He had come back to her. Rose knew that she shouldn't be so selfish; the Opera Populaire was Erik's home – far longer than it had been her own, and he had no obligation to come back only for her, nor did she have any right to believe it to be so. But for the first time in so many years, Rose felt that gaping hole in her heart start to repair itself, if only a little. While she had done all she could to move on with her life, and quite happily so, there were some wounds that could not be healed by anything other than her friend returning home.
It was strange. Rose had somewhat convinced herself that she would never see him again, and yet here he was with his arms wrapped around her tightly. If she were being honest with herself, she didn't quite know how to feel, sensing about a dozen different emotions all at once. Disbelief, joy, relief...all of them were wrapped up and bundled inside her for far too long, now taking every opportunity to jump forth and be free. She would happily take them all without a hint of understanding. She buried her face into his shoulder, breathing in a scent that was distinctly him. After so many years, she was finally reaching his height for the first time ever as tears of relief threatened to fall simply because he was truly there. Surely Erik could afford her that, even for just a moment?
He had changed. Of course he had, it had been seven long years since he left so suddenly. She could only really suppose that her surprise was due to the fact that she had held onto the memory of the Erik she knew so tightly for so long. He had always been tall, at least compared to the small child she once was. But right now, he seemed...bigger. Not in the proper sense of the word, though he was far from the thin young man she remembered. But now that Rose was finally at his height, even just a few inches shorter than him, things seemed so much different. He was no longer a giant in her eyes, but simply just...Erik. He seemed healthier too, the years away had given a slight muscle to his arms and chest that Rose did not remember the last time he held her and comforted her. That little fact seemed to make her smile, if only a little. And despite the heartache it caused her, it seemed as though getting away from the opera house did him a far greater good than he had initially anticipated.
"...you came back." She said finally, her voice muffled against the fabric of his travelling cloak. He was still dressed for travel, not taking the opportunity to change. Rose felt a slight flutter inside at the thought that perhaps he arrived to see her before all else.
Erik felt a slight feeling of indignation as he let out a breath. Though the voice was soft, it sounded as though she were truly amazed at the fact that he had returned. He supposed in his haste in leaving, he might have underestimated how his young friend would have taken it, though the guilt weighed heavily on him since the boat departed the docks.
"Did you truly doubt that I would?" he wondered, voice deep as it had ever been. A little ashamed of feeling so, Rose managed a small smile, shrugging her shoulders. She didn't want to tell him that there had been a part of her that doubted her endless faith in him.
"...I told you that I would always come back to you."
She held onto him a moment longer before she loosened her hold around his neck, only imagining how relatively unease this sudden turn of affection made him feel. Erik took the hint and released her waist, setting her down on the ground in front of him. For a moment, he was completely silent, allowing himself a moment to take in the sight of her properly now that he was out of the shadows.
"You've changed." He said simply.
Gone was the young child he had left behind all those years ago, along with the heartbroken face that on too many occasions haunted his thoughts and plagued his guilt. In her place, stood a young woman; tall and striking. Though it seemed hard to believe, the Rose he knew had grown up, turning into a rather beautiful young woman. Erik could hardly believe that this was the same little annoyance that had pestered him for years...and the same little girl that although he would never outwardly admit it, he had missed so dearly.
Rose smiled at his obvious assessment. It was the first full smile she had managed for as long as she could remember. Perhaps, just perhaps, he had thought of her as often as she had thought of him.
"Not really. But, then I do suppose that seven years will do that to a person." She said, shaking her head. Erik sent her a glare, but found his heart was not entirely in it. Curse the nostalgic feeling looming overhead. But then even he paused for a moment at hearing that. Had it really been seven years? He knew he had been away for some time, but he found on his travels that time had a habit of running into itself, leaving him unable to tell month from year at times.
"Well, you've grown." He pointed out, more of a challenging bite to his tone. Rose could barely hold back a grin, as she rocked on her heels childishly. Though she found she couldn't bring herself to care. As grown up as she was, seeing him again brought back that child like joy that until that night she had believed to be lost to her.
"I'm taller, at least." She teased, shaking her head as she smoothed out her skirts, turning to head back to her dresser. "You don't have to look down at me anymore."
