"A grey veil has fallen over my spirit and I no longer believe in anything. This lack of faith at times makes life very wearisome to me and makes me all the more desire the completest solitude, to give me what I want, which is rest."
– Giuseppina Verdi, 1874

It rained most of that day and continued until well into the night, the damp grayness settling over the city and muting the bright gilt halls of the Paris Opera.

Sometimes Odette would hear a far-off peal of laughter or see a flash of red from the edge of her eyes, just startling enough to momentarily snap her from her stupor. Then she would close her eyes, take a deep breath, and press those thoughts and feelings deep inside so she wouldn't think of anything- not of Félicie, or her home, or Mérante… she couldn't think of it. Not yet.

The day passed in a numb haze and she wasn't consciously aware of walking back from the theatre that night- all she recalled was the rain running cold down her neck, and the nausea that worsened the closer she went to her apartment. There was no moonlight piercing the thick clouds; it was truly dark when she passed the gate to Le Haut's building, with neither streetlight nor lamplight to guide her.

As she stepped past the threshold of her home a shudder ran down her spine- something was wrong. Even hidden in the darkness everything was… off. She tripped over unseen objects on the floor as she fumbled for a candle and match- they weren't where she had left them- why? Finally the match flared and settled, revealing her ransacked apartment, everything thrown about the floor, her things scattered everywhere.

She clapped a hand to her mouth, stifling a scream and nearly dropping the candle in her shaking hands. Someone must have broken in- maybe they were still there! Hardly daring to make a sound, she stumbled back through the open door and saw Mme. Le Haut walking towards her through a thin gray curtain of rain, smiling.

"Good evening, Odette." Mme. Le Haut said, voice pouring out like poisoned wine.

Odette stopped in her tracks, still clutching the candle that hissed and died, leaving only Le Haut's covered lamp to see each other by. Barely moving, she glanced back at her home, cold realization settling on her.

"What happened?" She managed to say, afraid of the answer.

"I had to make sure you hadn't taken anything that wasn't yours. You know I don't trust sneaking, lying little rats." Her simpering smile ground into a sneer. "You will leave these premises by morning. If you're not gone by then I'll have the police arrest you for trespassing, is that clear?"

Odette couldn't speak, could barely breathe…

"Answer me!" Le Haut shouted.

"…Yes, Madame." Odette murmured, her hands balled into fists to stop them from shaking.

"You should be thanking me for not calling the police already. After today I never want to see your face again." Le Haut said with a disdainful sniff and turned away with a whirl of her skirts.

"Wait!" Odette cried, taking a half step towards her. "Please, where did they take Félicie?"

Le Haut didn't even bother to face her. "She's not your concern anymore."

"Just tell me if she's safe, please…"

"Safe enough, I would think." She said with her thin, poison-wine laugh before she shut the door with a harsh finality.

Odette was alone. Again.

She felt a familiar sickening swoop in her stomach at the thought, and a hot burning in her eyes that she once again held back. Not now, God, not now. Don't think about it…

But the thoughts pushed through unrelenting. Félicie was gone. She had no idea where they'd taken her and each possibility that emerged was worse than the one before. Maybe she had been taken to the police station, another orphan to be rounded up into a hospice or orphanage and left there to rot. Would they have dared arrest a child for impersonating someone? They wouldn't, unless Le Haut pulled some strings.

What if that carriage had taken her to a train station, somehow forced her to board? Could she have gone back to Brittany? It seemed unlikely, but perhaps someone had come to collect her at the station. She could have been dropped off somewhere, simple as that. Taken to one of the seedier streets and thrown to the dogs, or far out in the country with no one to go to. Out in the rain, with winter coming on fast, and wearing nothing but her thin ballet skirt…

Odette realized she was still standing in the cold rain, blinking away the water dripping into her eyes, hunched over like she might be physically ill. With a few steadying breaths she stood, forcing herself to relax her shoulders even as she felt her jaw tense. Hands still trembling, she walked back to her trashed home and tried- really tried- to not think of Félicie.

