Disclaimer: I don't own 'Phantom of the Opera'.
Chapter One: Solitude Interupted
Erik looked up from his writing. Was he hearing things? It sounded like…people…in his Opera House…?
'That's ridiculous.' He decided, turning back to his writing. After a moment, he heard something very clear and unmistakable.
Laughter.
'Perhaps it couldn't hurt to see what's going on.' He decided. He left his writing table, and made for one of the many passageways leading to the ground floor.
Once he managed to position himself up in the fly where he couldn't be seen, he watched the small group. His eyes scanned what appeared to be four men and four women, all talking excitedly as they looked around. His gaze stopped when he saw one couple off to themselves, talking excitedly.
'Christine?' He wondered, watching the woman. His gaze then shifted to her companion. 'Monsieur Raoul, il qui n'a pas un cerveau?'(Roughly translated: He who does not have a brain.)
"Cassandra!" Another woman, one with long black hair, called. "Grant! Come here a second, there are still some things we need to go over."
'Of course it isn't them…why would they be here?' He asked himself. 'It's been far, far too long…'
"We're coming Nadia!" The first girl, Cassandra, replied.
The small group gathered on the stage, sitting in a circle in the middle. Erik made his way to the backstage area in order to better hear what was being said.
"So this place is ours?" A blonde girl asked, dark blue eyes dancing excitedly as she looked around.
Erik glared pointedly. The Opera House has always been his, and would always be his.
"Not quite, Katrina." Nadia replied. He noticed she had very clear blue eyes. She glanced in his direction, and for a moment, he worried he might see him. "We've still got a few papers to sign. Jean-Luc?"
"I've got them right here!" A blonde man said, producing a folder from a bag he'd carried in. "Everyone has to sign. Full names, please."
Erik noted he resembled that friend of Christine's…what was her name again? Jean-Luc signed the paper and passed it to the next person, a woman with short red hair and brown eyes. "Camille?"
Camille nodded and sighed. "Damien?"
A man about Erik's size with black hair pulled into a ponytail signed the paper before handing it to the girl who resembled Christine.
"Do we have to sign our full names?" She asked hesitantly.
"Yes." Jean-Luc replied. "It's legally void otherwise."
"Fine…but you'll regret it…" Cassandra signed, passing the paper to Grant. "Grant and I are…generous…when it comes to names…"
"They can't be that bad." Nadia replied, taking the paper from Grant. "Let's see… Cassandra Marie-Antoinette Summers-Daae-De Chagny…wow…and Grant's is John-Michael Grant Summers-Daae-De Chagny." She looked at her two friends. "On second thought, maybe they can be that bad…"
Everyone gave a small laugh.
Erik was torn between laughing and scowling. So those two were related to Christine and that ignorant fool she had married?
Nadia signed and passed the paper to the blonde girl, Katrina, who signed happily. "Here you go, Parker."
A blonde boy, obviously related to Katrina, took the paper and signed hastily before handing it back to Jean-Luc.
"I still don't see why we had to buy this old run-down junkyard anyway…" Parker said as he stood.
"Because we need somewhere to hold our performances." Nadia replied with a small glare at the blonde. "And where better then the famous Paris Opera Populaire?"
"Anywhere that doesn't require so much work." Parker replied. "I'm going to look around, call if you need me."
Once he was out of earshot, Nadia sighed "Stupid American." She grumbled before looking back up at the others. "No offense."
"None taken." Katrina, Cassandra, and Grant replied in unison.
Erik smiled a bit as he made hi way back to his lair. So these children wanted run of his Opera House, did they? Perhaps he could manage to give them a bit of a fright, and put a stop to that for good.
Nadia waited with Cassandra, Grant and Katrina for the others to return. They'd paired off to look around and see how much work would have to be done. 135 years of neglect were evident, but all seemed confident the Opera Populaire could be restored.
"Look what we found!" Jean-Luc called out as he cam rushing up with Parker. Camille and Damien were close behind.
"What is it?" Cassandra asked excitedly.
Jean-Luc held out an envelope with a wax seal. "A note?"
"Let me see." Nadia took the note and opened it, reading it aloud.
Dear Monsieurs and Mademoiselles,
Welcome to my Opera House. I hope you enjoy your stay, although I fear it will be a short one. If you believe you have what it takes to restore this place to its former glory, I commend you. There are a few rules I must set before I can end this fond greeting.
1) My salary falls due on the first of every month. Seeing as you will have a lot to contend with for the time being, I'll leave the exact amount up to you. The date, however, is nonnegotiable.
2) Snooping about in places you don't belong will not be tolerated, and I refuse to be held accountable for those who stray.
3) Leave before nightfall. If, by chance, you do stay into the night, confine yourselves to as few rooms as possible.
I remain, Ladies and Gentlemen, Your Obedient Servant.
O.G.
Nadia refolded the letter and put it in her bag.
"O.G.?" Katrina asked.
"Opera Ghost!" Cassandra exclaimed. "Just like Aunt Christine said."
"There's no Opera Ghost." Nadia replied. "It's just a stupid prank someone's pulling to scare us off."
'I wouldn't be so sure, Mademoiselle.' Erik thought with a sly grin. He watched them leave before returning to his lair to work. 'So it will take more then a few letters?' He found himself smiling. 'This is just the challenge I needed after so many years.'
"Great! Just great!" Nadia sighed, softly kicking the wall out of annoyance.
"What's wrong?" Camille asked, looking up from her laptop.
"I just got word from the construction team. Someone's torn down part of the frame. That'll set them back another week." Nadia sank down into one of the folding chairs. "We're already a month behind. Why would someone do this?"
