Inception/The Phantom of the Opera: You Won't Forget My Name
Title: You Won't Forget My Name
Pairing: Arthur/Eames, Dom/Mal, slight Arthur/Robert, Nash/OC
Rating: PG-13 (At least for now, I'll warn if it goes up.)
Part: 2/?
Word Count: 5,694
Warnings: None, unless you absolutely hate the Phantom of the Opera.
Summary: Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask? (Phantom of the Opera AU)
Since he came to the opera house three years ago, Arthur had adopted a private, inner schedule. So, when the first rays of sunlight began to slip through the windows of the ballet dormitories, Arthur was already getting out of his bed. It took him hardly any time at all to switch from his night clothes into the costume that had been delivered along with the others just last night. He glanced around the dormitory to make sure that the others were all still asleep before he left.
Constant practice ensured that he made not the slightest creak on his way down to the chapel. He was unable to contain himself once he grew close, however, dashing down the remaining steps and into the room. He knelt before the candles, a faint smile gracing his lips as he saw that the one he had lit for his father was still burning.
His body adjusted instinctually into the proper posture, his shoulders sliding back to straighten his spine while keeping the rest of his body relaxed. Once this was done, he let his voice go through the necessary warm ups, all of which he knew by heart at this point.
He didn’t stop until the sound of a violin floated into the room. He paused then, allowing himself a small smile, before starting the first of the songs he would have to sing that day. He drew strength from the music that came from the violin, letting it guide him through each rise and fall.
It all came to an abrupt end, however, with the cry of another voice.
“Arthur!”
Arthur sucked in a sharp breath that was caused partly by the unexpected arrival, but more because of the empty feeling that came with the lose of the music. He looked over his shoulder to see Ariadne standing there, looking winded. He could
already guess why she was there. “Time for rehearsal?”
“Yes,” Ariadne said. “Now come on before we’re late!”
Arthur rose to his feet, his eyes lingering for a moment on the angel painted on the wall between the candle. He shook his head, trying to clear it as he headed over to his friend. “Did you sleep in before coming to get me?” he asked. He got his answer from the weak smile she offered him. “Ariadne!”
“How do you always know?” she groaned. “Oh, well, that just means you can’t lecture me now without wasting time.” She darted up the steps that lead back up to main part of the opera house and Arthur could hear her laughter echoing off the walls as he raced after her.
Fortunately fate seemed to be on their side that day for the two them arrived back stage just in time to start the warm ups with the other dancers. Mal sent them a glance filled with a fond sort of exasperation that made Ariadne giggle and Arthur bite his lip to hide a smile.
All traces of good humor vanished in a heartbeat, however, once the shrill sound from the stage reached their ears.
Ariadne abandoned her stretches in favor of pressing her hands over her ears. “Oh, good God!” she exclaimed. “It’s like she just keeps getting worse!” She scrunched up her nose. “I miss Mal already.”
“We all do,” Arthur said, “but it’s out of our hands.” And, to be honest, everyone in the opera house knew that they could have fared far worse.
It had all begun when Peter Browning had come to the opera house. He was the man in charge of the legal elements of one of the most well known companies in Paris, Fischer Morrow. This already placed him as quite the powerful man, but it seemed that his influence had grown since the health of the company’s owner, Maurice Fischer, began to decline. He had claimed to have come on behalf of Maurice himself, trying to convince Dom and Mal to pass ownership of the Opera Populaire over to Fischer Morrow.
It was rumored that a substantial sum had been offered to convince them to agree, but the Cobbs had refused to give up their positions. Mal had sworn that she would never let the opera house be in the possession of something as impersonal as a company. And, frankly, everyone else at the opera house had agreed with her.
Browning hadn’t let the matter rest there. No one had any idea how he managed to do it, but somehow he convinced the leading patrons that it wasn’t right for Mal to be both the manager and lead soprano of the opera house. So she had been forced to step down to make room for the new soprano that Browning had brought in, a young Italian woman named Carlotta.
It was a firmly held belief throughout the opera house that Carlotta would never have been allowed near the stage if it weren’t for Browning. She had a capable enough voice, but her lack of restraint turned everything she sang into some sort of screech. And she had one of the most oversized egos that Arthur had ever encountered. She was always strutting across the stage, barking out commands to everyone around her.
The only person who didn’t seem to hate her was Nash, the lead tenor. He, for some unfathomable reason, seemed to have fallen head over heels for the diva.
“That doesn’t make it any easier to put up with,” Ariadne shot back. “It’s bad enough that Browning is already prancing about like he owns the place.”
Arthur was about to reply when a familiar voice rang out across the stage.
“Rehearsals, as you can see, are already under way for our production of Chalumeau’s Hannibal.”
Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch Dom lead Browning across the stage. The whispers seemed to increase with each step they took.
“Speak of the devil,” Ariadne said. “What’s he doing here?”
Carlotta was prone to throwing enormous temper tantrums if anyone dared to interrupt her singing, but Browning, apparently, was the exception to this. If the way she ran over to throw her arms around him was any indication that was.
“Goes to show what side she’s on,” Ariadne said.
“Was there ever any question about that?” Arthur remarked, wryly.
Browning patted Carlotta on the back with a small chuckle. He didn’t realize that Mal had approached until after the Italian woman released him. He inclined his head politely to her, a gesture that was returned with a certain degree of coolness.
When Mal spoke it was with a sharply aloof tone. “We were not expecting you today, Mr. Browning.”
“Ah, well, I meant for it to be a surprise,” Browning said.
Mal arched a single brow ever so slightly. “And you have succeeded there,” she said. “I assume this is about the new patron you told us about?”
If Browning was annoyed with her for revealing his surprise than he didn’t show any signs of it. “Yes, actually,” he said.
Arthur exchanged a glance with Ariadne, the two of them realizing what was going on at the same time. Browning might not have been able to secure the opera house for Fischer Morrow yet, but he was going to plant another spy in their midst in the form of this new patron.
Arthur was already starting to feel infuriated with this person just for existing, which was why he was thrown through such a loop when Browning made his announcement.
“I am deeply honored to introduce to you my godson, Robert Fischer.”
Arthur knew the man who walked out afterwards with a huge smile on his face, despite the lackluster applause he received.
