A/N: Hello again to you all! I'm glad that all of you liked last week's chapter. This one is also heavily referenced off the musical, and I hope it does not seem too disjointed! I had a little of a tough time writing it.
Savannah White: Indeed... those silly managers should learn to be smarter!
Nikki1991: I'm giving Raoul all the love he can get... until we all start hating him because... well just because he's Raoul and we need someone to hate LOL. More Meg to come soon in the upcoming chapters! (:
Masked Man 2: I don't know why but Firmin has always been the "funnier" manager for me... and Andre the one who keeps whining and moaning haha.
Lydia the tygeropean: Thank you! (:
Mikazuki Okami: Wow, thank you for reading all the chapters! In response to some of your reviews: no, the music box plays Erik's song for Amelie, "My Little Rose". Unfortunately I left out the whole Masquerade monkey music box, as I could not think of a way to fit it in ): And yes, I tend to try not to portray too much of Leroux's Erik, because that character was rather overwhelming and psychotic.
ADemiGodPhanGirl: I hope your dance recital went well! Haha I will try to think of a way to make the Final Lair Scene happen, though I can't promise that! And yes, Buquet's impending death is soon.
E-man-dy-S: Thank you! (: I'm glad you like it! And yup, we are moving onto a more exciting portion of the story! Nadir will be arriving pretty soon.
Guest: Thank you so much! I'm glad you like the story. Erik definitely has romantic feelings for Amelie (:
Wild Concerto: I know, hehehe, Erik seems more like an overly protective dad toward Christine. Oooh please get the image of Carlotta as pageboy out of my head... imagine her stuffed into those tight breeches... (Undecided about Meg as of yet!)
LacyRae: Christine was frightened and oh well it must have been an instinctive reaction but thankfully Amelie was there to knock some sense into her!
AngelofPhanFics831: I'll definitely be going above 40, I've already written the next few chapters in preparation (: Thank you so much!
Many thanks to rawrsharpii, Mikazuki Okami, AliceMusic, BlackHreat, and AngelofPhanFics831 for the favs/follows! I really appreciate it. I've passed the 50 follows milestone, and honestly I never thought I would get this far. Thank you all! xx
Chapter 35: Talks All Around
Paris, 1896
After bringing Christine back to the opera house, Amélie had returned to Erik's house to wait for him. She knew that he had most probably gone off to search for Madame Giry to deliver her instructions on how to act, so Amélie settled herself on the divan to wait. The floor was still littered with scores from Erik's earlier encounter with Christine.
It was not long before he reappeared, brushing dust off his cloak. When he saw Amélie, he stopped short, as though he had not expected her to be there.
"Hello," she said softly. "How are you feeling?" She knew she had to tread carefully around the field of mines.
"I'm fine." He said shortly, before hanging up his cloak and moving forward to pick up the scores. There was an air of finality in his voice, but Amélie was not ready to back down, not just yet.
"Erik, you know Christine only reacted out of fear. She was frightened, she thought the Opera Ghost would harm her, and so she lashed out instinctively. She did not mean what she said."
He spoke as though he had not heard what she had said, ignoring her words about Christine. "I never asked you this before, but… why have you never bade me to remove my mask in your presence?"
"What?" Amélie blinked confusedly, not sure what he meant exactly by that.
"The mask," he repeated, gesturing to the white entity on his face, as though she had not heard him the first time. "You know what I look like under this, and you claim not to be afraid of it, claim that it does not bother you. Yet every time we see each other, the mask stays on, does it not? Why have you never asked me to remove it again? Is it because you think me too ugly to face?"
Amélie opened and closed her mouth, wordless. What in the world is he saying?
He took her silence to mean the worst, and he laughed bitterly. "Ah yes, those empty words you say to me to make me feel better. What was it again? You do not mind my face, Christine acted out of fear, I am not the monster I think I am. Yes, yes. I can continue to delude myself so long as you keep feeding me those lies, Amélie. We shall keep up this farce, shall we not?" His hands were shaking as he picked up the scores, and Amélie bit her lip, trying to hold back her angry retorts, for she knew he had been shaken by Christine's harsh reaction to him.
