147A/N - Sorry to anyone who received the email for this earlier (10/13/18) I forget to separate my scenes! Please enjoy - this is likely the next to last chapter. You all have my deepest appreciation for reading my story and hanging in there. Hope this chapter was worth the wait.)
COMEUPPANCE
Dappled light coming from the two floor to ceiling windows, draped in a deep blue and gold brocade welcomes Monique to her new, if temporary, bedroom. A four-poster bed, canopied with the same brocade sits against the wall facing the windows. Although not a particularly large boudoir, the room Monique shared with Meg was miniscule in comparison.
"This is much as what I have at home," she says to Raoul who stands behind her, awaiting her approval. "I had become accustomed to smaller accommodations and this borders on lavish."
"So it is all right?" he asks, walking past her to put her valise and some dresses that he carries over his arm next to the antiqued white armoire. Leaving the suitcase on the floor, he hangs the dresses inside the cabinet.
"Quite all right," she replies as she takes the opportunity to look out the windows to the tree-lined street. "Oh, a balcony."
"There is a bathroom through that door – private – and your door has a lock," He shows her the mechanism. "Erik's company is installing a security system, but will not be working in this wing for the moment, so the workers will not disturb you."
"That is somewhat amusing. He has already put in the security at Madame Giry's, so in some ways I am less protected here than would be had I stayed put," she laughs.
"I must admit, this move has more to do with me wishing for us to be close than a security system. However, I assure you that you will be entirely protected here," he says. "Come, I want you to see where my room is. Phillippe insisted that we not be too close, but I am right down the hall. The house is large, but is not a castle."
Monique follows him down the hallway. Raoul's bedroom is at the opposite end of the hall, but, as he noted, a short walk, just not adjacent.
"Here we are," he announces as he opens the door. The room is actually smaller than the one given to her. It still resembles that of a schoolboy – plain – a single bed, dresser and desk. Some nondescript art on the walls, but still has the double window with a balcony.
"Nice to see you have a balcony, the street view is lovely with the tree so close," she comments.
Raoul nods, resisting the urge to tell her about the visit he received from Erik to that balcony. It would just frighten her and, he had to admit, force him to relive a past he was desperately trying to leave behind. Hopefully she would be his future.
Walking to his dresser, he opens the top drawer and removes his revolver to show her. "This is my security system."
"Oh, a gun," she holds her hand out to see it. "Beautifully crafted – a Lefaucheaux. How many shots?"
"Six."
She holds the gun out, aiming it at the window, then doing a quick turn to aim it at him.
"Whoa," he gasps, pushing her arm down, "it is loaded. Do you shoot?"
"Oh, yes, my father made certain that my sister and I were as well trained as my brothers in many skills – shooting being one of them."
"You are a woman of many facets. I am not certain I am worthy of you."
She laughs softly, patting him on the cheek. "You do not carry the gun with you?"
"No, I find it best to keep it here."
"Really? Interesting," she says. "May I return to my room, now? I should like to unpack my things."
"Of course," Raoul says, "In having you move here, it was not my intention to occupy all of your time. Dinner will be served in an hour – will that give you sufficient time to unpack and rest?" He steps back for her to pass in front of him to lead the way out the door to the hallway, putting his hand on her back.
"Yes," she responds, increasing her pace to pull away from his touch. "These other rooms?"
"Unoccupied for now," he tells her, letting his hand fall to his side. "My sisters, when they visit use them or other visitors."
"Your brother?"
"His bedroom is actually next to his office downstairs – he keeps odd hours and found it more comfortable for everyone to not be stumbling about going up and down stairs late at night." Reaching her room, he says, "Here we are." Opening the door wide, he ushers her in. "Can I get you anything?"
"No, I shall be fine, I think," she says. "Will someone notify me about dinner?"
"I will attend to you personally," Raoul smiles. Taking a deep breath. "I am so pleased you decided to stay here – at least until M. Robert is dealt with."
"It was most kind of you to ask me." Touching his cheek once more, she stands on tiptoe to kiss him in the same spot. "In an hour, then?"
"Yes." Stepping forward to embrace her, she retreats. Nodding, he leaves, closing the door behind him.
Once inside the room, standing with arms stiff at her sides, balling hands into fists, digging nails into her palms, she clenches her jaw as tears run down her cheeks. Screaming is not an option, even in the solitude of this room, in this fortress of a house. Would she never be able to scream?
