Gundam Wing Fan Fiction ❯ The Phantom of the Opera ❯ Act III ( Chapter 3 )

Title: Phantom of the Opera 3/?

Author: Windy-chan

E-mail: WindyKotaa@aol.com

Archive: If you want it, just ask. ^^'

Pairings: 1+3, 2+OC, ?+3

Warnings: Shounen-ai, more Relena bashing (yes, Maynard, more Relena bashing for you to enjoy)

Categories: AU, POV (Trowa's, then switches to third person)

Notes: Third part! Whoo! A bit of humor here, adding to the plot, more on Elizabet's character... things start to get interesting. *Grin* The song Trowa and Relena sing *is* from Phantom of the Opera. Its called 'All I Ask of You'. Lovely song. ^^' Why did I use it? Well... its from Phantom and... I'm too lazy to look up an actual opera song for the fic, lol. Hope you enjoy! I would also like to dedicate this to the two pens who died writing this piece. ^^' I go through pens way too fast...

Disclaimer: Neither GW nor Phantom of the Opera belongs to me. Please don't sue, the government has stolen just about all the money I earned at work. Its called "taxes". ^^'

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Title: Phantom of the Opera 3/?

Author: Windy-chan

' ' - Thoughts

~*~*~*~*~ - Scene change/POV change

"Trowa... sweet Angel... my sweet, sweet Angel..."

I heard his whispers soft in my ears as I slept peacefully, waking only when I turned to find cold emptiness where he should have been. I blinked, looking at the bare spot, then I realized he had left while I was asleep again. I sighed. 'It would be nice to actually wake up with him for once.'

I sat up slowly, then looked at my door in surprise when someone knocked on it gently. A young woman's voice spoke up from the other side. "Monsieur Trowa? Monsieur Trowa, I know you're in there. Please, I need to speak with you!"

I walked over to the door, opening it, blinking when I saw Elizabet standing there, hand raised to knock again, worry on her sweet face.

"Mademoiselle Elizabet?" I asked, looking a bit confused. Her other hand was toying with a curl of her dark blond hair in what must have been a nervous habit.

"Please, Monsieur, its.. its Duo. If you could come with me...?" I could hear a bit of pleading in her voice. I nodded.

"Of course."

She turned in a swirl of her deep crimson skirt, almost running down the hallway to Duo's dressing room. I opened the door and held it open for her, as a proper gentleman should, allowing the lady to enter first, then I followed. She crossed the room to Duo's side, caressing his cheek in an affectionate gesture before sitting down on the floor beside the couch that Duo was reclining on, resting her head on the edge. Reflexively, Duo began to stroke her hair in a soothing manner.

I wasn't surprised that Elizabet needed comfort, for Duo looked like hell. His face was pallid, and was creased with pain. "Duo, what the hell happened to you?" I gaped. He laughed, which quickly turned into a cough. Elizabet began to get up again, but Duo waved her away, his cough calming down.

"Some... illness has been flying around. The flu I think," Duo told me, his voice so hoarse it hurt to just listen to it. "We'll find out what's wrong when I go to the doctor's tomorrow, but you know our first performance is the day after, and I certainly can't sing in this condition..."

"But you have no understudy!" I moaned in dismay. "Who could take your place at this point?"

"You could," Duo replied, grinning, if a bit weakly, at me. "I've heard your voice, you're good enough. You know the music too. Besides, you're a tenor. They can perform everything in the original key."

"Me?" I nearly squeaked. Nearly. I felt like I was going to fall over. "But-I couldn't-I'm not-"

Elizabet glared up at me sternly. "You can, and you will! Its either that, or the show's canceled, and we can't have that!" she berated me, her dark brown eyes flashing with anger. "I'd like to be able to eat and pay for this month's bills, thank you!" I snorted, half in exasperation and half amusement. 'She's definitely not the normal air-headed chorus girl. No wonder she caught Duo's eye.'

"Looks like I don't have much of a choice," I said, smiling slightly. Elizabet clapped her hands together in delight, and Duo laughed slightly.