"Erik, you know I do not think that of you." Keep calm, Amélie, keep calm.
He slammed the scores down on a music stand with far more energy than was required. "Like I said, we shall continue this farce of you pretending to accept me, and Christine likewise will continue pretending that she does not fear me, in order to continue her lessons."
"Oh, do be quiet, Erik!" Amélie snapped, finally unable to keep a rein on her straining temper. "Your tendency to wallow in self-pity goes too far! I have never once lied to you about accepting what you look like.
You yourself know what you look like, Erik, and it would be a lie if I told you otherwise. But it does not mean that I think you are ugly, or that I do not accept what you look like! You ask why I have never requested you to remove your mask again, and I will tell you now! I know you are not comfortable without the mask, Erik, because you are so used to wearing it around human company. I know you do not like the idea of exposing your face to me, because you feel so insecure about it. I decided to give you the choice, Erik. I thought that one day, should you ever feel comfortable enough around me, you would remove the mask of your own volition, cast it aside willingly, because you trusted me enough to know that I would not shun you despite your looks. That is why I did not press you to take off your mask before me again. I do not want to rush you into becoming more confident; goodness knows these things take time. But it hurts, Erik, to know that you trust me so little to think that the reason why I did not ask you to remove your mask was because I despised your looks. I thought you knew me better than that—no, I thought I knew you better than that."
Her tirade over, she exhaled slowly. She did not want to snap at him any further, not when he had just had the terrible experience of Christine's reaction to him. "Let us drop the matter, Erik. We are both tired, and still in shock over the recent events, and I think it best if we spent some time alone sorting out our thoughts."
Amélie rose, and left his house. He did not say anything, did not call to hold her back, and so she left with a heavy heart. I had to say that, for his own good.
XXXXX
"This is an outrage!" Carlotta shrieked, her red talons bunched into her fists. "How dare this… this… this stupid ghost push me aside! The role of Countess is the right of the prima donna!"
"Signora, please, calm down." Firmin tried to placate her screeching, glaring at Andre with his eyes to indicate that he was to try to calm Carlotta down. Andre leapt from his seat, and grasped one of Carlotta's hands.
"Signora, you are our star! Our one and only prima donna," he cooed, patting her hand patronizingly. "Of course we would not take the lead away from you! You are unrivalled!"
Carlotta flung off his hand angrily. "You did not say that when you allowed that little ballet rat to take my place last night! Do not think you can win me over with a few honeyed words! I will not be fooled!"
Andre made another grab for her hand. "No, no, signora. You misunderstand us! Christine Daae was merely a weak replacement for your talent. In fact, we regret greatly choosing her to take your place! We should have groveled before you, and begged for you to come back! This opera house needs you, signora!"
"We need you!" Firmin chimed in, grabbing Carlotta's other hand and staring up at her as beseechingly as he could, telling himself that this was only for the good of the opera house. Carlotta paused in her angry outburst, looking contemplative.
"Would you rather not have your precious little Christine Daae sing?" She said snidely.
"No, no, of course not!" Firmin and Andre chorused together. "Signora, you are our one and only prima donna, the only one fit to sing the role of the Countess in the new production! Christine Daae will be playing the role of the pageboy. Please, signora! Come back! The Palais Garnier needs you!"
Carlotta's mouth was still shaped stubbornly into a coquettish pout, and Firmin squeezed her hand tighter, desperately thinking of more honeyed praise to sooth her bruised ego. "Signora, please! The audience wants you! They want their prima donna, their muse, their one and only La Carlotta. We want you back!"
A faint smile was playing at the corners of Carlotta's lips; she adored praise. "Well," she said grudgingly, "I suppose I could come back… with the right incentives…"
"Signora! Say no more! We will see to it at once—fresh flowers in your dressing room, daily, chocolates, and ah, shall we say… perhaps a little bonus in your salary?" Firmin forced a smile on his face, despite grimacing in his mind over the additional trouble this would entail.