Raoul is so sweet and kind, but even the most innocent of his touches make her skin crawl. How long will her vague gestures and kisses keep him at bay from wanting more from her beyond even a simple embrace like that which she just rejected?
Tossing her bag on the bed, she unpacks her nightwear and underthings, placing then in the drawers of the small dresser. She hangs her cloak in the armoire next to the gowns. Lastly, she lifts out a rag doll with hair of rust-colored yarn, a gift from her grandmother when she was a girl afraid of thunderstorms and wind. Her friends had kept it for her during the time she was gone, hoping she would return.
Carrying the toy to the bed, she lies down, curling into the fetal position, holding the treasure to her chest for comfort. Closing her eyes, she allows herself to nap.
Christine and Erik carry their parcels through the gate of the Rue Scribe entrance. The spoils of their shopping trip did not lend themselves to being first carried into the Opera House, and then down through the tunnels. The dresses Christine needed had to be custom made and would be picked up at a later time. These packages were filled with nightwear, under clothing and other miscellany that the dressmaker insisted Christine would need for her term.
A Reboux milliner's shop was next to the dressmaker and Christine found three hats she could not live without – one with an overabundance, in his opinion, of blue and green feathers. Still, she looked absolutely fetching in the bonnet and he could not refuse the purchase. This added three hat boxes to their already extensive assortment of bags and boxes.
The owner of the dressmaker's store remembered him from his earlier visit and was pleased that he chose to come back – promising the dresses she had made earlier would be altered to suit Christine's figure now and would be ready the next day.
"What do you think of this, Erik? For the summer months – I do favor cambric," Christine gushes as she shows him yet another swatch of fabric that she favors.
"Are you certain that three dress will suffice – we shall have fall and winter, too?"
"Perhaps just the three now," she insists. "Oh, look at these ribbons – they will go well with the blue. I love this lace with the linen. Do you like the shade of green?"
It was a pleasure for him to observe her looking at different fabrics. They shared an appreciation for fine things – likely from being without. Still, she was not self-indulgent – insisting that three dresses were sufficient, which he knew was not possible – choosing neutral colors – but splurging a bit on ribbons, bits of lace and whatnots for decoration. These small gestures of hers always brought a swelling to his heart, gratitude for his good fortune having this precious woman in his life.
Erik decided to take the risk that M. Robert would still be at the inn recovering from the night before and had not been following them to the dress shop, waiting outside to follow them back home. As a precaution, he did have Stephan take a circuitous route back to the Garnier to allow someone to make themselves known if they were being followed. Based on the story that Darius and Giselle related, M. Robert was in no condition to be driving into Paris, still, caution was always advised.
They carry their purchases to the bedroom and drop them on the bed.
"I shall sort these things out and put them away," Christine says, wrapping her arms around his waist and nuzzling his chin with her nose. "Go have yourself a brandy, you have earned it. I shall change into one of these dressing gowns and join you shortly." She pushes him out of the room, closing the door behind him.
Following Christine's instructions, he pours himself a small brandy – just enough to relax. For someone whose relationship with God was distant at best, he was feeling so blessed. If only they did not have to deal with that madman. The story Darius and Giselle related today only made him more determined to end that man's reign of terror on women. It was important to keep his rage at bay – the man was unbalanced, but he was sly – the combination could be deadly and Erik wanted no one harmed in taking him down – particularly his beloved.
"Giselle gave him a decent dose of the laudanum, but he is a large man. With the alcohol and drug, I suspect that he is greatly distressed, even if he is mobile," Darius said.
"More important than his being able to travel today, is what you have told us – we have to re-evaluate what his thinking is about kidnapping Christine and/or killing me," Erik said. "I am inclined to believe the kidnapping for ransom scenario, which makes her protection even more imperative."
"Do you still believe he will do something at the reception?" Raoul asked.
Nadir replied, "I doubt it. Giselle essentially told him that he could come into the Opera House any time he wanted, to just walk in with the workman and the cast through the back door. That is – if he believed her."
"There is no reason for him not to." Darius countered.
"The drug?" Raoul questioned.
"Possibly," Nadir replied. "Still, he may just think that he just drank too much and she got the better of him to escape. She gave him information – where she works, where Christine's dressing room is. All things he can verify."
"That may be where I come in," Raoul suggested. "I think it would be a good idea if I took to visiting the cabaret in the event he shows up. He still believes that I am supporting him as far as we know – based on Giselle's account."