Erik couldn't help notice that she seemed rather proud of that little fact. He recalled the days back when, where they would get into some form of argument, and Rose would climb on any surface she could find to aid her height so she was looking him eye to eye. The thought alone gave Erik a painful tug at his non-existent heartstrings, guilt still plaguing his mind.
"When did you get back?" Rose wondered, pulling him out of his thoughts once more as she glanced at him over her shoulder, bringing up the flame on her lantern just a little. The room brightened, reducing the shadows surrounding them. Erik glanced around the room, taking it all in. It had been one of the few rooms that he hadn't seen himself, finding no real reason to venture there in the past. There had been rumours in the past, that previous occupants had decorated it with such extravagance that it nearly rivalled that of the Prima Donna. He knew that Rose's tastes would be a little more subdued, focusing more on natural beauty rather than grandeur.
He admittedly was surprised to hear that he would find her in the Prima Ballerina's quarters, but could not ignore the swell of pride at hearing that she had succeeded in reaching her childhood dream. Rose had always been determined, and he often pitied the fool who stood in her way.
"Earlier this evening." He replied, picking up a book that had been resting on her nightstand, inspecting the cover. It had been one from his own collection, if memory served; it was the last he had allowed her to borrow before he left. Had she truly kept it close all this time? Glancing up, he saw Rose watching him with an amused interest. Quickly putting the tome down, he turned his attention back to her.
"Upon returning to my opera house I thought it a necessary duty to pay a visit and my respects to the new Prima Ballerina." He admitted with a smirk, bowing ever so slightly in her presence. At his praise, Rose smiled softly, feeling a blush in her cheeks as she turned her gaze downcast to the floor. Though his words were intended to be playful, she couldn't ignore that sense of underlying pride within them. Erik chuckled audibly at her shyness, a sound that seemed like a mere echo to the both of them. He shook his head and unfastened his cloak, pulling it from his shoulders and folding it over his arms.
"Do not be shy, mon amie. You deserve to have all of this and more." He assured her, gesturing around them. Glancing at her for a moment, he chose his next words carefully, though knew that no harm would come from them.
"I am all too certain that he would be proud of you."
His words took her mildly by surprise, and yet at the same time, they filled her with such joy and perhaps a little relief. If anyone could reassure her of her father's belief in her, it was Erik. Nobody else seemed to truly understand the weight of those words better than he Rose smiled softly as she made her way to sit on the edge of her bed, her hand going to the chain around her neck; her fingers brushing against the pendant. In times of need, she would hold it and think of her father, and be reassured of the wisdom he would no doubt bestow to her, were he alive.
"I like to think so. Days go by and part of me just...forgets that he's gone. But I feel him everywhere. The halls, the rigging...like he's still here in some way." She said softly, knowing just how foolish she was likely to sound to him. Erik said nothing, but the small smile on his face and the nod of his head let her know that he agreed with her.
"Your father was a large part of this Opera house and dedicated his life to it, longer than I ever knew him. I see no reason why he should leave, especially now that his daughters are continuing the legacy." He told her, his voice softer than it was before. Rose smiled as he hand fell away from her chain and nodded in silent agreement. Erik did always have a way with words that she never did.
He noticed how his words seemed to be a comfort to her, and the thought of that seemed to fill him with something he couldn't quite place. He nodded once, deciding to turn his attention to taking his gloves off as he took a seat in the chair by the bed.
"And what of Madame?" He wondered casually, yet deciding to tread carefully on that particular subject, knowing it was one that was usually quite delicate. Rose managed a hint of a smile on her cheeks, one that Erik noticed to be quite wistful.
"I think for the first time in my life, she's...proud of me." She said with a soft smile, shaking her head; the words sound foreign and almost ridiculous to her, even though it was she who spoke them. Erik had to admit, he was rather surprised at hearing that. Antoinette was someone he knew better than most, and her past feelings regarding her eldest weren't always as hidden as she intended them to be. But he also knew that Rose didn't have to admit it, but her mother's approval was always something that she sought to claim as her own, and rightfully so in his humble opinion. But to hear that she had apparently grown more lenient in time, well...he wasn't sure if he could fully believe it until he saw it himself, but simply the fact that it brought a smile to Rose's face was enough for him for now.