The words slipped out before he could think better of it. “It’s Robert.” He cursed inwardly as Ariadne turned towards him, looking puzzled. This was a story that he had never thought he would have to share, even with someone as close to him as she was. “Before my father died when we still lived near sea…I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts.”
“Well then…” Ariadne glanced over at Robert, her head tilted to the side. “I suppose he is handsome.”
Arthur let out a laugh tinged with relief. He was glad that Ariadne hadn’t made some comment about how awkward the situation was. He already understood that perfectly well on his own.
Carlotta turned towards Robert as the man approached his godfather, an enormous smile fixed on her face. She was already raising her hand, seeming certain that he would greet her first. The smile slipped right off her face, however, when he turned towards Mal instead.
“Mallorie Cobb!” he exclaimed. “It is such a pleasure to meet you!” He ducked his head with a somewhat embarrassed smile. “I’ve been a huge fan of yours, ever since I was a boy. You have such incredible talent.”
Mal showed her surprise in the slight upward lift of her eyebrows. She, like everyone else, had expected Robert to greet the new star first, the one his family had promoted. She held out her hand to him all the same, however, her eyes warming a little as he bent to kiss it. “Please, you can call me Mal,” she said. “It always makes me so happy to meet someone who admires work.” She let out a light burst of laughter. “Perhaps I just enjoy the praise.”
“Well you most certainly deserve it,” Robert grinned.
Browning cleared his throat, drawing his godson’s attention back to him. “Robert,” he said, “may I introduce you to Carlotta Giudicelli, the new leading soprano?” The emphasis he put on the word “new” caused all of the warmth to flee from Mal’s face as her eyes narrowed.
Carlotta, who had been pouting over being ignored in favor of the woman she had replaced, brightened up. The large smile was back on her face in an instant and she raised her hand to Robert as he turned around.
“So this is the famous Carlotta?” It could just be Arthur projecting out his own hopes, but it sounded like Robert was less enthusiastic than he had been with Mal. “My godfather has spoken highly of your talent. He says he has never heard one that can match it.”
“In what?” Ariadne muttered. “Horrendousness?”
Carlotta was preening under the praise. “It is kind of Mr. Browning to speak so highly of me,” she said. “If it weren’t for him, I would never have got to where I am today.”
“Perhaps you could grace us with a private performance?” Browning said. “It would allow my godson a chance to hear your wonderful voice for himself. And is there not a rather glorious aria for Elissa in Act Three?”
Carlotta stepped forward, face flushed with pleasure, but Mal spoke before she could. “I am afraid that such a lovely performance will have to wait until after I announce my surprise.”
A murmur ran through the crowd of onlookers. It seemed like this was to be a day filled with unexpected things.
Browning turned towards Mal with a faint frown. “And what exactly is this surprise?” he asked.
“The same as yours, actually,” Mal said. “I want to introduce one of returning patrons and a dear friend to many in the opera house.” She spread her arm out with a flourish. “Mr. Eames!”
Arthur was completely unprepared for the roar of noise that followed the announcement. He had to lean away from Ariadne for the safety of his ear drums when she let out a shriek.
“Oh my God, Eames is back!” she cried. “He’s been gone for years!” It was only after she had calmed down a little that she noticed how confused Arthur looked. “He was pretty much adopted by Mal’s father as a child so he’s an old friend of her and Dom. He was such a big part of the opera house that everyone knows him.” She shot a quick, apologetic look at Arthur. “Well, nearly everyone.”
Arthur shook his head understandingly. He had realized within his first year at the opera house that there were people who understood the building and what had occurred within it far better than he ever could. Many of them had been born and raised within the opera house, never knowing any other home.
He turned his attention to the man who was walking across the stage now to far more applause than Robert had received. This had to be Eames, he supposed.
The man was responding to the praise with all the mannerisms of a star, beaming as he waved at the crowds and even throwing a few kisses. He wore the clothes of a gentleman, although the patterns on the garments were more than a bit strange. I mean, honestly, was that a paisley vest?
Arthur was distracted by Eames’ strange taste in clothes, however, by his looks. The brown hair, slicked in a neat part to the left, was simple enough. But the eyes, which were a faint shade of blue now, seemed the type that could change at any minute. The fabric of his shirt strained against the broad expanse of his shoulders.
Arthur found his eyes resting on Eames’ lips, something that he could hardly be blamed for in his opinion. He had never seen such full lips on a man before. It should have looked entirely too feminine, but somehow Eames with the rest of his rugged features managed to make it work.
Eames didn’t even stop to kiss Mal’s hand once he reached her. He just gathered into a tight embrace instead. He broke away only to clap Dom on the back and drag him into the hug as well. The easy familiarity came as a surprise for Arthur, who had only seen the Cobbs be like that with each other.
It took quite some time for Eames to extract himself from the Cobbs to turn towards Browning. Arthur was able to observe his face going through a series of subtle shifts until his expression turned from one overflowing with warmth to a mask of blank politeness. “And you must be Peter Browning. I’ve heard you’ve taken quite an interest in this lovely establishment.”
Arthur could practically hear the gears churning in Browning’s brain as he tried to judge how he was being treated. Eames had adopted a perfectly neutral tone, however, without slipping in a negative or positive infliction at any point. So when Browning took the hand that was offered to him he seemed a little unsure for once.
“Indeed I have,” he said. He gave Eames’ hand two firm pumps before releasing it. “And it would seem that you are much beloved by it.”
Eames burst out in laughter at this, something which put Browning even more off guard. “Well I should hope so,” he said. “It is my home, after all.”
“Really?” Robert ducked his gaze sheepishly as Eames glanced over at him. “I apologize for interrupting, I was just-”
“Surprised?” A touch of warmth entered Eames’ voice as he spoke to Robert. It would appear that he favored the young man over his godfather, something that Arthur didn’t blame him for. “It’s alright most people tend to have the same reaction.”
Robert’s nerves disappeared with a smile. “I’m glad to know I’m not the only one.” He took a step forward, hand outstretched. “I’m Robert Fischer, by the way.”
“Oh, I know,” Eames said. “I could hear the announcement for your entrance from where I was backstage.” He released the other man’s hand to clap him on the shoulder. “Now I would enjoy nothing else but to continue our conversation, but it seems most unkind to leave our reigning diva to sulk.”
