AN: Ahem...ummm...don't kill me for being so late with this chapter! For the longest time, I couldn't think of a thing to write about, but I realized the update was taking a ridiculously long amount of time, so...well...here we are. It's definitely not my best chapter, but it's not exactly a filler either. A bit of a plot coming in, a bit of suspense here and there. I've decided to just keep writing and update as much as possible. Forcing your muse can be a great learning experience! Well...thank you to my wonderfully faithful reviewers and...don't abandon me yet!

Kodu

16

The Calvary

Amy blinked, her glowing green eyes wide in shock, mouth agape.

"No..." she whispered, her voice a dying breath on the shouts that went up throughout the entire room.

High-pitched voices debated on the realities of what had just happened while despairing individuals took to weeping for the little girl they had never seemed to like before. Sunlight flooded through the grimy old window, mocking the girls with it's thoughtless cheer. How can something so horrible happen on such a beautiful day? I suppose that's what stung the most. The fact that, even though someone's life had veritably ended, the world still went round. That the tears of one girl, or a dozen, did nothing to change the circumstances fate had thrown their way.

How meaningless they all were, sitting there, crying out for a face that would never be remembered, a name that would never be revered. Life seemed to have this funny way of stabbing you in the back; biting you when you fed it, hating you when you loved it.

"...Celine..." Leah mumbled brokenly, tears in her eyes.

La Sorelli jumped up from her position on the cot, breathing in deeply. She scratched absently at the red marks lining her neck - wounds from her own nails - and grinned.

"Better her than me," she whispered, causing the room to go silent.

"Take that back," Amy growled dangerously, slitting her eyes and clenching her fists.

"Well," the ballerina said. "It's true! I mean, she wasn't that good of a dancer, and it's not like anyone is going to miss her -"

"Take. That. Back." The green-eyed girl slowly advanced on Sorelli, her breathing ragged. Celine had been innocent. A sweet, frightened girl who did nothing to deserve the fate that had befallen her. Her sudden show of bravery - if very ignorant -, had been surprising, to say the least. To have her wavering smile ripped from the corps de ballet's presence was a cruel turn of events.

Sorelli merely snorted, crossing her pale arms over her chest and turning up her nose. "I am La Sorelli, the leading dancer, the Prima Ballerina, and no little rat is going to tell me what to do."

The room was silent. Nothing - not even the scuffle of nervous feet - could be heard. It was like the little dormitory had been separated from the world around it. About this time, Madame Giry would have come in, demanding the girls to rise and prepare for a strenuous day of work, but she was no where in sight. Stagehands were usually heard bustling around the scenes, working on some sort of set, or at least singing obnoxiously loud songs while drinking themselves into a blissful stupor. But there was nothing.

Then, suddenly, out of the eerie calm came a devil's shriek.

"Mon Dieu, take that back or I will rip your heart out!" Amy moved to lunge, but was stopped by the sound of a resounding slap.

Leah - hand stretched foreword and turning a slight shade of red from the impact of slapping the Prima Ballerina's face - glared angrily at Sorelli. "I hate you, you...you pompous ass!" Then, spitting on the ballerina's shoes, the girl strode out of the room, the creaky wooden door slamming behind her. Kayla lifted up, tossed the girl a chilly glare, and followed.

After a moment, the shock wore off, and the ballerina instead held a incredulous look. "Get. Back. HERE!" She screamed, her voice challenging even that of La Carlotta's hideous tantrums.

Amy smirked and turned towards the door. "Looks like you're losing your authority, Sorelli. If I were you -" But she was cut off by a terrifying shriek just outside the door. Eyes wide, the raven-haired girl strode into the hallway and ran straight into a brick wall. After taking a moment to collect herself, she realized it wasn't a wall, but instead stood a man - no less than six feet tall - just outside the dormitories.

The girl's dormitories, where men weren't supposed to be.

And by the looks of it, he wasn't coming to chat.

"Well, 'ello there, darlin'." His dirt-ridden face twisted into a hideous smile. The slight bit of hair on his chin gave him a gruff, scraggly look, and his beady black eyes did nothing to soften the hardness of his face. Everything about him was dirty; from his stained clothes, to the slimy tone of his voice. Amy shivered unconsciously and tried to take a step back, finding that the door behind her had closed.

Sorelli, she thought angrily before turning her attention onto the man once again. "M-monsieur...?"

The smile widened, and the girl flinched. "So polite. I s'pose that's how they raise 'em in the theatre."

