The opera theatre suffered while Amme Eledhwen was away. Not only because they then had to use Carlotta, who, compared with Amme, did horribly. Not only because Meg and Christine and some other opera workers became rather depressed when their friend left like that. Not only because some of the people who weren't so close to her were still worried something awful had happened to her. But mostly because of the Opera Ghost, things were doing dreadful.
His operas had stopped appearing, which struck a tremendous blow to the theatre's income. His operas had been becoming popular, and now they didn't have that extra little claim to fame for being the first theatre performing the Phantom's operas.
He also made all the other performances into complete nightmares. The managers would arrive in the morning only to discover costumes had gone missing, one of the singers had gotten seriously hurt late the night before, a backdrop had been ruined by a large, black skull painted right in the middle, and other things of that kind. Half the performances had to be canceled just because the Phantom wasn't allowing it to be put together even adequately.
Strangely enough, no one had been murdered, even though almost everyone was expecting him to snap and kill someone soon. Not even Carlotta was stupid enough to tempt him, though, and the subject was never brought up, not even in the privacy of one's home. Secrets and private conversations were considered unheard of luxuries to people working in the Paris Opera House.
Even Laetitia was careful around the Phantom.
"Hey, bossman," she began tentatively one day. "I think you're taking this too hard. Amme did say…"
"She said a lot of things!" Erik snarled furiously. "That doesn't mean anything!"
"But…" Laetitia really didn't want to correct him, but she did anyways. "But she's never lied before, has she?"
Erik didn't respond, hating himself for allowing distrust and suspicion and uncertainty come between him and his feelings for Amme.
Laetitia gained confidence when he didn't show any signs of anger or insanity. "I mean, really. There has to be some reason for her leaving that isn't because of you."
"Then why, pray tell?" Erik shot back, getting partly out of his chair.
Her fragile courage disappeared, and with a timid, "…Nothing…" she disappeared under the water.
Erik sighed. Without thinking, he reached out slowly and touched one of his many drawings of Amme. This one was the newest one, the one he drew the day before he found out she was leaving. It was rather small, but it was his favorite, mainly because Amme was wearing a wedding dress. He hadn't really meant for that to happen, but usually once he began drawing, he became too absorbed to really notice exactly what he was drawing.
His eyes dropped down to the small box on his organ. Inside was the ring he had gotten only two hours after he drew the wedding picture. He had fully intended to propose to her when she next came down. The necklace he had given her before was almost like a test, to see how she would react to him giving her jewelry; if she accepted it, that meant he could go ahead with his plan. Clearly, he failed the test.
-
Erik was absentmindedly watching the two managers confer about their next opera, thinking about what new horrors he could inflict upon the rehearsal and performance, when Meg came running in.
Her mother greeted her with her hands on her hips. "Meg Giry, do you have any idea how late you are?"
"Oh!" Meg gasped. "Oh, that's not important now!"
"What?!" Madame Giry spluttered. "What…do you…you…"
"Christine needed me!" Meg danced on the spot. "She had twins!"
Erik felt his mouth drop open about a foot.
Andre and Firmin were startled out of their conversation. "Christine had twins?" The former asked, just to be certain.
Meg nodded happily. "Two little girls. The older one is Louise, and the other is Roselle." Spinning around again, she predicted, "Roselle is going to look so much like Christine when she's older!"
Madame Giry clapped her hands together, clearly no longer angry with her daughter. "That's wonderful news, Meg! That means they have…seven children now?"
As if Erik needed reminding. He had seen the first five—Charles, Meg, Philippe, Gabriel, and Nicolas—so many times, it was sickening. He hated Philippe the most—he looked exactly like the damn father.
"How can you tell…what's her name?…Roselle…is going to look like Christine?" Firmin asked.
"Oh, I can tell," Meg replied mysteriously.
"I want to go see them!" Madame Giry almost squealed. Erik's eyebrows shot up; he had never seen her like this before.
"But…" Andre was confused. "It's rehearsal time?"
Madame Giry rolled her eyes, much to Erik's relief; the squealing Madame Giry scared him a little. "They are your patron's new babies. And since the Opera Ghost is going to ruin the rehearsal anyways, I think going to see them will be a better way to spend one's time."
Ah, how well she knew him; Erik decided he'd have to be less predicable, and not ruin the rehearsal, just to annoy Madame Giry. And, of course, to prove her wrong.
"Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!" Meg ran out of the theatre.
Erik had always wondered where Meg had gotten her energy, but after seeing the way Madame Giry run after her daughter, he wasn't nearly as surprised.
-
"Oh! They're so beautiful!"
About half the opera workers, most of them female, where crowding around Christine's bed, cooing over the small newborns. Christine herself looked a little uncomfortable, but proud and happy. Her husband mirrored her expression almost exactly. Their eleven-year-old daughter Meg was sitting on her mother's bed, happy because she now wasn't the only girl in the family. The oldest, Charles, who was fourteen, held up little Nicolas, who was two, so he could see his baby sisters. Eight-year-old Philippe and five-year-old Gabriel stood in the back looking bored.
"Meg was right!" One of the ballet girls sighed. "Roselle is going to look like you when she's older, Christine!"
"Down to the last curly brown hair," Christine agreed, slightly sarcastically. She shifted awkwardly, trying to get in a more comfortable position while still keeping a firm grip her new children.
"May I hold one?" A chorus girl begged. "Please?"
"Here." Raoul went over and handed the girl Louise, while taking Roselle himself. Christine smiled at him, and laid down all the way in her bed.
Now everyone was crowding the chorus girl and Raoul.
"She has your eyes, Raoul!" One person said of Louise.
"She's the most adorable thing I've ever seen!" Another said of Roselle.
"Shh," Madame Giry hushed them. "They're trying to sleep." "They're" meaning Louise and Christine; Roselle's eyes were wide open, trying to take in all the faces staring back at her.
"Why are they so small?" Gabriel asked, folding his arms and pouting.
"You were the same when you were born," Raoul told his son.
Gabriel clearly couldn't see what all the fuss was about. He seemed to be resenting his new sisters for taking all his attention. "I want chocolate."
"Not now, dear," Christine sighed without opening her eyelids.
Gabriel frowned, and looked back at Louise. He pulled a face. "Couldn't we have gotten a puppy instead?"
"Charles?" Raoul asked. "Could you take your brothers out, and find some way to entertain them for a while?"
Charles didn't look happy, but he did as his father instructed. The other three were thrilled to get out.
-
"I have few questions for you," Laetitia began, floating in the water just beyond Erik's lasso-throwing range, which was pretty far.
Erik glanced up. "Go ahead."
She scooted a little farther back, not taking any chances. "First of all, if you aren't going to let people perform your operas, why bother write them."
"Because I might change my mind sometime. And because I enjoy writing them." He snorted. "That was a pathetic question, you know."
Laetitia ignored the last sentence: she had been called worse in the past two weeks. "Alright, next question. Why aren't you excited that Christine had twins?"
He glared at her. She moved even farther back. "That is, without a doubt, the stupidest, most idiotic question I have ever heard." The only de Chagny child Erik might have considered liking was Gabriel. Outwardly, he said he was a brat, but inwardly, he liked watching the little boy make his father twitch like crazy.
"You could at least be happy for her!" Laetitia tried to sound brave, but when Erik stood, she dove underwater, and spoke her last question from there. "Do you know anyone named Pearl Morin?"
Erik froze while unhooking his lasso. "What?" He swallowed. "How…the hell…do you know Pearl Morin?"
"Um…" Laetitia frantically tried to decide whether to tell the truth or not.
"I'll know if you're lying," he warned her.
"Well, do you remember my friend, Islatos?"
"Only too well." Once, in one of Laetitia's many parties, Islatos had gotten drunk and managed to set Erik's newly completed opera on fire. The merman was lucky to still be alive.
"He, well, I heard from him that he heard from his mate, Beooca, that some human named Pearl Morin was talking about when she worked with some gypsies, and there was a boy too who always wore a bag over his head and that he had disappeared when they were in Paris. And I know that you used to be with the gypsies, and that you don't like people looking at your face, so you probably wouldn't have any objection to wearing a bag on your head, so I just thought…" Laetitia realized she was babbling, and that Erik was, once again, glaring at her. She shut up quickly.
"Is there anything else?" Erik asked coldly. He didn't get many blasts from his past, and when he did, it was always unexpected and unsettling.
"So, you do know her?" Laetitia guessed timidly.