Carlotta, who had indeed been moping over being overlooked once more, straightened up at these words. She plastered a smile on her face as she strode over to Eames, although it was a less genuine one than the one she had given Robert. “I did not to behave improperly,” she said. “I am only-”
“Use to being the center of attention?” Eames cut across her. He reached out to take her hand she was too taken aback to offer, brushing his lips across it in the briefest of kisses before releasing it. “All primma donnas are.”
“It would seem I have taken on the mantle very well then,” Carlotta replied.
“Indeed it would,” Eames said. “Although, if I may, you would do well to look to Madame Cobb as a role model. She is one of the most talented divas of her time, after all.”
Browning stepped in after Carlotta’s features began to pinch together in a sure sign of an approaching tantrum. “I think you will find, Mr. Eames,” he said, “that Carlotta is a highly talented woman.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt.” Eames glanced over at the woman with a single brow arched. “If she was not than I would wonder why she would have been given such a position in the first place.”
“Perhaps you would like to hear her talent for yourself,” Robert suggested. “She has agreed to give us a private performance of Elissa’s aria from Act Three. I’m sure if you could just hear her voice for yourself then-” The rest of his words were lost as a man, who must have been his valet, came to tap him discreetly on the arm. He tipped his head towards the man, nodding in response to whatever was whispered into his ear. When he turned back to the others it was to offer them an rueful smile. “It seems I will have to miss out on the private performance. The doctor has requested my presence back that the estate.”
Mal’s face filled with a soft sort of sadness. It was something that Arthur, who had tended to his ailing father until the end, could relate to. “There is always the possibility for it to be nothing,” she said. “Do not let your mind leap to the worst possibility right away.”
Robert offered her a tight smile, but his eyes shown with gratitude. “I will try to follow your guidance, Madame,” he said.
“You would be very wise to do so,” Eames said. “Her advice has never failed me in the past.” The smile he shot the younger man was small but warm. “It looks like I’ll be following you out as it is.”
Something flashed in Mal’s eyes, her lips pursing for just a moment. “Going so soon, Eames?” she said.
“I’m afraid so,” Eames replied. “I only just arrived today, after all, so there is still a great deal to be done. I will be back this evening, of course, to share in what will no doubt be a triumphant performance.” He beamed out at the onlookers before turning with Robert to return the way they had come.
Arthur found himself growing tense, straightening up without even realizing it, as the two men grew closer. He knew it was ridiculous but there was a part of him that wanted Robert to see him. There was no way of knowing how the other man would react to the sight of him, yet he still wanted it to happen.
When the moment finally came, however, Robert just strode by without even a glance in his direction. He was too involved in a conversation with his valet it seemed to notice anything, or anyone for that matter, that surrounded him.
Arthur shut his eyes as he snuck back down, determined not to let his disappointment. He shouldn’t have expected anything to happen anyway. The last time he had seen Robert the two of them had been children, standing on the beach to say their goodbyes. For all he knew, Robert had never thought of him again after that day.
When he opened his eyes it was to find Ariadne staring at him. The pity in her eyes only made what had occurred that much more embarrassing. “He wouldn’t recognize me.” He wanted to hit himself for how much it sounded like an excuse.
“He didn’t see you,” Ariadne said.
“But who would be able to miss such a lovely face?”
Arthur stiffened at the sound of that voice, coming from much closer than would be expected. He nearly knocked into Eames when he spun around since the man was so close. He probably would have wound up snapping at the man if Ariadne hadn’t chosen that moment to rush out from behind him.
“Eames!” she cried. She lunched herself at Eames, causing the man to catch her and spin her around. Both of them were grinning by the time he put her back on the ground.
“Hello there Ariadne,” Eames said. “The last time I saw you, you were just a wee thing.” He rubbed his chin, looking the girl up and down. “Although, to be honest, you really haven’t grown that much since I last saw you.” He let out a squawk of mock offense as he received a swat on the arm for his comment. Then his eyes moved towards Arthur, lips spreading into a grin that was far too familiar for Arthur’s taste. “And who is your handsome new friend? I don’t think I’ve seen him here before.”
Arthur made his move before Ariadne could speak, stepping forward with his chin pointed up. “No, you haven’t,” he said. “I arrived here after you left.” He thrust his hand out. “Arthur Moss.”
Eames curled his fingers around Arthur’s hand, encasing it in warmth. “Moss?” he echoed. “Are you by any chance related to that famous American violinist-”
Arthur cut across him with a sigh. He had grown more than use to this happening whenever his last name was brought up.
“Yes, he was my father,” he said.
Eames’ expression turned completely serious in the blink of an eye. “I am truly sorry for your loss,” he said. “Your father was a truly talented man.”
Arthur swallowed hard to rid himself of the lump that had formed in his throat. After three years you would have thought that the pain would have faded somewhat, but it was always like pulling back a scab to find the pain as fresh as ever.
“Thank you,” he said.
“And it would seem he has passed his talent on to his son,” Eames said. He smiled, solemn expression disappearing like clouds being scattered by the sun. “Mal tells me that you have some very promising talent.”
Arthur let out a snort before he could help himself. “I’m sure if that were the case then I wouldn’t still be in the chorus,” he said. He was taken aback by the dark look that flashed across Eames’ face at such a statement, but it was gone so
quickly that he was almost able to convince himself that he had imagined it.
“You never know,” the man said, “you may find your circumstances changing soon.” He lifted Arthur’s hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles so quickly that the other man had no time to pull away. “I hope I’ll be seeing more of you Arthur.” Then, with a turn of his heel, he was gone.
“I think he likes you!” Ariadne said. She clapped her hands together in delight. “That’s a good thing.”
“Why?” Arthur asked. He was still trying to shake off the way that Eames had said his name; his deep voice curling around the name like he owned it.
“Eames has always been a good judge of talent,” Ariadne said. “Mal and Dom have always trusted judgment when it comes to such things.”
“If that’s the case,” Arthur said, “then he’s going to hate Carlotta.”
The primma donna was already positioning herself at the center of the stage, being placated into giving her private performance even if the two people it had been meant for were no longer there. Everyone made sure to keep to the far reaches of the stage in case they were accused of trying to steal her limelight.
