A/N: Just a historic note: this story is set in 1874. The opera AIDA by Giuseppe Verdi did not actually come to Paris until April 1876.

Chapter 16 Dreams

The next day, the opera house was unusually quiet. The orchestra hadn't set up, the principals had come and gone for the day, and many of the chorus members were sitting in the opera café gossiping instead of gathering on the stage. The normal high-speed schedule that the music director had bound them to had been cut short. There was an unnatural holiday at the Opera Populaire.

Some of the departments were still working full time in anticipation of the upcoming season. Manette was in the backstage area where she was speaking with her husband who worked in set design. The scenery for Act 1 was nearly finished, but already some questions had arisen that the music director would have to answer.

What a mess, thought Manette, as she took Gillian's hand and left the area.

Gillian was straining to see what was inside the many open doors that they passed. Her neck twisted and turned as she walked beside her teacher. Manette looked down at the shock of hair that flew up from the child's head. It was always unruly and gave her a wild appearance. She thought of how curious the little girl was, and how much there was here to feed the imagination of a child. Growing up in a grand opera house in Paris would be extraordinary, she mused.

They continued on to the management offices where Manette hoped to meet with Jade.

They had missed her last night when she had not come to supper. Jade had been regularly dining with Manette, her husband and Gillian since she had lost her private table over a week ago. Last night, the child had restlessly looked for her friend throughout the meal. When they had finished, she asked Manette if they could go to Jade's room and visit with her. Unfortunately for the child, Jade wasn't there either.

She's gotten quite attached to the woman, thought Manette. They're almost inseparable. It is a good thing that Jade is committed to her job here. The child would be heartbroken if she were to leave.

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"Jade's not here today. Nor will she be for several days," snapped Mme. Truffaut in answer to Manette's inquiry. "M. DuChant has ordered her to work in the stable." She abruptly turned back to her ledger after giving Manette a look of disgust.

The tall, stiff figured woman was in a temper. She was doing her work and Jade's and to make it worse, the workload had tripled since Jade had started working in the office. Jade's competent assistance had allowed Mme. Truffaut to delay hiring another assistant.

As much as she would have preferred to finish with the foul tempered Mme. Truffaut, Manette dared to ask another question.

"Madame, why is she in the stable?"

Mme. Truffaut answered icily. "Yesterday, M. Meley nearly killed a horse, and today she's nursing it back to health." M. Truffaut had inside links with many of the gossip mills in the opera house so she kept abreast of happenings. The colorful story about yesterday's event at the stable had passed quickly among the staff and performers. Meley was laid up with his injuries and the Opera Populaire was adrift without a music director. Tomorrow DuChant would have a meeting with the owners concerning the matter.

Manette took Gillian to the café and left her with her assistant who was minding the other children. She ordered two meals to take with her. While waiting, she overheard the conversation at an adjacent table.

"You really think Mme. Deschamps will take over for Meley?" asked a tall robust man of the chorus.

"She'd love to do it. You know her. She thinks she can do it all…compose, direct, conduct, etc.," said the bearded man. "If she thought she could get away with it, she'd play the part of Aida as well. She's completely full of herself."

The tall man shook his head in disbelief. "But,Verdi! He's supposed to come next week to consult on the details of the production. He won't deal with a woman, will he? He'll probably take one look at her and think it's an insult, and then leave. He has a temper."

"Then I guess we'll have to make do without his tinkering. However, with Mme. Deschamps in charge, we'll probably need his help. Speaking of tempers, who do you think got to Meley?" asked the bearded man. "Do you think the Opera Ghost is back?"

The other man chuckled. "Meley has plenty of enemies, but I doubt that the Opera Ghost is one of them."

Manette gathered up the food and left. There is too much idle talk today, she thought. Performers! They love drama. She hoped that the current chaos wouldn't last long.

She hurried to the stable, and wrapped her shawl tightly about her round shoulders as the breeze lifted her hair. The October air was brisk and the nights were getting colder. She had needed an extra blanket last night. It was her first trip to the stable, and she wrinkled her nose when she got a whiff of the unfamiliar smell of manure and urine.