But the sudden quiet, the pervading loneliness was almost like a physical presence – or the lack of one. It had always been lonely, all the years she lived there, but it had grown familiar, comfortable. In such a short time she'd grown used to Félicie despite how brash and loud and obnoxious she could be. Without her, the once-comfortable quiet now felt strange. In the torn apart room, it felt sinister.

She was gone, though, and there was nothing she could do. Not then. She had to figure her own life out before she could hope to find and help Félicie. But, God, what if she was in trouble? Out alone in the world, with nothing and no one to help. If she had only gotten there faster, or if she had made sure she trained the night before…

There was a powerful, almost overwhelming urge to collapse to the floor and not get up. To succumb to all of the emotions writhing within her, threatening to pull her under until she couldn't breathe. She wanted to give in, to let herself rest. Instead she wiped back the damp hair on her forehead and lit the wet wick of candle. She bent and picked up the pieces of a shattered vase on the floor and threw them in the trash with a loud crack, and it was almost a relief to hear. She righted chairs, brushed off and folded the clothing that had been thrown to the floor. Tried to make some sense out of the mess and ignore the revulsion she felt with each thing she found.

The feeling of having been violated clung to her skin like a cold fog. What strangers had been in her home? What shoes had crushed the old papers now on the floor? How many eyes had seen the privacy of her rooms? Whose hands had been on her clothing, her bed?

She tried not to think, or feel. As she picked up what little remained in her life, she seemed to sink into herself, becoming a strangeness in her own body. A living doll and someone else was pulling the strings.

Where will I go?

The words whispered through her mind again and again, impatient and desperate, yet faint against the numbness she encased herself in. The little apartment had been her home, her refuge. With how little she had saved, and only her pay from the theater to live on, where could she go?

As she knelt by her bed a strange noise came through her daze, and it took a moment to recognize the sound as a knock at her door. She waited a moment, unsure if she had heard correctly- it must have been well past midnight. Another knock rang out, earnest but not frantic. Sighing she pulled herself up along the bed and limped to the door, wondering if it was Le Haut again, or perhaps the police had come early- she hadn't been keeping tracking of the time. Or… Félicie?

She couldn't see anything but darkness through the eyehole, and on opening the door was stunned to see Mérante standing before her, smiling warmly despite the cold rain around him him.

"Good evening, Odette."

"Mérante? What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk with you, just for a minute." He said, and she noticed how strangely excited he seemed although he disguised it well, but not enough to hide a familiar gleam in his eye. She hesitated, chewing the inside of her lip. If it wasn't so rude she would have sent him away, refused anything to do with him.

"I won't be long." He said, almost pleading.

"All right." She said with a resigned sigh. "Come in." She stood aside and let him pass as he pulled his hat from his head, rainwater dripping from the brim. Peaking out the door behind him, Odette glanced at the opposite building for any lights in the windows. It wasn't appropriate for him to be there and he should have know better than to come so late- the last thing Odette needed was being accused of indecency. But everything was dark and quiet. Still, she took care to lock the door before turning to see Mérante frozen where he stood.

"My God… what happened?" He said slowly, staring about the wreckage.

"Mme. Le Haut wanted to make sure I hadn't stolen anything." She said, stepping around the table away from him and gathering some of the papers scattered there, more to give her hands something to do.

"That's… that's horrendous. She did this?"

"I assume she hired someone, but yes. It's all right, though. I can handle it." Odette said brusquely.

"Where will you go from here?"

"That's nothing you need to worry about." She said, not caring how rude it was. It was late, she was exhausted, there were only a few hours to pack what was left of her belongings, and frankly she couldn't deal with him, not then, not when she was so vulnerable. So damn pathetic.

"Well, that was actually why I came by." Mérante said, unrelenting. "I spoke with the director earlier and he agreed to offer you a room at the theater. It's not much, just some storage space in the attic but it's open and not too uncomfortable. It's yours if you want it."

