A/N: I always manage to post these way after I mean to. Sophomore year is totally crazy. Plus, it's musical season. When that's over, I think I'll be able to write a little bit more.
Enjoy!
Juliet stood in a stiff, trancelike state for a moment. She remembered with all too much clarity what had happened the last time the Phantom had been unmasked. An opulent chandelier had fallen from the ceiling of the Opera House, Christine had been kidnapped, the Vicomte had had a near heart attack, and the audience had been in hysterics. As one might imagine, Juliet had no desire to invoke a repeat performance. Not at all.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spied the mask laying inanimately on the writing desk. Slowly, she began to inch over to it. Taking the cool, porcelain half-mask in her shaking hands, Juliet haltingly approached the turned back of the Phantom.
"M-monsieur?" her voice quavered. He made no acknowledgment of her presence. "I-I have your mask." She held it out and he reached behind to take it. Juliet placed the mask in his hand and the Opera Ghost replaced his sanctuary over the right half of his face.
"Merci," he murmured, still facing away from her.
"You know," Juliet began. "it's not so bad, your face." The Phantom scoffed, scooping Ayesha up in his arms.
"Mon dieu, mademoiselle. Did you even see it?" he asked, turning back to face her for the first time. "It's horrible."
"Yes, I did see it," she said. "It's only ugly if you choose to believe it. Monsieur, look at me." Against her better judgment, Juliet had drawn her hair away from the left side of her face to reveal an angry, red, puckered scar above her left eye. It had obviously become infected soon after it was inflicted and as a result it had widened and spread. The scar looked to go quite a ways back into her hairline.
A small intake of breath was the only thing heard from the Phantom. His fingers, seemingly by their own will, had begun to extend toward Juliet's face. He appeared to catch himself and made an attempt to withdraw his hand, but Juliet caught it and gently guided it to the distorted skin. She was surpised to feel how cold the Phantom's hands were, as though he'd been holding them in an icebox only moments previously. After a few seconds, she let go.
A question was struggling mightily to form on the Phantom's lips, but Juliet answered it before it became audible.
"When I was a little girl, I was playing with some of my cousins. They were all boys and all older than I. So as a result, they were quite a bit stronger as well. Thinking to be funny, one of them pretended to shove me over a rocky ledge on the beach where we were playing. But his hands moved faster than he could control and I lost my balance." She paused for a moment, not wanting to recall the details, and also finding it hard to. It had been so many years ago.
When she continued, her voice dropped several degrees. "I fell all the way down to the sand. They say I was lucky to have landed where I did. If I'd landed a few feet back, I would've landed on a rocky outcropping. Nonetheless, my head struck a sharp rock in the sand. Thankfully, my uncle was a doctor." Juliet rearranged her hair so it fell across her scar again. "But as there was not much for sanitary supplies, I got an infection. I was sick for weeks." She looked up at the Phantom.
"I've managed to keep living, why can't you?" she inquired.
"It's different," he muttered, turning away once more. "You can hide yours."
"So apparently, can you," Juliet retorted, gesturing to the white half-mask. He shook his head, and Juliet sensed a deep sadness radiating from him.
"No, mademoiselle," he said quietly. "Please leave." Juliet looked at the Opera Ghost one final time before leaving. After she closed the door, she ran into a man. A shriek of surprise bubbled up in her throat.
"I'm sorry mademoiselle-" the man flapped his hands to shush her, and then paused. "What on earth are you doing... your name wouldn't happen to be Juliet Leroux, would it?" Juliet hesitantly nodded, wondering how a man she'd never seen in her life would know her name. The man clapped a hand to his forehead. "I should've guessed," he muttered. "Mademoiselle, the entire police fleet of Paris is looking for you, and has been since yesterday. He looked as though he was going to say something else. But a muffled thud interrupted him.
It had come from the Phantom's room. "What-" Juliet's brow furrowed, but the man paled considerably at the sound and rushed for the door.
"Oh no," he murmured, fumbling with the door handle in his haste. A still figure lay on the floor, the Siamese cat sitting next to it with her ears pressed flat to her head and a constant stream of worried yowling issuing from her mouth. The man sprinted to the unconscious Phantom with Juliet following close behind.
