A/N:Thank you to everyone who reviewed, you're all wonderful!
Disclaimer: I wish I owned the phantom of the Opera, especially Erik! But I don't.
Don Juan Triumphant
"I've told Maman about what you said" Meg told Kristen as the two sat together eating their supper. She really enjoyed being with the girl. Her room felt so safe from the chaos that had encircled the Populaire over the past months.
"What did she say?" Kristen asked, taking a bite from the bread. It was still a challenge for her to find her food, but it wasn't so hard. She devised for herself a plan. She would just ask Meg what was north south east and west on her plate and she had no trouble remembering it. The girl had always had a brilliant memory to begin with.
"She didn't say much of anything" Meg recalled, "Only that she would be down to rehearsals soon and that I was to go and wait for her." Kristen frowned,
"So she does think you're mad" she laughed somewhat.
"Oh Kristen, this isn't funny, you don't realize the full extent of the seriousness of this situation, do you!"
"I guess not" Kristen said, "But then who...wait"
"what is it?" Meg asked curiously,
"Do you hear that?"
"Hear what?"
Kristen stood from the bed, and moved to the center of the room, "It's almost like, music" she said. Her blind eyes opened, but she quickly shut them again. There was nothing to see, she had to keep reminding herself of that.
"I don't hear anything" Meg said.
"No? hmph, that's so weird, I could almost swear..." Meg watched completely confounded as Kristen kneeled to the floor and placed her ear to the wooden board. "I can hear it Meg, come listen with me, there's music"
Meg didn't want to, but she agreed to anyway, because she couldn't say no to this poor girl. She was either mad, or mistaken. She placed her ear to the board as well, and listened as carefully as she could, "Kristen, I cannot hear anything" she said, sitting up on her knees.
"It's so sad" Kristen said. "It's so, so sad." she sat up, and her brows nit into a concerned frown, "I've never heard music so dispirited." She fell silent once more, and replaced her ear to the floor, unable to stop listening. Meg watched her with pity.
"Oh Kristen" she said, "I'm so sorry that this is happening"
"That what is happening?" Kristen asked.
"All of this. You come here because of your eyesight, only to find that we are also in hard days as well..."
"Don't worry yourself over that, I'm perfectly fine now. I'll get by, don't worry. I'm the one who should be concerned, not you." Kristen smiled, she could still hear the song, it was lovely, yet so so sad. "This is an opera house, after all, perhaps the sound is coming from a piano, or an organ, far off from these walls.
"Yes but...perhaps you're right" Meg said, figuring she wouldn't want to scare the poor girl. The only music to come from any direction would have been from the orchestra's pit. Not straight down. But perhaps the Phantom had an organ somewhere in his labyrinth, and perhaps she was hearing him now. Still she couldn't believe in the Opera Ghost, Meg was amazed at her courage. She was not naive, in the least. She was not a child at all, she had a head on her shoulders, a strong one, and she followed her heart and mind without swaying.
Kristen stood and moved back to her bed and continued to polish off the rest of her dinner.
"I'm impressed at the way you've managed to find your way in such short time" Meg complimented,
"Well, thank you" Kristen said, setting the plate on the night stand. "It was really not that hard, and I was left alone pretty much all day yesterday, there was simply nothing else to do" The two girls smiled, and continued talking of things more pleasant than ghosts, woeful music, and blindness.
"Oh Kristen, it must have been awful for you to be stuck in here all the time. Perhaps I could take you somewhere besides this room, at least only for a little while" she said,
"Where would we go?" Kristen asked.
"Perhaps to the stage, to the main theater. Come on! lets go! All the dancers are in for the night, rehearsals are over and it should be vacant." Kristen's broken eyes seemed to light up at the prospect of leaving the room she was confined to.
"Ok! Let's go" she said excitedly. Meg took Kristen's hand and led her out of the room, and down the hallway. The new air seemed to brush Kristen's face softly as they walked. After a few moments,
"We're almost there" Meg said. Kristen frowned,
"I thought you said it was going to be vacant. I hear people." She stated calmly
"But...no, there should be no one" She opened the door to reveal that Kristen had been right. There were people in the theater. Stage hands, creating the sets for the latest Opera.
"Wow, Kristen, you're ears are brilliant!" Meg stated enthusiastically. Kristen found herself smiling at this notion.
"What are they doing?" she asked,
"Oh...um, they're building a set. It's red, and orange. Oh this must be for Don Juan Triumphant!"
"Don Juan what?" Kristen asked.
