Chapter 44- Masquerade

Erik had been holding the ring so tightly that the diamond had cut into his hand, drawing blood. He glanced down at the small wound, seeing the pattern now engraved in his skin. Placing his lips over the cut, he cleaned the blood away with his tongue, and spat it onto the ground next to him. He was back down in the cellars, sitting on the floor, with his back to the freestanding wall along the edge of the lake.

The costume he had worn was flung to his left, part of it dipped into the water, he was sitting wearing only his trousers, no mask, no shirt. The exposure he was feeling was nothing like the sheer undressing he had felt upstairs. Christine had been drawn to him, as before, following his command but he had seen the ring immediately. With everyone staring he had done his best not to show his nerves but her body being so close to him, the line of her dress cutting just across the top of his breasts, showing so much soft skin.

His hand had trembled slightly when he touched her collarbone.

The door to the rear of his home creaked open. 'Erik,'

'Daroga, leave me,' He said, too pitifully, as he heard the Persian's voice.

He was ignored and the older man walked into the room, staring down at him. 'You look a mess,'

'Thank you,' If anyone else had said this to him while he was unmasked he would probably have broken their neck.

'Come on, get up,' The command was spoken so softly that Erik made himself look up at his friend. The Persian was standing, dressed completely in white cotton, by the table.

Erik frowned. 'Are you an escaped mental patient, Daroga?'

'Have I ever told you how funny you are?' His friend asked.

'Certainly not as often as you should,' Erik said, as he rested his head back against the cool brick. He stared up at the ceiling. 'Go,'

'Not a chance,' Nadir walked over and jumped up so that he was sitting on the wall, legs hanging over the edge. After a moments silence between them; 'I hear you put on quite a show,'

'I try,'

'You've frightened the life out of them,'

Erik coughed. 'Pathetic,'

'Well, some might say sensible,' Nadir said. 'Considering the last time they saw you... you killed Joseph, destroyed the auditorium and killed a young woman,'

'I did warn them...' Erik sighed, his voice sounded weak.

'Yes but it wasn't really them you were punishing, was it, Erik?'

Erik looked over and gave a half hearted shrug. What was the point of all of this? He had come back to help Christine, to save her, but as soon as he set foot in the theatre it was like being... home again. Truly home. The scent, the sights... and to be home you must be a master of it. The opera he had spent the last six months writing was finished and he knew how he could take control back, and take Christine back at the same time.

Part of him knew that she was happy, he had seen it, seen her smile and laugh, carefree. This part of him, the good part, knew also, that he should leave her alone, let her live her life with the man she obviously loved. However, this was never the part of Erik that won the battle. His other side, his darker side, was somehow more powerful. The sight of her, the very sound of her voice, was enough to drive him crazy. He missed her, loved her... he also needed to protect her and for that she needed to be with him.

'They are engaged?' Nadir asked.

'Apparently,'

'They haven't told anyone,'

'No,'

'Then how did you know?'

'I saw the ring,'

Nadir sighed. 'Yes, but how did you know it indicated engagement? She was, after all, wearing it around her neck,'

'I know her,'

'Then you must see she is happy,'

'Giry told you she was happy?'

Nadir jumped up and walked back to the kitchen. 'Antoinette did tell me she was happy, yes,'

'Then I have no use for you here,'

'I'm not leaving you alone like this, Erik,'

'You think I'm wasting my time,' Erik snapped. 'I don't need you as a distraction,'

'I think saving Christine is the right thing to do but you are doing it the wrong way completely,'

'And what way would you do it?

'I'd send message to the De Chagny's,' Nadir shrugged.

'Then you're a bigger fool than I first thought,'

'Why?' Nadir asked. 'Why is that so bad? It is the right way, the right thing...'

'No,' Erik growled. 'It is not.'

'Erik, this isn't the way to get her back,'

'I know I can't get her back,' He felt his voice crack and fought to swallow back tears. How stupid, how pathetic that he was to still love her, what a fool he felt.

'Then stop,'

'I have to save her,' Erik took a long breath, trying to calm his senses.

'Let someone else take that burden,' Nadir said, softly, looking down at him.

Erik did not even feel the will to move. The cold of the floor, the roughness of the wall, somehow felt comforting to him. Felt good, and punishing, and real. At that moment he needed that. He needed to feel, to know he was actually alive, pain was a good way to do this, to make it all real. The floor was uncomfortable yet it offered him more comfort that anything else.