"You'll do fine, Trowa," he assured me. 'I hope so...' I thought, with much less enthusiasm.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

"Monsieur Trowa, Signora Relena, once more from the top," Monsieur Reyer, the chief répétiteur, told us. I repressed a groan with great effort. "Monsieur Trowa, put more energy into it!" (1)

"Put more energy into it..." I muttered to myself. "What energy? I have no energy! We've been practicing for four hours straight, and I need to rest!" (2)

"Monsieur Reyer, I refuse to practice any longer!" Signora Relena huffed, looking annoyed. I shook my head and looked upwards, asking for divine patience, because my own had long worn out. By the looks of annoyance and exasperation on everyone else's faces, they'd had enough of Relena as well.

"Signora Relena," Reyer pleaded with the prima donna. "Just once more? Then you shall have your break." Relena let out a much-put-upon sigh, waving a hand at him in a sign of agreement. Reyer turned to the rest of us. "Alright, everyone, three bars introduction into 'All I Ask'. And Monsieur Trowa, try and put some *feeling* into it! At least *try* to pretend that Signora Relena is your true love."

"What's *that* supposed to mean?!" Relena snapped. Reyer glared at her.

"Signora, please!" Relena wore a sour look on her face, but that faded when she began to act the part, falling into the role of the sweet young woman deeply in love. All else aside, she *was* a good actress.

I waited as the music played until my cue, breathing deeply, then letting loose the sound, singing the words with all the heart I could. "No more talk of darkness. Forget these wide-eyed fears," I gently took her hand, holding it reverently, or so I acted... "I'm here, nothing can harm you-my words will warm and calm you. Let me be your freedom," I brushed my hand down her cheek as if brushing away tears. "Let daylight dry your tears. I'm here, with you, beside you, to guard you and to guide you."

Relena pulled away from me gently, walking away a very short distance, just out of arm's reach and began to sing, a dreamy expression on her face. "Say you love me every waking moment. Turn my head with talk of summertime. Say you need me with you, now and always," she turned back to face me, her expression now pleading. "Promise me that all you say is true-that's all I ask of you."

I reached my arms out towards her, and she walked back towards me, hiding within the shelter of my arms. "Let me be your shelter, let me be your light. You're safe; no one will find you-your fears are far behind you."

She looked up at me wistfully, "All I want is freedom, a world with no more night! And you always beside me to hold me and to hide me."

"Then say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Let me lead you from you solitude. Say you need me with you, here, beside you... Anywhere you go let me go too-Christine, that's all I ask of you." Just as I finished singing, she began.

"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you. Share each day with me, each night, each morning... say you love me-"

I cupped her face in my hands. "Know I do."

The rest of the song we sang together, our voices twining together. "Love me-that's all I ask of you..." In that moment, we kissed, and never before this had I ever know a kiss to feel so wrong. Her lips were cold... emotionless... Finally it was time to pull away, and our voice rose in a thunderous crescendo, the sound ringing in everyone's ears. "Anywhere you go let me go too..." Just as quickly, our voices quieted, carrying a loving tenderness. "Love me-that's all I ask of... you..." For that moment we stared "lovingly" into each other's eyes until Reyer's voice cut through. Relena and I quickly disengaged from each other.

"Very nice, Monsieur Trowa, very nice," Reyer said to me, a touch patronizing. He turned to Relena. "Perfect, Signora Relena."

"When have I ever done anything less?" she sniffed haughtily, lifting her nose in the air and stalking off. I rolled my eyes.

"Very well, everyone, be back here in a half an hour! We still have many rough spots to work out, and our first performance is tomorrow night!"

General moaning and mutters were heard as the actors disbursed. I turned to head towards my dressing room and was surprised to see Elizabet walking towards me, a glass of what appeared to be water in her hands. She smiled at me and handed me the glass.

"Here," she said. "You seem like you could use this."

"Thanks," I said gratefully, taking the glass from her. "Shouldn't you be watching over Duo?"

She sighed in frustration. "Not if I want to keep my job," she said bitterly. "I'm just an unimportant chorus girl. I'm easily replaced, so I can't afford to 'stay home and take care of my lover.' " She smiled ruefully up at me. "So I take care of you until they release us. You're Duo's best friend, after all. Can't have you burning out too." She sighed. "But I still worry about him..."

I nodded, then sipped on my drink, nearly choking on it in disgust. "Ugh, what's *in* this drink, anyway?"

