This part would never have come to be without Lotte's help and encouragement! Thanks especially, Lotte, for composing Andr�'s note from O.G. for me!!! :)
Christine�s knees buckled as her eyes frantically swept the crib. A scream welled in her throat, but no sound escaped her lips. She felt Erik grip her waist as she lost her balance and staggered back against him. Her hands covered her lips in horror, but try as she might, she could make no sound.
Her vision blurred, and she closed her eyes, praying that she was having a nightmare, praying that she would wake up with Meg safe and secure in her arms. But the ache in her heart only worsened, and desperately she turned in Erik�s arms to look into his eyes.
"Where is she?!" she choked out, barely audible.
His expression was more dismayed than her own. "I left her right here," he said, his voice constricted. "She was asleep�I put her in the crib and�"
"But where is she?" Christine demanded. "You must have taken her somewhere�to the boat, to the dressing room... Where is she, Erik?!"
"I left her right here!" he insisted. "I just told you�she was asleep, and I put her down. I was here the whole time�I only left to come get you... I was only gone for fifteen minutes, at the most! She can�t be gone! She must have...have..."
"She must have what?!" Christine cried. "She�s only two months old! She can�t go anywhere by herself�she can�t possibly have just disappeared! Someone had to have taken her�and you�re the only one who was here!"
"I left her sleeping! I didn�t want to wake her for the trip up�she would likely have been hungry again, and I didn�t want anyone to hear�"
"Then who took her?!"
They stared at each other, searching for an answer and finding none. The few people who knew of Meg�s existence would never have taken her, but she couldn�t have simply disappeared...
A thought struck Christine�s mind, and she trembled at it. "Erik..." she whispered, terrified.
He stared back, unable to speak.
Christine gulped. "What if Raoul was right?"
*****
Richard Firmin sat at his desk in the office the next morning, scrutinizing the daily newspaper with his critical manager�s eye. Thankfully, there were no headlines speculating on Miss Daa�s less-than-perfect performance of the night before. Perhaps the public hadn�t noticed�but Firmin had. The diva had seemed distracted, and when the managers had made their nightly trip to her dressing room, she had already left.
He had thought little of it�Christine had always been completely unpredictable, and likely always would be. Disappearing at will had been her gift, it seemed, with or without the help of the mysterious Opera Ghost, to whom she was now married.
Miss Daa�s decision of two years before had shocked Firmin, but he and Andr� had abided by her wishes and kept the public from knowing of her marriage to the Phantom. At first they had been more apt to report the location of the �ghost� to the police force, to have him arrested on the charges of the deaths of Joseph Buquet and Ubaldo Piangi, but when Christine informed them that she would never again consider singing at the Opera House if they said a word about her husband to anyone, they had quickly agreed. The Opera House was faring badly enough without the promise of Christine�s return, and they could not afford to worsen the unsteady state of their employment.
So they had kept silent, and impatiently waited for Christine�s return to the House. It had taken her two full years to announce that she would be returning, and when she had finally told them she was ready, they had jumped at the chance and scheduled her every night for a month. Now Firmin wondered if that had been a mistake. If Christine�s performance was often as affected as it had been the night before�and that had only been the second night�the public would quickly lose interest. The Opera House could not afford to lose any of it�s patronage�it was bad enough that the Vicomte de Chagny rarely showed his face on the grounds.
But according to the newspaper, last night�s performance had been as much a triumph as Christine�s first-ever opera, "Hannibal". Of course, that night had resulted in disaster�thankfully nothing had surfaced this time around. Maybe the Opera House was in for good luck.
The door swung open, and Andr� came in, a rare smile on his face. "A tour de force!" he exclaimed. "It�s just like the old days, Firmin! Have you seen the papers?"
"Yes," Firmin said, lifting the newspaper from his desk and waving it at his fellow manager. "I thought Miss Daa� was rather disturbed last night, though�thank heaven the journalists didn�t pick up on it."
"Really?" Andr� came and took the paper. "I didn�t even notice."
"It just seemed as if she was preoccupied..." Firmin shrugged. "Perhaps it was nothing."
"I�m sure there�s nothing to be concerned about," Andr� said as he glanced at the front page headlines. "If the papers didn�t notice, no one else did."
"I suppose you�re right."
Andr� nodded, tossing the paper back on the desk. "I�m glad nothing scandalous happened last night," he said as he moved to his own desk. "I know you�ve always said that a scandal attracts more people, but I think in the long run it lowers the public opinion."
"Gossip�s worth it�s weight in gold," Firmin argued.
"Not when it involves all the things we have been unfortunate enough to be involved in�disappearing divas, crashing chandeliers, murdered men... All of which had to do with the infamous ghost�the talk of Paris for months."
"It�s not as though we�ll be having any mysterious opera ghosts appearing these days," Firmin countered.
Andr� was forced to agree. "We�ll never have any cause to worry about that again. Miss Daa� did assure us dozens of times that we would have no future disasters beyond imagination�thank heaven!"
"And thank heaven," Firmin inserted, "that we haven�t received�and never again will receive�any more of those ludicrous notes from �O.G.�"
Andr� nodded in relief. "Every time I saw one of those envelopes, I was afraid to open it."