"Oh" The girls tone grew to a concerned level. "Remember everything I told you about...you know who? well, he wrote an opera and he's making them perform it. That's all I know, that's all Maman will tell me"
Kristen listened to the men building the set, "Meg" she began, her voice at a volume of worry, yet it possessed courage and hope. "Do you think I could come to this Opera?" she asked. Since arriving, music had been the only sound she heard other than Meg's, and that strange presence's, voice, and she was growing fond of it, quite quickly.
"I shouldn't see why not, but it could be dangerous Kristen. They've ordered the police to attend just in case the phantom tries to pull more of his tricks. Something could go wrong"
"But things can always go wrong, please let me come! I'd love to see this opera. Especially since, as you say, it was written by a ghost" she laughed thoughtfully, "It sounds delightful"
The room fell silent. The workers suddenly noticed the presence of the two girls standing there.
"Hey, what are you doing here? Go away!" One called.
Kristen suddenly snapped around and starred into darkness, into a direction she didn't know where she was looking. Meg's eyes widened in fear.
"Did you hear that?" Kristen asked.
"No, I didn't hear anything, but you're looking at Box. 5. Kristen, it's his box. He must be here, you must have heard him. Quickly, lets go before we anger him" Meg dragged Kristen from the auditorium and back through the hallways before the blind girl could protest.
That's right, run, run from the man you can't see. Erik was most definitely watching from his "Box 5." He had to make sure the builders were doing an acceptable job at creating just the right atmosphere for his production. If not, he had planned to somehow destroy it and make them start all over again, but it seemed that his instructions on set design were all but vague to these fools.
"But Meg, why are you so frightened?" Kristen asked, "I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation behind your Phantom" she said.
"SHHH!" Meg hushed, "Don't say that name in these halls, or mention him at all. He hears everything!" she whispered. Kristen shook her head. This was ridiculous.
"You know, if I ever get to meet this Phantom, I should like to congratulate him on his ability to terrify you people so."
"You don't want to meet him, trust me, people who come in contact with him usually don't live to tell the tale. Why, I'm surprised Christine..." Meg slapped a hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to come out with such a secret, but she was not capable of holding in confidential information when she was caught in one of her fits of rambling.
"Christine?" Kristen asked, "Do you mean Christine Daae?"
Meg brought her back into her room and she shut the door, "Oh Kristen you must promise me not to tell anyone I told you" she said. Kristen nodded in accord. She sat while Meg explained the entire story of Christine, and the Angel of music, and everything Christine had said to her regarding her trip to the labyrinth. Upon the end of the tale, Kristen nodded.
"You see... he is a real man!"
"But you don't get it, real or not, he still murders, he still kills!"
"That must have been the music I heard coming from the floor. It must have been him!" Kristen slightly smiled, "He is very talented" Meg's eyes grew wide with horror,
"Kristen you don't know what you are saying!" she bellowed, "He is a mad man, you must not become fascinated. You must stay as far away from the basements and box five as you can."
"Relax Meg, it isn't like I'm going anywhere" Kristen said, silently laughing.
The next few days were very hard to get through. The entire theater was on it's toes preparing for Don Juan, and she was angered that Meg did not visit her as much. She grew gruesomely bored, all she could do was listen to the rehearsals, and to the hauntingly beautiful music coming from the floor. On more than one occasions she found herself bottom up, ears pressed to the floor. She hissed to herself, it must have been him who woke her from her lovely slumber. Summarily she wanted revenge. Then almost as soon as she felt the need to send out karma, she felt so silly. It was only a dream, there will be many more, she thought. At least she hoped there would be more.
"Are you ready Kristen?" Madame Giry asked, coming through the door. Kristen sat on the bed wearing a beautiful red gown that Antoinette had acquired for her. It wasn't easy, but she dressed herself in it anyway. It was a deep red, perhaps crimson, and it fit her perfectly, it wasn't too loose, it hugged her figure just right. Her hair fell gracefully over her shoulders, which were now exposed. She may have been able to dress herself, but her hair was another matter. Perhaps she would leave it down, it wasn't like anyone would be seeing her when they could feast their eyes upon the lovely Ms. Daae.
"I am" She answered, ready to go see her first ever Opera. She was so excited when Madame Giry gave her approval upon seeing "Don Juan Triumphant", She couldn't wait to hear Daae sing.
"You look lovely" the ballet mistress said, with not an ounce of ease in her voice. She knew something was going to happen, something terrible. They were planning to arrest Erik this night, and on top of it all, they were using Christine as bait! Christine who had not been herself for several months, Madame Giry worried so much that she wouldn't even introduce her to Kristen, for fear it would link her newest guest to the phantom even more.
