Disclaimer: Don't own POTO (sigh)
WARNING: There are a lot of song lyrics in this chapter. I usually abhor chapters with lots of songs lyrics, but this is a POTO phic so it had to happen sometime. (shrugs)
Sorry, on the lack of review replies. I love you all, but I'm so anxious to get this chapter up that I just can't wait.
Quick Translation: Erik speaks in French near the end. He says, "Sing, my blackbird." Please don't murder me if this is incorrect French usage. (puppy eyes)
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A SING OFF
Gerry and Anna stepped into the dining room and found it nearly empty of any human life. A few maids bustled about the tables, straightening the silver utensils and lighting candles. The dining room was a large room, though it looked much smaller due to the tables and chairs that crowded it. The doorways leading to the stairs or to the kitchen or to the lounge were hung with green velvet curtains. The rest of the room was carpeted and wall papered in light green shades; small potted trees and tall, wing backed chairs occupied the corners; and at the back of the room, near the bar, sat a piano forte.
A lovely figure, dressed in lavender, sat at the piano, quietly fingering a little tune. Anna and her beau approached silently, but the young woman at the piano was attune to slight noises and heard them coming. She swiveled around to greet them.
"Good evening!" Brooke chirped. Anna curtsied and Gerry bowed.
The brunette went droolly for a moment upon seeing the Phantom in all of his evening clothed sexiness, before she continued, "Nobody's around yet, how about a song, Anna?"
"Should we?" The redhead looked doubtfully up at Gerry.
He smiled back and gently disengaged her arm from his elbow. "Make me proud, my angels," he purred. The girls nodded and Brooke turned to the piano keys as Gerry settled himself into a wing-backed chair conveniently shadowed by curtains and plants. Brooke cracked her knuckles and Anna batted her cousin's fingers in disapproval. The brunette grinned rakishly as she started up the introduction to her song of choice. The tune was instantly recognizable and Anna rolled her eyes at it.
"Terribly clichéd, don't you think?" she said.
"Oh, it tis, but I just can't help it. The clichéd is sometimes the most appropriate, you know."
"Fine." Anna took a deep breath and began to sing.
Tale as old as time,
True as it can be,
Barely even friends,
Then somebody bends,
Unexpectedly.
Gerry closed his eyes and listened to his young protégés, swaying his head ever so slightly and tapping one (big) foot. He was well aware of the dark shadow lurking behind the plant and curtains. Brooke sang next.
Just a little change,
Small to say the least,
Both a little scared,
Neither one prepared,
Beauty and the Beast.
Raoul sank into a chair at their table, listening contentedly, noting every flicker of Brooke's dainty fingers and thinking that lavender had never looked better. Anna sang again.
Ever just the same,
Ever a surprise,
Ever as before,
Ever just as sure
As the sun will rise!
Her voice lifted modestly. Her lips curled in a smile, as she seemed to test her new abilities. Brooke grinned in satisfaction and played an extra little flourish for fun. Somewhere behind him, Gerry heard the dark shadow muttering in astonishment. The cousins sang together, in good harmony.
Tale as old as time,
Tune as old as song,
Bittersweet and strange,
Find and you can change,
Learning you were wrong.
More people filed into the room, whispering excitedly as they listened to the cousins' duet. They smiled and nodded in approval. Neither Anna nor Brooke noticed. Brooke had lost herself in the joy of the song; Anna was lost in the strange similarities between it and her own situation.
Certain as the sun,
Rising in the east,
Tale as old as time,
Song as old as rhyme,
Beauty and the Beast.
Brooke left Anna to finish the lyrics.
Tale as old as time,
Song as old as rhyme,
Beauty and the Beast.
Anna's gentle voice held the last note and faded with the final piano chord. Silence descended for a moment and then the whole room erupted in enthusiastic applause. The cousins absolutely started in shock. Brooke shot up from her seat and would have stumbled if Raoul had not been there in an instant to hold her up.
"That was the loveliest thing I have ever heard," he told her as he escorted her to their table.
"Thank you…how much did everyone hear?" she asked, trying to hide her embarrassed blush.
"I came in near the beginning. Everyone else followed after that. Don't worry about that, Brooke. It was beautiful!"
Brooke only smiled shakily in return as she sat down to the praises of their friends. Raoul fetched Anna to the table as well, but before he could take the empty seat to Brooke's left, Christine plunked herself down. Everyone stared at her for an incredulous moment.