"Well, I look forward to seeing your next performance." He told her with a nod, making her smile. True, he had spent many an hour in the past watching her train and practice, and at times even coaching her. But he had yet to see her perform as she was always destined to. Though there was no doubt in his mind that she was as every bit as skilled as he believed her to be.
The redhead smiled, humming softly, shaking her head. "So, are you planning on staying long?" she asked him. Was this him coming back for good, or was he merely stopping by to tie up loose ends and disappear once more? The thought of the latter made her confident smile falter only slightly, hoping that he hadn't noticed.
He did, of course.
Erik was quiet for a long time, deciding on his to word this particular response. Eventually, he sighed, clasping his hands folded in his lap.
"I believe that I have been away from my opera house for too long. I dread to think of the destruction that that poor excuse of a manager has done in my absence." He declared. Though he didn't say it out loud, Rose knew that that was more of a confirmation that she needed; he was staying. Her smile grew once more, not bothering to try and disguise her relief at the fact.
Rose opened her mouth to respond, but quickly stopped as she felt a yawn threatening to escape her lips. She turned her head slightly to cover it, not wanting to draw attention to it at all. Again, it didn't go unnoticed by Erik.
"You are tired." He told her simply. It wasn't a question, and there was something in his voice that Rose could not quite place. She looked over at him, brow furrowed for a moment. A yawn was nothing, of course. Yes, the hour was late, but she could hardly worry about that now.
"No, I'm fine." She assured him, shaking her head and dismissing the concern. But apparently he wasn't having any part of it.
"I've come too late to visit, I...I did not realize." He told her, eyes downcast to the floor. Was it perhaps shame in his voice? Had he been too eager to visit with her that he did not care about the late hour? Not that Rose minded at all – quite the contrary actually.
"Oh, Erik it's okay. Please, I want to hear of your travels." She told him with a smile, trying to assure him the best she could, almost as though she were a child again, pleading for another story before bedtime. But Erik seemed to be unmovable in his insistence.
"That will simply have to wait until another time, Rose. You need your rest."
Erik turned to fetch his coat, knowing she would have no choice but to rest if he was no longer there proving to be a distraction. He had to remember that as much as it seemed to pain him; her life was not part of his own any longer...as he was no longer a part of hers. He couldn't simply assume that things would be different.
He was about to take his leave when he felt a hand on his arm stopping him instantly. He didn't even hear her move from the bed. Her grip was gentle, yet determined. A pause and a soft breath left his lips before Erik turned around again, meeting her eyes once more. There was a look of desperation in her eyes, and suddenly he was transported back seven long years ago; the same look in her eyes when he left the first time.
Rose faltered a moment, unable to find the words she so desperately wanted to say. She knew she was once again being selfish, and childish. He had other affairs to tend to, she was sure of it. But would it be so bad of her to want to spend more time with him? There was still a part of her that was convinced that this was all a dream, despite his assurance on the matter. Somewhere inside her, she still believed that if she slept, he would be gone again when she woke at morning.
"Erik...please?" She murmured, her eyes not leaving his; silently pleading with him. "...You've been gone so long. Stay? Just a little while?"
Her words filled him with an unwavering guilt that seemed to follow after him when it came to her. Erik had to wonder if the feeling would ever go away, or if there would ever come a time where he didn't want to make her happy, to ease her fears whatever they seemed to be. Usually something that he was the cause of, he was beginning to understand. This girl...this woman, had a hold over him that he could not understand, but it would be dangerous, of that he was certain. He couldn't admit to himself just yet that perhaps it had already become so.
Silence fell upon the pair as Rose realized just how foolish she was being. She sighed inaudibly and loosened her hand on his arm before letting it drop to her side. She looked down at the bed, unable to meet his gaze as she moved to perch on the bed once more. Seven years and here she was still acting like a child upon his return. Perhaps this was part of the reason he left in the first place? She didn't dare speak or lift her head to watch him disappear, but simply waited to hear her door close once more.