"True enough. Even if he shows up without meeting with you, everyone know what he looks like, thanks to Veronique," Erik said.
"I could keep watch," Andre chimed in. "No one notices me."
"A sad truth that we could work to our advantage," Erik replied. "My guess is he will either make his move the day of the opening, before the show, when there are crowds of people – or the day before the opening when there will be no people about to notice him."
"What do you think your brother might have in mind regarding help?" Nadir asked Raoul.
"He mentioned nothing of it to me, but I would suppose calling upon his relationship with the Inspector to arrest Robert before he could do anything."
"I have already approached him," Nadir said. "Frankly he could not care less about any of the attacks against Monique or Giselle or any other woman. I often wonder exactly why they were so anxious to help you, M. le Vicomte."
"You just answered your own question – I am le Vicomte."
"I fear we are on our own," said Erik drolly. "Which might be as well – your police almost killed me."
Raoul acknowledged the comment with a wry smile.
"So we plan for both nights?" Darius asked.
"That would seem to be the best idea – Erik appears to have everything set up now for the most part," Nadir advised. "Correct, my friend?"
"Correct."
A loud snore attracted their attention. Poor Henri had fallen asleep in his chair, his head propped up on his hand, elbow balanced on the edge of the desk.
"I think once Giselle returns, the three of you need to go home and get some sleep." Nadir told Darius. "I need my best people rested and alert."
Erik allows himself to relax, lying on the settee, head resting on the velvet arm, long legs dangling, feet just touching the floor, his snifter balanced on his stomach - bliss. Finally able to leave the meeting behind and just enjoy his home. Home. Hearing the bedroom door open, he sits up placing the glass on the coffee table, he turns to face Christine. "I am so happy to be home, no work, no people other than the two of us, my dear, you…look, um, stunning."
"'Um, stunning,' is it?" Christine bows her head, puckering her full lips into a seductive smile. The black silk dressing gown with its fluted sleeves and edges trimmed in delicate black lace, falls gracefully from her shoulders to the floor. The sheer fabric hugs her lush body – her baby body – as she saunters toward him. Every element that Erik told her he loved about her that morning embraced and enhanced by the simple cut of the negligee.
"Heart stopping, actually. I did not see this at the dress shop," he manages to muster, his fingers digging into his thighs.
"You were not supposed to." She shakes her head, wagging a finger at him. "No more of that business with your hands."
The attempt to calm his hands evolves no further than stretching them and rubbing his thighs instead of gouging them. Breathing deepens when she situates herself directly in front of him. "I seem to recall you saying something about my breasts – liking how full they were becoming." She tugs at the ribbons securing the gown.
The wrapper falls open to frame her naked body – the black a stunning counterpoint to her pale cream complexion. The exposed breasts are indeed fuller, the areolas wider than he remembered – a darker pink as well. The changes make him aware of how long it has been since he actually looked at her. Their couplings were often and many, but touch took precedence over visually admiring her lush beauty.
His long fingers stroke and caress them with delicacy, his earlier tension dissolved. "I think you're beautiful," he sings under his breath. "So very beautiful."
"What is that you are singing?" Christine asks.
"Just a song in my head." With the backs of his fingers, he gently brushes each nipple watching as they pucker responding to his touch. His hands drift down to her belly, cupping the newly rounded flesh, he smiles at the barest of mounds that replaced her formerly flat stomach. "Floating and lovely and bold."
Her hips, too, seem to have expanded – necessary to carry the child as she grows, he runs his hands over them, fondling her buttocks. Balancing a palm on each hip, attention is paid to the hollows between her abdomen and thighs, leading finally to her mons Veneris, delightfully masked with chestnut-colored curls.
"So very beautiful…" He ends the song. "I trust I have validated each comment I expressed about loving the changes to your body."
Drawing her closer to him, he kisses the promise of the child growing inside of her. Their baby. Tears form and he allows them to flow unheeded as he rests his head against her.
Christine cradles his head, twirling his fine hair with her fingers. "The song was from your opera."
The golden eyes look up to her. "Did you like it?"
"I loved all of it. It was so beautiful. Now may I have an encore of kisses?"
