Disclaimer: Andrew Lloyd Webber owns Phantom Of The Opera and all its music and stuff.
A/N: "What would happen if the genders of the main characters of POTO were reversed?" It was an interesting question - one I wanted to answer. I hope it entertains you. While I give all credit to Andrew Lloyd Webber for the songs, I have written some of my own words to the tune of them, and change the lyrics of others to make it fit with the theme of this fanfic. Therefore, the words that are mine are © ICRepresentative. See if you can pick them out.
"No, no, no, no!" The opera star El Cobalto shook himself free of the people fluttering around him. He brushed them aside like gnats. "'These things do 'appen'? For the past three years, these things have been happen! And until these things don't happen, this thing" he pointed to himself, "Don't happen!" He ripped the helmet from his head and threw it to the ground contemptuously. He turned and stormed away, calling for his belongings, his dog, and his muse to follow behind him, and there was nothing anyone could do. His train of yes-men and porters hurried after him, pleading and begging in Spanish.
Andre, one of the new managers of the Opera Populaire turned to the maestro and tried to make the best of a bad situation. "Well," he forced a smile, "Is he coming back?"
The maestro shrugged helplessly and put the cloth back to his forehead.
"Isn't there an understudy…?"
"Understudy!" The maestro wailed, "Understudy! There is no understudy!"
"Christian Daae could sing the part."
The managers turned to find themselves looking at the calm face of Madame Giry. Her daughter Meg stood nearby. A young boy, wearing the slave-boy costume from the play the opera troupe had been trying to perform, stood just behind her, looking a little bashful.
Firmin, the other manager, raised an eyebrow. "Christian Daae? Not the son of the famous violinist Georgina Daae?"
"The same," Madam Giry said, her face blank, "And her only child."
"But he's a dancer!" Firmin scoffed. "How can he sing?"
"He's had the help of a wonderful tutor."
Andre's interest was peaked. "Really? Who?"
"I don't know her name." The boy admitted shyly.
Andre sighed, but relented. "Very well, come up here. Maestro, from the beginning please." The maestro lifted his baton, and the music started up. The boy, Christian Daae, come to the front of the stage and looked out over the empty seats of the theatre.
"I hope you know, Andre, that this is doing nothing for my nerves." Firmin muttered.
Think of me, think of me fondly, when we say goodbye…
The managers exchanged glances. This boy had the voice of an angel. They had their star.
"You did well tonight," Madam Giry said. She handed him a red rose, tied with a black ribbon. "She is pleased."
Christian gently pulled the ribbon through his fingers. "Did you see her tonight?" He asked softly.
But Madam Giry shook her head. "I did not. But you know she always watches you."
Christian set the rose down reverently. "But if she was not watching, who was that in Box 5?"
The dance teacher's mouth set itself in a hard line. "The theatre's new patron. A Countess. The new managers do not respect the Phantom's wishes." She shook her head sadly. "This will not end well."
"I will speak to her," Christian said, trying to bring a smile back to Madam Giry's face. "Perhaps there could be a compromise."
"The Phantom of the Opera does not compromise." Madam Giry said, and left the room quietly.
Christian started taking off the trappings of his costume. Hannibal had been a success - with him as the title role! He smiled. It had been an honour he wasn't expecting.
Something else he really hadn't expected was the fact that Rebecca was here. He had seen the patron, and he had recognised her. They had been childhood sweethearts. She had called him Little Lorrie.
"Little Lorrie spoke of everything and nothing…"
Christian turned and smiled. "Rebecca!" She was here, in his dressing room, singing the song they had sung as children. They sang it again tonight, and together for the first time in years.
"You were magnificent, Christian!" Rebecca said. She looked beautiful - being a Countess meant she could afford the luxuries of a fine dress and jewels. Christian felt like the orphan he was, sitting beside her. But Rebecca obviously cared not for comparisons - she wrapped Christian in a fierce hug. "You sang so well!"
Christian hugged his old sweetheart back, taking in the rose-petal scent of her perfume. Expensive perfume. "Thankyou, Rebecca, but it's all because of the Angel of Music."
"Angel of Music?" She smiled, "I remember her. 'The Angel of Music singing songs in your head'…" She laughed.
Christian smiled, but did not join in the laughter. "I've missed you."
She smiled, her cheeks dimpling. "I've missed you too." She rose and made for the door. "Come, I've a carriage waiting. We should go to dinner to celebrate your new starring role!"
Christian's smile vanished in an instant. "No, Rebecca, I can't."
"Why not?"
"My teacher wouldn't like it." Christian said, pleadingly, "She's very strict."
Rebecca grinned teasingly. "Then I'll bring you back before your bedtime. Get changed, Little Lorrie - I'll meet you outside in five minutes."
"Rebecca, wait!"
But she was gone. Christian felt the emptiness of the room press down on him. Suddenly, all the candles died at once, as though with a single breath of wind… and Christian knew he wasn't alone…
Insolent wench! This slave of fashion!
Basking in your glory!
Ignorant girl, this scarlet woman
Sharing in my triumph!
