(BEING REWRITTEN) An Opera Ghost- A Phantom of the Opera Fan Fiction

Chapter Nineteen

The mask that had been left behind by the Phantom had been in Olivier's side table drawer, next to the warning letter from the Phantom, since he had received it. Sometimes, at night, when all the others were sleeping, Olivier would take it out. He would remember his dear Little Opera Ghost, and he would weep for her. It had been two years since she had been present in her life, and it was true he had only seen her perhaps twice, but it was something about her that intrigued him; it made him want her more than he had ever wanted a woman.. But he couldn't have her. She was the Phantom's and he was punishing her because she had stepped outside of her woven world. And the only reason the Phantom knew she had was because he had chosen to disclose the secret of her visit to Angela after promising not to tell a soul...

Tonight was one of those regretful nights Olivier laid in bed waiting as the rest of the hands drifted to sleep. He had not forgotten his little ghost like the rest of Opera Populaire's occupants. They never spoke of her after the Phantom's appearance, and anyone daring enough to bring up the word 'ghost' was stricken with cold looks from all those around. When Olivier had spoken to the young stable boys, telling them he was hoping for a chance to find the entrance to the Phantom's lair to find his Little Opera Ghost, he had been chased from the stables by his father along with the other stable boys. Later that night he had been scolded harshly, his father saying not to hope for a death sentence.

Once Olivier was sure the others were sleeping, he sat up in his bed. Reaching over to his bed side table, he silently opened the drawer and reached inside. He felt the thick parchment and wax seal of the letter. Nothing else. His eye brows furrowed, as he used his hand to trace the inside of the drawer. The mask was gone. For a moment, Olivier was scared. Had it been stolen? But then, thinking it over, he knew that wouldn't be the case. The stable hands were all respectful of each other's property and would not pry into what was not theirs. They wouldn't steal, especially not from Olivier when his father was the one who controlled the work.

However, Olivier knew there was no way he could have misplaced it. It had to have been taken from its spot. But, the stable hands were the only ones who ventured the loft, and, again, they would have not have stolen from Olivier. So, sitting and pondering, Olivier began piecing together the mystery. And then it came to him. Who was the only person who would need a mask such as that one? Who was the only person who would know where it would be to steal it?

The Phantom.

~-~-~-~-~

Erik held the mask tightly in his hands as he walked towards the bed in which Florence was still sleeping, wrapped tightly in blankets as winter was harsh in the lair. A smile was on Erik's face. Though originally he hadn't liked the idea one bit, perhaps it'd be good for Florence. She had been locked in the cellars of the Opera Populaire for around two years, so a bit of fresh air would do her well.

"Florence, dearest," Erik said softly, reaching Florence's bedside. He used his freehand to gently shake the sleeping girl, "Florence, darling, I have a surprise for you. Wake up, please, my dear." Florence's eyes fluttered open, and she gazed up at her father. He was not wearing his mask, which did not surprise Florence, but he was holding a mask.. Her eyes traced down her father's arm and she found the white porcelain that was not made to hide a whole side of the wearer's face, as her father's did. This one was smaller, and was created to hide the wearer's forehead and eyes. It was hers. Florence frowned, and looked to her father's face to see he was grinning happily.

"What is going on, Papa?" Florence whispered groggily, "Why do you have my mask? I thought you destroyed them all." Erik let out a soft chuckle.

"My sweet child," Erik began kneeling down to be almost level with Florence's resting head, "I have it because tomorrow night is a special night. A masquerade gala in honor of a new opera. Your opera,Vie Protégée. And you, Mademoiselle Florence de Phant shall be attending."

Florence's eyes widened. She had to be dreaming. There was no way her father had actually just said that.

"Papa," she whispered, sitting up, "Please tell me I am awake, Papa! Please tell me this is not a mere dream!" Watching her father, she saw his grin widen as her excitement grew. Florence was smiling widely now. "Oh, Papa!" she cheered, flinging herself to him. Surprised, Erik's grip on her mask loosened and it fell to the ground and split into two. It took Florence, who was hugging her father tightly, a moment to register what had happened. She gasped when she saw the broken mask, fearing that without it her father wouldn't let her attend, but he only chuckled.

"Don't fret, child," he soothed her, wrapping his own arms around her, "I was planning to get you a new mask for the gala, anyway. You will attend the showing of your opera, that I swear."

~-~De Changy Manor~-~-~

"Oh Raoul!" Christine squealed with joy, going through her wardrobe to choose a dress for the next day, "I am so very excited! The Messieurs say that this is to be a wonderful opera! Vie Protégée, is what it's called. I can only imagine what it is about! Forbidden romance, perhaps? Oh this will be splendid!" Raoul smiled as he watched his beautiful wife from the bed. She hadn't been so excited for something since she had discovered she was pregnant five years previous.. Of course, that hadn't turned out well. A miscarriage. Just like the one three years before that, and the one two years before that...

These thoughts brought a temporary frown to Raoul's face. Then he conjured a thought of Christine's only live child- though Christine did not know she had a live child. Florence.. He wondered if she still resided with her father in Opera Populaire... No, the two phantoms had to have moved on by this time. After all, wouldn't all Paris know if the Phantom of the Opera had returned or a new one had appeared? Yes, Raoul was sure of that, especially after what had happened the last time the Phantom had reared his head.

"Yes, I cannot wait, dear," Raoul told his joyous wife as she went on babbling of the fun to come in the next day.

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Any thoughts from my lovely fans? How do you think this gala will turn out- good, bad, or horribly? Also, how are you liking the story? I love all the feedback from you guys! ~Vote, fan, and comment!~  And thank you all for the support you give me!

~*~ Also, if you guys like Phantom of the Opera, you should pop on my page and check out my Phantom of the Opera short story, Phantoms in an Old Opera House!