"You gonna finish the rest of that sandwich?" asked Marc.
"Yes! So keep your filthy hands off it!" answered Christopher.
The two stagehands of the opera house on the southern side of Paris were having lunch on the front steps like they did everyday during a rehearsal. Their break was almost over and Christopher was standing up when Marc grabbed his arm.
"What the? What is it Marc?" he asked agitated.
"Look who's coming our way," Marc replied with a stupid grin on his face.
Christopher looked to see a young woman with long hair and large blue green eyes walking towards the two. Aimee had been searching for awhile to only come out fruitless. This opera house was her next target on hearing that it also had an underground area where the Phantom could live and hide. There were also rumors of strange happenings at Paris' other opera house. The two stagehands quickly stood up and tried to straighten themselves out as the pretty girl finally reached them. Aimee just stared at the two slightly dirty and gruff looking men before her, unsure how to request what she wanted.
"Do either of you work here?" she asked first.
"Yes my lady, we do," Marc quickly answered bowing a little then taking her hand and kissing it.
Aimee tried to smile as he did, but it looked more like a grimace. Christopher elbowed his friend in the ribs, who gave him an angry glare.
"What can we do for you miss?" Christopher then asked.
"I was wondering if I could um…" she quickly tried to think up something, "see the director or whoever is in charge. I'm interested in a job."
The friends glanced at each other, and then Christopher spoke up.
"The director is in the middle of rehearsal right now, and the manager is out."
"Oh," Aimee sighed disheartened.
"But I'm sure the director will be taking a break soon, so you can stay with us until then," Marc put in.
"Marc!" Christopher said annoyed.
"Really?" she said hopefully.
"Sure," Marc winked at Christopher who glared hatefully at his fellow worker, "allow me to escort you in my lady," he cooed charmingly taking her arm.
Once they were inside and Aimee was found a seat backstage to wait, Christopher pulled Marc aside.
"Are you insane? You know how the director hates people off the street asking for jobs! And when he starts yelling at her, she'd gonna point the finger at us and we'll get fired!"
"Calm down, my friend, we're not gonna get fired. Yelled at maybe, but we're too good at our jobs and he knows it!" Marc said triumphantly.
"I don't know. I'm still worried."
The old, stern director was sitting in the first row of the audience, the script on his lap and a sheet of music in his hand. Aimee was quickly shoved in his direction as the stagehands swiftly scurried off. The director's eyes slowly looked up at the woman in front of him.
"Sorry, I don't need anymore actresses or chorus members. Good day," he said looking back to the music.
"Oh, no sir, I'm not here to apply for a job of any kind. I was wondering if you would allow me to look around the opera house," she quickly said a bit nervously.
"What for?" the director asked suspiciously gazing at her again, and taking off his glasses.
"My brother, he works here you see, and the family hasn't seen him in so long. So I decided to come down for a surprise visit, please let me look for him," she pleaded.
"Well I," the director wasn't sure what to do, this never happened before, "I suppose that would be fine, just don't get into trouble. In fact – Christopher, Marc!" he called; the men were there instantly since they had been eavesdropping on the conversation, "Help this young lady find her brother would you? And keep out of trouble yourselves," he added.
They nodded and the trio was soon backstage again. Christopher and Marc then spun around and glared at the young woman.
"You lied to us," Marc stated.
"What are you really here for?" asked Christopher.
After a moment of hesitation, Aimee finally told them.
"I am looking for my brother, but he's not a stagehand or actor," she confessed, "Have either of you experienced something strange happening here?" she asked carefully.
Both blinked then looked at each other. Christopher finally nodded and then came around and took her arm.
"Come with us," was all he said as they walked away from the busy backstage.
They finally stopped in one of the many empty corridors. There Aimee watched as the two friends exchanged expressions as to who was going to tell her.