"...I brought you a gift."
Her eyes widened though she still focused her gaze on the sheets upon her bed. He was still there? Rose lifted her head slowly to look at him once more. His travelling cloak was once again resting over the chair by her door, and she tried her best to keep both her job and relief under control.
"A gift?" She asked, a smile forming on her lips. "But, the rose...?"
"Can a man not venture out and return with more than one gift?" He wondered dryly, and yet Rose could detect a small glint of humour in his tone.
She wanted to tell him that his being there was a gift in itself, as was the rose that he left for her... plus the fact that he was staying was even more so. Erik nodded, clearing his thought slightly, and reaching by the door, collecting a rather beautifully presented parcel and handing it to her.
Rose looked at him in surprise, gratefully accepting the parcel. It was soft, and wrapped in the most beautiful fabric. That alone would have been a lovely gift. She smiled at him, though she noticed his slight hesitance and perhaps, nerves? What on earth did he have to be nervous about? Turning her attention back to the gift, her fingers working the cords that kept it fastened with a slow by eager touch. As she unfastened it, opening the fabric, her eyes widened, and a soft sigh escaped her lips.
"On, my..." she murmured, astonished. Erik took the chance to look up at her, seeking to gauge her reaction, which was clearly one of wonder, much to his relief.
"...It's Persian silk. Specially crafted" He explained, watching her as she lifted the garment out of the wrapping. A beautiful hand crafted robe, in shades of purple and gold; made of the finest silk he could find. His days wandering the bazaars on his travels had gifted him with treasures that could not be sourced anywhere else in the world. But the moment that he had seen it, he knew he had to have it. He always thought she looked best in purple; it seemed to bring out her hair. And gold, well...that seemed to suit her too.
Rose felt at a loss for words. She had never seen anything this exquisite, let alone had it in her possession. Even the Prima Donna's wears couldn't come close to the beauty that was in her hands. Specially rafted, meaning that Erik had it made with her in mind as its owner. For whatever reason, the thought made her feel so warm, likely evident by the soft smile currently gracing her lips.
"Erik...it's beautiful." She murmured, running her fingers lightly over the fabric. There was a part of her that feared she would ruin it somehow if she was too harsh with her touch. She almost shook her head in disbelief, unsure if she was worthy of such a gift.
"I...took an estimate of the fit." Erik replied gently, clearing his throat at the sudden praise, his eyes downcast a moment. Frankly, he didn't want to admit out loud that his initial thought was that she would simply grow into it. In his mind, a part of him still expected her to be the young girl he had left behind all those years ago. "I hope it fits comfortably."
"Well, let's see then." Rose smiled, brighter than he had seen in quite some time. Erik barely had the chance to say a word before she was up on her feet, the robe clutched lovingly to her chest as she all but rushed across the room and disappeared behind the screen by the wall.
Erik didn't know what made him glance up. He had been sitting there, gaze focused on his lap as he awaited her return. But something made him lift his head at what he would soon realise was an inopportune time. The light from the lantern was creating a shadow on the wall...a shadow of a particular silhouette in a state of, well, indecent undress.
Erik knew he should respect her privacy and avert his gaze. He knew that it was hardly proper despite the fact that it was merely a shadow, but try as he might, he couldn't look away. His eyes lingered as he watched the shadow unlaced its dress, pushing the garment down to reveal a rather womanly figure, one that he hadn't expected from the Rose he knew. Erik's eyes widened slightly as he felt his heart beat a little rapidly, though he admonished himself silently; knowing that he should be ashamed for allowing such things to happen. He was thankful as he saw the shadow move, averting his gaze finally as she stepped out from behind the screen, tying the robe closed.
"It fits so perfectly." She beamed, running her hands along the material at her waist, a sort of reverent tone to her voice. "What do you think?"
Erik felt himself freeze a little as he slowly but dutifully lifted his head to look at her. She was right, it fit perfectly. Gone was the dress that she had been wearing mere moments ago, leaving her in her in her undergarments, with the robe covering her modestly. It had been many years since she as in a state of undress like that, he couldn't help but notice. But Erik knew he had made the right choice with the colours; the purple from the silk making her hair far brighter than it was already, and the gold seemed to bring out the paleness of her skin with a hint of a blush. Despite her being covered, he could still notice the curves of her body, the robe doing very little to hide them, and for a moment, Erik was stuck dumb about how to feel about that. Though it took him a moment to snap out of it and return to his senses, nodding his head.