"The Ghost had a lot of nerve back then�demanding a salary, insisting we obey his demands that Miss Daa� sing, that Box Five be left empty..."
"And ruining the chandelier!"
Firmin shook his head as he straightened a stack of papers on his desk. "At least no one was seriously injured in that debacle. We�d have never heard the end of it if the thing had landed just a little further back, on top of Miss Daa�. Why, she could have been..." He stopped as his fingers landed upon a small envelope he hadn�t noticed before.
"What?" Andr� said.
Firmin lifted the very familiar kind of envelope from the desk. "I believe I spoke too soon."
"Whatever are you�" Andr� saw the envelope and groaned. "Oh no..."
Firmin slit the envelope and pulled out the note. "�Dear Firmin,�" he read aloud, "�I regret to inform you that Christine will not be singing in any of her scheduled operas until our daughter has been returned.� Daughter?" he looked at Andr�. "They have a daughter?"
"What else does it say!?" Andr� demanded, stepping to Firmin�s side.
Firmin looked at the note again. "�If you do not find her, a disaster far beyond your imagination, much greater than the crashing of a chandelier, will occur. O.G.�"
Andr�s face had visibly paled. "It must be some sort of a joke. They can�t have a daughter. Miss Daa� would have told us, surely."
"The Opera Ghost has never joked in such a way in the past." Firmin lifted another envelope from the desk and extended it to Andr�. "It seems he�s a message for you as well."
Andr� groaned again as he stood to retrieve the note. "I�m not sure I want to read this," he said as he removed the page from the envelope. "�Dear Andr�, I still have access to every room, vault, chamber, lair, and secret passage of this Opera House. You cannot escape from me. Find my daughter, or you will wish you had. O.G.�"
The two managers stared at each other for a few seconds before this sunk in. Slowly they exchanged notes and studied them.
Finally Firmin looked up. "This is inconceivable," he stated simply.
"Ludicrous," Andr� answered.
"Insane."
"Absurd."
A moment passed before they both erupted.
"What on earth is this all about?!"
"They have a daughter?!"
"Why does he expect us to know where she is?!"
"What could possibly be worse than what he�s already done?!"
"How can we find the daughter?!"
They again stared at each other, waiting for an answer to come.
A light appeared in Firmin�s eyes as he remembered a person who always had the unknown information. "Madame Giry."
The two managers rushed from the office.
*****
Madame Giry stood in Christine�s dressing room, trying to coax logical information out of the hysterical Christine.
"She was in her cradle�he told me she was asleep! She couldn�t have just disappeared�someone had to have taken her!"
Mme. Giry sighed. She had heard this entire story once already. She had been awakened at 4 AM to a pounding on her front door. When she answered, she found Erik, rambling frantically about how Meg had vanished. She had not been able to calm him�when she told him she knew nothing, he had disappeared into the night, and no amount of calling had brought him back. Christine said he had not returned all night, and now, at ten in the morning, he was still missing.
Christine was frantic beyond words, unable to find either of the people she loved most in the world. Raoul�s warning played over and over again in her mind, and she hated herself for ignoring him. He had been right�she had instinctively known he was right, but she hadn�t wanted to admit it, so she chose instead to forget his words.
Now she remembered them all too well�she was unable to escape from them. Someone had kidnapped Meg, and that same person was after Erik as well. Erik may have been ensnared as well last night as he searched for Meg. Christine had begged him not to go, had cried for him to stay with her�she had needed him to help her through her grief, to hold her as she cried. She had needed him to help her determine who the abductor could be. But he had been like a madman, insisting that he would find their baby that night.
She had desperately prayed that he would find Meg, but at the end of the long night, neither had returned. So she had left the house, stumbled up the passageways to her dressing room, intending to go to Mme. Giry, the person she trusted most. Mme. Giry had apparently read Christine�s mind, for she had been waiting in the dressing room when Christine arrived.
Christine had simply cried at first, as she had longed to do all night, letting her grief and confusion mix as she rested her head on Mme. Giry�s shoulder. The older woman had said nothing, just held Christine and silently comforted her.
Finally, when Christine had released part of her sorrow, she wanted answers. She began hammering Mme. Giry with questions no one had answer for. When and where had her baby been taken? Why, and by whom?
And over and over, she cried, "Why hasn�t Erik come back?"
Mme. Giry wished she had the answers for Christine. She wished she could make all this disappear, but she didn�t know how. She had no more information than anyone. She tried to get Christine to tell her the events of the night before, but all Christine would say was that she and Erik had reached the lair and found Meg missing.
Mme. Giry knew there had to be more to the story. Erik had been furious when he came to take the baby from her, but she had only assured him of Christine�s devotion. She had asked no questions then, but it was obvious a confrontation had been inevitable. Christine didn�t seem to want to admit to that. She was obviously ignoring the subject, and Mme. Giry didn�t pry.
Christine asked more and more questions, begging for answers that could not be found. Had someone discovered that she and Erik resided under the Opera House? Had that someone gone there, intending to find one of them, and instead came across Meg? Why wasn�t there a ransom note? Why was there no sign of anyone�s presence in the lair? She was becoming incoherent.