Christian turned, but there was no-one there he could see. He took a deep breath and sang out,
"Angel of music, come, sing to me
I long to hear your sweet song
Angel of Music, come from the shadows
You have been hiding too long."
A woman's voice laughed bitterly.
Angel of music, is that what you call me?
When you have a woman already?
"Angel of Music, she means nothing
You are the only one for me."
Christian looked around the room. No-one. No answer. He picked up the red rose again and stoked the petals gently, while looking around the dark room.
"Angel of Music! Speak, I listen
Stay by my side, guide me!
Angel, my soul was weak - forgive me
Enter at last, Mistress!
Softly, she sang back.
Flattering boy, you shall know me
See why in shadows I hide!
Look at your face in the mirror
I am there inside!
Christian turned and found himself staring at himself in the mirror… but as he watched, the face of the Angel of Music appeared. Christian could barely contain his joy - the woman who had sung to him in dream and in the dead of night, the woman who took the cold edge of his nightmares far from him, the woman who had coached him, taught him to sing, the woman who's voice he adored… she was here! She was here!
"Angel of Music, guide and guardian!
Grant to me your glory!
Angel of Music, hide no longer
Come to me, strange angel…"
The woman in the mirror, her face half-hidden by a bone-white mask, held her hand out to him.
I am your Angel of Music…
Come to me, Angel of Music…
And Christian was aware of nothing else as he reached for her hand and let him lead her down into darkness…
"In sleep she sang to me, in dreams she came...
That voice which calls to me and speaks my name...
And do I dream again? For now I find
The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside my mind..."
Through dark tunnels, light by golden lamps of light, The Phantom took her student, leading him by the hand through a maze of stone. She would look back at him, to smile at his spell-bound face. Her own face, beautiful, despite the left side being only a mask. She smiled, then sang with light more beautiful than her own face, more beautiful than anything Christian ever could have imagined. He'd heard her sing to him in dreams, and when he was in chapel praying for his mother. But now, his Angel had not only a voice, but a face. And she sang to him…
Sing with me once again our strange duet
My power over you grows stronger yet…
And though you turn from me, to glance behind,
The Phantom of the Opera is there - inside your mind...
Christian followed, drawn onwards not only by the gentle pull of her hand, but by the music of her voice.
"Those who have seen your face
Draw back in fear
AndI am the mask you wear…"
She turned to face him, eyes torn between sadness for herself and love for him.
It's me they hear…
Together, they sang, the words overlapping in chorus.
"Your/my spirit and your/my voice, in one combined
The Phantom of the Opera is there - inside your/my mind..."
Christian felt her squeeze his hand through the soft satin of her glove, and his heart began to soar.
"When night descends on me, and candles dim
Your song demans I obey your every whim
Long have I dreamed of you, longed for your face
The Phantom of the Opera is here, black silk and lace..."
"Sing with the Phantom of the Opera…" she whispered, "Sing with the Phantom of the Opera…" Her voice rose and fell in pealing silver notes.
In all your fantasies
You always knew
Angel and mystery…
Christian crooned in reply,
"Were both in you…"
Together, their voices rose and twined, echoing over the misty lake and in the cold stone tunnels.
"And in this labyrinth,
Where night is blind,
The Phantom of the Opera is there/here
Inside your/my mind..."
Christian sat in the black gondola, the Phantom pushing the boat through the maze of misty waterways with a long silver pole.
Sing, my Angel of Music! She commanded, Sing, my Angel of Music!
And Christian sang, and rising from the waters rose candelabras, their candles already lit.
Sing, my Angel of Music! Sing, my Angel of Music!
Through the glassy lake, through the think, heavy mists, the boat slid… and came to a stop. Christian stared in wonder at his angel as she stepped off the boat, slid aside her cape, and stared down at him fondly.
"Welcome, Christian." She purred. She turned and climbed the stairs, her long black dress swishing over the floors. Her eyes never left his face. "You sang wonderfully tonight."
Christian said nothing, only stared in spell-bound wonder at the face and form of his teacher and mistress.
She smiled, the left half of her face frozen behind a mask. "Do you know why I brought you here?"
Dumb-struck, Christian shook his head.
"You are my finest creation," she whispered, coming towards him, her hand outstretched. "Greater than any opera I could have ever written. But without you…" She pulled him to his feet, and drew him towards her, "My music is nothing." She put her lips to his ear and whispered seductively. "Will you be my music, Christian? Will you help me write the music of the night?" She stepped back, watching his face, and led him up the stairs, deeper into her lair.
And Christian followed, pulled by the magic spell of her song and of her beauty.
The managers threw aside the notes they carried in order to put their arms around La Cobalto's shoulders in a familiar, grovelling manner. "Who needs Christian Daae?" They laughed, "He can play the silent role! There is no way we would dare ask our greatest star,El Cobalto, to put on a dress! To hell with what that 'Phantom' says!"
Rebecca looked down at the note she carried. All this confusion, all these notes… and 'Opera Ghost'? What kind of Ghost kidnaps an opera star, only to return him before the next rehearsals start? And what kind of ghost demands an exorbitant salary and a theatre box?
