/A/N: Warning-this chapter will be a good deal longer than previous chapters and may not necessarily my best work. Let me know if it tends to drone on and on. In case you're confused about certain terms, "Eejit" is Irish slang for someone of reduced intellectual capacity or as we know it, "idiot."
Maggie
I attended my post for the evening's performance and attempted to be of some use. However, my attempts were foiled when I caught Jacques's eye. We bantered briefly, him claiming me a fool for doing labor when I should be in mourning, and I futilely tried persuading him otherwise.
"You can't expect me to just sit around and do nothing." I replied wearily. "I need to give my hands something to do. I'm tired of talking to people."
"I don't want you up here for the time-being! What if something went wrong?"
"Nothing will, I'm fine."
"If something unexpected divided your concentration…I'm sorry, I just can't take that risk."
"Jacques, I'm not—,"
"Go on! Just go!"
He left me there; quite stunned that he had raised his voice. He didn't seem like the type that normally would. I suppose grief does strange things to a person's mind. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed we had drawn the attention of the other stagehands as they tried to avoid making eye-contact with me, pretending not to have witnessed the scene. I passed Remy on my way back down the catwalk ladder.
"He's not a bad guy," he said softly, referring to Jacques.
"He's just concerned, is all." I said nothing, but laid a hand gratefully on his arm before descending and heading back to my prison cell.
It was much later when I decided to venture out again. The show was long over and I hadn't seen Jacques or anyone else for that matter, for the rest of the evening. The House had grown dark and quiet, indicating there were few or next to none still roaming about. Although I was still alone, it felt somewhat satisfying due to the fact that I was no longer confined in that shabby room for hours on end.
Now, I was free to walk about, get a change of scenery. That was another thing about Joseph and I—we didn't do well staying in one place too long. Before I knew it, I ended up at the Opera's Grand Staircase in the foyer. Though the moon was not as brilliant as it was the night I arrived, it still glowed softly through the windows, chasing shadows across the floor. I fondly remembered my moonlight skate two nights ago when frightened me half to death.
"Shouldn't go wanderin' about at night." Pieces of the conversation came back to me.
"Could stumble upon somethin' you weren't meant to find."
I never did find out what he meant by that. I doubted the floors had been cleaned yet this evening, but they still gleamed under the dim light, calling my name, inviting me to play. So, I did.
My stockings were filthy, there was dust on my hands, but I didn't care. There was no one there to see me. I took my cap off and let my hair fly free. Back home, we used to ice skate all the time when the weather was cold enough to allow it. We had the most memorable times skating on whatever frozen lake or river we could find. But all that was before Danny's accident. After that, Joseph nor I ever wanted to see another body of water again. However, both of us had to overcome that fear in order to leave Ireland. It wasn't easy.
Now, I skated alone. I wasn't going to cry about it. I had gone the whole day without doing so, hadn't I? Why start now? I was tougher than that.
I decided to grant myself one last slide across the floor before the weakening moonlight disappeared completely. I took off at a run before gliding towards the staircase. What happened then was quite unexpected. I noticed a shadow disconnect from the other shadows. My mind raced at a thousand miles in those two seconds.
What's that…? Joseph…he can't be there…
Within that flyby thought, I felt the shadow latch onto my wrist, pulling me off balance until I collided into solid mass. Before I could utter a sound, another hand shot out and covered my mouth. By the strength and build of the stranger, I realized it was a man, but I didn't know who. And that terrified me.
"Quiet!" he hissed in my ear.
His voice, although mesmerizing, was not one I easily recognized. Naturally, I ignored his command. Any female in the process of abduction would do anything but keep quiet. I thrashed and kicked, mumbling into the glove-clad hand, which was cold and smelled awful even through the glove.
"Mademoiselle Buquet, you would be wise to do as I say."
I stilled, instantly. He knew. But how did he know? The only two souls in this whole theatre that I had confided in were Christine and Meg. The stranger took advantage of my shocked state by dragging me into the darkness with him. My mysterious captor didn't go far before I heard barely detectable movement and I found my self in unfamiliar territory. It was still quite dark. The moonlight didn't reach here…there was no light at all. As if sensing my thoughts, my captor released his hand from my mouth, declaring various threats to my security before doing so.
"We are well out of sight. Even if by chance, anyone could hear you they wouldn't know where to find you."
He still wouldn't turn loose my wrists and they were becoming increasingly sore. He was either oblivious to it or ignoring my attempts at twisting them about to restore some circulation.
"Let go of me hands, will you?! You're hurting me!" I realized my accent regained some of its usual thickness through frustration, anger or fear.