Energy thrums through him – a combination of rage, fear, excitement – feelings so strong he must fight to contain them. Pacing the office that has always seemed too small to contain him, feels even more stifling with this built up angst. The situation has taken him back to the days in Persia when he prepared to display one of his new ideas to the little sultana. Hours of planning – creating was heady stuff – the creation was always the thrilling element. His nightmares proved that carrying out these fantasies was deadly to his soul. This outcome would be personal for him, though – taking down a monster. He was familiar with monsters – he had been one for many years. Now this incarnation of the devil threatens his new life and he will have none of it.
"You are certain of what you are to do?" he asked Christine, after drilling his plan for her one more time beyond the other fifty.
"I am," she insisted. "I feel as though you are my singing instructor again – working on the cadenza I shall be singing." The lightness of her tone intended to calm him. His tension is raw, so she had to be content with a simple concession to his instructions. "I shall trust you on this, truly."
"I did not wish you to be a part of this, but it cannot be avoided, if only for the short period of time you will be exposed to him."
"How do you know that this will be when he will act?"
"No audience – a dress rehearsal – you are alone on the stage – it is the end of the opera – no one is paying attention to you. Or so he assumes, I hope." He explains. "He would probably prefer grabbing you when you were alone outside – he has proven that. He also knows that will not happen. He has observed us enough. This is his best opportunity."
Despite the presence of his mask, the darkness behind his words was palpable. No words would suffice, a short nod was her response. She was pleased that their previous evening was so filled with hope and love – life-affirming love.
Nadir enters the office, interrupting Erik's ruminations. "I have checked everything thrice over. The entire cast and crew are prepared to become invisible to the extent possible when Christine completes her aria," he says, sitting down in his chair at the desk. "Are you certain this will work?"
"No. Damn it," Erik snarls. "Were it up to me, I would just lasso him and dump him in the Seine."
"No one would be the wiser," Nadir comments.
"Is that so?" Erik side-eyes him. "To begin with, I would know. What I did without blinking an eye thirty years ago – God has it been that long? Suffice it to say, I would know. You would know. Most importantly, Christine would know." Sitting down on the gray wool sofa they brought in to supplement the visitors' chairs, he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, holding his head in his hands. "I no longer have whatever it was in me that took a perverted joy in killing – or perhaps it was never in me, I simply lacked what was needed to fill that space. This must be done so there is no doubt he is the villain, the police will deal with him accordingly." Raising his head he looks to see if Nadir understands.
The Daroga nods. "You have changed over these few months – I would never have thought it could happen."
"You believed I was ruined?"
"I hoped not. It was touch and go for a while," he laughs.
"Christine saved my life – despite all evidence that it was not worth saving," he admits. "She must not come to any harm – the stress is not good for her and the baby."
"Well, we have planned everything to the last detail – all we need now is our prey," Nadir comments.
"What do you plan to do today?" Raoul asks Monique as they eat the croissants, cheese and fruit the cook has set out for them. They sit in a small breakfast nook, set in a bay window overlooking the garden at the rear of the house.
"I thought I would go to the Opera House and practice, I really dislike having too much time by myself. Dancing has always been my way of dealing with stress," Monique responds. "Would it be possible for your coachman to drive me?"
"Are you certain you want to dance – you must be exhausted? Was not this day off for resting?" Raoul argues. "As for the coach – Phillippe has the chaise and, unfortunately, I have a meeting today, so must take the other."
"I do not suppose you could drop me off?"
Shaking his head, he says, "It is out of the city, in the opposite direction of the Palais – in fact, I am already running late." He stands up and gives her a kiss on the forehead.
"But…"
"I hate to leave you here on your own, but there are a number of books in the library you might like to read," he apologizes. "It never occurred to me that you would not wish to be still." Before leaving he turns back. "I shall complete my business as quickly as I can – we can have a lovely dinner out and perhaps take in the show at Comedie-Francaise. How does that sound?"
Her smile is wan. "That sounds wonderful." The tone is unconvinced, but she seemingly has no choice. Yet another man wanting to hold her hostage – her father, M. Robert and now Raoul. "Hurry, you do not want to cause any upset by being late."
"We thought it would be best if Monique was not present at today's rehearsal – we are having two, so that she is secure in her performance. As for the others, rehearsals never hurt anyone." Adele says. "I am still concerned over how she feels about her abuser still being free."
"Won't she find out?" Raoul asks.
"Only if someone tells her – as far as she knows, this is an off day to rest." Erik tells him.
"So you do believe he will strike today?" Raoul pursues his questioning.
