A/N: I was gonna save this for the weekend but... I couldn't resist an upload :3 Enjoy! Vote, comment, and fan! Tell mehow I'm doing and such! And thanks to all of you who have commented! You make me feel loved <3
-Nerdy
"Come Florence," Madame Giry said, shooing the child from her lap as she stood, "Your father will be expecting you soon."
"Yes, Madame Giry," Florence said, following close behind the woman as she made her way to exit the auditorium. She looked back round to say, "Goodbye Meg!" Then she was rushed from the room, leaving the Messieurs and Meg behind. Madame Giry took hold of Florence's shoulder and led her through the corridors.
"Now, Florence," she began, knowing the girl needed some scolding for what she had done, bursting into the auditions earlier, "you do know what you did earlier was very dangerous, don't you? You cannot just go running about, child."
"I just wanted to hear the singing," Florence mumbled in response, knowing Madame Giry was indeed right. Even her father told her running off was dangerous. "I'm sorry," she finally sighed, "I should not have run off, I-"
"It is alright, my child," a deep voice rang from the shadows cast by the large grand stair case. A deep voice that made the chastised child smile.
"Papa!" she called happily. Madame Giry lifted her hand from Florence just in time for her to follow her father's voice into the shadows. Erik did not appear to Madame Giry, nor did he or Florence speak another word for both had escaped into the darkness as the phantoms they were.
Madame Giry waited only a moment before turning and departing, on her way back to her own room. That was the last she was to see of Florence or her father for some weeks, as Erik knew that after the incident of Florence being seen on such a low crowd day, the threat of her being seen once more was ever growing as the Opera Populaire prepared for its first show since it had closed down years ago. Besides, both the Giry's were busy- Meg practicing for her big debut, and Madame Giry training new ballerinas- and so there were none at hand to watch little Florence. And so the child and her father eagerly awaited the show day, the day Erik promised he would show Florence to his box so they may together watch Meg sing.
"She is such a lovely singer, Papa," Florence would tell her father whenever he mentioned Meg, "I wish I had a voice as wonderful as hers!"
"Oh, you will," Erik would reply, with a smile, "I, myself, will train you." Then he would frown a bit, thinking of how his daughter would never be able to use her talent for the opera. But still, he would then ask his little darling to sing and she would, now knowing a song. The one Meg had sang for her audition; the one her mother had sang during her first appearance. The beautiful song would almost bring Erik to tears...
~de Changy Manor~~~~~
"Raoul!" Christine called through the house, seeking her husband, "Oh, Raoul, where are you!"
"In here, my dear," Raoul responded from where he sat in the study. Looking up from the newspaper he had been reading, Raoul saw his lovely wife standing in the doorway, grinning. In her hand she waved about an envelope.
"I have received a letter! One from Meg Giry, the darling girl!" Christine informed her husband, "She has invited us to come see her perform at the Opera Populaire! She is the lead, Raoul! Little Meg Giry, my dear friend! We must go!" Raoul was quite alarmed. Never did he think he would hear Christine ask to go back to the opera house... Never..
"But, dear," Raoul started, "what about the Phantom? Those haunting memories? Do you really want to go back to that wretched place?" Of course, Christine thought the Phantom dead. But either way, her face paled a bit and her expression dropped. Her hand, stroked her stomach lightly and Raoul knew he had stirred memories of her child; her first and only child. Little Florence, who had died in the bitter cold of the winter- or so Christine thought. Since the little girl, Christine had only had one child. It was a little boy. A still born child.
"I want to see Meg," Christine said, much less enthusiastically, "And Madame Giry and the rest. The Phantom is no longer there, you said it yourself, Raoul." This statement made Raoul sigh. He knew he wouldn't be able to weasel himself out, and so he gave in with a nod.
"When is it?" Raoul asked, having an awful and foreboding feeling.
"Tomorrow," Christine told her husband before fleeing the room.