"Thank you" Kristen said, standing from her seat. Her subdued eyes grew sad. She could not say the same for her guardian , even if she wanted to.
"What's wrong Kristen? Are you having second thoughts about going?" she asked concerned.
"Of course not, Madame. I only wish I could see you..."
"Don't worry, I am not wearing anything special, I am simply here to make sure the ballerina's don't fall and make fools of themselves" she said, trying to comfort her with words of humor. What Madame Giry could not understand though, was that everyone who lived or worked in the Populaire was uneasy that night, even herself. Kristen was the only one who knew of the Phantom, and who didn't seem to care, or mind.
The police were stationed in every box, and in every corner of the theater. Madame Giry brought Kristen into the audience. She made sure before hand that she had saved for her the best seat. She looked at it as an award for her, for being so brave. Not many could learn to laugh and smile only weeks after they learn they will never see again, but Kristen was different. She sat beside her, never letting go of her hand. It was important that Kristen knew where she was at all times if at any time she would be in need of something. But Kristen was not the only thing on her mind. As she sat before the fiery red curtain that concealed the set, her heart throbbed fiercely. Somewhere behind that mass of curtain was poor frightened Christine Daae, probably begging Raoul one last time to call the whole thing off.
The audience quieted, the curtains were raised, and the song began. It was a strange music to Kristen's ears. She had never heard such... uniqueness. It was far different from the music she used to hear at church. Rarely had she heard violin's screech like that, and never had she heard words ring with such, splendid evil. It was dark, and it seemed to consume her soul on a strange level of passion. She heard from behind her some muttered comments about "Completely despicable," or "Well! I never!" What ever was going on, on that stage, it must have matched the music. Kristen imagined it was something of a sinful nature, if the phantom had written this, where had he been inspired?
And then, after the climax of the first order of music, and passed the story of one man disguising himself as another, all went silent, and all attentions went to the lovely Ms. Daae, who sang clearer than a bell.
No thoughts within her head, but thoughts of joy!
No dreams within her heart, but dreams of love!
And from behind she heard someone whisper the name Christine, and she knew then definitely that it was her. The music was like none she had ever heard before, but the words were also of an alien nature to her. All talk of passing a point of no return. She tried to concentrate on the story line, but she could not see what was going on. The words were vague. Indeed, to the person who could watch the opera, they would have made complete sense, but Kristen couldn't figure out whether they were in each other's arms singing the words, held apart by opposing companies, or simply moving towards each other. The words were passionate, and sexual, Kristen almost envied the female singer, while she recognized the male. That whisper! he had whispered during this song on several occasions, it was the same blasted whisper that had awoken her from sleep. But his voice was so sating, so mesmerizing, and in a word, seductive.
When will the blood begin to race?
The sleeping bud burst into bloom?
When will the flames at last, consume us?
Oh she had never heard such words, such music, such genius. She wished she could reach out for it, it moved her spirit, it made her almost want to write down these feelings. Tears of realization suddenly came to her broken eyes. If she could have seen the opera she would have written about it definitely, but how could she? She could not see to write, and even if she could, she had not one journal left. All of her diaries really were probably destroyed in the fire, as well as her eyesight.
Past the point of no return
The final Threshold
The bridge is crossed, so stand and watch it burn,
We've passed the point of no return.
The music hushed, she could have sworn the song was over, but then she heard the same male voice, singing out some different words of a completely different tone, and she found herself frowning. Where was this coming from, certainly it was not part of the song! It didn't fit in with the sensual nature of the piece... She forced herself to stop criticizing, it was still beautiful, and the man who sang it, was wonderful.
Say you'll share with me one love, on lifetime
Lead me, save me from my solitude
Say you'll want me with you here, beside you
Anywhere you go let me go to,
Christine, that's all I ask of...
Christine? Kristen thought as soon as the name was sung. She could have sworn the woman's name was supposed to be Aminta. She realized that as soon as his sentence was cut short and the audience began to shriek in horror, that something indeed, had gone terribly wrong. What were they screaming about? She reached for Madame Giry, but the woman was no longer in the seat beside her. Oh God! What was happening? Then suddenly she heard a rope snap, and she heard a series of clanking noises from above. Glass was falling from the ceiling! there were a few more screams, then she felt herself being slammed to the floor. Someone had run clear over the poor girl! and left her there on the floor between chairs. She was stepped on again. What on earth was going on? Suddenly, she heard an enormous crash, and felt a painful jagged edge stab her right in the right shoulder. Then the air grew hot.
Where did he take her?