Arthur did his best to go to another place while Carlotta sang. The aria really was lovely, but you wouldn’t have guessed it from how the leading soprano sang it. She butchered every note, pushing her voice to the point that it strained. He tried to remember the time he hard heard Mal sing the aria, trying to replace Carlotta’s voice with the one that was far superior to it.
His peace was disturbed, however, by the sound of something heavy unfurling and then Ariadne’s hands were on him, pulling him backwards, her shriek mixing with others as one of the enormous backdrops came crashing down.
The only person who wasn’t lucky enough to get away in time was Carlotta since she was at the center of the stage. It caught on the back of her voluminous costume throwing her down onto the floor.
Men rushed forward to remove the backdrop at once, Browning among them, helping Carlotta up and checking her for any injuries.
Ariadne still had yet to let go of Arthur and now her fingers were digging into his arms. “He’s here!” she whispered. “The Phantom of the Opera!”
Unlike most of those in the opera house, Arthur had done his best not to believe in the opera ghost, yet he felt a chill run down his spine all the same.
Now that it had been confirmed that Carlotta was safe, Dom was hollering up at the scaffolding where some of his men were situated. “Buquet! What in the devil are you doing up there?”
“Please, sir, it wasn’t me!” Buquet called back. He was already cranking the wheel to bring the backdrop back up. “As God’s my judge, I wasn’t at my post. There shouldn’t have been anyone there. Or if there is, well, then it must be the-”
Dom held up a hand with a weary expression. “Don’t say it,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair before turning back to Carlotta. “I am deeply sorry, signora. Things like this just happen at times.”
It was evidently the wrong thing to say from how Carlotta’s face twisted up in fury. “At times?” she spat. “At times? For the past three months these things do happen. And did you stop them from happening? No!” She threw her hands up in the air. “These things do happen?” she repeated, mockingly. “I think not.” She shook her head so hard that her headdress slid back slightly. “Until you stop these things from happening, this thing-” She gestured to herself. “-does not happen!”
Browning rounded on Dom as Carlotta stormed away, people parting like the Red Sea before her. “Well,” he demanded, “aren’t you going to stop her?”
“We may have more important matters to address.” Mal had returned from wherever she had disappeared to. When the men turned towards her she held up a letter whose seal was an eerie cast of a skull fashioned out of deep red wax. “The opera ghost seems to have left us a message.”
“Oh, God in heaven, you’re all obsessed!” Browning snapped.
Mal just regarded him coolly before opening the envelope in one smooth movement, pulling out the letter that was inside.
“Ah,” she said, “it refers to you, Mr. Browning.” She cleared her throat, satisfied that she now had his full attention. “He welcomes you, and your godson, to his opera house and wishes to inform you of the rules.”
“Rules?” Browning said.
Mal continued on as though she hadn’t been interrupted. “Box five is continued to be left empty for his use. Oh, and there is a reminder here about his salary…”
“His salary?” Browning said. “Surely you don’t pay this…this…thing?”
Mal rolled her shoulders in an easy shrug. “It keeps him content,” she said. “And as long as he is content then things are quiet.” She tossed her head back, dark waves bouncing across her face. “And I wouldn’t worry about Carlotta. She just needs sometime for her nerves to settle and then she will return. But, for now, I will have no trouble taking on the role of Elissa.”
Cheers broke out amongst the onlookers at this-Arthur and Ariadne included-only to be interrupted by a single voice.
“How dare you!”
Nash stumbled out of the now silent crowd, waving an accusing finger in the general direction of the Cobbs. “I can’t believe you’re going to let such talent walk right out your door. You just want the spotlight to be on you just like it’s always been. Well no more!” He curled his hand up into a fist. “Unless Carlotta is singing here than neither shall I!” A particularly nasty smirked appeared on his face. “Let’s see how you cope with that.” Everyone shrunk back as he stalked out.
Browning looked entirely too smug as he turned towards the Cobbs. “So,” he said, “what precisely do you plan to do about that?”
Dom floundered for a moment until his wife placed a hand on his arm, offering a sweet smile with a hidden edge to the businessman.
“I assure you, Mr, Browning,” she said, “that this will be no problem.” She paused, eyes darting towards the backstage. “Arthur Moss can sing it.”
That was the last thing that Arthur had been expecting. He was consumed with the urge to sink into the floor as all the eyes in the opera house turned towards him. Then he heard Browning scoff, “A chorus member?” and he stood up straight, chin thrust out. He would not appear timid and weak. He refused to give the man that kind of validation.
“He has been taking lessons from a great teacher,” Mal said.
Arthur’s eyes shot over to her in surprise. How did she know such a thing?
“Who?” Browning demanded.
Arthur hesitated for a moment then decided that he really had no other choice but to tell the truth. “I don’t know his name, sir.”
“Let him sing for you,” Mal said. “He has been well taught.”
Browning pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Fine then,” he said.
Arthur moved forward to the center of the stage as Mal beckoned to him, her eyes warm with kindness. He took a deep breath, trying forget about all the eyes that were watching him. This was what he had been training for, what three years of lessons had been building up to. And he couldn’t let down the man who had worked so hard to bring him here.
It was that in mind that he opened his mouth to let his voice free. He already knew all the parts for the lead tenor-his teacher had made sure of that-and he picked up his favorite one now with Hannibal seeking guidance from the gods for his attack on Rome. He felt like he was floating as he sang, somehow apart from his body. Nothing mattered except for the music and he let it carry him into a whole other world.
When the song came to an end it took him a minute reorient himself. At first all he was aware of was the complete silence that surrounded him, but then there was nothing but cheers and applause roaring in his ears. He stumbled slightly as Dom clapped him hard on the shoulder.
“Well done, Arthur!” he said. “I didn’t know you could sing like that!”
“It seems you have regained your voice,” Mal said. And it was that, along with the pride in her eyes, that made his heart swell his triumph. “Well, Mr. Browning, does he meet with your approval.”
“I suppose he’ll do,” Browning grumbled.
Arthur was still so high on the afterglow that this didn’t even bother him. He just turned to hug Ariadne as she raced towards him instead.
***
High above, on the parts of the scaffolding that not even the workers used anymore, stood a lone figure. A smile curled onto full lips as the person took in the pure happiness in Arthur’s face.