"Amy!" Her attention taken away from the ugliness before her, Amy glanced over the man's shoulder to find Kayla in the arms of a particularly frightening looking man. Her blonde hair was spilled halfway over her face, barely hiding the tears that had begun to fall. Her night gown was ripped at the sleeve, and she was trying to her hardest to wrench out of the other's grasp.

"Amy!" she gasped again, striking blue eyes wide in terror. "Run!"

Hesitating no more, the girl twisted towards her left, ready to take off in any direction, when a large, grubby hand stopped her. It clamped down heavily onto her shoulder and held her in place.

"Ah, ah," the man taunted, squeezing her shoulder harshly. "Where do ya' think your goin'?" Pulling her closer, he chuckled darkly. "You're not done 'ere, darlin'."

"Hey," said a voice from behind the man, and he turned abruptly, angry to be interrupted. Looking down, he nearly laughed at finding a pale little girl with white-blonde hair and silver eyes glaring angrily at him. "Let her go," she demanded, still staring into his eyes.

The man couldn't help but chuckle, and while he was distracted, Leah took that opportune moment to kick him sharply between the legs. As he keeled over in pain, she landed another blow to his side, causing the man to roll over in agony. Grabbing Amy's hand, the girl pulled her down the corridor, looking for an escape.

Meanwhile, Kayla bit and kicked with all her might, trying to wrench free from the man holding onto her. He had pulled her down a rarely-used hallway with some difficulty, and was now attempting to shut her up.

"I swear, if you don't shut the hell up, I'm gonna' kill you!"

Relentless in her struggle, the blond ballerina squirmed even more in the other's grasp. "Let...go...of...me!" Between each word, she took in great gulps of air, as the man holding her began squeezing tightly, hoping to wear her down. Finally, she landed a blow on his kneecap, and found herself released from his grasp. Taking no time to celebrate, Kayla jumped up and darted off. She didn't get far before an arm wrapped around her torso and dragged her to the ground. Tears had already stained her cheeks, but now they fell with greater force.

Furious now, the man grabbed a fistful of hair and twisted it around his hand in harsh movements. "I'm...gonna...teach you...a lesson!" With each pause, he rapped her head sharply - roughly - against the ground, causing a slight trickle of blood to slide down her forehead. His fingers gripped her throat and began squeezing the life out of her, Kayla whimpering in pain.

"Get your hands off of her," a voice whispered dangerously, and a strange clicking noise was heard.

Before Kayla slipped into the realm of blissful unconsciousness, she heard the sound of a gunshot, and felt the sticky warmth of blood splatter against her face.

It was loud.

Sure, he lived in an underground cave, but he could still hear what was going on above. He didn't know what it was at first, and as he held onto the weeping Celine, he didn't really have the urge to go and find out. But he had to now. A gun had fired. A fight was going on...in his theatre!

Reluctantly, the Phantom released the little dancer from his comforting arms, and lifted gracefully from the ground. Celine had heard too, and her sobs stopped immediately at the idea of a new threat.

"W-what was that?" she whispered. The Opera Ghost found he was getting used to her stutter, because it didn't bother him was much as it had before. Holding out a hand, he lifted the girl to her feet and turned his attention back to the commotion upstairs.

"I don't know," he answered slowly, amber eyes locked on the ceiling above. "But if it's what I think it is..." he shuddered, and grabbed his cloak from the chair it had been sitting on. "Stay here," was his command before disappearing into the darkness of the underground.

As he made his way back to the world of the living, the Phantom couldn't help but grimace at the ideas running through his head. He had been hearing so much lately about a peasant uprising. Of course, the matters of men rarely applied to himself, but this case was an exception. He had a duty to this opera house, a responsibility to the people inside of it. He might have been the resident Phantom - terrorizing in every sense of the word - but that didn't mean he was going to stand by and let his home be massacred by the Parisian lower-class idiots.

Winding through the secret passages, the Opera Ghost could hear all kind of horrors being played out in his theatre. Smashing, breaking, yelling, screaming. Gunshots every now and then would ring loudly in his ears; some as far as the other side of the building, some as close as the thin wall separating him and the next room. But he couldn't let those things distract him right now. He had a destination: the ballet dormitories.

For all the trouble he had put those girls through, the least he owed them was his protection.

That is, if he wasn't too late...

They were still running, looking for a place to hide out as chaos erupted around them. Leah held tightly to Amy's hand - more for the sake of quelling her own fears than comforting the other girl - as they slipped from room to room. Many times, they were almost caught again, just narrowly missing another encounter like before. Their breaths were ragged as they slowed their steps and strode lightly down a familiar corridor. Their adrenaline was pumping, and they had been running for what seemed like thirty minutes, though was probably about ten.

