Somehow Here Again? (Phantom Fic)

       Help me say….
       Good-bye…

       Lovelle finished the song her mother taught her, opened her eyes, and stared at the scrutinizing glares of the managers of the opera house.
       “Well?  What did you think?” her mother asked curiously.
       “Andre, what did you think?”
       “Firmin, I think we have a new diva.”
       The chorus girls cheered.  It meant that they would have a theater to dance in once again.  No one had wanted to buy this theater after the Phantom mystery and Andre and Firmin insisted they would never opne it again.  But now they would and it was all thanks to this girl!
       Of course, not everyone could be expected to be happy.  Many of the other singers sat sulking in the wings, unable to believe that one girl would change the minds of two of the most stubborn men in Paris.
       And one . . . one was absolutely fuming.  He sat in the darkness, up in Box 5, watching this young girl.  She had the same clear, pure tone to her voice . . .
       ‘No!’ his mind screamed at him.  ‘I will not be taken, not like this, not again!’       Swirling his cape around him, he disappeared into the darkness.
       But as Lovelle glanced around the theater, she caught something moving in Box 5.  She thought she saw a glimmer of something white . . . almost like a mask . . .

*~*~*~*~*

       “Lovelle, you will play the part of the countess in this opera,” Firmin told her later.
       “Wh-what? But I’m–I’m not ready, monseir!” she cried, trying to hand back the pages of music and lyrics.
       “Lovelle,” he said seriously. “Your mother made very strict demands on your behalf, and I expect you to uphold them. She told me, no, catapulted your great worth onto me. Do not disappoint us.”
       She sighed in defeat. “Yes, monseir Firmin . . .”
       “You will also meet with Mme Giry at nine sharp to have your dancing lesson with the other girls.”
       “Nine tonight?” She was already tired. She just wanted to sleep.
       “Tomorrow morning,” he answered sharply. He left her room, slamming the door behind him and making her jump.
       She sighed again, a tear coming to her eye. “But I don’t want to sing. I don’t want to dance. I don’t even want to be here!”
       Lovelle got up and went to her window. It opened onto a terrace, of sorts. Pulling a cloak around her, she stepped out into the evening air. A song came to her mind. She couldn’t recall the lyrics, but started humming. Then, she closed her eyes and opened her mouth. The words came to her as if by some outside force.

In sleep he sang to me…
in dreams he came…
that voice which calls to me,
and speaks my name…

and do I dream again?
For now I find
The Phantom of the Opera is there…

       “Inside your mind,” another voice sang, completeing the verse.
       “Who said that?” Lovelle asked, opening her eyes and swirling around, suddenly very frightened.
       “It is I. I’m the reason you’ve come after all, am I not?” someone asked from the shadows.
       “Who’s there? Who are you?” Lovelle asked. Though she already knew.
       “Come to the angel statue and you will see.”
       Lovelle looked and saw a large angel statue to her left. She apprehensively walked up to it, putting her hand on the cold marble. “Show yourself,” she requested, trying to sound braver than she felt.
       “Very well.” A man, a good foot taller than her jumped down from the statue. As he rose to his full height and glared down at her, she gasped. He was dressed in a black tuxedo with a white ruffled shirt underneath. A black velvet cape shrouded his shoulders and on his face . . . on his face was a white mask.
       “You’re him . . .” she breathed. “So the legends were true . . .”
       “Legends, rumors, yes, they were true. I’m surprised your mother didn’t tell you as much.”
       “She doesn’t like to talk about her days at the Opera Populaire,” she said haughtily.
       “You have more fire than she did. Why have you come seeking me?”
       “Why would you think I was seeking you?”
       “You wouldn’t have been singing that song if you did not wish to summon me.”
       “But– but the words just came to me. I just wanted to sing them. Nothing more.”
       “Are you certain, my dear?” he asked.
       Though her body shook, she raised her chin and said with certainty, “Yes. I am certain.”
       The Phantom turned away towards the angel statue, but Lovelle didn’t want him to leave just yet.
       “Wait!”
       “What is it?” the Phantom asked, merely stopping.
       Lovelle wasn’t sure exactly what to say. She didn’t want him to leave yet, but what could she ask? Finally, a question occured to her.
       “Why were you in Box 5?”
       He turned then, stared at her with an intensity she hadn’t known was capable of being expressed. She took a step closer to him.
       “Because I heard a voice that of which I’ve only ever heard once before. I wished to gaze upon the face of the singer with such a voice.”
       “You were there to hear me.” Something in her voice chaned it from a question to a statement at the last minute.
       “Yes. I wished to hear and see you.”
       “I’m flattered.”
       “You should be. I do not normally waste my time at this opera house anymore.”
       “You’re rather arrogant. The rumors said you were quite obsessed with this opera house only a few years ago.”
       Pain entered his eyes and he looked away. “Not the opera house.”
       Something about his tone made Lovelle curious. “Then what?”
       H

e turned back to her for an instant and she saw the raw emotion in his eyes just before it turned to searing anger. He jumped gracefully upon the angel statue and disappeared.