“Well done, darling.”
Pairing: Arthur/Eames, Dom/Mal, slight Arthur/Robert, Nash/OC
Rating: PG-13 (At least for now, I'll warn if it goes up.)
Part: 2/?
Word Count: 5,694
Warnings: None, unless you absolutely hate the Phantom of the Opera.
Summary: Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask? (Phantom of the Opera AU)
Since he came to the opera house three years ago, Arthur had adopted a private, inner schedule. So, when the first rays of sunlight began to slip through the windows of the ballet dormitories, Arthur was already getting out of his bed. It took him hardly any time at all to switch from his night clothes into the costume that had been delivered along with the others just last night. He glanced around the dormitory to make sure that the others were all still asleep before he left.
Constant practice ensured that he made not the slightest creak on his way down to the chapel. He was unable to contain himself once he grew close, however, dashing down the remaining steps and into the room. He knelt before the candles, a faint smile gracing his lips as he saw that the one he had lit for his father was still burning.
His body adjusted instinctually into the proper posture, his shoulders sliding back to straighten his spine while keeping the rest of his body relaxed. Once this was done, he let his voice go through the necessary warm ups, all of which he knew by heart at this point.
He didn’t stop until the sound of a violin floated into the room. He paused then, allowing himself a small smile, before starting the first of the songs he would have to sing that day. He drew strength from the music that came from the violin, letting it guide him through each rise and fall.
It all came to an abrupt end, however, with the cry of another voice.
“Arthur!”
Arthur sucked in a sharp breath that was caused partly by the unexpected arrival, but more because of the empty feeling that came with the lose of the music. He looked over his shoulder to see Ariadne standing there, looking winded. He could
already guess why she was there. “Time for rehearsal?”
“Yes,” Ariadne said. “Now come on before we’re late!”
Arthur rose to his feet, his eyes lingering for a moment on the angel painted on the wall between the candle. He shook his head, trying to clear it as he headed over to his friend. “Did you sleep in before coming to get me?” he asked. He got his answer from the weak smile she offered him. “Ariadne!”
“How do you always know?” she groaned. “Oh, well, that just means you can’t lecture me now without wasting time.” She darted up the steps that lead back up to main part of the opera house and Arthur could hear her laughter echoing off the walls as he raced after her.
Fortunately fate seemed to be on their side that day for the two them arrived back stage just in time to start the warm ups with the other dancers. Mal sent them a glance filled with a fond sort of exasperation that made Ariadne giggle and Arthur bite his lip to hide a smile.
All traces of good humor vanished in a heartbeat, however, once the shrill sound from the stage reached their ears.
Ariadne abandoned her stretches in favor of pressing her hands over her ears. “Oh, good God!” she exclaimed. “It’s like she just keeps getting worse!” She scrunched up her nose. “I miss Mal already.”
“We all do,” Arthur said, “but it’s out of our hands.” And, to be honest, everyone in the opera house knew that they could have fared far worse.
It had all begun when Peter Browning had come to the opera house. He was the man in charge of the legal elements of one of the most well known companies in Paris, Fischer Morrow. This already placed him as quite the powerful man, but it seemed that his influence had grown since the health of the company’s owner, Maurice Fischer, began to decline. He had claimed to have come on behalf of Maurice himself, trying to convince Dom and Mal to pass ownership of the Opera Populaire over to Fischer Morrow.
It was rumored that a substantial sum had been offered to convince them to agree, but the Cobbs had refused to give up their positions. Mal had sworn that she would never let the opera house be in the possession of something as impersonal as a company. And, frankly, everyone else at the opera house had agreed with her.
Browning hadn’t let the matter rest there. No one had any idea how he managed to do it, but somehow he convinced the leading patrons that it wasn’t right for Mal to be both the manager and lead soprano of the opera house. So she had been forced to step down to make room for the new soprano that Browning had brought in, a young Italian woman named Carlotta.
It was a firmly held belief throughout the opera house that Carlotta would never have been allowed near the stage if it weren’t for Browning. She had a capable enough voice, but her lack of restraint turned everything she sang into some sort of screech. And she had one of the most oversized egos that Arthur had ever encountered. She was always strutting across the stage, barking out commands to everyone around her.
The only person who didn’t seem to hate her was Nash, the lead tenor. He, for some unfathomable reason, seemed to have fallen head over heels for the diva.
“That doesn’t make it any easier to put up with,” Ariadne shot back. “It’s bad enough that Browning is already prancing about like he owns the place.”
Arthur was about to reply when a familiar voice rang out across the stage.
“Rehearsals, as you can see, are already under way for our production of Chalumeau’s Hannibal.”
Everyone stopped what they were doing to watch Dom lead Browning across the stage. The whispers seemed to increase with each step they took.
“Speak of the devil,” Ariadne said. “What’s he doing here?”
Carlotta was prone to throwing enormous temper tantrums if anyone dared to interrupt her singing, but Browning, apparently, was the exception to this. If the way she ran over to throw her arms around him was any indication that was.
“Goes to show what side she’s on,” Ariadne said.
“Was there ever any question about that?” Arthur remarked, wryly.
Browning patted Carlotta on the back with a small chuckle. He didn’t realize that Mal had approached until after the Italian woman released him. He inclined his head politely to her, a gesture that was returned with a certain degree of coolness.
When Mal spoke it was with a sharply aloof tone. “We were not expecting you today, Mr. Browning.”
“Ah, well, I meant for it to be a surprise,” Browning said.
Mal arched a single brow ever so slightly. “And you have succeeded there,” she said. “I assume this is about the new patron you told us about?”
If Browning was annoyed with her for revealing his surprise than he didn’t show any signs of it. “Yes, actually,” he said.
Arthur exchanged a glance with Ariadne, the two of them realizing what was going on at the same time. Browning might not have been able to secure the opera house for Fischer Morrow yet, but he was going to plant another spy in their midst in the form of this new patron.
Arthur was already starting to feel infuriated with this person just for existing, which was why he was thrown through such a loop when Browning made his announcement.
“I am deeply honored to introduce to you my godson, Robert Fischer.”
Arthur knew the man who walked out afterwards with a huge smile on his face, despite the lackluster applause he received.