"Good evening, Mlle. Daaé. What an unexpected pleasure," Cecily said icily.
Anna snorted quietly to her cousin, "Unexpected indeed." Brooke did not respond, but only glared daggers at the soprano. Surely the bug-eyed moron should have known better than to incur their wrath again. But, Brooke's thought reminded her; she is a moron for a reason.
Raoul gaped for a second at the singer before sheepishly shuffling around to take the chair to Anna's right.
"Glad to see you are well, Mlle. Daaé," Annette said shortly as the servers brought out the first course.
"Thank you, Annette. I am feeling much better now than I have in years," Christine replied with an air of self-importance that was terribly out-of-place for a mere opera singer. The others at the table secretly sneered at her.
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As the vacationers ate and chattered, Gerry still sat in his chair, carrying on a conversation with the dark shadow that was Erik.
"You taught them to sing and play, didn't you?" Erik hissed. "They sang abysmally before they met you!"
"Oh, yes, I taught them to sing. You didn't think I spent all those hours just letting them grope me, did you?" Gerry replied.
Erik was silent.
Gerry smirked his sexiest smirk and continued, "Interestingly, Brooke was already a fine pianist. Said she took lessons for years back in their own time. They have potential, Anna in particular…don't you think so?"
Erik muttered something indistinct in reply. He was still sorting through his feelings on the matter. He was furious that someone other than himself had been the means of improving the cousins' voices. The strength of his possessiveness shocked him. It was really rather frightening. At the same time, he was amazed that they could ever sing well at all, especially when he recalled them singing to that awful rock and roll rubbish. Ah! There was another wretched thought! That the stupid, bloody imposter should see talent where he, the Angel of Music, could not (or would not) was terribly humiliating. To make matters worse, the smirking Gerry was obviously aware of this. Erik fumed.
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Dessert came and by then Christine had succeeded in irritating everyone at the table, with the exception of Cecily's dense brothers.
The cousins were experiencing violent urges again, while Cecily and Annette were making mental notes to snub the upstart soprano at later events. Max felt the need to slam his head into a wall. Raoul was having a mental argument with himself that went something like the following:
Heavens above! That woman is getting under my skin tonight!
Ah! What a terrible way to think about the woman I love. I love Christine!
Do you?
Of course, I do! I followed her all the way out here because of my love for her.
Actually, it was only because she begged you to cover her traveling expenses and you figured you might as well take a vacation as well.
What does that matter? I still love her.
She's being awfully obnoxious tonight.
Stop it!
Well, she is. Look at everyone else. They look like they want to kill something…or someone.
But I had to protect her from that monster!
Personally, I think she rather likes toying with that monster…and with you.
Oh, Lord.
Brooke, on the other hand, seems to genuinely enjoy your company.
Yes, she does. I like Brooke. Eek. Did I just say that?
Yes, you did. Don't be ashamed. You'd be an idiot and a real fop if you weren't attracted to her.
Wait! Who said anything about attraction? I only said I like her. I'm supposed to be in love, desperately in love with Christine.
But Christine is boring.
True.
And annoying.
Yes, yes.
And has no figure to speak of.
All right! I see the point.
A high-pitched squeal of indignation broke through this fascinating conversation.
"How many times do I have to tell you that I'm allergic to blueberries?" Christine shrieked at their server. The poor boy colored scarlet before snatching up the singer's dessert platter and bolting for kitchen. The whole room turned to stare in the general direction of Christine. Everyone at her table sank just a little lower in their chairs and seemed unexplainably enthralled by their own dessert. Everyone except the cousins.
Brooke wore an eerie smile of predatory satisfaction as she questioned Christine, "Are you really allergic to blueberries?"
"Yes!" Christine snarled. "If I eat them, or anything with blueberries in it, I become violently ill."
"How interesting," Anna remarked, grinning evilly. Yes, bad things would be happening soon. Stupid bug-eyed moron.
After deciding that the rest of the vacationers had redirected their attention back to their own tables, Cecily spoke up in a most melancholy voice, "It is so dreadfully depressing to think that the season is already coming to an end. I do so hate returning to Paris."
Annette sat up like a chipper puppy, "Oh, but we shall see each other in Paris. I am determined to have you all at our wedding."