Amy sighed as she glared almost angrily at the door before them. It seemed their feet had led them to the only safe haven they knew of: the ballet dormitories. Praying that is still was, in fact, safe, Amy pushed on the wooden door (It didn't lock, unfortunately.) and stepped inside.

"About time you two got here," came a harsh whisper from under one of the beds. Leah ducked her head to find La Sorelli huddled against the floor, and had to stifle a giggle. The Prima Ballerina saw her features, however, and scowled angrily.

"You won't be laughing when those men come back and rape you!"

That single statement sobered the mood. Looking around, Amy noticed that all the other girls had found shelter under their cots as well. There was no more room, though, and Amy and Leah would have to settle for a more open shelter. Dashing towards the darkest corner in the room, both girls pressed tight against each other and tried to make themselves as small as possible.

"I'm frightened," whispered Leah, looking to Amy for reassurance.

Sighing, the black-haired girl merely shook her head and stared at the floor. "We all are, Amy. We all are."

Suddenly, the wall behind her gave way, and both girls went tumbling into the darkness behind them with a loud gasp.

Blinking, Amy found herself laying across the impeccably tasteful shoes of the Phantom of the Opera. A bright blush graced her cheeks, and she lifted up as quickly as she could, the shocked look in her eyes easily read.

Leah landed on the other shoe and blushed brightly. Her mind, however, was more scattered than Amy's, and she continued to lay on it, too paralyzed with disbelief to move.

Clearing his throat, the black-clad figure smirked. "I know the view from down there must be immaculate, but I realize my shoe isn't all that comfortable. Mind sitting up, dear?"

Leah's blush deepened, and she shot up abruptly, turning her head away so the Phantom couldn't see. The room broke out into startled gasps, and the Opera Ghost had to hold back rolling his eyes.

"What are you doing here?" hissed Amy, a little more harshly than she meant to.

Blinking, the Phantom ignored her question and stepped over the girl, his flowing black cape dragging against her body. The raven-haired ballerina shuddered at the feel of such silky softness brushing against her arms. Oddly enough, she felt secure just sitting near to him. I suppose, when things get chaotic, the Opera Ghost isn't too much of a nuisance... the girl thought shyly.

"What's going on?" Leah asked the man above her, innocent gray eyes piercing into his own amber orbs.

Turning his attention to the girl, the black-garbed specter crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, trying to look as nonchalant as possible.

"A peasant uprising. The theatre is being destroyed...for no good reason." That last part came as a hiss, the man's eyes slitting dangerously at the thought of his opera house being ravaged so. As he continued, his voice took on a more gentle tone.

"I'm here to help you. Whoever wants safety, follow me..." With that, the Phantom swished his cloak and ducked back into the darkness. It would have been impossible to see him, had his amber eyes not shone so fiercely in the inky blackness.

"How can we trust you!" Amy had to force her voice into a calm tone, but her green orbs were shooting daggers. "You kidnapped Celine - and me! - and now you expect us to trust you? What do you take us for, Monsieur Phantom? Fools?"

Growling, the Opera Ghost closed his eyes for a moment before glaring back at the girl with equal anger. "No, mademoiselle. I assumed you had common sense, though I might have been incorrect in my assumptions. Who knows this theatre better than anyone else? Me. Who can protect you if a fight breaks out? I can." Then, with a smirk to his voice, he added, "If you want to live, you will have to become a ghost. Unseen, and unheard."

He held out his hand and beckoned the girls foreword. "Trust me...if you want to see another day."

Amy still held back, glancing around nervously at the others. No one moved, and for a long moment, an awkward silence invaded everyone's senses. Finally, after what seemed like a millennia, Leah stepped forth into the darkness, her tiny body trembling in fear.

"I-I trust you..." Her voice screamed otherwise, but her actions were brave enough. Looking out at the others, she pleaded with them to follow; to live.

"Anyone else?" came the Phantom's smooth voice. It carried throughout the room, and caused shivers to go down the corps de ballet's spines.

No one moved, and he sighed. "Alright then. But know this: I am no longer watching you, and it is your opinion whether that is a good or bad thing." Grasping Leah's shaking hand, he made to turn around when Amy's voice stopped him.

"Wait!" she said, and the Opera Ghost couldn't help but smile to himself. He knew she would follow him; it was just a matter of time. Her voice, though was dripping with fear.

"Where is Kayla?"