The words slipped out before he could think better of it. “It’s Robert.” He cursed inwardly as Ariadne turned towards him, looking puzzled. This was a story that he had never thought he would have to share, even with someone as close to him as she was. “Before my father died when we still lived near sea…I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts.”
“Well then…” Ariadne glanced over at Robert, her head tilted to the side. “I suppose he is handsome.”
Arthur let out a laugh tinged with relief. He was glad that Ariadne hadn’t made some comment about how awkward the situation was. He already understood that perfectly well on his own.
Carlotta turned towards Robert as the man approached his godfather, an enormous smile fixed on her face. She was already raising her hand, seeming certain that he would greet her first. The smile slipped right off her face, however, when he turned towards Mal instead.
“Mallorie Cobb!” he exclaimed. “It is such a pleasure to meet you!” He ducked his head with a somewhat embarrassed smile. “I’ve been a huge fan of yours, ever since I was a boy. You have such incredible talent.”
Mal showed her surprise in the slight upward lift of her eyebrows. She, like everyone else, had expected Robert to greet the new star first, the one his family had promoted. She held out her hand to him all the same, however, her eyes warming a little as he bent to kiss it. “Please, you can call me Mal,” she said. “It always makes me so happy to meet someone who admires work.” She let out a light burst of laughter. “Perhaps I just enjoy the praise.”
“Well you most certainly deserve it,” Robert grinned.
Browning cleared his throat, drawing his godson’s attention back to him. “Robert,” he said, “may I introduce you to Carlotta Giudicelli, the new leading soprano?” The emphasis he put on the word “new” caused all of the warmth to flee from Mal’s face as her eyes narrowed.
Carlotta, who had been pouting over being ignored in favor of the woman she had replaced, brightened up. The large smile was back on her face in an instant and she raised her hand to Robert as he turned around.
“So this is the famous Carlotta?” It could just be Arthur projecting out his own hopes, but it sounded like Robert was less enthusiastic than he had been with Mal. “My godfather has spoken highly of your talent. He says he has never heard one that can match it.”
“In what?” Ariadne muttered. “Horrendousness?”
Carlotta was preening under the praise. “It is kind of Mr. Browning to speak so highly of me,” she said. “If it weren’t for him, I would never have got to where I am today.”
“Perhaps you could grace us with a private performance?” Browning said. “It would allow my godson a chance to hear your wonderful voice for himself. And is there not a rather glorious aria for Elissa in Act Three?”
Carlotta stepped forward, face flushed with pleasure, but Mal spoke before she could. “I am afraid that such a lovely performance will have to wait until after I announce my surprise.”
A murmur ran through the crowd of onlookers. It seemed like this was to be a day filled with unexpected things.
Browning turned towards Mal with a faint frown. “And what exactly is this surprise?” he asked.
“The same as yours, actually,” Mal said. “I want to introduce one of returning patrons and a dear friend to many in the opera house.” She spread her arm out with a flourish. “Mr. Eames!”
Arthur was completely unprepared for the roar of noise that followed the announcement. He had to lean away from Ariadne for the safety of his ear drums when she let out a shriek.
“Oh my God, Eames is back!” she cried. “He’s been gone for years!” It was only after she had calmed down a little that she noticed how confused Arthur looked. “He was pretty much adopted by Mal’s father as a child so he’s an old friend of her and Dom. He was such a big part of the opera house that everyone knows him.” She shot a quick, apologetic look at Arthur. “Well, nearly everyone.”
Arthur shook his head understandingly. He had realized within his first year at the opera house that there were people who understood the building and what had occurred within it far better than he ever could. Many of them had been born and raised within the opera house, never knowing any other home.
He turned his attention to the man who was walking across the stage now to far more applause than Robert had received. This had to be Eames, he supposed.
The man was responding to the praise with all the mannerisms of a star, beaming as he waved at the crowds and even throwing a few kisses. He wore the clothes of a gentleman, although the patterns on the garments were more than a bit strange. I mean, honestly, was that a paisley vest?
Arthur was distracted by Eames’ strange taste in clothes, however, by his looks. The brown hair, slicked in a neat part to the left, was simple enough. But the eyes, which were a faint shade of blue now, seemed the type that could change at any minute. The fabric of his shirt strained against the broad expanse of his shoulders.
Arthur found his eyes resting on Eames’ lips, something that he could hardly be blamed for in his opinion. He had never seen such full lips on a man before. It should have looked entirely too feminine, but somehow Eames with the rest of his rugged features managed to make it work.
Eames didn’t even stop to kiss Mal’s hand once he reached her. He just gathered into a tight embrace instead. He broke away only to clap Dom on the back and drag him into the hug as well. The easy familiarity came as a surprise for Arthur, who had only seen the Cobbs be like that with each other.
It took quite some time for Eames to extract himself from the Cobbs to turn towards Browning. Arthur was able to observe his face going through a series of subtle shifts until his expression turned from one overflowing with warmth to a mask of blank politeness. “And you must be Peter Browning. I’ve heard you’ve taken quite an interest in this lovely establishment.”
Arthur could practically hear the gears churning in Browning’s brain as he tried to judge how he was being treated. Eames had adopted a perfectly neutral tone, however, without slipping in a negative or positive infliction at any point. So when Browning took the hand that was offered to him he seemed a little unsure for once.
“Indeed I have,” he said. He gave Eames’ hand two firm pumps before releasing it. “And it would seem that you are much beloved by it.”
Eames burst out in laughter at this, something which put Browning even more off guard. “Well I should hope so,” he said. “It is my home, after all.”
“Really?” Robert ducked his gaze sheepishly as Eames glanced over at him. “I apologize for interrupting, I was just-”
“Surprised?” A touch of warmth entered Eames’ voice as he spoke to Robert. It would appear that he favored the young man over his godfather, something that Arthur didn’t blame him for. “It’s alright most people tend to have the same reaction.”
Robert’s nerves disappeared with a smile. “I’m glad to know I’m not the only one.” He took a step forward, hand outstretched. “I’m Robert Fischer, by the way.”
“Oh, I know,” Eames said. “I could hear the announcement for your entrance from where I was backstage.” He released the other man’s hand to clap him on the shoulder. “Now I would enjoy nothing else but to continue our conversation, but it seems most unkind to leave our reigning diva to sulk.”
