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The Waiting Unknown	By : Shmlss Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 2440 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: Take Control is totally mine, so don’t steal. It’s not that great anyway. It’s filler, folks. Wake up. :) Hope you’re enjoying…
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Chapter 2: Take Control
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Erik sat in his self-proposed lair angrily writing letters to Managers and Messieurs Armand Augustus and Charles Monfrié. It was just about time to return, Erik reminded himself.
“Regain what is rightfully mine…” He grumbled, partially to himself.
It was quite likely that these two men would take him for a joke after all of these years. But he would prove in time that he was no joke and most assuredly not a myth.
As always, Erik requested Box 5 of the Grand Tier remain empty henceforth and a salary, of course. Of 30 thousand francs.
“Is he joking? During a war such as this. During times of financial instability? It’s a wonder so many people continue to keep us in business through this.” The manager’s would later say in unison as they read his angry telegram.
Also, he requested, now, the scripts of all of the recent and upcoming season’s performances.
As for the issue of keys… he could quite easily obtain every key in the opera house and have them all copied before they were missed. That was much more sensible than requesting it, and not worth the ink.
Now the decision that lay before him was whether or not to play offence or defence. Would he hand deliver them or request for the new Giry woman, Madame’s granddaughter?
This was one of those “Secret” fads, not likely to be found in his memorandum. Giry had promised him she would send along to her heirs that they were in service to only two men, they’re husband’s and to Erik.
However, he was weary whether this held meaning to anyone anymore, let alone her granddaughter. She had no name and no face. Surely if her mother or grandmother had told her she would have made herself apparent to him, despite his reign of seclusion and solitude, no?
Perhaps it was time he introduced himself, then.
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Night fell over the wintry streets of Paris. The Populaire was still and dark now beneath a fine sheet of snow on its roof and a sliver of moonlight.
Erik appeared in the shadows of the Madame Giry’s bedroom, seemingly from nowhere at all. He studied her silently for a moment, judging, even if by poor light, that she was in great resemblance of her mother. Long, thick, black hair, graying at the temples and pixie-like features. It was probable she had little Meg’s beady black eyes, in addition. Finally he made his presence known, shuffling in the dark and coming to stand by her bed. She stirred at this.
The woman yawned and peered through the darkness a bit. A large, dark figure was looming over her bedside. She gasped and sat up in her bed quite suddenly before a curiosity sparked her. She blinked a few times and found half of a white mask and grey-green eyes cutting through the darkness. Ease settled her startled heart a bit.
“My goodness! You startled me.” Her French was flawless, her voice was like an early morning spring bird.
It nearly made Erik laugh. She was much like her mother, indeed, perhaps only quieter.
She leaned to her bedside table and lit a candle, illuminating the room. Her eyes were actually, in fact, a startling blue. It was an interest and striking contrast.
She looked up at him almost adoringly, “For many years I’ve expected you. I lost hope only a week ago and now here you are,” She extended her well-aged hand to him, “I am Jenevieve Giry. You may call me Jen.”
“I shall call you as I called you grandmother- Madame Giry.” He took her hand and kissed her small knuckles.
She laughed light-heartedly, “There is no need for such formality. Times have changed, but if you insist upon it…” She smiled respectively at him and they surveyed each other for a brief moment. She thought she almost saw the corners of his lips twitch, but it could have been the flame of the candle playing tricks upon his half-hidden face.
“What brings you here after so long, Erik?”
He had not heard his name spoken in so many years. It was haunting, but somehow pleasant to hear, even still.
“I want my opera back.” He said it softly.
Jenevieve noted melancholy in his tone, but she laughed.
“Forgive me. I do not laugh at you. It will take some work, but it can be done. You will always have an advantage here.”
“Can… you help me?” He asked warily. He had to be shameless with all who would allow it for the time being. His pride could wait until he regained estate.
“I will do all that I can without jeopardising lives and the opera.” She shot him a look of mock contempt, knowing his history, and of course, the history of the opera itself. “I will do all that my grandmother did for you.”
“It is grandly appreciated…” He reached inside his cape somewhere and pulled out tw yellowed envelopes with a red rose wax seal, “For Messieurs Augustus and Monfrié.”
She took them cautiously from his hand and lay them in the first drawer of her bedside table.
“First thing in the morning Monsieur.”
He nodded and bid her good rest before blowing out the candle and disappearing into thin air.
Erik slipped through the mirror in the star room and started off down the corridor before hearing a familiar voice singing once more with all the angels of choir and song.
“Take control
Don’t run again
Face your toll
And start again
You don’t know
I’ll show the way
Friend not foe
If I may
I’ll learn you a new beauty
You’ll see there is great chance
To flourish in this world once more
It is not just happenstance
I’ll be your angel, guiding light
This life has given you another chance
So take control
Don’t run again
Face your toll
And start again
You don’t know
I’ll show the way
Friend not foe
It’s a new day…”
His pace slowed as he listened to the entirety of her song. It nearly brought him to tears once more. But he was regaining control now and it just wouldn’t do to become a blithering jackass. No, his plans were different. He was finding his role as the Opera Ghost once again.
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The Waiting Unknown