Carlotta beamed at him, a smug little smile. "Send the rehearsal schedule to my apartment once it is completed." She waved to Piangi to follow her, and then sailed out of the room regally, leaving only the noxious scent of her perfume behind. Firmin sagged against the table in relief. At least they had managed to keep their prima donna.
The vicomte was preparing to leave, as well, shooting sour glances at La Carlotta's back. "Messieurs, I see that you have settled things here. I shall be taking my leave now, and I will be back to check on Mademoiselle Daae when she is well. Though perhaps… would it be wise to follow the instructions of the letter?"
"Oh, pay the letters no heed, monsieur. They are most likely some prankster playing some kind of a terribly joke on us. Have a good day; we shall send word once Mademoiselle Daae is recovered." Firmin bowed respectfully to the patron, before ushering him out.
He closed the door of the manager's office firmly behind the vicomte. "What a muddle!"
"But Firmin… are we really to place Carlotta in the role of the Countess? The letters… this madman could very well bring about our ruin!"
"Oh hush, Andre! This is simply a case of a ballet rat whose skirts are too easily lifted! First the patron, now even the Opera Ghost? Our little Mademoiselle Daae is quite the lady of the hour—perhaps she could shed some light on how she has managed to gain the favour of the Opera Ghost?"
"But surely you don't mean—"
"I mean exactly what I said, Andre." Firmin nodded grimly. "This matter must be dealt with as soon as possible! I cannot have Christine Daae make a mockery out of us any longer."
From her little alcove, Antoinette sighed and made to leave, intending to tell Erik of the newest developments in his plan.
XXXXX
Meg knocked on the door of the dormitory room that both she and Christine stayed in, before entering. She knew that Christine would not have called for her to enter, anyway, mired as she was in her own thoughts. Thankfully, the room was empty, as the other ballet rats were away at practice. Christine sat in her own bed, her knees up toward her chest, her thin arms hugging them. She was not crying, but her face was pale and shaken.
Meg moved forward to sit on the bed, opposite her. She reached out and took Christine's hands in her own, frowning at how cold they were. "Christine, your hands are like ice! Are you feeling well? And your face, it's as white as a sheet! Do you need a doctor?"
Christine shook her head fervently. "I am well, Meg… it is just that… I am so frightened!"
Meg narrowed her eyes. There was some strange secret going on in the opera house, and her maman was most definitely involved, and so was Christine. It made her frustrated that she had no idea what was going on. "What are you frightened of, Christine? Did you not tell me you were meeting your beloved teacher? You were so excited! Whatever happened last night that caused you to be like this?"
Christine said nothing, just rocked back and forth on the bed, trembling slightly. Meg waited, rubbing Christine's hands and trying to warm them up. It was unlike her to be so silent about something; Christine usually confided in her about everything.
"Oh, Meg." She whispered at last. "I have done something terrible, something wrong."
"What are you talking about, Christine?" Meg was confused. Does Christine mean the meeting with her teacher was wrong? Did he hurt her somehow?
"I… I think I hurt him. I said some bad things that I did not mean. But I was so, so frightened, Meg!" Christine whispered, looking into Meg's eyes with despair. "But Meg, he was not what I thought he was, and… now I do not know what to do!"
"Are you talking about your teacher? What did you do to him, Christine? You're not making any sense here."
"I cannot tell you, Meg. I cannot tell you who he is. I was so frightened that he would hurt me, Meg, but in the end, it was I that hurt him. He never had any intention to harm me at all; he saw me only as a student… but I, I saw him as a monster."
"A monster." Meg said flatly. Christine's teacher is a monster? What does that even mean? She had nothing but absolute praise for him before their meeting.
"What should I do now, Meg?"
"Well," Meg said sensibly, "you should ask yourself if you still want him to be your teacher, of course. If you really did hurt him, as you said, you must not have believed what you said about him in your state of fear. Christine, I know how much your teacher meant to you. For weeks all you could talk about was your lessons, and how talented he was, and how well he taught you! I'd never seen you happier before. What am I supposed to think when you suddenly come back crying and trembling, and tell me that you called your teacher a monster?"
