A/N: And here's chapter 2! I got a lot of positive feedback for my last chapter, which made me happy. I also appreciate constructive criticism because it helps me grow as a writer. It's well and good to receive praise, but I like having someone say, "But you could work on this..." As long as you mean well and are truly trying to help me and not flame me, I will take everything everyone says into consideration.
And those of you that said that Juliet's last name came from Gaston Leroux, the original Phantom writer, you are correct! :) Enjoy your virtual cookies.
I do not own the Phantom of the Opera or anything else you may recognize.
The Phantom paddled in pensive silence across the underground lake. A single image seemed to be burned as an after-image on his retinas. The wide, scared eyes of the girl who had intruded upon his labyrinth of a home kept interrupting his thoughts. He should have just killed her and been done with it, but something stopped him.
He realized now that it was her eyes. In his still slightly drugged state and anger, her large brown eyes had looked close enough to those of Christine's to break his composure. And even after all that had happened, he could never have brought himself to ever hurt her. At least, not physically. He knew he had hurt her many times emotionally. It broke his already damaged heart into little pieces.
But letting her stay? After all of the impudent, insolent things she had said to him? The reason, no matter how unfounded or foolish, was most likely the same as his reason for letting Juliet live. She simply looked too much like the woman who still unknowingly held his battered and broken heart in the palm of her hand, unintentionally squeezing it and twisting it still further with every move she made.
The boat bumping against the shore brought the Phantom's thoughts back to the present. He secured the boat and stepped out, his cloak swirling around his body. There were still a few twisting tunnels he had to make his way through, which gave his mind more time to wander. When he reached the end of the tunnels, a familiar voice greeted him.
"Hello, Erik," Nadir's voice floated out to greet the Phantom. He searched the inky blackness and caught sight of the man's form.
"Daroga," Erik replied coolly, acknowledging the other man.
"It's a bit early for you to be venturing out, wouldn't you say?" Nadir inquired, stepping forward. "Might I ask the occasion?"
Erik ignored the former of the two questions, choosing instead to focus on the latter. "I am merely in search of some food, Daroga. As you might imagine, I'm quite low."
If Nadir noticed Erik's deliberate avoidance of the first question, he did not make anything of it. "And tell me, are you going to enter the stores like everyone else this time?" he asked, already knowing the answer, a grim smile on his face.
Erik's expression was one that Nadir had yet to encounter. "Daroga, I'm no longer just the elusive Opera Ghost, I'm also most likely the most wanted man in Paris, if not all of France. Would you suggest I waltz casually into the nearest store and attempt to make a purchase? It would be foolish to assume that I would leave that store alive," he said quietly.
"You would make it out alive, that I'm nearly sure of. However, the other people in the building..." Nadir trailed off.
"And I do not wish to cause any more unnecessary deaths," Erik said quietly. "I have more blood on my hands than I care to think about," he continued, speaking figuratively. "This, as you must realize, leaves two options. I could run my own errands, taking what I need and leaving money, or you could do it in what you have deemed the "far more honorable" manner. I still value my life, Daroga," he continued. "However little it is worth. I have no desire to endanger myself."
Nadir was silent for a moment. "As much as I dislike your method, you desperately need some fresh air." When Nadir finished speaking, he found that Erik had vanished as silently as he had come.
Juliet sat upon the beautiful bed, not fully appreciating the room because she was nearly ready to go out of her head with extreme boredom. She stood up and made as though she was going to leave, but a cat appeared in the doorway. Juliet approached it, thinking to step over it, but it growled menacingly, hissing and showing its needle-sharp teeth. Frowning, Juliet retreated into the room once more, keeping a wary eye on the feline. It leapt to rest on the armoire, paws daintily crossed and a smug look upon its whiskered face.
Able to utilize any room... Ha! Juliet thought bitterly. Able to visit any room only if one is willing to risk one's life to pass this demon of a cat! The aforementioned cat glared sourly at her as if it was able to read her thoughts. She resisted the extremely puerile urge to pull a childish face in return.
She flopped onto the bed, laying on her back. A song was running through her head, an aria from one of the Opera Populaire's most popular operas. She closed her eyes and began to sing softly at first, but quickly gaining volume. The cat seemed to enjoy music, for she relaxed on her perch and purred quietly.