Mme. Giry�s head ached, on top of the pain she felt in her heart. Christine�s baby was like a grandchild to the older woman�she was dismayed that Meg had disappeared. She would, of course, do anything in her power to find the child�but with no facts about the disappearance, there was nothing she could do, besides try her best to comfort Christine.
Christine�s sobs finally subsided, and she sank into the chair at her dressing table, her fingers clutching the edge of the small bassinet beside it. "What can I do, Madame Giry?"
"Tell me everything," the woman commanded in a motherly tone. "Tell me everything about last night�your meeting with the Vicomte, your argument with Erik, and the baby."
Christine�s jaw dropped. "How did you know we�"
Mme. Giry shook her head. "Never mind. Tell me again what Raoul said."
Christine drew a deep breath before answering. "He said someone was searching for Erik and I. That they wanted to kill us. I�m so afraid they came searching for us, and found Meg instead, and...oh, Mme. Giry, what if they�ve done something terrible to her?"
"Who is �they�?"
"Raoul said he didn�t know."
"But perhaps he has an idea," Mme. Giry said, grasping at straws. "Perhaps he could find out."
"You�re right," Christine murmured, tracing her fingers along the bassinet. "He must have some idea. He must have a way of finding out." She looked up, determination in her eyes. "I have to find him."
"Christine�"
"I must find him!" Christine interrupted as she stood. "He�s the only hope of our finding Meg!" She hurried to the dressing room door and pulled it open.
"Miss Daa�!" Andr� exclaimed, rushing into the room, Firmin close behind. "Whatever is going on?!"
*****
Erik slumped against Mme. Giry�s doorframe as he knocked on the door with one hand, the other shielding his face from the view of the street. He had spent the past twelve hours searching the streets for any sign of his daughter, but there was no trace of her. He had hardly expected to find her�but he had to try. It was his fault she was gone. He should never have left her alone. What had he been thinking?! In his fury over Christine�s actions, he had ignored his duty as a father and abandoned his child.
He would never forgive himself if he didn�t find her. Christine would never forgive him either. He had bolted last night, terrified of what had become of Meg, and terrified at Christine�s reaction. She hadn�t appeared to be angry at him�only scared, pleading for answers. He couldn�t answer the questions any better than she could, and he couldn�t bear to wait silently.
He had invaded upon the Giry household in the middle of the night, desperately hoping that he would find answers there. Instead, he had only managed to rouse Mme. Giry and confront her with impossible questions, then disappear when she tried to talk to him. He owed her an apology at the least, so he had returned, hoping to catch her before she left for the Opera House. Apparently he had been too late.
He sighed. He didn�t want to face Christine yet�he needed to talk to someone else, needed to release his fears before he saw his terrified wife.
He turned to go, then changed his mind and pounded his fist against the door again. It swung inward, and he glanced inside. There were no signs of life, but he went in anyway. He closed the door behind him and stepped into the living room.
"Anyone here?" he called softly. "Madame Giry?"
There was no answer. He knew he should go, but he was mysteriously led to the hallway, to a door slightly ajar halfway down the hall.
He knocked softly. "Hello? Anyone in there?"
Still there was no answer. He hesitated, then pushed the door open further. He looked into the small bedroom. It appeared to be Meg�s room�ballet slippers were displayed on the wall, and scattered about the floor, among programs from the recent operas.
He had no business in Meg Giry�s room. He backed out and pulled the door closed with one last sweeping glance.
The door had hardly closed when he threw it open again.
He strode to the dresser, staring in disbelief at what lay there. He had never expected to see it again. He had given it up for Christine, given it up in his agony over her betrayal. He had thought then that he would die�that he would never need it again. But Christine had returned. She claimed she wanted him, not it, but could she really mean that?
Why did he doubt her word now? He knew she loved him without it. She had tried to convince him he no longer needed it.
But had she succeeded? He had given up the thought of wearing it because she was so insistent, and because he thought it was gone. He thought a member of the mob had destroyed it two years before. How had it come into Meg Giry�s possession?
Regardless of how it happened to be there, it now stared up at him, reminding him of his past. If he had it again, he would have more freedom�he wouldn�t have to be constantly shielding his face with his hands, he wouldn�t have to hide so often in darkness.
His hands trembled as he reached out and touched it, then slowly picked it up.
He stared at himself in the mirror above Meg�s dresser. He stared at his face, his abhorrent disfigurement. Things came to his mind that he thought he had forgotten. His childhood, his days as an exhibit.
Children had screamed in terror at the site of his face. Never had a child looked at him with any emotion but fear. Only his own daughter had stared solemnly at her father�s face and reached up to touch it, unaware that it was different. Meg had accepted him as he was.
But she was only a baby. What would happen, if she was found, and she someday realized that Erik's face was not normal? She would be appalled, and repelled... She would want nothing to do with him.
He couldn�t bear that thought. He could no longer bear the sight of his face. But instead of turning away, as had become habit, he quickly lifted the mask to his face and secured it over the deformation.
