The first thing Alison happened to notice about French hospitals were that there were less language barriers than she thought. The doctors - if not all - seemed to know exactly what she was saying. Madame Petit rarely glanced in the direction of Alison, instead vouching to speak to the doctors about the condition of Alison's wrist.
Despite what the doctors had done, she had managed to break her wrist in two places - healing was estimated at two or three months. When Alison heard the news when her wrist was placed in a cast, she almost choked on her own words.
"Madame Petit, I promise I will still be able to work," she pleaded, sitting straighter on the bed. "I-"
Madame Petit held up a hand, silencing the younger.
"In your condition, I do not trust your skills." Alison deflated like a balloon, visibly. "However, I am rather impressed with the skills you have shown me. When the wrist heals, I will allow you on set again."
"But . . . that's not for a few months." Alison furrowed her eyebrows and Madame Petit finally glanced at her from the corner of her eye as the nurse left the room for Alison's dispatch papers.
"I am aware. You will be taken care of for the next few weeks by Erik as compensation for what he did." Alison looked liked she was about to throw up, then her eyes widened.
"He doesn't like me."
"Well, then I suppose he will grow to. It could be a great thing for him." Alison knew better than to argue with her boss, and sat in silence as she mulled over her thoughts.
It was obvious the Phantom didn't like her at all. He didn't enjoy talking with her, and he had already tried to scare her several times. Yet . . . she knew that maybe he wasn't. She knew he didn't have to save her life, or accept her request that he read a book of hers. She felt conflicted like she never had before and wanted to sleep it all away.
Alison was happy when they were allowed to leave the hospital a few hours later, and even happier when they were standing outside the theater. Before she had a chance to go inside, however, Madame Petit pulled her aside.
"When they ask, tell them you hurt your wrist in the middle of the night when you fell down the stairs. I will send Erik to your room at 6 sharp. Got it?"
"Yes, Madame Petit." The older woman nodded, then led the way into the theater. Mr. Agen was waiting in the lobby of the theater as he checked the time on his watch. When he heard the two enter, he stood to greet them.
"Madame Petit, what has happened?" Mr. Agen asked, eyes wide with concern. "Are you alright. Mademoiselle?"
"Yes, sir," she replied quietly, then looked at her freshly bandaged wrist.
"She had an incident with yours truly," Madame Petit said, raising an eyebrow as she looked at the ceiling. "I have informed Alison of what she must say about it. We do not want to worry anyone else with such matters."
"I agree, Madame." Mr. Agen smiled gently at Alison, then nodded in her direction. "My sincerest apologies. I do hope you will stay with us?"
"Of course," Madame Petit said, hands on her hips. Alison closed her mouth. "I am lacking in painters, and she is the only one so far to not disappoint me. I will assign her to other duties while she heals. The first few weeks, she will be out. Doctor orders. I am giving strict orders to the Phantom to keep an eye on her."
"And what will the others say?"
"Simple. Alison is taking a trip to the countryside to visit her grandparents." Madame Petit looked sternly at Alison. "Assuming Kate and Henry still resided there before their demise?"
". . . Yes," Alison said, a little confused that Madame Petit knew their names. She didn't question it.
"Well, I suppose that will work," Mr Agen said, wiping his forehead. "I have to get back to work. I know you can handle this."
"Of course," Madame Petit said, then rolled her eyes as she led Alison quickly to her room. They passed the stage and when they did, Adele turned.
"Is she alright?" she called out.
"Never you mind! Get back to work!" Madame Petit barked, and Adele turned right back around to work. Josephine walked to the edge of the stage to meet them there and follow them to Alison's room.
"Pack your things while I speak with Josephine," Madame Petit said, and then shut the door after her. She could hear their muffled voices as she pulled her suitcase out from under her bed. She sighed heavily, and tears came to her eyes as she unzipped it. When she was packing her clothes her vision became too blurry and when she blinked, the tears fell.
She wiped them away violently, suddenly angry with Erik.
Things were so well, and he screwed it up! I love to paint, I can't do it with a broken wrist like this! She flopped on the bed next to the staircase, then looked at her wardrobe. If only I hadn't gone down there.
The door to her room opened and Josephine stepped inside. She smiled softly at Alison, then noticed the tears and lowered down in front of her.
"What is wrong, little one?" she asked softly, and Alison's tears fell all over again. Josephine rubbed a soothing circle into her arm and pet back her hair with her free hand. "Why do you weep?"
"I've let everyone down," Alison said, shaking her head. "I won't be able to paint for a month!"
Josephine let out a loud laugh, then smiled brightly at Alison's unimpressed face.
"That is all? Oh, dear Alison! Do not worry about that. Your spot is secured. Trust me, Madame Petit would have fired you already if she did not want you here." Josephine looked around the room, then at Alison again. "Do not worry. I know what really happened. Would you like me to help you pack?"
Alison nodded in response, stood up, and quietly went back to packing. Josephine helped her as well, making little comments every once in a while. And, as they worked, Madame Petit stomped to the vaults of the theater to meet with Erik. She waited at the waterside with her arms crossed and a stern expression on her face before Erik arrived on his boat. When he had tied it ashore and stepped on solid stone, her glare hardened.
"You will make this up to me," she said harshly. "I know what you have done, although she may not! Since you are the one who is responsible for her injuries, it will be your duty to look after her."
Erik looked like someone had just ripped his mask off, with wide eyes and an unbelieving scoff.
"Me? To look after an ignorant -" Madame Petit snapped her fingers and Erik went silent.
"She is more intelligent than you think. There is no argument here, or do I need to remind you of what I can do to rid of you?" She glared harshly at Erik, and he glared right back. He knew that she was capable of many things, and knew she could easily rid of him without lifting a single finger. But at the same time, he didn't want to dedicate his free time to taking care of a child.
"She is your painter, not mine."
"I cannot be expected to watch after her. There's much to do around here in order to pay your ransom," she said simply.
"Then force her to work."
"And risk sloppy work? Of course not." Erik sighed heavily, frustrated. "You will fetch her at six, no later. If I were you, I'd get her bags for her now."
"Do you not understand I do not like her?" Erik asked at Madame Petit's retreating back. She laughed out loud and then turned to look at him.
"I did not, either. She will grow on you."