"It looks lovely, mon amie." He assured her, a small but true smile on his face. Rose smiled, her lip catching between her teeth slightly, thankful for the praise as she turned to clear some things off her bed. She fastened some pins in her hair, piling her red locks atop her head as she moved to get comfortable on her bed. After a moment, and an encouraging nod, Erik sat down on the other end, making himself comfortable, and let out a soft sigh as he began to tell her of his journey.
oOoOoOoOoOo
It seemed as though time stood still for the rest of the evening as the two sat, with Erik regaling Rose with tales of his adventures far abroad, and she listening with undivided attention. She was no longer tired, instead hanging on his every word. Hours passed without either of them realizing it, and it wouldn't be long until dawn, not that they minded at all.
"This Monsieur Khan seems to have been a rather good influence on you." She teased lightly, grinning at him as she pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin atop them. Erik merely hummed, rolling his eyes at that, making her smile all the more. He had just finished telling her of the Daroga and his aide in helping him leave Persia in one piece.
"Honestly Erik, by the sounds of it he's the reason you made it out of there with your life. Is it so wrong you've met another soul that you can consider a friend?" Rose wondered, brow raised in speculation.
"I would hardly consider him a 'friend'." Erik assured her, acting as though the word left a bitter taste in his mouth. "Merely an acquaintance. I owe him a debt."
Rose sent him a look, unsure of whether she believed that, or whether her friend was merely keeping up that wall of his; the one that she had spent so many years chipping away at until it started to crumble. Despite her refusal to believe him, she shrugged, dropping the matter.
"I must admit, I am envious." She admitted with a slight shrug of the shoulders. This time it was Erik who gave her a look of disbelief.
"Envious? Whatever for?" he asked, a slight scoff to his voice. He had all but run away from the Opera House, what did he do that she could have been at all envious for?
And for a moment, Rose felt almost shy; her gaze moving to her lap as she trailed her fingers along the embroidery on her robe.
"Just...the places you've been. The things you've been able to see? It's all the places I've read about in your books, I'm certain of it." she said with another light shrug. "Especially the ocean."
"The ocean?"
"Papa took us once; just he, Meg and I. It was only once, but it was wonderful." She said softly, a fondness to her voice, almost wistful. "A small beach, just outside of Paris. We sat on the sand and played in the waves until the sun got really low. It was the perfect day. I've longed to visit again."
Erik was silent a moment, taking it all in. Though he himself was not overly fond of the beach; too much sand and too much sun, he supposed he could appreciate her love of it. For someone who was intelligent beyond her years, Rose had lived a rather sheltered life, spending most of it within the walls of the opera house. That day at the beach with her father was likely the furthest she had ever been.
"Perhaps you will visit again." He offered, to which he received a small yet appreciative smile.
"Perhaps one day." She nodded, brushing a stray curl behind her ear, humming softly at the thought. "One day when I can no longer dance and they have no need of me. Maybe by then it will be Meg's turn?"
"Ahh yes. How is the littlest Giry?" Erik wondered, remembering the tiny blonde reincarnation of her mother, with far more energy than Antoinette could muster on her best of days. Rose smiled, though the small roll of the eyes did not go unnoticed.
"All grown up now. Thirteen years old and every bit the little ballerina that Madame has taught her to be." She said with a good natured sigh. "I have no doubt that her and Christine will be running the ballet in no time."
"Christine?"
They had fallen into conversation with such ease, that it had slipped her mind a moment for her to realize that Erik had yet to 'meet' the latest addition to the corps.
"Another dancer. Madame brought her here a few years ago after her father died." Rose explained.
"That seems to be a theme with your mother." Erik murmured, unable to resist the urge to roll his own eyes. Rose smiled, sending him a knowing look but said nothing.
" Oh, what was his name...Diae, no that's not right. Oh, Daaé , that's it."
