre and Firmin. Within a minute of the chief's signal, the gendarmes were stationed at every door, box, and aisle. Few in the audience paid any attention once the cacophony of sound began from the orchestra pit. Quick glances at programs, light coughs behind gilded fans emphasized the audience's discomfort with the music's assault on their ears.
The curtains parted, revealing a set design of blood red cloth, ropes, and an illusion pit of flames. High above the stage as golden eyes watched all, lips curled into a smirk. The audience's slightly audible gasp was heard even from that height. The stage was a representation of the hell about to be unleashed. What else had desire, lust, and passion brought him but this maddening hell that would end tonight? He quietly slunk down from the flies with all the stealth of a cat hunting prey. Before he could cross over behind the backdrop his eyes caught a flash of white lying on the rail beside the top step. What does Giry want now? I haven't time for this. As good as Mme Giry had been to him through the years, he found that he could not ignore the missive. Creeping quickly over, he grabbed the letter and slid back into the shadows. Good lighting wasn't necessary for him as he quickly ripped the seal. Surprised not to see Mme Giry's even script, but an uneven scribble he began to read.
"Angel, I hope this reaches you.. Forgive me," Here he squinted as the ink had a smudge. How droll…what an actress she remained, another false tear for poor me, he thought. And quickly continued to read.