Erik slipped in and out of the stores, taking what he needed and leaving more than enough money. Years of a monthly salary of 20,000 francs enabled him to pay far too much for things without much thought. Soon, he had finished his errands and returned to the entrance of his lair. Nadir had gone and returned and he looked livid.
"Erik, what are you playing at?" he hissed, nearly grabbing Erik's shoulder, but stopping himself.
"Do you care to elaborate?" asked Erik calmly, moving around Nadir.
"You know what I'm talking about! Does the name Mademoiselle Juliet Leroux mean anything to you? The only daughter of a very rich ambassador that lives in Normandy? She's been missing for hours and already she's being spoken of as the Opera Ghost's next victim." A vein throbbed in Nadir's forehead. "Is she down there with you? Don't lie to me, Erik."
Erik strode past the outraged Nadir with a parting comment. "Must everyone assume that everything that goes wrong in Paris is my fault?" he asked scathingly. "'Oh, the Opera Ghost did it! He's responsible, the Phantom of the Opera!' I suppose it's just easy to blame someone they're not sure even exists. I know nothing of this Leroux girl, Daroga," he said as he disappeared into the tunnels once again. "But if I did, would I tell you?" These were his last words before he was out of sight.
"No, no you wouldn't," Nadir murmured to himself, staring after Erik.
Out on the lake, Erik allowed his mind to replay snatches of the few good moments with Christine. Her smiling, her laugh, her singing-" he abruptly stopped. A voice was echoing across the lake, sounding curiously close to that of Christine, but very different all the same. It was a song that he had practiced many times with Christine. Anger and grief, a dangerous combination under the right circumstances, flashed through his brain.
He got out of the boat and strode in the direction of the voice.
Juliet had loved to sing ever since her father had taken her to her first opera. The swooping, soaring voices and the vivacious costumes took her breath away. After the opera, Juliet had begged for singing lessons in the obstinate manner that only a child could until her father gave in. He was pleasantly surprised when his beloved daughter showed talent in the vocal arts. And as a result, he sent her to arts boarding school after arts boarding school. He claimed that it was to help her, but in reality he had just wanted her out of his hair so that he could be free to expand his business. And where, one might ask, was her mother during all of this? She had died in childbirth, leaving Andre Leroux to care for their high-spirited daughter.
Juliet tried not to dwell on such things. They affected her singing voice. She reached her favorite song just as the door banged open and the Phantom towered in the doorway. In a pace and a half he had crossed the room and his hand was around her neck for the second time.
"Would you care to explain what exactly you are doing?" he hissed, squeezing her neck and making Juliet gag and choke. Her large eyes bulged and her mouth opened and closed several times like a fish.
"I'm singing," she rasped, managing to add, "what does it look like I'm doing?"
"You are not to do so again," the Phantom snarled. "Do you understand?" Juliet merely stared at him, defiance in her eyes even though her face was slowly turning red. She scrabbled at his hand with her own, but his strength far outmatched her own.
"Answer me! Do you understand?" he yelled, shaking her until her teeth rattled in her skull.
Dark spots were beginning to swim in Juliet's vision. She managed to croak, "Why... no singing... if you're... the Phantom of the... Opera?" before the world spun at an alarming rate and she slumped against the Phantom, out cold.
Erik jumped away from Juliet in alarm when she passed out. He had meant to scare her, not make her faint. For a moment, it looked as though she had ceased to breathe. He went back to her side and anxiously probed her soft neck with two fingers. To his immense relief, there was a pulse. I really need to get my temper under control, he thought, leaving the room after lifting her into the bed.
He left her room, his brain tying itself in knots. Heaven only knew that Erik did not want Juliet in his home any more than she wanted to be there. And yet, she reminded him too much of Christine for him to be able to let her go. It was not wise for him to try and create a replacement Christine, that much he knew. And as much as it was driving him crazy, it was also one of the only things keeping him somewhat sane.
So Erik did the only thing he could do. He shot yet more morphine into his veins and sat at his desk drawing picture after picture of his beautiful Angel, Christine Daaé. At times his tears flowed so heavily that they ruined the parchment and he was forced to start over.
Ayesha, sensing Erik's distress once again, leapt into his lap and laid down, rubbing her head against his arm.
"Oh, Christine," Erik whispered to the drawing as though it might hear him. "What do I do now? Where do I go from here?" There was, of course, no answer.
Oh, this angel in hell.
A/N: And so ends Chapter 3! A bit of anti-Christine coming up in the next chapter, just as a warning.
As always, review please! :)