"I'm afraid I can't do that. I can provide an alternative, however."
He produced a thin, strange-textured rope from somewhere on his person and bound my hands behind me.
"What do ya want from me?" I shouted, futilely trying to squeeze my hands out of their bonds. If I could just reach my knife (which I had recently moved from the hilt strapped to my leg to my pocket)…
"All in good time, Mademoiselle," he smirked at my glowering expression, guiding me along so I didn't fall behind.
I finally asked, "Are you extremely sensitive to light or somethin'?"
"No."
"Well, would it hurt to have a little, then?"
I was growing ever more annoyed at the fact that I was being unwillingly pulled further and further into the dark with no real source of light for guidance. Unexpectedly and wordlessly granting my wish, a match was struck and I saw the flame reflect in a glass object I soon recognized to be a lantern. I didn't see much of the mysterious man in the faint light, but I swore I caught something—unusual about his face. It seemed so pale, unnaturally so. He held the lantern out in front of him.
"After you." He gestured.
A short time later, I could hear the sound of water and we approached the edge of some foreboding body of water. The dim light shone on a small boat I had only seen in pictures and postcards; a gondola, like the ones they used in Venice. As soon as I realized he meant to continue by boat, I panicked. I have mentioned that neither Joseph nor I were terribly fond of the water since that one tragic day. And although we've side-stepped our fear when the need called for it, I was still deathly afraid of the water, to the point of nausea.
And so, when I abruptly halted and refused to budge, my captor interpreted this as a refusal to cooperate and make a run for it. I barely caught the movement before I felt my arm enclosed in an iron grip. He attempted to drag me over to the boat and I lost it. Flashbacks of Danny's accident raced through my mind.
"Wait! Please, no! I don't want to go in there! I can't."
But he wouldn't stop, and lifted me off the ground. I screamed thrashed ferociously.
"No! You don't understand! Please, don't!"
I don't know if it was the screaming, the kicking, or the tears that made him stop, but he hesitated and finally put me down on safe ground, still keeping a firm hold on me in case this was some ruse to make my escape. I could feel my heart pounding as if a wild animal were trapped inside my chest and tried to focus on controlling my ragged breathing.
"Look, you've got me far away from any living being and even if I tried to run I wouldn't know where to go in this black oblivion. Whatever it is you want, I'll do it. Just don't take me anywhere near the water."
He regarded me for a moment, not saying anything. I didn't meet his eyes. Sighing in resignation, he led me to another dark corner of the dark cavern and there we stopped altogether. He pushed me firmly down into a sitting position on the cold stone floor.
"Forgive the lack of comfort. I was planning on holding this discussion in a more civilized, hospitable establishment, but that would have required crossing the lake."
"Hang the small talk, what do you want?"
"Plucky girl. You have no idea who I am, do you?"
"Should I care?"
He smirked. "Indeed, perhaps you should. I have a request to make…more of a deal, really."
I quirked an eyebrow. "With me? What could I possibly have that would be of interest or use to you?"
"The fact that you're a woman." He chuckled upon seeing the color drain from my face.
"No, I assure you my intentions are strictly professional. While your true identity escaped my notice for some time, your apparent friendship with mademoiselle Daae, has not."
I frowned. "I wasn't aware I was even considered a part of her social circle."
"She took you into her confidence, did she not? Conveyed personal information to you about her father?"
"How would you—"
"Believe me, I have my ways of knowing. I'm like a ghost of sorts, but that's beside the point. The fact is she confides in you because she trusts you."
He paused and after a long moment of silence, I asked, "What are you getting at?"
This man was obviously off his rocker. I felt around for a rock or anything that could serve as an aid to my escape. He apparently noticed my shifty gaze and guessed my intentions.
"Look me in the eye when I'm speaking and perhaps I'll tell you."
As much as I didn't want to, I raised my eyes to meet his and was undeniably startled at how bright they were, especially in such dim lighting. I also discovered that the unusual pale glow of his face that I had noticed before was an illusion caused by the white mask he wore, covering the majority of his face, leaving an opening for the eyes, mouth and nostrils.
"I require information relating to mademoiselle Daae."
What the devil did this eejit want with Christine Daae? Why should I do anything he says?
"And what if I don't?"
"I know you lost your brother. You may feel that the world can't possibly take anything more from you. But I can."
I didn't believe him. What did I have left? "Like what?"
"Oh, whatever comes to mind, really. I could have you dismissed—trust me, I do have that power--, I could torment you endlessly on a daily basis…or if need be, I could simply kill you here and now and be done with it. The options are endless."