Carlotta, who had indeed been moping over being overlooked once more, straightened up at these words. She plastered a smile on her face as she strode over to Eames, although it was a less genuine one than the one she had given Robert. “I did not to behave improperly,” she said. “I am only-”
“Use to being the center of attention?” Eames cut across her. He reached out to take her hand she was too taken aback to offer, brushing his lips across it in the briefest of kisses before releasing it. “All primma donnas are.”
“It would seem I have taken on the mantle very well then,” Carlotta replied.
“Indeed it would,” Eames said. “Although, if I may, you would do well to look to Madame Cobb as a role model. She is one of the most talented divas of her time, after all.”
Browning stepped in after Carlotta’s features began to pinch together in a sure sign of an approaching tantrum. “I think you will find, Mr. Eames,” he said, “that Carlotta is a highly talented woman.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt.” Eames glanced over at the woman with a single brow arched. “If she was not than I would wonder why she would have been given such a position in the first place.”
“Perhaps you would like to hear her talent for yourself,” Robert suggested. “She has agreed to give us a private performance of Elissa’s aria from Act Three. I’m sure if you could just hear her voice for yourself then-” The rest of his words were lost as a man, who must have been his valet, came to tap him discreetly on the arm. He tipped his head towards the man, nodding in response to whatever was whispered into his ear. When he turned back to the others it was to offer them an rueful smile. “It seems I will have to miss out on the private performance. The doctor has requested my presence back that the estate.”
Mal’s face filled with a soft sort of sadness. It was something that Arthur, who had tended to his ailing father until the end, could relate to. “There is always the possibility for it to be nothing,” she said. “Do not let your mind leap to the worst possibility right away.”
Robert offered her a tight smile, but his eyes shown with gratitude. “I will try to follow your guidance, Madame,” he said.
“You would be very wise to do so,” Eames said. “Her advice has never failed me in the past.” The smile he shot the younger man was small but warm. “It looks like I’ll be following you out as it is.”
Something flashed in Mal’s eyes, her lips pursing for just a moment. “Going so soon, Eames?” she said.
“I’m afraid so,” Eames replied. “I only just arrived today, after all, so there is still a great deal to be done. I will be back this evening, of course, to share in what will no doubt be a triumphant performance.” He beamed out at the onlookers before turning with Robert to return the way they had come.
Arthur found himself growing tense, straightening up without even realizing it, as the two men grew closer. He knew it was ridiculous but there was a part of him that wanted Robert to see him. There was no way of knowing how the other man would react to the sight of him, yet he still wanted it to happen.
When the moment finally came, however, Robert just strode by without even a glance in his direction. He was too involved in a conversation with his valet it seemed to notice anything, or anyone for that matter, that surrounded him.
Arthur shut his eyes as he snuck back down, determined not to let his disappointment. He shouldn’t have expected anything to happen anyway. The last time he had seen Robert the two of them had been children, standing on the beach to say their goodbyes. For all he knew, Robert had never thought of him again after that day.
When he opened his eyes it was to find Ariadne staring at him. The pity in her eyes only made what had occurred that much more embarrassing. “He wouldn’t recognize me.” He wanted to hit himself for how much it sounded like an excuse.
“He didn’t see you,” Ariadne said.
“But who would be able to miss such a lovely face?”
Arthur stiffened at the sound of that voice, coming from much closer than would be expected. He nearly knocked into Eames when he spun around since the man was so close. He probably would have wound up snapping at the man if Ariadne hadn’t chosen that moment to rush out from behind him.
“Eames!” she cried. She lunched herself at Eames, causing the man to catch her and spin her around. Both of them were grinning by the time he put her back on the ground.
“Hello there Ariadne,” Eames said. “The last time I saw you, you were just a wee thing.” He rubbed his chin, looking the girl up and down. “Although, to be honest, you really haven’t grown that much since I last saw you.” He let out a squawk of mock offense as he received a swat on the arm for his comment. Then his eyes moved towards Arthur, lips spreading into a grin that was far too familiar for Arthur’s taste. “And who is your handsome new friend? I don’t think I’ve seen him here before.”
Arthur made his move before Ariadne could speak, stepping forward with his chin pointed up. “No, you haven’t,” he said. “I arrived here after you left.” He thrust his hand out. “Arthur Moss.”
Eames curled his fingers around Arthur’s hand, encasing it in warmth. “Moss?” he echoed. “Are you by any chance related to that famous American violinist-”
Arthur cut across him with a sigh. He had grown more than use to this happening whenever his last name was brought up.
“Yes, he was my father,” he said.
Eames’ expression turned completely serious in the blink of an eye. “I am truly sorry for your loss,” he said. “Your father was a truly talented man.”
Arthur swallowed hard to rid himself of the lump that had formed in his throat. After three years you would have thought that the pain would have faded somewhat, but it was always like pulling back a scab to find the pain as fresh as ever.
“Thank you,” he said.
“And it would seem he has passed his talent on to his son,” Eames said. He smiled, solemn expression disappearing like clouds being scattered by the sun. “Mal tells me that you have some very promising talent.”
Arthur let out a snort before he could help himself. “I’m sure if that were the case then I wouldn’t still be in the chorus,” he said. He was taken aback by the dark look that flashed across Eames’ face at such a statement, but it was gone so
quickly that he was almost able to convince himself that he had imagined it.
“You never know,” the man said, “you may find your circumstances changing soon.” He lifted Arthur’s hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles so quickly that the other man had no time to pull away. “I hope I’ll be seeing more of you Arthur.” Then, with a turn of his heel, he was gone.
“I think he likes you!” Ariadne said. She clapped her hands together in delight. “That’s a good thing.”
“Why?” Arthur asked. He was still trying to shake off the way that Eames had said his name; his deep voice curling around the name like he owned it.
“Eames has always been a good judge of talent,” Ariadne said. “Mal and Dom have always trusted judgment when it comes to such things.”
“If that’s the case,” Arthur said, “then he’s going to hate Carlotta.”
The primma donna was already positioning herself at the center of the stage, being placated into giving her private performance even if the two people it had been meant for were no longer there. Everyone made sure to keep to the far reaches of the stage in case they were accused of trying to steal her limelight.