"That is our hope," Nadir says. "If he does not appear today, we have tomorrow. Our consensus is that he will not attempt anything at the opening."
"I have not seen him at the cabaret."
"If I were a betting man – I suspect he will meet you as planned, having achieved his goal. He would want to see how we would deal with the absence of our prima donna."
Raoul rushes from the house, walking to the carriage house to rouse his coachman. "I must go to the Opera House now," he says. "I apologize for not giving you more notice."
Monique watches him from the window. Odd the coachman not having the carriage prepared. Hard to believe the house is poorly run – Phillippe, from all appearances is a stickler for correctness. "So he lied to me." Why? Likely trying to protect me from something. There is no doubt of his love – or what he believes to be love.
A million ideas run through her head, but his agitation materialized when she mentioned the Opera House. So it was there she needed to go.
Pushing her plate aside, she rises from the table and returns to her room to retrieve her black cape, tossing it over her shoulders. Packing her bag with her rehearsal clothes and ballet shoes, she makes one more stop before leaving and is on her way.
Andre is at his post inside the stage door, tucked into a cubby in the Stage Manager's office where he can see everyone coming and going. An alarm button has been set up to notify Nadir in the office if M. Robert finds his way in. When that happens, he is to ascertain where the patron goes and alert Erik, who, in his restlessness will be maintaining his own reconnaissance of the auditorium.
Monsieur Erik, can you hear me?
Indeed I can, young Andre. You are a most wonderful student.
Where are you?
Look up.
Erik waves at him from the fly loft above stage left. Giselle keeps her own watch from stage center. Erik acknowledges her, touching his hand to his forehead.
The orchestra cues up and the dress rehearsal begins. Watching Christine from this position, he could not be more proud – not only of her voice, but her presence on the stage – she truly is a prima donna. The severed head could be a bouquet of flowers for all the discontent it causes her. So often, performers do not give much energy to rehearsals, but Christine uses it as a tool, so that the audience will see her very best, using the rehearsal to try new ideas.
Before leaving his perch, Erik signals to Giselle to come to where he has been sitting before he returns to stage level to make a final check of the props set up to trap his childhood nemesis.
HANNIBAL proceeds according to plan and Christine's final aria is coming up.
Monsieur Erik, Mlle. Monique just came in.
What? Where did she go?
Stage left, in the wings somewhere. She is wearing a black cape and hood – I lost sight of her.
She must have run behind him, so quietly even he did not hear her. Of course she was aware of the plan, everyone knew what was supposed to happen – but she was told it would be tomorrow. Why was she here, he wanted to know. Damn Raoul.
Nadir and Adele sit in the Security office. Every so often he would smile at her and she would smile back – then each would return to their own musings.
"Waiting is the worst," she comments.
The mirror opens and Erik joins them. "Is he here?"
"Who?"
"Raoul," he says. "Monique just came in the stage door and is hiding backstage somewhere."
"How do you know?"
"Andre."
There is a knock on the door. "Come," Nadir says.
Raoul walks in, breathing hard – trying to catch his breath. "Robert just left the cabaret."
"Dear God." Erik turns to go back through the mirror. "Tell him…" he says to Nadir and leaves.
"What?"
"Monique is here. How did that happen?"
"No. I should not have left her. She wanted to come here to practice, wanted to borrow the carriage. I told her I needed it and left."
The alarm sounds.
"He is here."
Christine sings:
Think of me, think of me fondly
When we've said goodbye
Remember me, once in a while
Please, promise me you'll try
And you'll 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
Think of all the things
We've shared and seen
Don't think about the way
Things might have 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
Musical Interlude…
Andre, where is he?
Stage right wings – between the first and second curtains.
Anyone else around?
Not that I can see.
Any sign of Mlle. Monique?
No.
Flowers fade, the fruit of summer fade
They have their seasons, so do we
But please promise me that sometimes
You will think of me!
Christine ends her aria with the kneeling bow, then gathers up her scarf, and exits stage left. As Erik directed, rather than immediately leaving the stage, she makes her way to the new ballet mirrors angled to reflect off one another.
Robert watches her from between the curtains before stealthily crossing the stage, keeping close to the backdrop, he creeps along, attempting to make himself smaller.
With the house and stage lights down or dimmed, the glaring illumination of the mirrors threatens to blind her as she approaches and enters the temporary passage to the dressing rooms.