My eyes widened at his last comment and I found it somewhat difficult to swallow. I knew that while wallowing in grief and self-pity I had little desire to go on living. But now, when actually placed in a life-threatening situation, I wasn't as brave at facing Death as I thought. Little did I know I was already facing him.
"Let me add, if you accept this task I will look after your welfare. You won't ever have to worry about being turned out on the streets, whatever necessities you require you won't be without."
I mulled this over for a moment. Although I've always managed to take care of myself in nearly any situation, life could be made considerably easier if I agreed to assist this mad man. I wouldn't need to "just survive," I could have everything I needed without any great sacrifice.
"What kind of information would you require?"
He smiled in knowing he had captured my interest. "Anything you can get. Her likes, dislikes, deepest secrets and desires, and other such trivialities."
"And why can't you just go and ask her yourself like any normal person?"
"You may have noticed I'm not like other normal people."
Could've fooled me, I muttered under my breath.
"Besides, I'm frequently tied up with business and can't spare much time for—socializing—which is why I need you."
"Why do you need me to do this? What exactly are your intentions concerning Christine Daae?"
I wished I hadn't asked. His toned turned dark and bitter when he replied.
"My business is my own and you will do well to not ask of my reasons again, understood?"
I nodded slightly before subconsciously slipping off to ponder over this strange and unorthodox request. I had no reason to do this, but then again, I had no reason not to.
"It looks as though I've got nothing to lose…I'll do it."
Instead of leading me back to—wherever it was we started from—I was escorted to what I vaguely recognized to be the second cellar and that's where he stopped.
"This is as far as I go, mademoiselle."
"How am I supposed to find you?"
"I'll find you." He turned to leave, but I still had one question left.
"Wait." He stopped and looked back at me expectantly as if I were now just a waste of his precious time.
"Why me? You don't even know me."
He was a moment before answering, "I know enough for the time-being. I can't trust anyone else. The few friends she has are, quite frankly, scared to death of me and I'm fairly certain there would be frequent failure to cooperate. For some inexplicable reason, I have this feeling that you will prove reliable and loyal."
He nodded curtly in my direction and melted into the darkness behind him before I could ask any further questions. I hadn't even had the chance to ask his name. It was late and the evening's events were taking a toll on my weary body. For tonight, I would try to get as much rest as I could and refresh my mind for tomorrow, when I would berate myself for getting into yet another mess.
"You're sure not eating much," Jacques commented as I abandoned my breakfast bowl, yet again.
"Well, perhaps I'm just not hungry." I replied nonchalantly, tugging on my boots.
"Well, perhaps you ought to eat anyway, just for good measure."
I appreciated his rather reserved concern for my health, and I felt a twinge of guilt for being the cause of this concern.
"Jacques, I really do appreciate all you've been doing for me—"
"It's what Jo would've wanted," he solemnly interjected.
It was then within that statement that I began to realize something. I remembered something Joseph had said.
"What kind of brother would I be to not look after my sister?"
It was dawning on me that Jacques was trying to fill in the empty void that Joseph had left behind by assuming the role of a brother, not that he would ever admit it. Unfortunately, he wasn't the one to fill that void. But I didn't have the heart to tell him just then. So, I placed my hand on his shoulder.
"I can take care of myself. Don't feel that you're under any obligation to me or him."
"It's got nothing to do with obligation. Jo was one of my best mates. Who knows, maybe his soul will rest easier in knowing that everything he left behind is taken care of? The last thing we need around here is that sorry sod's ghost hanging about—oh…"
He meant nothing disrespectful by what he said, but when he realized he'd used a rather morbid turn of phrase—considering how Joseph died—he abruptly stopped, placing a hand over his mouth and closed his eyes in silent rebuke.
"Sidney—I apologize. I honestly didn't mean…" he faltered.
I dismissed any sign of angst and pasted the first of many false smiles to come on my face. "Don't worry about it. I know what you meant."
We silently made our way up to the auditorium to run through my duties for the evening's performance. I know Jacques still felt uncomfortable about carrying on a conversation after his morose comment, so I tried to make him feel more at ease by subtly asking him something that had been pestering me since he mentioned it.
"I've noticed there's a lot of—strong belief in the supernatural, here."
Jacques smiled. "I take it you don't believe in anything such as ghosts."
"As a matter of fact, I do. But probably not the kind of ghosts you're referring to."
"Well, what other kinds are there?"
Once again, my mind was seized with images of Danny; images that would forever haunt and torment me.
"The kind that exist in the mind."