"I was wrong," Christine admitted woefully. "I spoke too rashly."
"Then you should apologize, and try your best to be a good student again." Meg shrugged. "At least, that's what I would do if I made Maman angry, and you know Maman is the best teacher I could ever have." If anything, Meg believed that Christine should continue lessons with her teacher. Meg knew that Christine was destined for greatness; she had heard enough of Christine's singing to know that her talent far surpassed Carlotta. Besides, Christine was happy when she sang, and Meg's heart soared whenever she heard Christine sing, saw the delight on her face.
Christine sighed. "I feel so terrible, and yet I cannot help it. For even though I still want him to be my teacher, I still have doubts about the situation, and I still feel scared."
"He has never done anything to harm you," Meg pointed out reasonably. "Only then, will you need to worry and fear, Christine. Only then. Though I doubt he would ever harm you. He is the same teacher you have been idolizing all this while, is he not? He does not sound harmful at all. And he taught you so well—he gave you the chance to stand on the stage! Your dream, and also what your papa had always wanted for you."
Christine still looked uneasy, so Meg shifted to hug her. "Do not worry, Christine. Everything will be fine. You will continue singing, and you will eventually get the role of prima donna, and your teacher will have his opera published. Everything will work out."
Or at least, Meg desperately hoped so.
XXXXX
"I'm sorry."
Amélie had only just entered her dormitory, tired from a demanding ballet practice, in which Madame Giry had drilled them more relentlessly as ever, perhaps as subconscious way of dealing with her stress of having to help Erik with his plans. Her muscles ached and her head throbbed, and she had not expected to hear the very distinct voice coming from her dormitory. She yelped in surprise, and hurriedly shut the door behind her.
"Erik! There are people around the opera house everywhere right now! What in the world are you doing? Have you no care for your safety? What if somebody notices you?" She kept her hand firmly on the doorknob should anybody attempt to enter behind her.
"Perhaps it would not be so bad to be seen by them," he said cryptically, but did not elaborate, and merely shrugged.
"I am hardly in the mood for one of your nonsensical comments, Erik." Amélie ground out tiredly, brushing past him and untying the ribbon that held her hair back from her face. "What is it that you wanted to say?"
Erik caught her hand in his, perhaps to stop her from moving further from him, or perhaps simply to revel in the feeling of her hand held in his big, warm one. He looked at her, and said simply, "I'm sorry."
She raised an eyebrow. "Oh, you are? What are you sorry for, Erik?"
He paused before answering, but when he answered, it was firm with conviction. "I am sorry that I lashed out at you because I was feeling frustrated after my encounter with Christine. I am sorry to have doubted you. I am sorry for letting my insecurities control me. I knew you better than that, Amélie."
He had not let go of her hand, she realized, and her heart beat a little faster at his heartfelt apology, given so willingly. She had expected him to refuse to admit that he was wrong. She nodded grudgingly.
He squeezed her hand. "I will be going now." He paused, and added, "you danced perfectly in the ballet."
And before she could say anything, he had thrown open the door and swept out, unheeding his need to remain hidden. Amélie gaped at the open door, a silent scream frozen in her throat. What if someone sees him?
"Who was that, Amélie?" Almost instantly, La Sorelli poked her head into the room. She sounded intrigued and excited. "He looked absolutely delicious."
"What?" Amélie stared at the prima ballerina's pretty face, unsure if she had heard wrongly. A deep flush spread over Amélie's face as she blinked at Sorelli, unable to formulate a decent reply for her.
"Oh, you know!" La Sorelli's eyes glittered mischievously. "He was all tall and dark, and mysterious, what with that hat pulled down across his face. And he moved so quickly; one moment he was there, the next he wasn't! Now, now, I know that you young girls always prefer a dashingly handsome man, but remember what I tell you girls—always make sure they have money!" She waggled her index finger cheekily at Amélie, before skipping off to her own room.
Amélie was speechless.
A/N: Yeah, I'm thinking Erik has something up his sleeve... As usual, please read/review/fav/follow/let me know what you think! xx hazel