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The Waiting Unknown	By : Shmlss Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 2438 -:- 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: Once again, don’t steal lyrics. Ne jamais Nier l'Homme is mine, all mine!!!
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Chapter 3: A Familiar Gift/Never Deny the Man
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“Have you ever been told that you have a voice from the highest clouds in heaven?” A deep, mystical voice sang from all around her.
“Huh!?” She started, looking around the room frantically for the source of this terrifying beauty.
“Such an angel should be in bed asleep when comes the strike of eleven.”
“Who’s-!”
The grandfather clock on the West wall struck eleven o’clock, and quite loudly it did so. Emilie listened, but after the last chime, there was astounding silence.
“Hello? Who is there?” She asked meekly, eyes darting from one end of the room to the next.
Someone was trying to get to her. No doubt it was those chorus boys. They relentlessly teased her and she painfully remembered when she first came to the Opera Populaire.
She immediately auditioned for the chorus, despite words of warning to her. She was much too young and quite untrained. She sang horribly on that day. The present and future chorus stood witness to her abomination. Off to Corps de Ballet she was!
Or… Corps de Tarts, they were often called. It was a reputation Emilie hadn’t even come close to living up to. Some of the younger girls would sneak out of the dorms at night when there were parties after performances. They would have the privilege of drinking with the performers in return for sexual favours. As curious as Emilie became, she would not stoop so low for a thrill.
“Someone is there…. Show yourself! Do not be a coward!” She whispered loudly, as if she could be any louder than the clock had been.
“It is not always cowardice to remain in the shadows…” A cool, velvety male voice drawled in reply.
She looked around avidly once more, still finding no source of the voice. Tears of frustration welled up in her emerald eyes.
“Am I losing my mind!?” She cried to the heavens.
“I assure you that you remain of sound mind, child. Sometimes it is a privilege to not always see to whom you speak.”
“And sometimes it is not! It is my choice and I choose that you show yourself to me.” Defiance and demanding was laced in her tone, and it was, Erik noted, becoming of her to see her worked up like so.
A booming laugh filled the room around her and a figure appeared in the grand mirror.
Emilie gasped as she noticed the change in something she knew to be so solid and unfaltering for its purpose. The silhouette of a caped and masked figure appeared there as she turned for a better look. She whipped her head around to find only a wall and a vase of paper flowers and followed the gaze back to the mirror. The figure did not move, but beckoned her closer. She walked up to it, placing her hand against the surface as if trying to reach through and touch him. It was solid.
From there, dull green eyes bore into her own for a few fleeting moments before consciousness slipped from her and she fell to the ground with a sick kind of thud.
Erik smiled proudly and appreciatively, mostly to himself. He pulled the mirror back with a strong, gloved hand and stepped through the frame of the hidden door. He bent, scooping her dense form up in his arms.
He carried the little dancer back to her dorm the conventional way. Gently, he lay her down on the bed as to not wake her or any of the other girls. It would be messy, indeed. That was one thing he could do without- the screams and squeals of all those ballet and chorus girls. How utterly aggravating.
Before he left, he tied a gift to her finger, closing her hand around it and covering her with the end blanket. For as long as he could manage, he watched her sleep. What a baffling young swan. To have caught his attention like so. He was not used to having so little control of his feelings, even with Christine. She had gotten the best of him on occasion, but his girl seemed to have the best of him, inherently and this was alien to Erik. Alien, indeed.
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After several days, Manager’s and Messieurs Augustus and Monfrié came to Madame Jenevieve Giry to settle a matter of the Opera Ghost. It was to be a meeting in her study, but chance had them cross paths sooner in a hallway beneath the staircase.
“Madame! Good day to you. Most fortunate we’ve found you here.” Monsieur Monfrié smiled at the middle-aged woman and twisted his moustache.
“Monsieur’s Monfrié, Augustus. What can I do for you?”
Each of the men too her gently by the arms and they began walking with her, probably toward one of their offices.
“We have a message for you to pass on to your…” He looked around a bit warily, “Phantom.”
“Oh.” She smiled sweetly, but directly ahead, not toward either of the gentlemen at her sides, “Do go on, sirs.”
“We shall grant the request of Box 5 to remain empty, unsold, and reserved and, as well, we will pass along complete scripts to this season’s shows, but the salary of 30 thousand francs is out of the question and we will not budge. This is not the time to be demanding money as if he did something for the charge. It is not much to ask for, but it is more than we are willing to give for nothing at all. We will not be had, as managers in this position of past, have been. This is 1926, Madame. Not 1860. There are much easier and better ways to dispose of this man should this become a problem. We feel we are being very generous is this decision.” Said Augustus as the three finally stepped into Monfrié’s office.
Madame Giry took a seat before casting shining eyes upon them both.
“So you believe that he has returned? If you would not sell a box on the grand tier that is worth much money and in high-demand, as we have seen so far, why do you not fear challenging even only one of his requests? It is wise to do as he asks, in full. In return for this personal favour, Messieurs, I will not notify him that 30 thousand francs is not what it used to be. He will find out on his own, in due time.” She rose and turned to leave, the air was now stung by well-deserved silence. She had a way with leaving these men speechless.
“I will be by to accept payment in a week’s time. Good day to you, Messieurs.”
The oak door clicked shut behind her softly.
It is not in your best interest
To refuse him what he needs
Your sincere and full compliance
Is rewarded with good deeds
If it is what he wants he’ll get it
If it is me he wants he’ll get me
Do not deny him
Never deny him
Do not deny him
Never deny…
Him
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A/N2: The songs throughout the story are just like the musical. Some are from the opera they are working on, some will be from the composition and heart of Erik and some from the heart alone of Emilie. Are We The Waiting belongs to Erik in the story, the other two, Take Control belongs to L’Attente Inconnue. And Never Deny the Man belongs to... the air. I just made it up. Keep in mind, these are not full songs, only exceprts.
Reference: L’Attente Inconnue is about a girl who is shunned and abused by her parents who were wishing for a boy. The girl’s (called “girl” throughout the first act, we later learn her name is Zola- a masculine name of German origin meaning a tool or a duty) delivery causes complications, rendering her mother’s body unfit to bear more children, magnifying the rage of her family. She runs away and a man of noble wealth finds her, wishing to make her his bride. Her family learns of their daughter’s newfound wealth (she is made the sole beneficiary) and make plots and attempts to kill him, putting the girl (and the wealth) into their care once again. The title is a reference to all of the waiting and anxiety the entire cast of characters is put through for one reason or another. You’ll find out the ending later on. :)
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The Waiting Unknown