The females at the table squealed with delight while the men plugged their ears.
"I know where your town house is, Cecily," Annette continued. "Mlle. Daaé lives at the opera house, of course." She added this with a slight sneer, while Cecily and her brothers and Max snorted into their napkins. "But where do you stay in Paris, Anna?"
The cousins choked on their drinks. Christine lifted an eyebrow.
"I, um, er, we…live…with our brother," Anna offered lamely. Brooke paled. We live in the opera house, too. Five floors beneath the stage. On the shore of a lake. With the Opera Ghost.
Annette giggled, "I assumed that, my dear. But where is your brother's town house?"
The cousins were spared the danger of fumbling for an answer when Mme. de Pouf called for everyone's attention.
"Ladies and gentlemen, coffee is to be served in the lounge. There is a piano in there as well, as I am sure we are all anxious to hear more delightful duets." She smiled in the direction of the Mlles. Leroux. Everyone chattered in agreement. The cousins felt they would die of embarrassment.
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Gerry and Erik followed the crowd into the lounge, both keeping to the shadows. The former was shrewdly observing the cousins' interaction with Mlle. Cecily Cheney. He noted that the black-haired young woman had a curious air about her, as though she, like the cousins, had not originated from the present time. She seemed to know something, or perhaps she wanted to know something. Perhaps she is the one, he mused to himself. The Gerry determined to observe Cecily for the remainder of the night. His time was drawing near and he needed to make a decision soon, or else all might be lost.
Erik watched Christine with growing anger as she darted to the piano, obviously anxious to parade her talents and upstage the cousins. Erik knew Christine's abilities would put his little companions to shame. They did not yet possess her range and clarity. He had picked out multiple errors during their earlier performance. But what irked him now was how disturbingly similar Christine seemed to La Carlotta.
There were few people in the world that Erik despised more than the conceited, spoiled diva. To see his precious angel standing beside the piano, looking as smug as her competitor sickened him. How dare she peddle her talents like that attention hungry whore! That foolish, stupid child must not have suspected his presence or else she would never presume to make such an exhibition.
The others in the room looked rather confused as Christine began to sing an opera piece, without accompaniment. They glanced at the Mlles. Leroux, who pretended not to notice the stares. The Vicomte gleefully took a seat beside Brooke and engaged her in a quiet conversation.
"Raoul, oughtn't you listen to Christine's song?" Brooke chided in a teasing manner.
"To be brutally honest, she does sing so well tonight. There is something lacking her voice. I cannot imagine what it is."
"Indeed! I have heard that she possesses the voice of an angel, so beautiful men would kill for her." Brooke stole a sly glance at the Vicomte.
"Well, er, perhaps."
Anna occupied herself with Cecily.
"Where do you and your sister live when you go to Paris?"
"Ah, I would tell you, but then your brothers might come to my door."
Cecily covered an unladylike laugh. "True. True. They do fancy you and your sister. I should think they would like to accompany the two of you to Mme. de Pouf's ball next Saturday. That is, if you do not already have escorts."
"I am afraid we do have escorts. M. Gerard and our brother. But we shall each save a dance for Dominic and Jacques if that would suffice."
"I think it would, although you are being too generous. They don't deserve any such favors. They are horrid boys."
Anna grimaced as Jacques leered at her.
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Christine's angelic voice soared and filled the room with a sound sweeter than honey.
Poisoned honey, Erik thought to himself. Her arrogance and pride came out in her song. Her teacher writhed with rage, barely able to restrain his censure. His only consolation was the observation that the rest of the audience was vaguely aware of the poison in her voice as well. The aristocrats, as wild and imprudent as they sometimes were, did not take to such presumptuous behavior in someone of Christine's status. The stupid girl did not realize she was digging her own social grave. Serves her right for her disobedience.
All at once he came upon a wickedly amusing idea.
As Christine approached the end of her song, her voice began to climb higher and higher, reaching impressively inhuman heights. Mme de Pouf started to fear for the safety of her glassware. Erik cackled to himself as he waited for the right moment. Just a little while longer…there!
Foolish child! Did you think your imprudence would escape my notice? How dare you defy the Angel of Music!
