A/N: Thanks for reviewing so quickly!
L'Archange—new chapter coming soon, I pinky swear. Also, I've been keeping up with A Black Cat's Path, and may I just say, I'm a big fan
WanderingChild96—Thank you for catching that. I knew something about it looked rather funny…that's what I get for not researching my foreign languages.
Hot4Gerry, Eccentric Storyteller, and weepingwillow2616—Thanks for your patience and sticking with my story
And without further ado…
The sky-white as day-old milk, expanding over Galway...
The sun fighting through until it's just a thinly veiled sphere.
I look for Danny. He ought to pop up as he always does, but he hasn't. No one has.
The house is quiet—all is quiet—except for the soft breeze rustling the thatch of the roof. Hear that? Somewhere round the back of the house—a light tinkling music…Ma must've hung a new wind chime from the clothesline….
Here, I approach the brae that leads down to the pond. Surely now, I will find Danny as I expect to.
Standing at the edge of the pond, I peer into still water and see—nothing.
The ice has melted…not a trace of snow anywhere on the land. I don't feel the impending dread as I usually do...
Rather, I felt calm if mildly confused….
Raising my eyes to look out across the pond, I notice a small dark shape bobbing, partially concealed by the tall grass and reeds.
Following the bank to the far side…the pond seems much larger than I remember.
That ominous floating object must be the little rowboat we always use in summer…
It's not. Erik's gondola is waiting there. But he's nowhere in sight…
"Maggie!"
I turn to the distant voice calling from behind. I lose my balance and fall in.
I'm thrashing now…thrashing about under the water, unable to surface.
The muffled voice cries again, "Maggie!"
I'm trying to follow, but I keep getting caught up in these weeds. They won't let go!
I feel no pressure on my lungs. I'm sure if I dared, I could breathe in the water and not drown…but I don't want to find out.
Please, see me…
"Maggie!"
The voice shouted right in my ear and I started, rolling until I made impact with the ground. "Ow! Jaysus, what?" I didn't realize I was tangled in the blanket until Christine pulled it off me.
"Are you alright?"
"Fine," I muttered groggily. "What's going on?"
"You made some rather frightening sounds and flailed about like a wild animal." Erik explained from the doorway, adjusting the cuffs on his sleeves.
"I should think you'd be used to that by now."
"You didn't even change before going to bed?" the ever proper Christine enquired.
"So? I was exhausted, I didn't care."
"You'd best change right away before we go up top."
"No need. I'm ready if you are."
Erik cleared his throat. "I refer to Condition Three…"
"That only applies while I'm 'under your roof.' In ten seconds, I'm not going to be under your roof, am I?"
"This is not open for debate."
"Seriously, Erik? Pick and choose your battles."
"You're still in my house, you'll abide by my rules in my house."
"I am not going to prink and primp now, what if someone recognizes me? There are still some who didn't witness my little unveiling, you know. Those who weren't at the Irish party in the third class."
"She's right, Erik. You can't be stubborn about this one." Christine concurred.
I win.
The day started out normal enough—cross dress, monkey around the catwalks, check and repair sets with the boys, keep Christine and Raoul happy, keep Erik happy….the only people who were rarely ever happy—Carlotta and her ever-devoted crowd flew in and out of the theatre at intervals, often arguing with the managers and shaking a small bit of parchment. I stood in the wings, watching a particularly entertaining episode that disrupted a dance rehearsal when I felt a hand tug on my suspenders. Instinctively, I jumped back before noticing a pair of glowing eyes set in a hollow pocket of the wall. I let the hand pull me into the shadows and the panel closed behind me.
"Well," I said, slightly irked, "nothing like beginning the day with a good strong cup of chaos."
"I like to get an early start." Twin pinpricks of light filtered into the dark cavity that allowed one a close-up view of upstage and part of the orchestra pit.
I sighed. "Is there no end to the invasion of privacy?"
"As you can see and hear there is nothing 'private' about the situation at all."
Carlotta was screaming god-knows-what in her native tongue with one hovering manager attempting to calm her, the other looking one step away from throttling her, all the while clenching a rather crinkled piece of paper that appeared similar to Carlotta's. Aside from it all being annoyingly disruptive and time-consuming, it was really quite comical to watch.
"Blackmail looks like such fun. I really must try it sometime."
"I'd prefer you to think of it as mastery in the art of persuasion."
"I'm sure you would. Have you ever tried communicating without the threats of impending doom?"
He shot me an irritated glance. "Don't make me laugh."
"Just saying…could make a difference."
"The only difference is that acts of open defiance would continue, minus the melodrama, and you and your incompetent lot would be starved for entertainment."
After watching the scene unfold in silence for a time, I began to notice something. At first I thought I must be turning soft or some nonsense, but as I kept watching, I kept wondering…finally, I shared my thoughts out loud.