Just walk through, my love, shade your eyes with your hand to block the light. Eyes front, do not look at the mirrors, the light and reflections will bother you less. Focus on the dim light at the end.
She nods, listening to Erik's directions as she proceeds. Her nerves demand she quicken her pace as she senses Robert's presence.
Do not run yet. Breathe. I am here. It is almost over.
Christine reaches the end of the tunnel, bypassing the first door, she runs to her old dressing room farther down the hallway. Once inside, she closes and bolts the door behind her. Entering her mirror door, she makes her way to the Security office.
Nadir jumps up as she bursts into the office, falling into his arms. "I was so frightened. Once I finished singing and heard Erik's voice, I knew he was here." He guides her to the couch.
"Sit, please."
"I shall take care of her," Adele says.
"I am coming with you," Raouls insists.
"This again? Fine, come. Pray for all of us."
The two men leave.
Adele sits next to Christine, adjusting her wrap to cover her shoulders.
"I am not certain I can just sit and wait," Christine says.
"Nor I," Adele responds. "We can take the longer route, to give the men time – it will likely be safer."
"Let us go, then."
As they open the door to leave, Meg appears in the hallway. "I could not just sit in that room with the others and wait."
The three woman begin their journey down the hallway back to the auditorium.
The flood of lights stun Robert – disoriented by the multiple images of himself bouncing off one another, he throws his arms up, trying to protect his eyes. Despite this and his stumbling, he is not dissuaded from following her. The creature has stolen everything from him – he must be repaid.
Coming closer to the end of the mirrors, the glare is not as strong – he can see her struggling with the door of her dressing room. It strikes him that the theater is unusually quiet and empty. When the soprano finished her song, everyone seemed to fade into the darkness. Robert hesitates just outside of the tunnel. He would not have left her alone.
Ah, too bad, I should like to have seen your expression when you caught up with her. The voice whispers in his ear.
Erik tugs on a thin rope from his hiding place; the mannequin begins to move.
"Where are you?" Robert spins around.
The lights behind him are turned off, leaving only the ambient glow of the lamps in the hallway leading to the dressing rooms. A trap door behind him opens. The sound and a sudden rush of cold air startles him. Rocking on his heels, he keeps himself from falling in. To his left, a backdrop is lowered, blocking the exit to the stage door.
Closer than you think. Erik removes the Punjab lasso from his pocket, preparing to throw it.
Robert pulls out a revolver, wildly waving his arm back and forth. Another backdrop is lowered to his right – the stage can no longer be accessed. All paths of escape are closed. No one and nothing is moving except the mannequin.
Exactly who do you intend to shoot?
Nadir and Raoul come through the door of Christine's dressing room, knocking the mannequin over, Raoul tripping on the skirt, falling to his knees.
"Them. I shall start with them." A sharp turn has him aiming the gun at the two men. Raoul dodges to his left. Nadir makes a sharp right into the darkness.
The abrupt move gives Erik no chance to throw the lasso, instead he leaps out from behind the curtain to grab Robert's arm, pushing it up. The shot is fired into the air.
"Get down," Erik shouts.
Erik and Robert struggle for the gun. Equally matched in height, Erik is more agile, but Robert is heavier.
Nadir has his gun pulled, but cannot determine where to shoot. "Damn – turn on the lamps," he yells.
The lights come up.
Darius comes up from the trap he opened behind the gunman, leveling his pistol at the two men rolling on the floor.
"Do not shoot," Nadir orders.
"I should have finished the job when we were children." The gun goes off again.
Erik falls on his back, away from Robert, hitting his head on the floor. Shaking it off, he flips over. An attempt to brace himself with both hands fails – his right arm is too weak. With the left, he presses to his knees, struggling to stand.
Robert pushes himself to his feet, fighting to gain his balance, stumbling, but able to point the gun at Erik's head.
Giselle lowers herself on a rope from the fly where she has been guiding the backdrops, to dive at Robert's legs.
Nadir takes aim.
A shot rings out. Then another and another and another and another and another. Each one entering the attacker's body that dances with each strike.
Georges Robert Boudreaux falls to the floor.
Monique stands at the entry to the mirror tunnel. Eyes staring, her arm extended, she continues to squeeze the trigger.
Holstering his own gun, Darius moves to her side, putting an arm around her to guide her away from the trap door. He gently takes the gun from her. "It is done."
Raoul rushes over to them. Recognizing the gun Darius holds, his breath catches. "No. Oh, no."