"Daaé? As in Gustav Daaé ? The Swedish violinist?" Erik wondered, brow raised in surprise. He knew of the name, having heard it on his travels. But why a Swedish concert violinist's daughter ended up in the Paris Ballet corps was a little strange.
"Apparently so. I'm not entirely sure how it all came about really. Apparently Madame had been receiving letters from him before he died. They had been living in Paris for a time before he was ill. Suddenly she's gone for a few days and comes back with a child."
"Certainly a theme then." Erik said, easing back against the bedpost. "What's the girl like?"
"Sweet, but awfully shy. Not a bad dancer, but she just lacks the belief in herself. It drives Madame mad at times." Rose grinned, shaking her head.
"Can she sing?"
Rose had to smile at that. The one thing she was likely to be heartbroken about for the rest of her days was that she was not a singer, at least not one that could be trained for audiences. Erik had discovered that many years before.
"I've heard her once or twice. A sweet voice, I suppose. But she never lets anyone in close enough to hear her. Perhaps all she needs is the proper instruction."
Erik said nothing, merely nodding his head once as a means to end the conversation; though he soon found that the thought was far from leaving his mind. It was nothing, likely just another ballet rat who did not have what it takes to be a proper performer. There would be no point in wasting time and good music on someone such as that. Not when time seemed to be a precious commodity these days.
And yet the thought was still lurking about, well into the night.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Rose couldn't remember falling asleep at all, nor how she managed to wake up tucked up in bed under the covers, though she did highly suspect that her late night visitor had something to do with that. Letting out a yawn, she glanced around the room, and as she suspected, it was now morning, and Erik was nowhere to be seen. She did, however, notice that the rose he had gifted her was now in a small glass of water by her vanity mirror; the sight alone was enough to make her smile.
She was still in awe that it was real; that he was really home once more, after so many nights wishing it to be true. There was a part of her that felt bad for falling asleep at some point during their chat, but there wasn't a doubt in her mind that Erik minded at all. It wouldn't have been the first time it happened; although any time before that did not consist of several glasses – almost bottles – of wine flowing through her system.
The upside to having most of the company in attendance at the party the night before – and the fact that there was no performance that night – was that everyone would be rather sluggish to get up and about that morning. Sunday was usually the day of rest in the opera house. Those who wanted to would attend church, or spend the day with their families. Others would use the time to rehearse what they needed before the week started, while the rest would simply use the time to their advantage and sleep.
Pulling herself into a sitting position, Rose stretched her back, noticing that she was still dressed in her robe from the night before. A smile graced her lips as he examined her gift in the light, still taken back by its beauty. She had never owned anything as fine in her life, and likely never will again, but it was the source of the gift that was giving her the most joy.
For the first time in years, Rose felt lighter; as though she feared no wrong could happen, and she didn't feel that underlying sense of loss that had plagued her for seven long years. Perhaps it was enough to know that Erik had returned, and was somewhere within the walls of the opera house, to put a smile on her face. But the night before, seeing him there in the flesh, every bit the same as she remembered in her dreams, it made her feel...whole. They had spent hours talking, something she could do with very few people, and none in the way that was so carefree and natural as it was when she spoke with Erik. It was simply perfect.
Yes, Rose had a newfound spring in her step as she got out of bed that morning, all but dancing to her vanity mirror to inspect her reflection. The effects of the alcohol consumed the night before had been kind to her, and had all but vanished without a trace; the same she knew would likely not be said for others who partook in the festivities.
Before she had much of a chance to wake up properly, a commotion could be heard outside in the halls. Furrowing her brow, she tightened her robe around her waist and moved to the door to try and make out what the fuss was. Opening her door, Rose found few of the younger ballet rats being ushered out of the way, all murmuring in hushed, panicked tones. It was rather confusing, and there wasn't much that seemed to explain what was going on.
"Charlotte!" Rose exclaimed, noticing a familiar face in the crowd, tugging the young and slightly buzzing girl over to her. "What on earth is going on?"
"It's Monsieur Lefèvre. Word is going round saying that he found a note on his desk this morning. People are claiming that he has returned!" She gushed, almost bursting with giddy excitement.