'I can't,' He finally responded.

Nadir shook his head. 'I can only give you my advice,' he said. 'I cannot force you to take it,'

Raoul felt dazed, he was standing in the manager's plush office upstairs in the theatre, he glanced at the mantel clock. Twenty after one in the morning. Philippe was pacing back and forth past the long window, taking the occasional look outside, and then returning to his aimless walking.

Christine was sitting in the corner of the room, nearest the fireplace, staring out of the window at the cool night. The blackness outside was reflected in the mood in the room. Gilles Andre and Richard Firmin had changed their clothes and were now out of costume and in suits.

'This is a terrible situation,' Philippe said suddenly, after almost twenty minutes of silence.

Everyone looked up at him except for Christine, whose focus was fixed, quite firmly, on the horizon.

'Yes,' Gilles was the first to respond.

'It puts us in rather a grave position, doesn't it?' Philippe asked, but Raoul knew the question was rhetorical. His brother continued. 'This man, this ghost... he comes back for what purpose?'

Silence met the question.

'He brings us an opera to perform, he invades our party... he has been gone for six months for Christ sake, why is he back now?' Philippe's cheeks had begun to redden, his anger quickly there for all to see.

'He has obviously been plotting,' Richard suggested.

'Plotting?' Philippe raised his eyebrows. 'Raoul?'

'I'm not sure,' He said to his brother, though he suspected he actually knew. He sneaked a quick look at Christine. She did not appear to be listening.

'Are we to perform his opera?' Gilles asked, looking around at all the people present.

'I don't think that is a decision for this evening,' Philippe said.

Gilles nodded.

Philippe resumed his pacing. 'This is ridiculous,'

No one spoke.

'He's back, bolder than he ever was before...' Philippe stopped and stared out of the window. 'When did he ever show himself before tonight?'

Raoul looked from Richard to Andre who shrugged. 'He hasn't,'

'Yes, exactly,' Philippe sighed. 'So why now?'

It was Richard who spoke next. 'I believe he has shown himself to Christine,'

Raoul flinched. 'Miss Daae, if you wouldn't mind,' He snapped.

Richard smiled slyly and then corrected himself. 'I think he has shown himself to Miss Daae, on a number of occasions,'

Philippe spun around and stared at Christine. 'Is this true?'

She looked up, tears in her eyes. 'Yes,'

'Why on earth didn't you tell the police?' He snapped.

Raoul stood up. 'Philippe, it is not her fault,'

'Not her fault?' He growled. 'She could have helped the police to catch him! We wouldn't even be in this situation if she had only told them something...'

'And what would she have told them?'

Philippe turned from Raoul back to Christine. 'What would you have told them?'

She blinked. 'Nothing,'

'Traitorous behaviour,' He glanced at Raoul. 'Are you going to deal with this?'

'I'm afraid Monsieur Firmin misleads you slightly,' Raoul said, trying to remain calm though his pulse was rapid. 'The man in question did indeed tutor Christine but he was always in disguise,'

'She could have told them something!'

'Only what they already knew,' Raoul sat back down. 'She had no idea where he lived, what he really looks like, all she knows is what he sounds like... the police already know that,'

Philippe walked towards Christine. 'Is this true?'

She nodded weakly.

'How did he come to tutor you?'

'He heard me singing,'

'Where?'

'My room?'

'He came into your room?'

Christine scowled at him and Raoul walked over to her, placing his hands on her shoulders, showing his support. 'My room is my home,'

'You could have used the theatre,'

'The theatre was too open for him,' She said. 'He's shy,'

'He was in disguise,'

'He was also the Phantom of the Opera,' Raoul interjected. 'He did not want to be caught, you are looking for something that isn't there brother,'

Philippe jaw bunched. 'I don't understand why she remained friends with this phantom,'

'We weren't friends,' She answered.

'He seemed rather friendly with you in the hall out there,'

'We weren't friends, we were never friends,'

'Yet you allow him into your room, you don't tell the police about him...'

Raoul interrupted, 'We've been through this,'

Philippe gave him a hard look before continuing. 'You let him teach you, you let him touch you out there... you walked to him...'

'Leave her alone, Philippe,' Raoul demanded, his voice hard.

