Angels Never Die (Phantom of the Opera)

Chapter 4

As I escaped the intense glares of Customs, I was immediately surrounded by a hubbub of voices and people.

My nerves finally got the best of me as I pushed through the thick crowds, looking for even a scrap of a familiar face instead of the hundreds of strangers that stared blankly at me. How were my relatives supposed to find me in this huge mess anyway? Did they even know what I looked like? I certainly knew what they looked like; my cousin Angeline did post pictures on nearly every social networking site I had an account on.

Did they forget that I was coming today? How would I find my way to my new home if they didn't come to pick me up? Would they even be nice to me once I did find them? Would they treat me like crap? Would I ever like Paris? What did my future look like now that I'm here? Did I know enough French? What if I didn't? Did I look like an idiotic American?

The questions running randomly around my head were driving me insane, and just when I was about to ask an employee for directions and no doubt embarrass myself, I heard an angel of mercy calling me:

"Rosie! There you are!"

I sighed before I turned around. I really did hate that nickname.

The owner of that overly bubbly, sickly-sweet voice was actually Angeline, and all I saw of her was a blur of curly blonde hair before I was tackled into a tight hug.

"Gosh, I'm so sorry for what happened to your Mom and Dad! You must be so traumatized! How did you even survive that flight anyhow? You must've been terrified the whole time!"

As she pulled away, I got a closer look at the big white smile, and at first I was a little exited. She seemed kind enough, despite being a little nosy and her voice just a tad grating.

But then I saw the eyes--those ice-cold, incredibly blue eyes that made her wide smile look all the more like it was painted on, and from that point I knew that I probably was never going to like her, and she probably wasn't going to like me.

My aunt, thankfully, was a completely different story.

Every inch of her oozed friendliness and genuine sympathy, from her bright eyes to her cropped blonde hair, and I relaxed as I saw her.

As soon as she saw her daughter hug me, she quickly walked over and shook my hand warmly with the first real smile I had received in days.

"Hello, Rosalind! I'm your mother's sister, Robin. I know that you may have heard this a million times already, but...I'm sorry for your loss."

Sighing deeply, I gave a small smile. I had heard that a lot since my folks died, but at the moment I was more focused on Robin than on myself. Even though Mom and my aunt lived on opposite sides of the world, they were still pretty close..she must be going through hell since she lost her little sister so suddenly.

"Um...yeah. Thanks."

Inwardly, I groaned. I'm sure "yeah, thanks" was the last answer that should've left my mouth.

To try and make up for it, I took a few steps forward and hugged her tightly. Robin hugged right back, thankfully, and when I pulled away I thought I saw her eyes watering. I wish I could've cried or at least shown some form of emotion instead of just standing there, but I had cried so much since the plane crash that I didn't think I could ever cry again.

There were a few moments of an awkward, thick silence (with me trying to not curl up and die on the concrete), and then my aunt picked up her cheery façade once again and offered to carry one of my suitcases, saying that we had to get a move on and she still had a job to go back to, after all.

Almost jogging to keep up with her brisk pace, I was almost immediately interested. What did my aunt do, anyway? My mom always said that Robin was the "black sheep" of the family, so I always pictured her as a fortune teller or something when I was younger.

"What's your job? My mom never told me.", I said, and Robin beamed.

"I just run a small theater near the house. Angie is an actress there, actually."

Although I was a little disappointed that her job was nearly as eccentric as my mother painted it to be, I almost immediately perked up. I loved the theater, even though I was much too shy to ever be on the actual stage, and despite my parents giving me singing lessons (and later piano lessons because I hated practicing), I just wasn't all that talented in the performing arts other than whatever went on backstage.

Not that I really cared. Being behind the scenes suited my quiet personality; I could just sit and think and create, helping out where I was needed and shutting off the world when it didn't require me.

And at the end, I dare say I did pretty well--compared to the other backstage volunteers anyway, who looked like they were about to pass out from boredom most of the time and didn't even try. I put my heart and soul into theater whenever I could, and if I could just be backstage for the rest of my life, I would be perfectly content.

Of course, as you might guess, this totally flipped on me, but that's for later.

Seeing me perk up at the sound of a theater, Robin laughed. "I didn't know you liked the theater. I personally couldn't find myself doing anything else, and neither could Angie."

I saw "Angie" glare at me out of the corner of my eye, but I decided to ignore her and shrug nonchalantly instead.

"I'm no actress,", I said, laughing. "But I really like it. I'm more of a 'backstage' person more than anything else."

Robin smiled and was quiet for a moment, looking off into the distance and frowning as if in deep thought. 

"You know, Rosalind, that actually gets me thinking...a stage hand of ours just--"

"D-Don't even say it, Mom.", Angeline suddenly cut in, touching her mother's arm. A look of understanding passed through them, and..was that fear?

"What happened?", I blurted out, and immediately blushed as they turned to look at me sharply.

Robin tugged her arm out of her daughter's grip, her eyes softening.

"A stage hand of ours was found hanging almost a month ago from the rafters. We haven't found a replacement since--everyone's too paranoid to even take the spot."

I grimaced as we reached the car, and my thoughts were racing as I piled my suitcases into the back.

"I'll take it.", I mumbled, and Robin looked at me in surprise.

Realizing my mistake, I quickly added, "U-um, that is, if you'll allow me. School doesn't start for a couple of months, right? I might as well pick up some French by working alongside some French. It's better than moping in the house, anyway..."

I trailed off at the strange look on my aunt's face, but as soon as I saw her slowly start to smile again I took a relieved breath. 

"Great,", she eventually said, getting into the driver's seat. "I'll see if I can get you the job."

I murmured a thanks and slid into the backseat, smiling a little.

I didn't know it then, but for me, the Masquerade of life was just beginning.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hello again, all! Thanks so much for the support for this story. I really couldn't keep writing this without the help of you guys :D

I'm really sorry that this chapter took so long. I had writer's block for a really long time, and I spent most of my non-blocked time updating and changing my stories so they weren't so stupid.

Just as a warning: I just re-read my Batman fanfic, and I'm planning on doing some major changes to it, so the next chapter might be pushed back a little until I've completely fixed my other story. 

Thanks again :).

--GothamsDarkKnight