Fantôme

Andre and Firmin take an offer for the ruined Populaire and split, giving ownership to a young businesswoman with a love for the opera. Most think the infamous and deadly Phantom of the Opera has disappeared since his ruination at the hands of Christine Daaé, but when he returns, he and the new owner of the Populaire must choose whether to compromise or else repeat the horrors that came before.

Author's Note: I've sprinkled a little French in here in order to try to keep the flavor of the setting and original story, but I do not speak French, so if there are any mistakes, I apologize in advance for them. I hope you enjoy this & thank you!

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Chapter 1: Fantôme

"We're taking the money and running, Firmin." Andre said resolutely, handing his partner a letter—the first offer to buy the Opera Populaire off of them after the terrible, terrible business a few weeks before. The place was ruined and so were they, mostly.

"She agreed to our asking price of ten percent of what we paid originally," Andre continued, knowing his partner probably wasn't really reading was he was looking at. "And I didn't expect to sell the place even for that much."

"The buyer's a woman," Firmin scoffed, his tone clearly indicating his doubt that a woman would be able to handle any of what the now-infamous opera house had to offer its owner. "A MademoiselleBenoit."

Andre nodded absently, rifling through paperwork. "The daughter of some obscenely wealthy aristocrat."

Firmin sighed. "Why wasn't I the progeny of some obscenely wealthy aristocrat?"

Andre ignored him. "She asks us to send word immediately if we're going to take her offer so she can have workers begin renovating the place, and I'm going to—agreed?"

"Yes, yes, if you think so."

Andre stuffed the paperwork he had been collecting into an envelope and wrote her address in rather untidy script.

"There, it's done. Now we can wash our hands of that horrible place. And its…phantom."

…

Nataly stepped out of the carriage and made a face at the charred shell of the once-stunning opera house she had just made her own.

"Have the renovators been here yet?" she asked her man as he opened the carriage door for her.

"Yes, mademoiselle. They've been here all week and will be for the next few months, making the place beautiful again." His smile was a bit rueful. "I am going to take care of the horses and then I will accompany you inside."

She turned back toward him, her eyebrows raised.

"There is no need for that, I'm sure."

"Surely you would like some protection? After what has happened—and who may still be in there? They never found him…"

"No, Henri, I shall not be afraid of my own property," she replied and, lifting her skirts, walked confidently up the steps and into the opera house. The smell of ash, dust, dirt, and new wood assaulted her nose as she made her way through the place. It made her heart ache to see one of her favorite places in the world so decrepit, but repairs were already underway and they were heartening to see. The workers called to one another in gruff voices, tools made noise, and caps and helmets were lifted respectfully as she passed.

"Mademoiselle."

"Afternoon, mademoiselle."

"We'll have her polished back up in no time."

Nataly nodded and smiled politely back at them and did not notice that she was stared at admiringly when her back was turned. She was now, admittedly, past her girlish early youth, but still possessed that something in a woman which caused men to gaze nevertheless. It was a grace, a worldly depth in her eyes, a way of carrying herself that earned immediate respect. She was intimidating at times, and knew it. But it had served her well in the past.

She entered into the theatre proper and at first let her eyes rest on the sooty stage, then to the seats where she and her older brother Leon would always sit when he would take her to the opera, accompanied at times by their father, though never by their mother on account of her headaches. Finally her eyes fell on the great chandelier that used to hang from the ceiling which was now being hung close to the ground. Two men were moving about it making repairs with rapt expressions. Neither of them noticed her entrance.

Nataly continued exploring every inch of her opera house. Her opera house. She smiled a little bit as she repeated the words to herself. As a girl she'd loved the place, and now thanks to her father's money, she would be its owner. She wanted to know every inch of it.

It was hours before she happened upon an entrance to the cellars and what she found took her breath away. With a rapacious curiosity that they say kills cats, Nataly explored the stone tunnels, caverns, and secret passageways. When she came upon the largest cavern hidden under the opera house, her footsteps stilled and she looked around warily for the one who lived—or used to live—here. She crept slowly over to the handsome bed and saw it covered in a thin layer of dust. No one had slept here since that night. Relaxing, she turned in all directions slowly and stared at the old abode of that man who had sung to Miss Daaé on the stage that night and had caused the chandelier to fall and the place to catch afire. Nataly had been in the very second row of that performance with a family friend, and the two had been forced to launch themselves flat against the wall of the theatre and then flee with the rest of its occupants.

The Opera Ghost. A man who had hidden himself down here. Nataly nosily went through his things, trying to learn as much about the man as possible in case he should come back. She found sheets of hand-written music, novels with worn and fragile covers, stolen fabrics and china. The area was solely in need of refurbishment.

Nataly decided she was going to have rugs laid down and new furnishings brought in. According to this dust and disarray, the Ghost was long gone, and due to his new fame, likely never to return. His long habitation here, however, had made the place surprisingly hospitable, and it would have been an ill thing to let it go to waste. One should always know what is under one's opera house…and have complete control of it.

As she walked back down the stone corridors, she mused about ways to make the stone walkways more beautiful as well.

She suddenly grimaced when she remembered what lay in store for her all too soon. The chance of meeting the murdering Phantom of the Opera was nothing in comparison.

She had to meet the cast and crew.