Walking along the wide hall that divided the stalls, she made a brief search, and called out her friend's name. There was a sound in one of the stalls that was ahead of her on the right. Putting the food on a crate, she poked her nose over the stall door, and saw Jade's back. The woman was looking down at something and wearing her breeches.

Jade turned when she heard the rustling of Manette's skirts.

Her eyes had dark circles under them and she looked weary. She had been up most of the night with the stallion. Afraid to miss a dose of his medicine, she had catnapped and awakened every hour to check on him. In between, she had lain on her makeshift bed in an empty stall, the same stall that Meley had been found in.

"Jade, I brought you your lunch."

Manette quickly turned away, and avoided looking at the spot that Jade had been staring at. She didn't want to see the broken horse. The thought of the brutality and the pain made her queasy. The fact that it had happened here made this place ugly and disturbing.

Lunch passed without conversation as Jade looked out the stable entrance, and Manette occasionally glanced into the building's dark interior. What does she see in this place? Manette wondered.

They finished their meal and Jade went back to the stall while Manette watched her walk away. In spite of the fatigue she moved with her typical quiet, light step. So smooth, thought Manette: a natural dancer. She had been thinking lately of arranging for Gillian to spend more of her evenings with Jade. If the child was destined to live at least part of her life as a dancer, what better teacher to have than a woman whose act of walking was grace itself? The child couldn't help but learn something from her.

Later that night, Manette surveyed her sleeping charges. The soft sound of twenty some children's breathing as they slept was thin and sweet. All was well. She noticed the thatch of pale hair half buried under a blanket. It was getting chillier in the dormitory. She really needed to get more blankets. She'd look into it tomorrow.

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That night, Jade finished the tea that the man had given her for the horse. She carried the empty container to the stall where her bed was. Then she stretched out on the bed, and drifted off to sleep.

In her dream, there was something slick on the floor. Her legs nearly gave out but she managed to hold onto something and keep her footing. The space around her was expanding and contracting. Looking down, she saw blood on her dress. She was covered in blood. Then she felt something grip her waist and relentlessly tug at her, dragging her across the floor. She beat at it with her hands as it pulled her away…

Her eyes opened, and she was staring at the ceiling rafters. Her muscles were tense and her jaw clenched. She was sweating and had soaked her tunic.

She slowly got up, and lit the lantern next to her bed. Then she crossed the hall and checked on the stallion. His breathing was easy and regular. The salve was doing its magic and healing his wounds. It also seemed to be a pain killer, or maybe it was the tea she had been giving him, because he had been blessedly free of discomfort since yesterday. She looked around the stall. If the horse needed more of the tea, she knew that it would appear. He would come and leave her what she needed.

Thinking of him, she looked towards her bed. Last night, when she had returned from the river, there had been a colorful throw placed at the foot of her bed. It had exotic figures on it and was made of thick wool. She had needed it last night since it had gotten very chilly in the stable. Before retiring for the night, she had closed the doors and locked them as per Rascon's instructions. But she suspected that if the man in the mask wanted to enter, the locked doors wouldn't keep him out.

Rubbing her head, she felt the dirt in her hair. She hadn't bathed since Friday and she was beginning to smell. It was too late to return to her room and order a bath. Besides, she didn't dare leave the stallion on the chance that he might take a turn for the worse.

She'd thought about the strange man off and on throughout the day. His fine clothes, the way he stood above her alert and ready to move in a second. He was like a large bird of prey watching her. When he touched her last night…damn him! Why did I let him touch me like that? You don't walk up to a predator and give him your hand. Fool!

He had taken advantage of her. She was already weak and confused, and she had let him get close enough to weaken her further.

Crawling under the blankets she turned on her side and saw the bottle that had held the medicinal tea. She picked it up and examined it while she lay comfortably in her bed. It was blown glass with unusual etchings. Strange and interesting designs covered its surface. She traced the designs with her fingers and wondered where it had been made.

