The next few months passed so quickly, Amelia was kept very busy at the opera she barely noticed. The story progress predictably, Christine disappeared for several weeks causing gossip to rise. When Christine returned she seemed changed, distant, and older. Amelia steered clear of her and the dressing room as much as possible. There were times when she was requested to clean the room, and she made sure to speak to the figure behind the mirror, apologizing for offending him.
Her grief caused her to lose weight, her close hung on her frame, and she stopped singing. Her jealousy of the girl with the dark curls overcame her motivations. She wasn't angry; she just couldn't breathe anytime Christine sang. Christine's voice soared through the cracks of her broken heart, preventing them from healing.
Joseph Buquet died, the chandelier fell, and Christine looked paler and paler each time she passed Amelia. The ballet corps could not contain their stories about the Phantom. None of the maids had seen the Phantom but they chattered on about him as if they had seen him.
One evening the whole company was in a titter about the Phantom showing up at the New Years Masquerade demanding that they perform an unusual composition. More specifically an unusual opera, Amelia knew right away that she was about to start hearing rehearsals of the mysterious Don Juan Triumphant. As much as the knowledge of Erik's presence shook her, she could not help but be excited to hear what this opera actually sounded like. Of course Webber had tried to convey it, but what did true musical genius sound like?
The final moment was coming, the moment where Amelia would find out what would really happen. She took a leaf out of Erik's playbook and started, subtly watching Christine and listening. If Erik caught her… but she had to know. Based on the little she could observe, the girl did not look good. She looked like she'd aged a decade, she had lost weight, and her rosy color had been transformed in to a yellowish pallor. She didn't look like a woman in love, Amelia thought selfishly.
The Viscount remained close to her, attending all of her performances, bringing flowers to her dressing room, courting, wooing, and acknowledging her presence. He wasn't bad to look at, of course, but he certainly did have that air of confidence that one in a bad state could misinterpret as arrogance. Christine certainly seemed happiest when he would visit, but she always seemed to be half present.
The week of opening night, the cast, crew, and opera staff all gathered for one last dress rehearsal. Amelia, while dreading the proximity she would be with Erik, she put a little more care into pinning up her hair, leaving a few tendrils free. She had been wandering around the opera house, hands in her apron pockets, walking with incorrect posture, shuffling her feet the way she did as a kid. She felt freed by this small time inconsistency; women didn't walk with poor posture in this time.
Before long she was running, discretely, down the hallway to be ready for the rehearsal. She felt exhilarated running, letting her skirts billow a bit behind her, allowing herself to slide a bit on the floor, and a giggle escaped her lips. Life was ridiculous and for one moment she almost forgot why she was sliding around the Paris Opera house in another time.
"Tonight, tonight," she thought mindlessly as she twirled a bit more on the shiny floors she had been polishing for months and months. For a moment she slipped and instead of catching herself she allowed herself to fall. She felt the cool marble cool her skin and closed her eyes to enjoy the sensation. She didn't have much more time to avoid the rehearsal. "Just a few more seconds…"
"You shouldn't let your guard down when there is a ghost on the loose, Miss Porter," the voice whispered in her ear. She jumped up and expecting to see Erik, found herself disappointed to be alone. She stood up furious.
"Just because you CAN be a jerk, Erik, does not mean that you should," she spat out, instantly feeling foolish.
"Damn your ventriloquism you arrogant ghost." She hoped her heard her and she stomped off to go hear his stupid opera. "And I know what you're planning, Erik, I know you're going to take her. See if I care! She will never love you the way you deserve!" She didn't wait around for him to stop up and get angry at her.
The rehearsal was just getting going in the theater; Amelia tried to focus on her job, assisting the costumers, cleaning dirty props, and anything else she was ordered to do. Her eyes grazed the room every so often waiting for just the slightest retribution. He wouldn't hurt her, but he might try something to remind her that he was in charge. She would not see him unless he wanted it so.
Christine walked in towards her past the orchestra, looking her typical ghostly, pale self, dressed in the prostitute costume. Amelia could not help but think cruel thoughts and she saw her adversary walk by. Not that she looked much better; she wasn't really eating or sleeping much. Chronic unhappiness tends to show on the outside as well as the inside. "Gaunt as a corpse," she thought to herself looking in the mirror that morning, laughing bitterly at the irony.
The seats in the house began to fill up and Amelia regretted her conversation with Erik, wishing she had warned him about the extra guards lining the exits. She was sure he knew. He didn't care. This evening would unfold in the way she had read about, but that's not what worried her. What happened afterwards? What if Christine did love him?
As she was imagining the worst case scenario, she heard the orchestra's opening chords. The opera was beginning and she had to see what was going to happen. She sped off towards the wings of the stage to watch the tragedy unfold. Half of her wanted to head over to Erik's lair and wait there, but she knew he'd find out and stop her.
The opera unfolded slowly, at least it seemed that way to Amelia. Every act dragged on, with beautiful singing no doubt, but Amelia waited impatiently for the infamous scene which would tempt all of their fates.
The music darkened and without Webber's guidances Amelia could not tell when the "Point of No Return" scene would grace the stage or if it even would. The music of the opera was compelling though, more modern in its approach, and surprising. The audience seemed restless by the third Act. As the opera got closer and closer to the end, Amelia sensed something different in the music.
Her heart leapt as she saw a huge pit of fire, fake fire, being moved onto the center of the stage. Of course! In the musical, the Phantom whisked Christine off the stage during a duet together, but this wasn't the musical. The book however, she remembered, Christine disappeared right off the stage. Somehow the fire prop was linked to some sort of pyrotechnic… under the stage! She had to find it.