"Damn it, Erik," the man hissed, probing the Phantom's wrist for a pulse. Juliet saw the empty syringe on the floor and understood immediately what had happened. "You blasted fool," he growled. "Help me move him," he turned to Juliet with a plea, lifting the Phantom's legs with the greatest of care. Juliet obliged, putting her hands under his arms. His bones jutted out against her skin sharply. Together, they carefully lifted him onto the bed.
"Could you get a bowl of lukewarm water and a cloth?" the man asked. Wordlessly, Juliet left the room and ran for the kitchen. The seconds dragged on as she fumbled through the cupboards. When she returned, the man had removed the Phantom's mask and was going to work on his shoes. Juliet set the bowl down on a mahogany table and assisted him.
"What's your name?" asked Juliet as she pressed the damp cloth to the Phantom's forehead.
"Nadir," he responded, worry still sitting heavily in his face.
Some time passed in silence. "So," Juliet said, brushing a rogue strand of hair out of her eyes. "His name is Erik?" Nadir nodded. "How do you know him?" she asked curiously, dipping the cloth in the water again and wringing it out.
"He came to Persia, which is where I'm from, for a time. The shah rather liked the little 'magic tricks' he could do." Nadir paused for a moment. "I blame myself for this," he said, shaking his head. "I did this to him."
Juliet cocked her head. "How could you? You didn't stick the needle in his arm." Nadir shook his head vigorously.
"No, no, that's not what I meant. I got him addicted to this stupid drug. It started with an opium pipe. He got worried about what it would do to his voice, though, and switched to morphine." He heaved a great sigh that seemed to come from the very core of his being.
"He's not making music anymore," Juliet said, subconsciously stroking Erik's hair as one might for a small, sick child. Nadir looked up in shock.
"What?" he asked, eyebrows wandering up toward his hairline.
"He won't sing and he evidently wrecked the organ and his sheet music shortly before I 'arrived'," Juliet listed off, unsure whether 'arrived' was the right word for falling down a trapdoor.
"This is bad," Nadir muttered, dragging a weary hand through his hair. "This is very bad. Look, I can't stay down here, and I know you probably don't want to, but if you have no objections would it be pretentious it ask you to come down every so often to take care of him? I would call him my friend, but I'm sure he would disagree." Nadir let out a short bark of a laugh. "In any case, I shouldn't like to see any permanent harm come to him.
Juliet gnawed on her lip, weighing her options. She owed no favors to the Ph—Erik, that was for certain. But she didn't like to see anyone suffer, even people that have caused quite a bit of their own trouble. "I'll do it," she surprised herself by saying. A relieved smile touched Nadir's lips.
"Bless you, mademoiselle," he said with feeling, shaking her hand. "I think he'll be all right for the time being if you'd like to come back up with me."
"Merci," she said gratefully, gently patting Erik's forehead with the cloth once more. The cat slunk out from where she had been hiding and bumped her head against Juliet's leg once before leaping up to the bed and resting her head on Erik's chest.
"Well, that's a thank you if I've ever seen one," Nadir chuckled. "Come on." He led her through the spacious lair to the shores of the underground lake. A heavy, swirling, opaque mist hung over the obsidian waters. The boat looked like nothing more than a child's plaything and Juliet had some rather large trepidations about getting in.
"Careful now," warned Nadir as he helped her into the little boat. The ride across the water was silent, broken only by the sounds of the water lapping at the sides of the boat.
When the boat at last bumped up against the shore, Nadir helped Juliet out of the boat and offered a parting comment. "Thank you again, mademoiselle. I think you'll be just what he needs."
A few minutes later, Juliet entered the Opera House dressing rooms and promptly ran into Meg Giry. The blonde's eyes flew open. "Juliet?" she gasped. "Where have you been?"
Juliet smiled at the girl. "At home, why?"
Meg groaned. "The entirety of Paris is looking for you!" she said, and then her voice lowered to a hushed volume. "We thought the Opera Ghost had gotten you."
"No, no," Juliet said, hoping sincerely that she looked more innocent than she felt. "The... events yesterday shook me up a bit and I needed some time to calm my nerves." Meg nodded empathetically.
"That's understandable," she said. "I need to tell you so much! Christine left the Opera Populaire. I would have done the same thing if I were in her place, poor dear. They say she and the Vicomte are going to England. And you've been given the role of prima donna!" she squealed, throwing her arms around a very stunned Juliet.