She placed it carefully on the floor so as not to damage it. It was valuable, and he had used it to carry medicine for a suffering animal. Reaching out, she lightly touched it, and thought of how he had gently touched the horse while applying the salve.

He was very intelligent. The gifts, the way he had dealt with her at their meeting in the storage room, the way he had tricked her into letting him touch her had proven that. A bright, dangerous predator was pursuing her.

Maybe she wasn't the only one. Maybe, he was really after someone else and she just happened to be someone who was easy to get to for his entertainment—a distraction from his real interest. He had once been in love with a diva. He had kidnapped her, killed for her, and lost her.

Rolling onto her back, she pondered that last thought. She understood that kind of love. She had had it once. It was a love where you would do anything to bring him back. It was a love that could drive you mad.

She shut her eyes. The strange man's plight didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was to survive. First, she would get some sleep. Then, she would continue to care for the stallion and hope that he recovered. After that, she would think about what to do next. No decisions until then.

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After she fell asleep, Erik entered the stable. He carefully examined the stallion's wounds as he spoke to him in a gentle, low voice. They were healing well. The tissue was sealed and looked healthy, and soon there would no longer be a danger of infection.

He walked to the other stall and looked in on her. She was breathing deeply, and was probably exhausted. He had heard her cry out from the nightmare a short while ago. Now she was lying there peacefully, with her hair tousled and badly needing a combing. Her thick eyelashes rested on her cheeks and she held the blankets close to her, as a child would. Noticing that innocent gesture, he was tempted to sit on the side of her bed and run his hand across her hair and lightly smooth it back into place.

He walked to her bed and reached down and picked up the empty bottle. Then he turned away from her and left the stable.

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Two days later, Jade was grooming the roan mare when she heard the stallion get up. There was a banging of his hooves against the floor. She ran to his stall and saw him standing and looking about. Quietly, she opened the stall door and entered. Lifting up a bucket of water that was in the corner, she took several steps and placed it near him.

The horse watched her approach, and showed no signs of anger or fear.

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Once the stallion was back on his feet, Rascon told Jade that he'd take care of the horse, and that she should spend the rest of the day in the opera house where it was warmer.

She had developed a mild cough. She rarely got sick and therefore she thought nothing of it.

Lying in the hot tub of water, she trailed her fingers across the soapsuds. She was considering whether to go down to the management offices and help Mme. Truffaut or if she should rest. She was sure that the longer she waited, the harder it would be to deal with the woman. As tired as she felt, it would probably be better to work part of the day.

Later that day, Jade stood in the delivery door, and supervised the unloading of some goods. The rain had started an hour before. Giant raindrops doused her head and splashed her cloak as she stood in the doorway. When she finished, her cloak hung about her soaking wet. Occasionally, a hollow sounding cough rang from her chest.

That night she skipped supper to go to bed early. Her cough had gotten worse and she didn't want to sit with the others. When Manette came to her door, Jade told her that she was simply tired and needed to sleep.

She awoke several times with a bout of intense coughing. By the morning, she was running a fever.

Most of the day was spent doing deliveries. Being outside cooled her forehead and made it easier to think, as well as temporarily easing the cough. By evening her chest began to feel heavy and it ached as she breathed. She had no appetite so she skipped supper and went to bed early.

Jade didn't get up on Friday morning. By then, her fever was high and her breathing was labored. Her head ached terribly. She drifted in and out of sleep, and was unaware of the passing of time.

She tossed and turned and feverishly dreamed of horses, blood, and cool countryside streams. She was swimming in a lake near her home. The water buoyed her up with its liquid heaviness as she stretched herself across its surface. Jean-Luc was there, laughing at her antics and occasionally splashing water into her face. She reached out to him and touched his mouth, and he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her forehead. Then he picked her up and carried her to the shore. She pressed her face against his chest and smelled his good clean smell. She was safe and nothing could touch her. He had come back to her.