Odette leaned back, resting a hand on the counter to steady herself. It was an answer to her problems. A new home, getting to live in the Opera de Paris, it was almost unfathomable. She should have been overjoyed. So, why, why, did his words make her so miserable? Why did he have to come?

"I, I appreciate it." She said, "I truly do. But… you don't have to do this, Mérante. You've done enough."

She absently held her right arm, half holding herself while she avoided looking at him and pushed back the hot burning in her eyes. Now wasn't the time for tears, especially not in front of him. She needed him gone.

"Do you have anywhere else to go?"

She let out a shaky sigh and dropped her head. "No."

"Then at it least consider it, please. If not now, then later. And…" He paused and took a deep breath. He looked distinctly uncomfortable. "And if you do choose to take the offer, just, please know I'm not doing it for anything in return. I swear on my life."

"God…" She threw her head into her hand, hating herself for what she had told him that morning. "Mérante, don't. I know you aren't. I shouldn't have said that."

"It's all right. I, I just needed you to know. There were things I shouldn't have said either."

There was a strange pain in his voice, a hint of so many things unsaid. She didn't want to think of this now. About Mérante, about their past… but she had to tell him.

"About earlier, what you said about that night…" She heard him straighten, a slight intake of breath. Through all those years they'd never spoken of the night she had been burned, the night of that terrible fire. If she was being honest, she'd never let them. She pushed on.

"What happened back then, none of that was your fault. This," she gestured to herself, "wasn't your fault. I… I understand why you might think it, but I swear to you, on everything I hold dear- I have never blamed you for what happened."

Finally she willed herself to look at him, and he couldn't meet her eyes, nor did he try to argue and the thought of it nearly crushed her. Long ago she had sworn to herself she wouldn't become a burden to anyone, least of all to him. For all these years she had shut herself in, told herself that she could survive on her own. When she had pushed him away, she'd meant to free him from her. She closed her eyes and felt guilt burn a cold hole in her.

Another feeling soon followed- realization. Was that why he was there? A sense of obligation? Guilt? Or simply pity?

"You don't owe me anything, Mérante." She said, the realization settling cold in her stomach. "You don't have to keep saving me."

"That's not why I'm doing this." He said, voice almost a whisper. "I'm here because we're friends. Or at least we were. And, despite everything, I still care about you. I'm not going to abandon you. Not again."

They had been friends, almost more, almost… after so long, after barely speaking to each other in years, and he still thought of them as friends. He was still there, like he'd always been time and again. She hadn't meant to let him get so close again. But he was there, and she was tired of all this deception, of pretending she didn't care. She closed her eyes and drew up another ounce of courage, another deep breath.

"I didn't send Félicie away." Odette said, and heard Mérante tense, a slight shift of fabric as he straightened. "After the audition… there was a carriage waiting for her outside the theater. It was already gone before I could reach it. I- I couldn't even say goodbye."

"What? God, and I assumed… Odette, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. There was nothing you could have done, for either of us. It's my fault. I should have done more. Made sure she trained yesterday, made sure she was ready."

"That wasn't your fault. It was her decision, her responsibility to train. You can't put that on yourself."

"I feel like I failed her."

"You didn't. I don't know how you managed to do it, but I know Félicie didn't learn all of that on her own, she could never made it this far without you. And yes, she made a mistake at today's audition, but you and I both know we've seen worse. I'm sure without you she'd have ended up on the streets already, cold and starving like so many others. Oh, which reminds me..." Mérante said, patting his jacket pocket before pulling out something wrapped in paper that he placed on the counter beside her. "For you."

She reached out and picked it up, slightly warm in her cold hands, and unraveled it to reveal soft white bread, thin slices of meat and cheese,. With a sharp pang, she realized that her nausea may have been more than just intense anxiety.

"I had a feeling you might not have eaten today." Mérante said.