She heard the voice of a very worried man, then she heard Madame Giry answer,
Quickly monsieur, I will take you to him, but remember, keep your hand at the level of your eyes.
She also heard little Meg in the background somewhere, but her concern was now not on what they were saying. There was smoke, she distinctively smelt the smoke rising from all directions. Another fire! another fire. She couldn't believe it. She went to release herself from the grip of the unfriendly glass that ground into the skin of her back, but she was being held under with great force. So afraid she was, I'm going to die She thought, but she couldn't let that happen. She had come too far, and she really wanted to know what was going on. So from what she heard this man say, someone had taken her somewhere. It must have been Christine. The Phantom must have kidnapped her. That was the only explanation she could think of to fit the situation.
The air grew hotter, and a now very trapped and in pain Kristen began to choke on the fumes she was breathing in. It was now or never, she had to escape, or be killed. She cast forth her arms into a vast nothingness, and tried to find something to pull herself out with. She found herself thanking God that someone had squished her so insensitively into the floor, for if she had remained seated, she would already be dead, or close to her. But then she screamed out in pain. As she pulled herself from the wreckage, she could feel blades, or glass, cutting at her back. ((The reader who has either read or seen "The Phantom of the Opera" would know that this was the fallen chandelier she was trapped beneath))
The glass had made terrible gashes into her skin, and the hot polluted air did nothing to help the stinging pain of a fresh wound to the open air. "MADAME GIRY!" Kristen choked, but already the room was growing quiet, for people were fleeing at a breakneck speed, and no one seemed to care that she was there, confused, and that her sense of direction was gone. She thought about running to where they had come from, but being caught between chairs and beneath an incredibly large piece of... glass, had muddied her bearings. She could not find her way, but she had to try. She forced herself to stand, though she could feel small trickles of blood pouring down her back beneath the similar colored dress. She was told it was red, but her attire was the last thing she was thinking about at the moment. She took a few steps, but soon found herself slammed against a wall. She felt the wall until she reached a set of stair.
The smoke was growing thicker. How could Madame Giry have just left her there like that to die? She had told her that she would be right there by her side no matter what, and where was she now? off to aid some young idiot! She growled, crawling up these steps, steps she did not know were the very steps to the stage, to the very source of the entire incident. Then, all was quiet. Not one person remained in the theater, but she could hear the cracking of wood all around. The place was burning down, and she could feel the heat almost scorching her body. Upon reaching the top of this stair case, she held out her hands in hopes of feeling fresh air, she could not know where she was going, she hoped perhaps they had been steps leading to the entrance, or exit, but apparently not. She stood, her arms out, she walked forward, hoping and praying she would not die.
Please God, help me find my way, do not let me die, She prayed. Lead me to my living destiny Then all was irrelevant, all was in shadow and silence.
When Kristen finally came to, she realized she was lying on a cold stone floor, her head was killing her, and the smoke was gone. If she could have seen what had happened to her, she would have remembered falling through the fire pit of the stage set, and down into the labyrinth of a painful hell. Her back throbbed painfully against the stone floor as she laid on her back. She had hit her head terribly hard, and she could have sworn she must have cracked her skull open. To top off this list of injuries, her left ankle felt extremely twisted, perhaps broken. She was not dead, it was too dark to be heaven and too cold to be hell, and she knew she had reached her tomb. In the darkness and silence, she began to whimper silently,
"Oh, God why did you have to leave me like that, Giry" she sobbed, "Where are you now Madame Giry? Where? Why did you betray me?" she sobbed out these words, then said no more. Her crying helped a little at least to relieve the pain surging through her body, through her un-welcoming veins. She almost wished that the fire had claimed the rest of her, this was the second fire she had survived, "God must love watching me fight through fire from that lovely little pillow of cloud in the sky" She growled vengefully. Her Stubbornness getting the best of her once more, she tried to stand, but her left ankle, oh her left ankle. Any little bit of pressure applied to that foot sent smarting surges of physical anguish throughout her entire being. She fell once more to the stone cold floor, and let out a blood curdling scream.
Her back had been torn up and now she realized just how bad the extent of her misfortune was. Her scream though, half by pain, was more of a cry for help and a cry of frustration. Here she was, severely damaged, and no one knew she was there. No one. "HELP ME!" She cried out in one last attempt to satisfy her frustration and perhaps make her existence there known to someone who perhaps remained within the walls of the Populaire. She then began to cry in her frustrations, pulling her finger nails to her face and scratching down on her pale skin. If she was going to die, she didn't want to die like this, she wished it could have been the fire to finalize her life, not this sad sorry hole, that now consumed her once more in a state of unconsciousness.