Arthur did his best to go to another place while Carlotta sang. The aria really was lovely, but you wouldn’t have guessed it from how the leading soprano sang it. She butchered every note, pushing her voice to the point that it strained. He tried to remember the time he hard heard Mal sing the aria, trying to replace Carlotta’s voice with the one that was far superior to it.
His peace was disturbed, however, by the sound of something heavy unfurling and then Ariadne’s hands were on him, pulling him backwards, her shriek mixing with others as one of the enormous backdrops came crashing down.
The only person who wasn’t lucky enough to get away in time was Carlotta since she was at the center of the stage. It caught on the back of her voluminous costume throwing her down onto the floor.
Men rushed forward to remove the backdrop at once, Browning among them, helping Carlotta up and checking her for any injuries.
Ariadne still had yet to let go of Arthur and now her fingers were digging into his arms. “He’s here!” she whispered. “The Phantom of the Opera!”
Unlike most of those in the opera house, Arthur had done his best not to believe in the opera ghost, yet he felt a chill run down his spine all the same.
Now that it had been confirmed that Carlotta was safe, Dom was hollering up at the scaffolding where some of his men were situated. “Buquet! What in the devil are you doing up there?”
“Please, sir, it wasn’t me!” Buquet called back. He was already cranking the wheel to bring the backdrop back up. “As God’s my judge, I wasn’t at my post. There shouldn’t have been anyone there. Or if there is, well, then it must be the-”
Dom held up a hand with a weary expression. “Don’t say it,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair before turning back to Carlotta. “I am deeply sorry, signora. Things like this just happen at times.”
It was evidently the wrong thing to say from how Carlotta’s face twisted up in fury. “At times?” she spat. “At times? For the past three months these things do happen. And did you stop them from happening? No!” She threw her hands up in the air. “These things do happen?” she repeated, mockingly. “I think not.” She shook her head so hard that her headdress slid back slightly. “Until you stop these things from happening, this thing-” She gestured to herself. “-does not happen!”
Browning rounded on Dom as Carlotta stormed away, people parting like the Red Sea before her. “Well,” he demanded, “aren’t you going to stop her?”
“We may have more important matters to address.” Mal had returned from wherever she had disappeared to. When the men turned towards her she held up a letter whose seal was an eerie cast of a skull fashioned out of deep red wax. “The opera ghost seems to have left us a message.”
“Oh, God in heaven, you’re all obsessed!” Browning snapped.
Mal just regarded him coolly before opening the envelope in one smooth movement, pulling out the letter that was inside.
“Ah,” she said, “it refers to you, Mr. Browning.” She cleared her throat, satisfied that she now had his full attention. “He welcomes you, and your godson, to his opera house and wishes to inform you of the rules.”
“Rules?” Browning said.
Mal continued on as though she hadn’t been interrupted. “Box five is continued to be left empty for his use. Oh, and there is a reminder here about his salary…”
“His salary?” Browning said. “Surely you don’t pay this…this…thing?”
Mal rolled her shoulders in an easy shrug. “It keeps him content,” she said. “And as long as he is content then things are quiet.” She tossed her head back, dark waves bouncing across her face. “And I wouldn’t worry about Carlotta. She just needs sometime for her nerves to settle and then she will return. But, for now, I will have no trouble taking on the role of Elissa.”
Cheers broke out amongst the onlookers at this-Arthur and Ariadne included-only to be interrupted by a single voice.
“How dare you!”
Nash stumbled out of the now silent crowd, waving an accusing finger in the general direction of the Cobbs. “I can’t believe you’re going to let such talent walk right out your door. You just want the spotlight to be on you just like it’s always been. Well no more!” He curled his hand up into a fist. “Unless Carlotta is singing here than neither shall I!” A particularly nasty smirked appeared on his face. “Let’s see how you cope with that.” Everyone shrunk back as he stalked out.
Browning looked entirely too smug as he turned towards the Cobbs. “So,” he said, “what precisely do you plan to do about that?”
Dom floundered for a moment until his wife placed a hand on his arm, offering a sweet smile with a hidden edge to the businessman.
“I assure you, Mr, Browning,” she said, “that this will be no problem.” She paused, eyes darting towards the backstage. “Arthur Moss can sing it.”
That was the last thing that Arthur had been expecting. He was consumed with the urge to sink into the floor as all the eyes in the opera house turned towards him. Then he heard Browning scoff, “A chorus member?” and he stood up straight, chin thrust out. He would not appear timid and weak. He refused to give the man that kind of validation.
“He has been taking lessons from a great teacher,” Mal said.
Arthur’s eyes shot over to her in surprise. How did she know such a thing?
“Who?” Browning demanded.
Arthur hesitated for a moment then decided that he really had no other choice but to tell the truth. “I don’t know his name, sir.”
“Let him sing for you,” Mal said. “He has been well taught.”
Browning pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh. “Fine then,” he said.
Arthur moved forward to the center of the stage as Mal beckoned to him, her eyes warm with kindness. He took a deep breath, trying forget about all the eyes that were watching him. This was what he had been training for, what three years of lessons had been building up to. And he couldn’t let down the man who had worked so hard to bring him here.
It was that in mind that he opened his mouth to let his voice free. He already knew all the parts for the lead tenor-his teacher had made sure of that-and he picked up his favorite one now with Hannibal seeking guidance from the gods for his attack on Rome. He felt like he was floating as he sang, somehow apart from his body. Nothing mattered except for the music and he let it carry him into a whole other world.
When the song came to an end it took him a minute reorient himself. At first all he was aware of was the complete silence that surrounded him, but then there was nothing but cheers and applause roaring in his ears. He stumbled slightly as Dom clapped him hard on the shoulder.
“Well done, Arthur!” he said. “I didn’t know you could sing like that!”
“It seems you have regained your voice,” Mal said. And it was that, along with the pride in her eyes, that made his heart swell his triumph. “Well, Mr. Browning, does he meet with your approval.”
“I suppose he’ll do,” Browning grumbled.
Arthur was still so high on the afterglow that this didn’t even bother him. He just turned to hug Ariadne as she raced towards him instead.
***
High above, on the parts of the scaffolding that not even the workers used anymore, stood a lone figure. A smile curled onto full lips as the person took in the pure happiness in Arthur’s face.
“Well done, darling.”