"Who has?" Rose asked in confusion.
"The Phantom of the Opera!"
And with that, the young girl was pulled away by her friends, returning to their gossip down the hall. Rose watched in bewilderment before a smile overtook her face. He had hardly been back a night and yet Erik was already making it well known that he was back home and ready to take his mantle once again. The thought made her chuckle to herself, shaking her head. While she had no use for the title herself, she had to admit that she had missed his theatrics.
"Girls, I know that you all have better places to be than to be loitering in the halls." Madame's voice rang out, shaking Rose out of her thoughts. The girls were quick to hurry, making themselves scarce as Antoinette made her way down the hall, closely followed by Meg and Christine, looking about the place with wonder.
"Rose! Wherever did you get that robe? It's beautiful!" Her sister cried; both her and Christine appearing at her side, her hands reaching almost hesitantly to touch the fabric. Rose smiled softly, and did not glance in her mother's direction, already feeling the heat from her gaze on her.
"It was a gift." She said simply, taking a chance and looking over at Antoinette for a mere split second. The woman said nothing, and yet her eyes spoke volumes.
"Oh, I've never seen anything like it." Christine gushed, her voice soft, almost in awe.
"And did you hear? The Phantom! He's returned! I wonder where..." Meg gushed suddenly, but was soon cut off by her mother clearing her throat, sparing her a warning glance. The petite blonde was silenced quickly, but not before sending a knowing wink to her elder sister, before her mother ushered both her and Christine away.
Rose fought back another smile as she leaned against the doorway of her room. Oh yes, he was back, and things were sure to change once more, and rather quickly at that.
oOoOoOoOoOo
News of the Opera Ghost's apparent return spread like wildfire throughout the opera house, sending everyone into a mix of restlessness and excitement. Those in management were doing their best to assure everyone that this was nothing more than a prank, and if the fabled Phantom had returned, it would do nothing to disrupt their daily goings. Though even then, the look of fear that filled Monsieur Lefèvre's face did not go unnoticed by some.
Amongst the commotion, there were still some who had not been part of the workings of the opera house long enough to know of the Opera Ghost, or his history with the Opera Populaire. Two such people, were Nicholas and Christine, who seemed to be observing it all from the sidelines in confusion; she with a slight concern, and the former with a hint of disbelief.
"This is all quite absurd. You know that don't you?" he asked, leaning against the prop statue just side stage. It was rehearsal once more, no manner of ghosts or phantoms could stop that if management had anything to say about it. Meg and Christine were sitting with him, indulging in a few moments of reprieved granted by Madame before they were needed back on stage.
"But it's not, you see? The Phantom is real!" Meg insisted, practically bouncing in her seat on the floor. She ushered herself to his side, tugging at the sleeve of his shirt. "He overseas everything in the opera house, making sure that the management does exactly as he asks. But nobody has heard of him since I was a little girl, and now he's back!"
"You're frightfully excited for something that seems rather hazardous." He smirked, shaking her grip off of his arm playfully, rolling his eyes. Meg side, deciding to give up for now, knowing he was likely not to be swayed without any evidential proof.
"I'm right, you'll see." She huffed, sticking her tongue out at him before her mother called them back on stage.
oOoOoOoOoOo
Since his return, Erik had been decidedly low-key, in comparison to his previous addresses to the so called 'management'. He merely left a note on Lefèvre's desk, informing of his return and that he would be keeping an eye on production, to ensure that the standards that were held for his beloved opera house were upheld and that Box Five would return to his sole possession. The fact that word got out rather quickly was by no means attributed to his own fault.
He had admittedly found it rather surprising at how easy he found it to slip back into his old life. The stores of the opera house where he had once considered his domain had been untouched since his departure; not even Rose had ventured down to the depths in his absence; a fact which equally surprised and disheartened him, which he found to be rather strange. Though it was nothing to dwell on; he had much more pressing matters to attend to. At least that's what he found him trying to convince himself of.