"Perhaps it's the great Phantom of the Opera." The redhead suggested with a smirk. "He doesn't want the Opera Populaire reopened."
"Don't tell me you believe that old legend." Nadia laughed. "It's just a story someone made up to explain the fire. It's not true."
"I don't know…Christine Daae was a real person."
"As was Macbeth, but that doesn't mean he went to witches for advice, now does it?"
"What are you two going on about?" Damien asked as he entered the room, standing in the doorway.
"Camille thinks the Phantom is behind all of our setbacks." Nadia explained. She stood. "Are the dressing rooms complete?"
"Yes, just not furnished." He then looked at the girl confused. "Why?"
"When's the furniture due in?" She ignored his question.
"Next week sometime." He answered before trying again. "Why?"
"If people break in after we leave, then the only answer is to stay the night." She stated simply. "I'm going to go get my things."
Camille and Damien exchanged odd looks.
"You can't be serious." Camille replied.
"I'm completely serious. You are welcome to stay, but even if you don't, I am." She grabbed her coat and purse. "I'm off to get my things and pick up a sleeping bag. Tell the others where I've gone, ok?"
With that, she was gone, leaving her two friends standing there in awe, watching her walk off.
Erik watched her as well. Why did reopening the Opera House mean so much to her? Couldn't she just get frightened off like the others and leave him to his solitude? He'd hoped all these setbacks he'd created would be enough to deter her, but after three months she was still as diligent as ever. If not for her, the others would've folded long ago.
'No matter.' He decided, turning to make his way back to his underground home. 'If she wants to stay the night, let her. She'll change her mind soon enough.'
Nadia's cell rang. She sighed, apologizing to the clerk who'd been helping her.
"Hello?"
"I just talked to Camille. Is it true?"
"More then likely." She sighed. "Could you be more specific, Parker?"
"Do you really want to start staying at the opera house?" The American asked.
"Yes." Nadia stated. "Why is that so hard to believe?"
"It's not safe alone." Parker replied. "I'll tell you what, pick up enough bags for the rest of us. If one stays, we all do."
"Fine. I'll bring them on back then, could some of the others go get our things?"
"I'll send Grant and Jean-Luc."
"Alright. I'll see you when I get back."
"Alright." Parker was silent a moment. "Nadia?"
"What?" She was getting fed up, as was the clerk at the sporting goods store.
"I love you."
"No, you just think you do." Her voice was a bit more tolerant, almost sad. "I'll see you later."
She hung up the phone and turned back to the clerk. "I'm sorry…it appears I need seven more bags."
The clerk groaned, muttering as he headed off to get the sleeping bags.
"Are you sure you don't want me to stay here with you?"
"Yes, Katrina. I'm sure." Nadia laughed, unrolling her sleeping bag. "Besides, how can we keep watch over the entire place if we're all cooped up together?"
"At least let one of the guys stay in the next room." The blonde pleaded. "If someone breaks in, you can't handle them on your own."
"So its better I fend off Parker all night?" She shook her head. "I've got a good set of lungs. If anyone attacks me, you'll hear about it."
"I'm not as brave as you." Katrina admitted. "I'm going to room with Camille. Cassandra's rooming with Grant, I think."
"Look, I want to get some work done tonight. See you in the morning?"
"If the Phantom doesn't get me first." Katrina gave a small wave before starting out.
Nadia sighed. She closed the door and began to get ready for bed.
Erik watched as she changed, still smiling to himself. She was pretty, not quite as beautiful as he remembered Christine to be, but pretty. Ironic that she was in Christine's old room. Once in her nightgown, she braided her long black hair. Blue eyes scanned the room before she locked the door and moved a small candelabra to the floor.
"I'll be glad when we can get this place wired for electricity." He heard her say.
He watched her take a notebook and some device he didn't recognize out of her bag. She put a thin circular disc inside the device, put something over her ears, and pushed a button before settling into her sleeping bag and writing by the light of the candles. He noticed she had slightly darker skin then the others. It reminded him of women from his childhood. He was about to descend through the passage behind the mirror when he heard her start to sing.
"Think of me
Think of me fondly when we've said goodbye
Remember me
Once in a while, please promise me you'll try
When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free
If you ever find a moment
Spare a thought for me
We never said our love was evergreen
Or as unchanging as the sea
But if you can still remember
Stop and think of me…"
He paused, listening to her sing. Had she been here when the Opera House had still been open, she might've been a potential student. The song was less operatic then what Christine had sung, but it was still very good.
"…Think of all the things we've shared and seen
Don't think about the way things might've been
Think of me
Think of me waking, silent and resigned
Imagine me trying too hard to put you from my mind
Recall those days
Look back on all those times
Think of the things we'll never do
There will never be a day when I won't think of you.
Flowers fade
The fruits of summer fade
They have their seasons, so do we
But please promise me that sometimes you will think of me!"
Erik slid the hidden door open just enough to let a draft in, extinguishing the candles.
Nadia tore the headphones off her head, the music still playing faintly. "Who's there?" She called out, sensing someone else in the room. She sat up, looking around. The room was too dark to see anything.
Erik smiled again, sliding the door closed. Perhaps this wouldn't be as hard as he originally thought.
She relit the candelabra before looking around once more. Seeing no one, she sighed. "That Phantom nonsense is getting to me…best to call it a night." Turning off her CD player, she blew the candles out again and settled in, falling into a light sleep.
That night she dreamed of a man with a hauntingly calm voice. He sang to her songs she hadn't heard since her childhood. It was the most at ease she'd felt in a very long time.