"You,El Cobalto, shall play the king, and Christian shall play the maid!"
"The Phantom of the Opera," Madam Giry whispered, as she turned away, "Will not be pleased." She gripped her note tightly, so tightly that it threatened to tear. The Phantom had threatened a disaster - and she never broke her promises. She never failed to follow through with her threats.
ElCobalto was in rare form - the other actors had never seen him so agreeable. And he was in fine spirits. He played the philandering king with exuberant energy, while Christian played the maid demurely and, as the role demanded, silently.
The Phantom switched the bottles while no-one was looking. But one man saw - high in the rafters, Joseph saw the black-gloved hand of the Phantom. And for once, the jokester found himself afraid. He was just kidding last night! The Phantom existed in stories! Nothing more!
The Queen came in, and caught her husband in the act, but the King denied anything, pointing out, instead, a smear of makeup on her face. She gasped, outraged. The crowd roared appreciatively.
"DID I NOT INSTRUCT THAT BOX NUMBER FIVE BE LEFT EMPTY?"
The play halted, and people looked about in confusion - was his part of the play? The cast looked to each other in fear - the Opera Ghost! Rebecca, sitting in Box 5, looked around herself with alarm, then looked to the managers for an explanation. There was none they could give.
"She's here," Christian said, whispering in awe, "The Phantom of the Opera…"
"You are to be silent,"El Cobalto snapped, "You little toad." He smiled apologetically out at the audience.
"Toad?" The Phantom whispered, looking down from her perch near the chandelier, "No, sir, it is you who is the toad." With a sweep of her black cloak, she was gone.
"Bah!"El Cobalto stomped backstage, "Get me this, get me this." Someone brought forward the spray-bottle and squirted the liquid into the star's open mouth. "Hey, hey, hey! Why you squirt on my chin all the time, eh?" Again, two more sprays. El Cobalto tested his voice, found it fine, then stomped back on stage to resume his role.
Joseph crept along the walkway above the crowd, looking for the Phantom. She couldn't be real… she couldn't be! He found the doorway, and slipped inside
But asEl Cobalto's voice rose in song, it broke, and sounded exactly like the croak of a toad. The cast, crew and audience, burst into laughter.El Cobalto tried harder to make his voice normal again, but to no avail. Everyone was in stitches… bar Christian, who was looking around for the Phantom; and Rebecca, who was watching Christian curiously.
Joseph peered around in the darkness. Well, wherever the Phantom went, she was gone now. No sign of her… He turned, and found himself staring at the white half-face of the Opera Ghost. He cried out in fear, and dashed away along the platforms above the stage. The Phantom followed close behind.
The curtain swung closed, separating the view of the mess backstage from the audience. One of the actors was caught onstage. He panicked.
"Get off, get OFF!" The maestro hissed. The actor hid just out of view as the managers came onstage to try and settle everyone down.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Firmin cleared his throat, "Pease forgive us for these inconveniences. If you will be so kind, we will start the play once more, this time with…" He reached backstage and grabbed Christian, and dragged him onstage, "Christian Daae playing the King!"
The crowd cheered their new favourite. After what they had seen from his performance last night, there was no doubt he would be a wonderful actor. A young lady in the back cheered loudly.
Joseph turned, but could see no sign of the succubus he'd seen before. But there! She was on the platform opposite him. Joseph tried to run one way - she ran that way too. The other way? She followed him. Joseph panicked, and ran. The Phantom grabbed hold of one of the ropes and shimmied up into the darkness.
"Meanwhile," Andre continued, "We shall be performing the ballet from Act 3…"
The maestro hissed in alarm and hurried to co-ordinate his orchestra.
"The ballet! The ballet!" Andre tried to hurry him up.
The music started up, and the curtain opened. Cast and crew scurried around, shifting props and sets, trying to make the sheep move, trying to dance and get everything organised at the same time…
Joseph ran, the woman in the black cloak and gown close behind him. Suddenly, he tripped, and fell. The Phantom pounced.
The ballet music picked up. The actor that had been left on stage before danced across, trying to look like he was a part of the act. The maestro glowered at him. "You're fired." He hissed.
Joseph tried to scream, but he couldn't.
The girls on stage tried to pick up their dance with the music, many of them seconds out of time. The sheep refused to walk across stage, one of them letting out a loud obnoxious bleat, then falling over.
The audience laughed.
There was nothing Joseph could do - he couldn't breathe. The face of the Phantom twisted into a triumphant sneer, and her eyes were cold as ice.
The ballerinas spun, twirled, but the stage was chaos. It couldn't get any worse…
A body fell from the rafters, kicking and spasming, a noose around his neck. Madam Giry's daughter screamed, and soon many people joined in.
The managers rose from their seats and screamed at the audience that it was only an accident. Rebecca rose from her seat and stared in horror. Christian lifted his face, and saw his Angel in the rafters, holding a rope. She saw him, smiled, and let go.
Joseph's body hit the floor with a sickening thud.
to be continued.
Please r&r.