~Opera Populaire~~~~~
"Today is the day, my child," Erik almost sang, waking his daughter from her nap. Erik had decided it was best she sleep the day so she would be awake for the opera. It was only an hour away now. Florence pushed back the blankets and stretched her arms out above her head. "Did you sleep well?" Erik asked, going to a dresser near the bed and beginning to search through Florence's many dresses. Finding the one he was looking for, he whipped it out. A black dress, fancy for a girl Florence's age, but very beautiful with a long, puffy skirt, a lace bodice, and long sleeves.
"Yes, Papa," Florence responded as her father handed her the dress she was to wear, "No nightmares." Erik smiled, before turning and leaving Florence to change. Going to his desk a room over, he began looking for the mask he had picked out for his daughter for the occasion and quickly spotted it beside his own. White porcelain, plain, but with simple loveliness. When Florence came into the room, she took the mask without argument and put it on as her father did the same with his.
Erik then took his daughter's hand and led her to the boat on the ravine as the two were now ready to make their way to box five.
Elsewhere, however, things were not so calm. In fact, back stage, things were downright hectic. Meg Giry was being rushed around the opera, having had to be introduced to many patrons before going to get into costume. She had even seen Christine, someone she had not expected to show up even though Meg had invited her. Beside her had been Raoul, looking as if he were afraid, something that led Meg to believe he knew the Phantom of the Opera was still about.
Now, Meg was in her dressing room, twenty minutes until the opera began. Her hair was receiving last minute decoration, and before she knew it Meg was onstage awaiting the curtains to be peeled back from placement. Her heart was beating rapidly, but not because of the large crowd she knew awaited her. No, it was because of him. The Phantom. Meg just knew he would be there watching and she wanted to please him with her voice. And so when the curtains opened and she began singing, she looked straight to box five.
There he was. The Phantom and Florence, both smiling at her, their porcelain masks concealing their deformities. Throughout the whole first act, Meg's eyes remained fixed on box five and while most thought she was only nervous, a certain few had a different feeling. Madame Giry knew her daughter was watching Erik as she looked on from the sides of the stage, and looking to box five, she saw Erik was returning Meg's gaze.
Sadly, Madame Giry was not the only one. It took Christine awhile, but she did in fact realize that Meg's attention was elsewhere. It wasn't just a simple case of stage fright due to the abounding audience. No, she was watching something, and so during the final song, Christine followed her old friends gaze to the boxes. That was when her heart almost stopped. Standing there, in that box, was the one who haunted her nightmares. The Phantom. He was supposed to be dead, Christine thought. Yet there he was, mask and all... And what horrified her even more was what was beside him. It was a child, a small girl from the look at the long and curling hair. Her hair. Christine blinked, then found the Phantom was looking straight at her. From where she was, Christine saw him smile before his hand grasped onto the child's shoulder. The child looked to him as Christine whipped her head around.
"Raoul," she whispered fearfully, "Look!" She looked back to the spot, Raoul following her gaze. But there was no one there; the box was completely empty.
The couple looked back to the stage just as the curtain closed. On stage, Christine could see Meg, still staring into that box with a look of almost... disappointment on her face.
It was time for the intermission. Ladies and gentlemen began moving slightly, stretching out to prepare for the next few hours. All Christine could do however, was sit straight and tense.
"Darling, what is wrong?" Raoul asked softly, not wanting to bring attention to himself and his wife.
"I-it was..." Christine whispered, "It was him... It was the Phantom, Raoul, and... and he had a little... a little girl..." Raoul's face paled, but he kept himself composed.
"Christine, you must have been dreaming," he comforted, reaching a hand out to sooth her. However she caught it in her own delicate fingers. Christine looked to Raoul, looking very angry all of a sudden.
"That's what you said when I first saw him, Raoul," raising her voice a little so the people seated directly around them stirred uncomfortably.
"Darling, do not make a scene," Raoul hissed, trying to stay calm, "I have told you Christine, the child and the Phantom are dead. Whatever you saw was only a figment of your imagination. There is no more Phantom of the Opera." Christine's lip quivered at having been rebuked. She took her hand from Raoul's and sat straight in her seat, looking right at the stage but not seeing much through watery eyes. And that's how she remained through the intermission, and then through the rest of the opera in which Meg did not look back to box five.