"Vinegar in warm water," she laughed. "Its good for sore throats, and you've been singing for four hours straight, I know your throat has to be sore! Try drinking it in big gulps, that'll make it go down faster." (3)

"But it won't help the taste any... are you sure its not bad for the stomach?" I asked warily.

"My father, a great singer and long actor in opera, taught me this recipe," Elizabet scolded me, but a slight smile still clung to her lips. "Its perfectly fine for the stomach, now, drink!"

I took a deep breath and swallowed it down, but not without making some horrific faces the entire time. Elizabet seemed to find it quite amusing.

After a moment, when the taste had faded, I spoke again. "I can't help but feel my part is... well, not up to par," I complained to her, hoping she might be able to help. Her nose scrunched up in an adorable expression as she thought it over carefully.

"Maybe because you aren't really putting your heart into it. You seem to be holding back," she said slowly after a moment. "There's a trick my father taught me... maybe it will help. Try picturing... instead of Relena's face, you see your beloved's."

A very vivid picture popped into my mind of *his* face on *Relena's* body... and I shuddered violently. "No," I replied. "I don't think that will work. Thank you, anyway, though." Elizabet smiled.

"Elizabet!" Reyer called, looking surprised to see her there. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you with Duo?"

Elizabet looked at Reyer in faint surprise. "Monsieur André told me I couldn't leave. If I did, he'd fire me."

"Nonsense!" Reyer cried, looking furious. "Fire *you*, the heart of the soprano section when our first performance is tomorrow? Ludicrous! I shall have none of that!"

"Monsieur?" Elizabet looked completely shocked at Reyer's reaction.

"No, you go to Duo at once, Elizabet! I hate to think what a mess he's making of himself at this very moment... no, you go, my dear. *I* shall make sure they do not fire you for taking care of one of the most precious voices in opera!"

"Oh, thank you, Monsieur!" Elizabet beamed, hugging a very surprised Reyer before running off to get her coat. I chuckled softly, shaking my head in amusement.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

I was nervous. Very nervous. Luckily for me, my muscles weren't tensing up. I had made sure of that. (4) The fact that our rich and powerful patron, the Vicomte De Chagny was going to watch the performance that evening hadn't helped my nerves any. I jumped slightly when Elizabet touched my arm, smiling up at me.

"You'll do wonderful," she said.

"I hope so," I replied, peeking around the edge of the curtain at the crowd gathering. "I truly hope so..."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~~*~*~*~

Quatre was enchanted. He was amazing. Beautiful. That long shock of brown hair covering half of his finely sculpted face, that long, lean body... he was beyond beautiful, he was godlike. All other beauty paled in comparison. Such elegance... such charm... such refinement... he felt as if my opera glasses were glued to his eyes. And that voice! That voice could make an angel in God's choir envious!

"Who is that?" he asked André, who was sitting to his left.

"Who, her?" André asked in confusion. "That's Signora Relena Peacecraft, our best soprano. I'm sure you've heard of her before-"

"No, him," he cut him off quickly, though his eyes never left his angel on the stage.

"Oh," André said. "Him. That is Monsieur Trowa Barton. He's replacing Monsieur Duo Maxwell, who fell ill a few days ago."

"He's magnificent," he breathed, not intending for André to hear, but he did.

"I suppose. He has a much better voice then I had originally thought. We were lucky."

"I would like to meet with him. After the performance. Alone."

André turned to look at Quatre, and he could hear disapproval in his voice. Not that it truly mattered what *he* thought. "As you wish, Monsieur Quatre. I shall see that it is arranged."

He smiled very slightly. 'I must have this angel of the opera for myself. I *will* have you, my dear Trowa. Oh yes... I *will* have you.'

~TBC

Author's Notes:

(1) Personal experience here... ^^'

(2) And now the words I said! Heh, if you've ever done anything like this, I'm sure you sympathize...

(3) Yes, its exactly what it says. *I've* never drank it, but a friend of mine has.. ick. She made it for herself, so... ^^;;; Go her.

(4) Hah! Do you remember this little fact from the first of the Phantom fics? A tense body equals a tense voice which equals a hell of a time singing decently.