When rehearsals resumed, the night of the performance growing closer, Erik found himself in his usual seat in Box Five; glad to see that Lefèvre had kept some hint of his senses and refused it to anyone other than himself. If he was being honest with himself, Erik missed more aspects of the Opera Populaire than he would care to admit. There was a sense of faint familiarity watching everyone darting about the stage was the orchestra tuned rather wretchedly, that gave him a feeling he couldn't quite place, so he spent very little time concerned with it.
His main focus there, of course, was Rose. Though he had no doubt in her abilities, there was a nervous feel in his veins, which of course he tried to do away with as quickly as it had appeared. What did he have to be nervous about? She had proven on more than one occasion that she was more than capable of handling herself, particularly when it came to dance. So for a moment, he would ignore the ill-tuned violin in the second chair of the pit; the background set that was hardly considered evenly hanging in the rigging, and the cloud of rats that were bursting in the wings, preparing to run onto stage. He was solely focused on her.
"So, it is true then?"
Erik had no need to turn around, having heard the familiar footfalls long before she had spoken. Whether or not he had permitted her to come in, she would have made herself welcome no matter what.
"Hello to you too, Antoinette." He mused dryly, not taking his eyes from the stage as she moved further into the booth. "It's been a while."
"Why are you back?" She asked; her tone still sharp as a whip. He should have expected her to not dance around the subject with pleasantries. Those days were few and far between for the two of them, they both knew that for certain. Erik sighed, barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
"This is my home, is it not? As much as it is yours, I should think."
Antoinette huffed, though she didn't say a word. Instead she moved silently in the booth as the orchestra began to play; moving to sit down in the vacant seat beside him, glancing down at the stage below.
"You left. You left her without so much as a word. For months, she hardly slept or ate. She was heartbroken." She murmured, no need to address who she was referring. But it was her chosen words that made a kind of anger surge through his veins, enough to warrant a short huff of disbelief to fall from his lips.
"Do not try to convince us both that you care for her, Madame. It does not become you, and it makes liars of us both." He all but sneered, finally turning in his seat to address her properly since her arrival. Antoinette said nothing, keeping her head raised, not allowing herself to be drawn in and affected by his words. After a moment, the music began to swell and she knew that the girls would soon be on stage. Wordlessly, she stood to take her leave.
"I will be requiring your services again, I should think." Erik informed her, not turning his gaze from the stage. "And tell Lefèvre that I will need collection for my salary."
Saying nothing, Antoinette managed a firm nod of the head before taking her leave from the box, the curtain falling closed behind her. Erik sighed, though not surprised at her actions really. The Antoinette who he had known so long ago was but a distant memory it seemed to the woman who was beside him only moments ago.
But the thought was not long in mind as the music changed, to something that Erik was surprised to find reasonably tolerable. As the ballet chorus parted slightly on stage, he leaned forward in his seat; arms resting against the ledge as she made her way out onto stage.
The lights were warm on her skin as she moved across the stage, a smile on her lips that she could not keep away as she let the music consume her; taking over her. The thrill of being on that stage, audience or not, was something that Rose was sure she would never get used to – or tire of – for the rest of her days. She felt as though even for a moment r two, those pieces of herself that she had gone so long without were finally part of her once more, making her whole. But more than that, she could feel his eyes on her. She didn't even have to glance up to know for sure. For too long, Rose had dreamed of the day where he would be there in the audience; gazing down at her as she showed him just how hard she had worked. She wanted him to be proud of her, and now she finally had her wish come true.
Erik could not take his eyes off her; finding himself utterly and completely mesmerized. He had seen many beautiful things in his life; those who held no beauty in themselves as he seemed to have a talent for finding it in others. But nothing seemed to compare to watching her on stage; seeming as though her sole purpose in life was to be there. Rose had a natural skill, one that he knew she had worked on relentlessly since she could walk, but there was something else. Unlike many of the dancers who had graced the stage before her, Rose was consumed; throwing her very soul into it. She was happy. Some did it for the fame, others for the money and the glory, but not her. Rose did it for the love of dance, and that was more than clear on her face. Her smile alone was lighting up the room. Erik felt breathless, unable to move from that spot.
She was perfection.
There in the shadows, Erik found himself smiling with her, proud and completely enraptured. For a moment, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen in his life.