Christine couldn't believe it; her husband didn't believe her. Again. She had seen him- the Phantom and this time with him a child. And she knew it was her child. And that's why at the end of the opera, Christine excused herself from Raoul saying she was going to congratulate Meg. However, the truth was she was going to her old room.
She found it unlocked, and in an abandoned spot making it easy to sneak in to. When she opened the door, a cloud of dust puffed up, making her sneeze. She wiped her nose on her long sleeve before entering. Looking around, she saw everything was untouched, dusty, and dull... well, all but one part.
On her old vanity sat a rose among the gray specks of filth, as vibrant and bright as if someone had sat it there moments ago. Christine slowly closed the door and began towards the rose in the dim light of the moon. when she was finally close enough to touch the flower, she reached her hand out so her fingers stroked a bright petal.
"Christine," the familiar voice hissed like a snake, the sound quickly filling the room. Christine's hand flinched from the rose as she looked quickly around. "My dear," it growled, "So have you returned finally to see me? Or are your interests in your abandoned child?" Christine looked around and saw him, mask and all, in the mirror.
"Where is she?" Christine asked, her voice a mere breath. A smile weaved its way onto the Phantom's face.
"Well," he said, cocking his head to the side, "wouldn't you just love to know?"
"Where is she?!" Christine screamed at the mirror. The Phantom laughed at her rage.
"She is mine, Christine," he said softly, "And she is with me. You will never know her."
"You monster!" Christine cried, raised her hands up in fists to hit him. However when she tried, all she hit was her reflection in the mirror. He was once again gone. "You demon!" Christine screeched, knowing his tricks.
"Christine?" someone suddenly said from outside of the door. It flew open, dust flying into the air, to reveal Madame Giry with some nervous ballerinas trailing her.
"Madame Giry.." Christine's voice lowered, "It... it was him, Madame. The Phantom." The ballerinas all paled as a group, looking terrified. They all looked to Madame Giry. The old woman was shaking her head.
"Christine, this place is no good for you. You are seeing things," she lied, though to all listening, she sounded completely sincere, "The Phantom is dead now. He will not and cannot hurt anybody ever again."
"But, Madame Giry, I saw him earlier," Christine explained, practically pleading for some belief, "He had her with him... My little girl." Madame Giry sighed, shaking her head once more.
"You need to get out of here, Christine," Madame Giry told the girl, reaching to her and grasping her wrist, "The memories are just too much for you right now. Perhaps, dear, you should talk to someone about all this." And with that, Madame Giry led Christine out of the opera house, shooing the ballerinas to their dorms as she did.
Soon, the opera was stripped of patrons, and everyone was soundly sleeping. All but one. Meg Giry had heard the commotion earlier, as she had been going to Christine's room at the time. After the Phantom had disappeared, a note had floated down from the rafter's to her, saying she was to make an appearance to the Phantom after the show; he wanted to speak to her. However, Christine had made it there first. So now, tip-toeing through corridors was Meg, slowly approaching Christine's old room.
When she arrived, she carefully opened the door, not wanting it to creak. Barely any dust rose up, but she could feel it matting on the bottoms of her bare feet as she walked in. She closed the door silently behind her, and then looked around. The room was definitely untouched; it hadn't even been cleaned since Christine left. No one wanted to enter a cursed room. The only thing that looked new was a very bright, very red rose sitting on the vanity.
"It's for you, Meg," a voice came out, soft and deep. Meg closed her eyes at the beautiful voice, savoring it. Looking round, she saw him- right beside her. He gently touched her shoulder. "You have an amazing voice; better than my own prodigy if I do say so myself." He said the word prodigy with a tone that almost suggested.. hurt. And through that, Meg knew he meant Christine- that she was his prodigy. And she was better. At that she smiled softly.
"Thank you," she said quietly, looking to the tall figure, into his pitch black eyes.
"Take it," the Phantom whispered, removing his hand and taking a step back. Meg looked to the divine rose and carefully took it from its dusty pedestal. She looked back to where the Phantom had been, but as she had guessed, he had gone.