What?" Juliet breathed. Meg pulled away, still grinning from ear to ear.
"You're the prima donna at the Opera Populaire now!" she repeated, bouncing up and down with joy.
"But what about La Carlotta?" Juliet asked. Meg shook her head, blonde curls bobbing in agreement.
"After the Opera Ghost killed Piangi she had a breakdown. She won't be singing again for a long time." Part of Juliet wanted to feel sorry for the woman, but an even greater part of her breathed a sigh of relief that the boisterous soprano wouldn't be there to boss her around.
Meg grasped Juliet's arm, bringing her head bumping down out of the clouds. "Come on! Mother wil be so happy to see you!" She tugged her down the hallway until they came to a stop in front of Madame Giry's office.
"Maman!" Meg tapped on the door. Madame Giry was instantly in the doorway.
"What is it, Meg, what—" her mouth fell into a nearly perfect 'o' of surprise. "Mademoiselle Leroux, is that you? Are you okay?"
Juliet nodded, pulling her cloak up higher on her throat. "I'm fine, madame." The usually wooden ballet instructor pulled the girl into a warm embrace.
"We have much to talk about." Madame Giry ushered Juliet through the door. For at least an hour, they discussed the state of the Opera House and Juliet's new role as the prima donna.
At one point, Madame Giry had said, "You know, Christine expressed to me right before she left that she would have very much liked to see you in a starring role." And Juliet had felt a rush of gratitude toward the soprano. She still wasn't quite ready to rid herself of all animosity, but this had been a significant step in that direction.
"And of course, you'll get a new dressing room." Madame Giry seemed to have finished the discussion.
"I'm fine with the one I have, really-" Juliet began, but the instructor cut her off.
"Nonsense," she said briskly. "You're our leading female now, it's only right you should have a better room. Come, I'll show you to it." Juliet got to her feet and struggled to match Mme. Giry's long strides. When they arrived, Juliet was shocked to see that it was Christine's old dressing room.
Madame Giry opened the door for her and leaned down so their heads were touching. "Monsieur Nadir just contacted me. There's a secret passageway down to Erik's home through the mirror," she whispered, and then pulled away. In a much louder voice she said, "I expect that mademoiselle would like to rest now. There is a meeting in three hours, but until then you are free to do as you choose." She patted Juliet's shoulder and strode away.
Juliet stepped cautiously into the dressing room and found that al of her things had been moved in. A curious thing, she thought, as most people were convinced that the Opera Ghost had claimed her.
Remembering, she hurriedly shut the door and approached the mirror. Running her fingers all along the edges, she soon found a latch and tugged. The mirror swung open surprisingly easily, catching Juliet a little off-guard. A rush of cool air made her hair flutter a bit.
She stepped through the doorway and began to search for the lair of the Phantom of the Opera. It really was like a maze with all the winding passages, she decided. It took at least twenty minutes for her to get to the part of the lair she knew.
The quiet sound of the lake alerted her to her location. Erik's door appeared on her left and she opened it. Erik still laid on the bed with the cat lying beside him. When she saw Juliet, her ears pricked forward in acknowledgment.
Juliet went to Erik's bedside. His eyes roamed sightlessly under his eyelids and he shivered a bit. She pulled the covers up from the end of the bed and tucked them around him. He seemed to be waking up, so Juliet went into the kitchen and began to make a very mild broth.
Right as she took the pot off the stove, a horrible scream echoed through the walls. Juliet dropped the bowl in her hands so that it bounced and clattered on the counter, picked up her skirts, and ran as fast as she could back to Erik's room. He was thrashing around in the bed and yelling in pain and fright, obviously caught in a terrifying dream world.
"Mama, don't, please!" he screamed, cowering away from an invisible force in the bed. "I'll be good, I promise! All I wanted was..." the scream dwindled into a whimper and Juliet was unable to decipher exactly what the last part of the sentence was.
She rushed to the bed and cradled Erik's bony shoulders against her body. "Shh, it's okay Erik. Everything's alright."
"Don't wanna look," he whimpered. "So terrible, monster in the mirror. Make it go away, please. Just wanted a kiss." The sentence from before was finished and Juliet wondered what kind of a mother would deny her own child a kiss. She gently reached down and planted a soft kiss on his cheek.
