Before the Phantom

A Conversation

Christine's performance had gone splendidly, but now she was missing. It seemed that she had vanished right out of her dressing room. Nadette thought that perhaps a crazed suitor or fan had taken her, or perhaps she needed to be alone after such excitement. Either way, she was worried about her.  To distract herself, she reorganized her things, and moved into her practice room.  She brought in a few quills, and some ink and paper, and she dusted off the old piano.

After that was done, she began to play. She played everything. From the most simple song she learned from her first lessons, to the exquisite composition she auditioned with. She played through her worry, and through her past. She thought of her husband.

Nadette also thought of Erik.

She began playing something she had only played once before. It was her only composition, and it was for her lost friend.

The man behind the mirror had been pacing the hidden passageways in utter frustration after the events that had happened after he took Christine to his lair. How could she act so recklessly? How could he have harmed her? He saw the bruise that had formed on Christine's arm after he had pushed her.

She had seen, and she had been terrified.

He couldn't really blame her, but he was frustrated nonetheless. So he had begun walking through the passageways in order to calm himself after bringing Christine back to the surface. Then, he had heard music.

The Phantom followed the music back to the new pianist's practice room. He had learned her name was Tabatha Martin. While it was true she had infuriated him, he could not deny that she was tremendously talented, and he was curious.

It seemed he had witnessed her entire repertoire, and was going to leave when she began playing one last song.

The piece was simpler than the last, which went against her pattern; she had been playing from easiest to hardest. Still, the piece was incredibly moving. The notes seemed to float through the piece in a quiet piano, and rise gracefully to a stunning forte, it was simple, yet if it were anymore than it was he felt it would ruin it.

When it ended, Tabatha got up to leave, and for some reason he didn't want her to.

His voice coated the room, "You are most talented, Madame Martin."

Nadette froze, but was not overly frightened.

"Thank you, Monsieur," she replied, "If I am correct about who I am speaking with, then the compliment means a great deal."

"And who do you believe you are speaking with?" Erik answered with a hint of amusement.

"From what I hear, there is a ghost who haunts the halls." Nadette took a seat back onto the piano bench, "Only, I do not believe in ghosts."

A haunting chuckle echoed through the small room, and it sent shivers down Nadette's spine.  She would not admit to that.

"You speak with a ghost, yet you do not believe in them?" The Phantom asked.

She laughed slightly, "Perhaps I do not believe you are a ghost, Monsieur."

"You are a very strange woman, Madame, and you have a very strange name." Erik replied defensively, changing the subject.

This only caused Nadette to laugh once again, "Oh? How so?"

"Tabatha is a German name, yet your surname is French."  He explained.

Erik almost felt guilty for mentioning it when a wave of sadness washed over the woman, but he brushed it away quickly.

"Yes.  I am a widow, Monsieur.  My husband passed away last year.  My maiden-name is actually Rosenfeld." She explained to the voice.  Her hand subconsciously drifted up to caress the ring which hung around her neck.

"I...I am sorry." The ghost said, "You are German then?"

"Yes, but I was born here only a few days after my mother arrived in France.  Oh! And nobody calls me Tabatha, Monsieur.  I go by my middle name.  I only used Tabatha to audition because it was more official."  Nadette told him.

"What shall I call you then?" He asked.

"Well, I am called-"

"Nadette!" Came a voice as it's owner burst through the door.

There, standing with a positively fear-stricken expression on her face, was none other than Christine Daae.