The Phantom didn't respond. Yes, he had known Pearl Morin; a nice portion of scars on his back were because of that girl and her meddling. But he hadn't known that until later; before, he had been half in love with her. Of course, that had been years ago; he had practically forgotten about her since he ran off.
"What are you going to do?" Laetitia correctly supposed his silence was a conformation.
"Why do I need to do something?" Erik snapped. "She's not going to affect me in any way, is she?"
You could be surprised, Laetitia thought, but she refrained from answering him. She valued her life too much.
-
"WHAT DO YOU MEAN, HE DIDN"T DO ANYTHING YESTERDAY?"
Erik looked up, grinning, after hearing Madame Giry's angry voice. Apparently, sometimes not doing anything devious could produce the same if not better results than actually doing something devious.
"We told you not to go away," Firmin replied smugly.
She gave him her death stare. "You said no such thing."
Firmin backtracked quickly. "Its…well…it could be worse, though, couldn't it?"
"I just wasted a whole day when I could have taken advantage of the Ghost's strangely quiet behavior."
The Ghost chuckled evilly. His quiet behavior wasn't going to carry over from the day before.
"Haven't you noticed?" Andre began thoughtfully. "Haven't you noticed how…much better he behaved? When Amme was here, I mean."
Erik froze the moment Amme's name was mentioned.
"Of course." Madame Giry looked insulted, as if he implied she wasn't smart enough to realize Amme's influence and power over the Opera Ghost.
"I wish she was here now." Firmin spoke as if he was talking about a long dead loved one. "She'd probably not let him ruin us like he's been doing."
"She'll be back soon," Andre reassured them all. "She said she would."
Madame Giry refused to be reassured. "I hope you're right, but I doubt it. She never seemed exactly comfortable here. She probably was just making an excuse to bolt."
"That's unfair," Andre said quietly. "She didn't strike me as that type of person."
Erik, though, wanting desperately to believe Andre, found himself agreeing more and more with Madame Giry's words.
"Well!" Firmin said briskly, clapping his hands together. "There's no sense moping around about something we can't change. Let's get to work."
Erik sighed, watching them all leave to do their jobs. He wished desperately that he too could have something to do that would take his mind off of Amme. But she had become everything to him, and every single thing he did reminded him of her. If she didn't return soon, he'd have to leave. He had to run away from his memories, just as he had done before. As least when Christine rejected him, he was allowed hate Raoul, and that feeling, strangely enough, made things slightly more bearable. But Amme hadn't left him with anyone to hate like that.
-
Erik was casually walking along the shadowed streets of Paris late at night, trying, not for the first time, to forget about everything, and failing miserably. But then he turned a corner, and what he say knocked his memories of Amme out of his head more effectively than anything else he had tried. Before he could stop himself, he said, "Pearl Morin?"
The woman jerked her head around. "What? Who are you?"
Erik slowly stepped out of the shadows.
She stood up just as slowly, and narrowed her light blue eyes. "Who the hell…" her voice trailed off as she got a good look at him. "Erik Destler? I thought you were dead!"
His mouth twitched. "Not quite."
"You've upgraded, I see. From a bag to a mask." She grinned, but not in a friendly way.
" I suppose so."
She took another look at him. "You know, you've grown up."
"What, did you expect me to stay fourteen forever?"
"I thought you were dead, remember," Pearl reminded him archly. She eyed him speculatively.
The silence was awkward, for Erik, at least. He didn't like the way she looked at him. His eyes found themselves staring down at her low neckline. As his face turned red, he remembered she had always been rather a slut.
"So," She said conversationally. "How have things been with you?"
"Oh, um…fine. And…you?"
She checked her fingernails lazily. "Oh, my husband died last month."
"Oh! Well, I'm sorry."
"It's alright." She yawned loudly. "He was my fifth, you know. And they've all died, it's the strangest thing."
"You don't say." He folded his arms, suspecting their deaths were not coincidences.
"Yeah." Once again, an awkward silence descended upon them.
Finally, Erik broke it, saying, "I should probably leave."
"Okay." She smiled, slightly flirtatiously. "Where do you live? I could…visit you sometime."
Erik opened his mouth to tell her to nose out, or they'd see how she'd flirt with her eyes gouged out, but then he changed his mind. This could be his only chance to find a way to forget about Amme.
"Do you want me to show you?"
Her smile widened. "Now?"
Why not? "Sure. I have nothing else to do."