She'd been placed in charge of the younger children at whatever boarding school she went to and knew what she must do to calm the man who had become a lost little boy in his dreams.
She earnestly hoped that it would only send him back to more peaceful dreams and not wake him, because what she did next was sing.
Once there was a way,
To get back homeward.
Once there was a way
To get back home.
Sleep, pretty darling,
Dot not cry
And I will sing a lullaby.
Golden slumbers,
Fill your eyes
Smiles await you when you rise
Sleep pretty darling
Do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby.
Once there was a way
To get back homeward
Once there was a way
To get back home
Sleep, pretty darling
Do not cry
And I will sing a lullaby.
When Juliet finished the song, to her great relief Erik had not awoken. He had slipped back into a dreamless sleep. She gently slid out from under his shoulders and went to go get the bowl of broth from the kitchen. Upon returning, she heard him stirring. Feeling it would be rude to go barging in, Juliet tapped her fist against the door.
"Enter," the voice that floated back to Juliet's ears was frail and thin, so different from the booming, echoing voice that had first confronted her.
She gently eased the door open, carrying the bowl of broth delicately in one hand. Erik was struggling to sit up and cover his face at the same time.
"Oh, no you don't," Juliet warned, setting the bowl down on a table and fetching the set aside mask. She turned away for a moment to allow him to mask himself in privacy.
"Lie back, will you? You're in no condition to be sitting up," she lectured, retrieving the bowl again.
With a huff, he eased himself back down again. Juliet perched on the edge of the bed and filled the spoon with broth.
"A friend of yours was here," she told him in between spoonfuls. The eyebrow that was not masked raised marginally.
His name was Nadir," she added and Erik nodded. A few minutes and several more spoonfuls of broth later, Juliet spoke again.
"Have you any idea how close to dying you came?" she asked. "If Monsieur Nadir hadn't been here, you wouldn't be alive right now. This is why drugs only create problems, Erik—" she froze, as did he.
"How do you know my name—Nadir," he muttered. "That man has yet to learn how to think before he speaks." The bowl of broth was finished before either one spoke again.
"I can only stay for a bit longer," said Juliet. "I've been promoted to prima donna and—" The look in Erik's eyes made her falter. "What?" she asked and when Erik's gaze didn't fall from her face, she sighed. "Erik, you're looking at me, but you're not seeing me," she said.
He caught on quickly. "I'm sorry," he said, blinking his eyes a few times as though to clear them. She set the bowl aside and drew the covers up again. His hands came up to rest on the blanket and Juliet briefly glimpsed thick, white scars on his wrists and palms. She wondered what they were from.
Returning from washing out the bowl, Juliet saw that Erik had fallen asleep again. Her eyes wandered over to the desk and found a drawer that was slightly ajar. The siamese cat rested on top of the intricately assembled writing desk. Recalling the cat's previous hostility toward her, Juliet approached the piece of furniture with caution.
However, the feline showed no aggression and instead leapt onto her shoulder and began to purr. "Hello there," she chuckled. "Have I been forgiven, then?" Her attention returned to the drawer. A cursory glance revealed Erik's supply of morphine. It took Juliet all of four seconds to make up her mind. Gathering all of the items, she bundled them into her cloak and left.
Having yet to memorize all of the passageways in the lair, she got considerably turned around and nearly beheaded by a booby trap. This little excursion added quite a bit more time to her journey.
When she got back above ground, she dumped the morphine and syringes into the first rubbish bin she laid eyes on.
The meeting was just getting started when Juliet hurried into the room. "Sorry," she said sheepishly. "I lost track of time."
Madame Giry nodded. "Don't let it happen again," she instructed. "As all of you know, Mademoiselle Juliet Leroux is our new prima donna," she addressed the people in the room. A round of applause made Juliet's cheeks turn a faint shade of pink.
"And as a result, we needed a new leading man," Madame Giry continued. "Which is why I've hired Monsieur Gaston Rosseau." A man rose from his seat in the corner and waved with a confident smile. He and Juliet locked eyes and she felt a shiver run down the small of her back.
His eyes were an icy blue that radiated a determined aura. But it was a dark determination and it scared Juliet.
A/N: Fin! I don't own the lyrics to Golden Slumbers, which actually is an old lullaby, but this is the Beatles version. I'm thinking of it being sung a little more softly than they did, though.
Review? :)