Christine choked on the last note. That voice! He was here! Her eyes widened and darted nervously around the room. Apparently, no one else had heard the voice. They stared her for a moment before politely clapping and hiding any indelicate giggling. Flushing, out of both embarrassment and fear, Christine hastily sat down near the cousins and the Vicomte. She kept throwing anxious glances around the room, but Erik was nowhere to be seen.
In the shadows, Erik sniggered at his clever joke.
"Nice," the Gerry said.
Meanwhile, M. de Pouf had had the usual too many glasses of port and was feeling very roguish.
"Bery good! But I woun't give ye fife francs fer a lassh who didn'a know a good drinkin' s-song," he slurred. The young men chuckled and a few cheered.
Dominic Cheney called out, "How about the Mlles. Leroux? Do you know a good drinking song?"
Cecily hissed at her brother for his rudeness, but the cousins grinned in response. They did know a drinking song and since they figured that their position in Parisian society had little bearing for the companions of a reclusive madman, they went to the piano. The crowd whispered excitedly.
Brooke played an introduction before she and Anna launched into their little ditty.
Hey, ho!
To the bottle I go,
To heal my heart,
And drown my woe.
Rain may fall,
The wind may blow,
But there's to beeeeeeeeeeeeeee…
Many miles to go!
Sweet is the sound of the pouring rain,
And the stream that flows from hill to plain,
Better than rain or rippling brook…
Anna threw her arms out and finished: Is a mug of beer inside this Took!
Their audience cheered and laughed. M. de Pouf wiped tears of joy from his eyes as he hiccupped and tried to clap while still holding his glass. In the back, Erik rolled his eyes. They sang that song all the time in the lair. Still, he found he enjoyed their silly song more than Christine's classical opera aria.
Raoul clapped enthusiastically and called for another song. Everyone except the sulky soprano joined in his request. Brooke began another song. Gerry chuckled softly as he recognized the tune. Raoul settled in his chair, prepared to admire, Erik settled into the shadows, unprepared for whatever consequences this triumph on the part of his companions had in store.
Brooke opened her mouth and sang softly, with appropriate timidity.
Where in the world
Have you been hiding?
Really, you were
Perfect!
I only wish
I knew your secret.
Who is your new
Tutor?
Unconsciously, Erik moved forward to listen. His movement caught Anna's eye as she glanced back at Gerry. She paled when she saw the shadow moving behind her teacher. Erik would hear her! She opened her mouth to sing, but no sound came out.
For one horrific moment it seemed the whole room held its breath, waiting for their cue to exhale. Brooke's green eyes snapped up to her friend's face. The brunette kept her cool and improvised on the piano to buy time.
Erik's blue eyes locked on Anna. What was wrong with her? Then he realized she was staring at him. It gratified his vanity to know he made her nervous, but he did not desire that gratification at the cost of the music. So he threw his voice into her teardrop earrings.
Chanter, mon merle.
Anna's face lit up and she sang.
Father once spoke
Of an angel . . .
I used to dream he'd
Appear . . .
Now as I sing,
I can sense him . . .
And I know
He's here . . .
The whole room shuddered with giddy expectation and delight. Brooke smiled widely and Anna forgot the butterflies in her stomach as they happily threw themselves into the music. They were having fun now.
Here in this room
He calls me softly . . .
Somewhere inside . . .
Hiding . . .
Somehow I know
He's always with me . . .
He - the unseen
Genius . . .
Brooke took up the next part carefully replacing Christine's name in the lyrics.
Angel, you must have
Been dreaming . . .
Stories like this can't
Come true . . .
Angel, you're talking
In riddles . . .
And it's not
Like you . . .
Anna sang with spirit and with all of her love for the Phantom, as any of her fellow phans would have done in her place.
Angel of Music!
Guide
And guardian!
Grant to me your
Glory!
Brooke joined her in the final duet. With a grin of triumph, Anna saw Raoul smile broadly as he rocked to rhythm of the music.
Who is this angel?
This…
Angel of Music!
Hide no longer!
Secret and strange
Angel…
Anna shivered.
He's with me, even now…
Erik's eyes sparked. What was she playing at?
Your hands are cold…
They felt like ice.
All around me…
Nervous brown eyes flickered to the shadowed corner.
Your face, Angel,
It's white…
Brooke wasn't lying.
It frightens me…
Anna clenched her hands and turned with imploring eyes to her best friend. Brooke nodded in encouragement.
Don't be frightened…