'Know your place, Raoul,'

'No,' He said, firmly. 'Know yours,'

'Stop it,' Christine's soft voice broke through the tension. Raoul squeezed her shoulders gently, eyes still fixed on his brother. 'This is silly,'

'Where can we find him?' Philippe asked, sounding calmer.

'I don't know,'

Raoul did not move. 'She doesn't know,'

'I'm sending for the police,' Philippe turned and walked towards the two managers who had been watching the confrontation with quiet interest.

'Why?' Raoul called after him.

'They need to know,'

'And what can we tell them?' Raoul asked. 'That we saw him, that we don't know what he looks like, that he disappeared into a puff of smoke before our very eyes?'

Philippe turned back around.

'We need a plan,' Raoul said simply.

'You're right,' Philippe nodded. 'You're absolutely right,'

'But now is not the time,'

Richard moved to the centre of the room. 'I think he is right, I think we all need to get some rest and meet about this in the morning, talk it through,'

Philippe nodded. 'Good, then if we're all agreed, that's what we'll do,'

'Tomorrow at morning at nine?' Gilles asked, sitting at his desk.

Before anyone could answer there was a knock at the door. When it opened Antoinette Giry stepped in quietly.

'I have seen to all of the girls,' Her voice was weary, her face grim. 'They've all left now. May I leave?'

'Of course,' Gilles answered.

'Thank you,' she said, turning and leaving the room.

Raoul could not shake the feeling in the pit of his stomach, he watched the door click shut and felt the foreboding build inside him. He ran to the door.

'Tomorrow at nine am?' He confirmed as he opened the door.

They all nodded, Christine looked confused but he did not have time to explain, he need to catch up to Madame Giry.

He ran out letting the door slam behind him. The corridor was dark and he listened for her footsteps. When he heard them he followed through the hallway and then out of the door leading to the stairs. She was on the landing when he found her.

'Madame!' He called, as she began to descend the staircase.

She turned and looked up at him. 'Yes Vicomte?'

'I need to speak with you,'

'I'm very tired,'

'It will take only a moment, Madame,' He followed her.

'Then would you mind if we talk as we walk?' She asked. 'I really do want to get home, my husband is waiting for me in the lobby,'

When he caught her up she did not look at him, instead her gaze was focused on the steps in front of her. The cane in her hand clanked on the wood.

'You know him,' He stated simply.

Silence.

'Tell me,'

'I know nothing,'

'Madame,' he pleaded. 'Don't deny it, I see it all now!'

'You see nothing,' She did not sound angry.

'I see that you know who he is,'

'It is true that I knew him once but I do not know him now,' She said. 'We ceased to be friends many years ago,'

'Where is he now?' He asked.

'I couldn't tell you,'

'You couldn't?' he asked, looking across at her. 'Or you simply won't tell me,'

'This is more complicated than you think,' she sighed.

'I understand he is dangerous,' Raoul said. 'We all see it now, we understand,'

She shook her head.

'How do you know him?' He asked.

'I met him when we were children,' She continued to walk, did not even look at him as she spoke. 'He was captive you know? At a carnival,'

'I...'

'No,' She held her hand up to stop him. 'Say nothing you will regret, Vicomte. His story is long and sad, he was badly abused, born into a family that did not want him, tormented by children his own age, shunned by adults... he had nothing,'

'Why?' Raoul asked. 'Why would people treat a boy so cruelly?'

'Did Christine not tell you?'

'She said his face was ... not in a good way,'

Madame Giry laughed. 'That would be a gentle and considerate understatement,'

He said nothing.

'He is badly deformed on the right side of his face, hence the mask he wears to cover it,' she said. 'He was born that way, his mother was repulsed, his father died when he was young. She sold him to the carnival... I found him, I felt sorry for him, I freed him,'

'You brought him here,' Raoul felt the realisation hit him.

'I showed him this place,' She answered. 'He liked the theatre, enjoyed music. The only people who were good to him were the other... freaks... at the show,'

'You became friends,'

'Of sorts,'

'Then why did you stop being his friend, Madame?'

'The Phantom is a cold man,' She said. 'Calculating, manipulative... he is a genius but he is not incapable of feeling...'

'He loves Christine,'

'More than he ever thought he could, I'm sure,'

'We need to stop him,'

'I fear that you may not be able to,'

'Won't you help?'

As they got to the bottom of the stairs she finally turned to him, her eyes moist with what looked like tears. 'I have told you all I know,'

'Then...'

'I can help no more,'