It was so endearing, so needlessly kind she almost laughed and instead tried not to smile like an idiot. She pinched off a small piece of the bread- just the taste of it was a hard reminder of how starving she was.

She looked up to see Mérante deep in thought, one hand at his lips as he gazed at a far corner of her room. He looked so human, Odette thought as she ate, studying him as he leaned against the little wooden table, half in shadow in the thin candlelight. At the Opera he was always so severe, so polished and professional, that he seemed strangely out of place in her meager home but also… he looked so young. No, that wasn't quite it- he just looked so much like the dancer from all those years ago, the one she felt so safe with, the boy she could talk to about things she didn't dare tell anyone else. She forgot how much she missed seeing this side of him, when he wasn't putting on an act for the world.

"About Félicie," Mérante said finally. "It was a carriage that took her, you said. A police carriage?"

"I'm not sure, but possibly." She said, pushing aside thoughts of their past, and thinking to that morning. "I saw that it was a closed coupe, two horses, that was it. It could have taken her anywhere, she may not even be in the city anymore."

"Well, if she was taken to the police then they must have a record of her. Or if not then she was probably taken to an orphanage or a hospice in the city, I would think, and we can check those easily enough. Of course if it was a private carriage that would make it more difficult. Much more difficult… honestly though, I wouldn't be surprised if she didn't find her way back to the theater on her own."

"You may be right. It's just, I don't know…." It was all so overwhelming, and all she wanted to do at the moment was lie down and sleep for a week. "It won't be easy."

"You won't have to do it alone, I'll do whatever I can to help. We can still save her."

"Thank you." She said, keenly aware of the warm glow of hope rising in her chest. It scared her. "You know, I meant what I said earlier. You don't have to keep doing this. Just because we were friends… you've already done enough."

"It's… it's not quite that. There's more to it. I'm here because..." He paused, frowning softly, his eyebrows creasing in consideration. As they stood there, with so much between them, time slowed, almost stilled in the quiet. Despite what she'd told herself earlier, now she could barely stand to see him leave. Then he smiled, a small self-indulgent grin, and the world began to turn again.

"It's funny… I know the reason, I know what it feels like…" He said, almost to himself, before looking up at her. "I just don't have the words to say it."

The familiar words were like an echo as she traced them back through the years, alighting on the memory of a hot day in June as they stood atop the hill of Montmartre, gazing over the city. What was it they had said? They had talked about their love of dance, their reasons… Her breath caught in her throat, then she let out a shaky laugh.

"Fair enough."

The smile he gave was so warm, so heartfelt that she didn't bother trying to hide her own.

"Very well." She finally said, pushing herself from the counter. "I would be happy to take your offer to stay at the theater. But now I really should get back to packing."

"May I stay and help?" He asked, also straightening.

"I couldn't ask that of you. You'd be here until morning."

"All the more reason I should. Between the two of us we might manage a good twenty minutes of sleep."

She laughed, felt an achingly familiar flutter in her chest. It wasn't the end of the world just yet- she could get through this. Somehow, it would be all right.

"Mérante… thank you."

Author Notes:

I hope you enjoyed reading this, because I made myself half-miserable writing it. God it was fun!

These characters have taken over my life temporarily, and I'm not done with them yet. I'm currently considering this piece as finished (since the movie picks up right after it) but if enough people are interested I could probably write another chapter or two for this about them moving in to the attic and talking after Felicie returns, or something.

About that quote at the beginning of the chapter… I don't even know who that was. I found it by chance, a little line buried in a letter while researching another Giuseppina from a few years earlier. It put that feeling into words I didn't know how to write. Reading it still puts a somber chill in my heart, and helped me a great deal in understanding Odette. (dear Giuseppina, whoever you were- I hope you found peace)

Initially this was all going to be a simple one-shot from Odette's perspective in the apartment at night, but after some thinking I realized I needed that earlier establishing scene, and it was good to see the world in Mérante's head for a bit. The little flashback scene was a late addition but I'm glad for it.