"A few weeks ago," said Christopher, "we got a new female lead. She wasn't as good as the old girl but she worked. Well, one day she was rehearsing a song, Marc and I were sitting in a catwalk when we thought we heard someone behind us but saw no one. Suddenly one of the sandbags came crashing down on the poor woman's head, just as she hit a rather sour high note too. We, unfortunately, got blamed for the accident but we didn't do it, and no one could figure it out."
"And the director, who hired the new lead," continued Marc, "kept losing the music for her solos so she couldn't practice."
"That sounds like him," Aimee sighed, "can you take me down to the underground water system? That's where he'll most likely be."
"I shall take you, my lady!" proclaimed Marc heroically taking her arm.
"Marc, you don't even know where it is," said Christopher and Aimee giggled.
"You just have to ruin everything," Marc pouted, "He always was a stick in the mud," he whispered to Aimee who couldn't help but giggle again.
"Oh for the love of – just follow me," he sighed as he turned and led the way.
"We never got your name beautiful," said Marc smoothly.
"I'm Aimee," she replied smiling.
"Lovely name, you should know by now that I'm Marc, and Mr. Stick in the Mud is Christopher," his friend sighed and rolled his eyes, "We do many important jobs here at the opera house," he gloated.
"Oh? Like what?" Aimee inquired while Christopher snickered.
"Well, we um … work with the lights and props and um …" he was beginning to think up some lie to impress her when she chimed in.
"Those are important jobs," she humored him.
"They are? I mean – of course they are," Marc said proudly.
Soon the trio was heading down underground. Aimee became more and more nervous the further down they went. Each one of them grabbed a torch from the many torches along the wall. When they reached the small stone platform that connected with the small sidewalks of the many tunnels, Aimee held out her torch to find any clues. There didn't seem to be any sign of a small boat like the one in Opera Populaire. There didn't seem to be a sign of any life at all.
"What's that?" said Christopher his voice echoing in the cold damp air.
To their right, the tunnel curved, but there seemed to be a very faint light illuminating on the wall. Aimee gasped and began to step forward when Christopher stopped her.
"Wait, let me go first. Marc, stay behind Ms. Aimee," his friend nodded.
Then the three started to make their way along the tunnel's sidewalk. As they rounded the curve they were met with the sight of a single torch hanging on the wall in a handmade holder. Below it, were more candles and the sidewalk had bee extended. There was also a small bed and even a low and simple desk against the wall. Aimee gasped again and quickly brushed past Christopher to the little home. She searched around for any signs that he was still living there. A piece of food, music sheets, and article of clothing but there was nothing. Aimee knelt down by the cold and naked bed and sighed tears forming in her eyes.
"Ms. Aimee, are you all right?" asked Marc sincerely.
"I'm just frustrated," she replied wiping at her tears, "I thought I might have finally found him, but obviously that's not the case. He's moved on, I guess this opera house didn't cut it for him," she tried to laugh, but it came out bitter and tired.
"I'm sorry, I wish we could help you more," Marc said.
"No, no, it's all right you two have helped me plenty. I'm sure you've risked your jobs for me."
"Well actually –" Christopher was quickly cut off.
"Not at all Ms. Aimee," Marc paused then said, "You know, there's a festival in town and it opens tomorrow, you should go and take a break from your search. You seem to be having a hard time."
"Thank you for the suggestion. I'll think about it," she smiled slightly.
The stagehands took her back up and led her to the backdoor of the opera house.
"Good luck in your search Ms. Aimee," commented Marc, "perhaps we'll meet again someday," he grinned and kissed her hand.
This time Aimee smiled and gave him and Christopher a kiss on the cheek.
"Thank you both very much, so long," she waved and walked off, the two friends ginning and dreamily waving back to her.
As Aimee entered her small room at the inn she was now staying in, she took her light cape off and threw it onto the bed. Walking over to the window she looked out at the vast world, and tears began to run down her cheeks. Frustration, loneliness, and weariness poured out of her as she wept at her window. Was she ever going to find him?