"She's really quite pretty, you know—Carlotta. I bet at one time, her voice wasn't so mediocre. I wonder what happened."
"How do you mean?" Erik sounded genuinely curious.
"Well, after lying in her destructive wake long enough, you tend to pick up on certain qualities about her, microscopic as they are, one might deem admirable. She couldn't have always been…bad. It's sad to think sometimes about what it is that changes a person; what it takes to push them over the edge."
Erik stared ahead thoughtfully and I wished I could've read his mind right then.
"So," I clapped my hands together, snapping Erik out of his reverie, "which diva will have the honor tonight?"
"Why I tolerate such pointless questions from you, I don't know."
"Because it amuses you."
"Hardly." Erik seemed to be mulling over something once again and after nothing more was exchanged, I took the initiative of ending our little meeting.
"Well, I'd better get back…before they miss me."
Nothing. I turned to go when he finally spoke up.
"I wonder if perhaps you might be interested in seeing the performance, tonight."
"Um, I always see it."
"Watching it from an audience member's vantage point—less distractions watching from a private box."
"A private box?"
"Yes, box five. Quite a different experience. If you wish you may join me in my box, this evening. Of course, I understand perfectly if you have other plans."
He said it all so stiffly and almost condescending in a way as though I'd just invited myself along and he only agreed out of politeness.
"Uh, sure. That would be nice, but I can't. They'll need me in-,"
"Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it." He assured.
"Of course you will. Well then, I look forward to it."
"Until this evening, then." He nodded his dismissal and opened the panel to let me out. I stepped out from behind the curtain just as Rémy came bounding up behind me.
"There you are. Jacques requires your assistance on a set."
"Alright, I'm coming."
I mentioned before that Carlotta had a few what you might call 'admirable' qualities—one being nerves of steel. But she was also stubborn and unyielding; all of which, did not make a tasteful combination. Convinced the Opera Ghost's notes were nothing more than a ploy of Christine's to steal the limelight and end Carlotta's reign as Prima Donna, she did not heed Erik's warnings. Rather, she tore the notes to pieces, declared nothing in heaven, earth or hell would stop her from performing that evening, and did all but butcher Christine Daae's good name. I didn't see or hear from Erik the rest of the day, but I didn't need to, to know this put him in a foul mood.
The more Carlotta and the managers ignored Erik's instructions, the more the notes came, each more threatening than the last, which, in turn, made Carlotta a force to be reckoned with. At one point, I came across a distraught Christine in the wings.
"Horrible…wretched woman!" she muttered.
"Don't tell me she's gettin' to you."
"Usually, she doesn't."
"Why take it when you can break it?"
She looked at me quizzically. "Break what?"
"This ridiculous dominance you believe she has over you. It's something we used to say in the Buquet house. Don't take her bullshit, give her a taste of her own poison."
"Maggie, no. No matter how rotten she's been to me, revenge won't make anything better."
" 'Revenge' is such a harsh word, really. You're more or less just evening out the score."
"No. I won't do that."
"Would you put the saint on the back burner for once and grow a spine? Just a harmless little prank-,"
"No, Maggie!" Christine immediately checked herself, eyes darting to make sure no one overheard. "Pranks harm everybody, no matter how small. And don't you dare try anything, either. I've enough to worry about with Erik without having to worry about you too."
"Calm down, I promise."
"Well," came a familiar accent, "if it isn't the two conspiring little orphans." Carlotta slowly sauntered toward us. "Devising your next plan of attack?"
"To hell with you." I replied, in a bored tone. The Diva's eyes instantly darkened as she marched forward, causing us to retreat several steps backward onto the stage.
"How dare you talk to me that way, you worthless, scheming little witch! I know both of you are in on this!"
I knew we had drawn just about everyone's attention, but I could've cared less.
"In on what? This is all just a pot of bollocks to satisfy your need for attention."
"Ha! It's you and your ghastly brother who couldn't get enough of that."
"Shut up, hag, or I'll turn you into a gnarly toad!"
. "Buquet! Madame! Please-," the director attempted to intervene, but the Diva just swatted him away like a bug.
"Burn in hell, heathen!" she spat at me.
"If that's where I end up, I'm dragging you down with me."
I should've been grateful to the director, really. Carlotta looked ready to grind my bones for her bread and very nearly would have had he not plucked up the courage to restrain her and lead her away as Christine feebly attempted to do the same with me. The Diva hollered some foreign drivel at me all the way out the door. Unfortunately, I was temporarily suspended from my duties as consequence for my actions. "Although the Diva's behavior was appalling, yours was far from tolerable,"—were the director's exact words as he shook a reprimanding finger in my face. "Understandable, but not tolerable."
And so, it seemed I had the night off.