"What?" Darius asks.
"That is my weapon," he says. "What have I done?"
"We can worry about you later," Darius says, scorning this admission. "Let us get her seated – she is in shock."
Raoul assists him in walking her to a scenery bench to sit on.
"He is dead?" she asks.
"I believe so," Darius replies.
"Good."
Raoul sits down next to her, uncertain as to whether he should attempt to comfort her.
She sits completely still – hands folded in her lap, chin up, face unreadable.
Nadir glances down at the body – dismissing it – as he walks past going to help Erik who is still on his knees, holding his upper arm.
"It is nothing," he growls.
"Judging from the color of your hand, you are bleeding like a stuck pig – it is not nothing."
"As you say." Succumbing to Nadir, he falls to a sitting position, cringing as the daroga pulls off his jacket and tears the sleeve from his shirt to expose the wound.
"In and out – almost superficial. You are lucky it is only your arm – another inch or two..." With the torn cotton from the shirt, he binds the wound.
"As I said – it is nothing, an inconvenience," Erik growls. "Who shot him? You?"
"No."
"Monique?"
"Stop talking, we still need to get you to a doctor," he says. "Giselle, is he dead?
"Yes," she says, from her place on the floor next to the body. "Two shots to the head, it appears – the others to his back."
"Then see if you can find Henri, he should be just outside the stage door – have him take you to advise Doctor Gerard that he is needed and then to the police." He tells her. "Oh, and find something to cover that with." Indicating Robert's body with a jut of his jaw.
"Before you go to the police, stop by the Chagny house and tell Phillippe what has transpired. It might be helpful to have him run interference for us," Erik says.
"Yes, monsieurs." Jumping up, she pushes back the scrim to the stage door and leaves on her errand.
Christine, Adele and Meg appear at the dressing room door, assessing the situation.
Seeing Nadir on the floor with Erik, whose once white shirt is now stained with blood, Christine cries out, running to him, "Erik?" She falls to her knees, pulling his head to her breast, leaving his mask be, she kisses the exposed side of his face over and over, rocking him back and forth. "Oh God, Oh, God, Oh, God. You are alive."
"I am fine," he tells her. "Although this suit and shirt are ruined and I shall not be playing any musical instruments for a while." Indicating the wound by placing his hand on his bandaged upper arm.
"You?" She asks Nadir.
"Alive, thanks to Erik," he tells her. "Robert was aiming his gun at us, Erik stopped him with his body – he did not have the opportunity to use the lasso."
"Who shot him, then?"
Nadir motions his head, directing her eyes to Monique.
"No, no – that poor girl."
"We wanted to protect her by keeping her away and she wound up saving us," Erik mutters. "Damn that bastard, now she will never be free of him."
His comment has Christine understand better what his nightmares are about. She holds him more tightly.
Andre peeks out from around the backdrop. He holds the piece of folded fabric out to Adele. "Giselle said to give this to M. Khan," he says. "Is everyone all right? I heard the shooting."
Nadir walks over to him positioning his body so the boy cannot see the gore. Adele hands him sheet, pulling Andre into her arms.
He carries it to where Robert lies and drapes the body.
Nadir returns to Adele and the boy, wrapping his arms around both of them. "M. Erik was injured, but he will be fine. M. Robert is dead."
"Maman will be happy to know that, I think."
"Yes, I suppose she will."
"I shall take him to Veronique. She is in the office with the managers waiting for word about what happened. I am certain she is worried sick about you," Adele says. "Come. You have done a fine job tonight."
After searching the backstage with her eyes, Meg sees Darius with Raoul and Monique near prop storage, away from the mirrors. She looks to her mother as she walks past her with the boy.
"Go," Adele tells her, "there is nothing you can do here."
She runs to her friend and her beau, who opens an arm to her, keeping one hand on Monique's shoulder.
"Monique killed him?" she whispers to Darius.
He nods. "She is in shock – I doubt she knows we are here."
Meg kneels in front of her and takes her hands rubbing them between hers. "Monique? It is I, Meg."
Monique looks down at her and her mouth bends into a polite smile that does not reach the pale blue eyes. "Hello, Meg. How are you?"
Raoul bows his head, biting his lips to prevent the tears in his eyes from falling.
"I am fine, Monique. I am fine."
A/N - Think of Me - Lyrics by Charles Hart, Music by Andrew Lloyd Webber