Masquerade
By Cybra
A/N: This story is in two parts, each part named for the costume the chapter is focused around, so don't think that this is it. ^^ And I know it's weird that this is centered on a Halloween celebration now, but just roll with it.
Special Notes: The name "Dolores" to name the Delightful Child with the bow was first used by Tikalightning in his superb story "Operation DOLL," and I have his permission to use it. (And I insert a shameless plug to boost his ego. ^.- And thank you to the nice reviewers who spotted my minor spelling mistake!) There is also a spoiler for The Phantom of the Opera in here, so if you're planning on seeing the musical or reading the book and don't want to know about the ending, you have been warned.
Disclaimer: Codename: Kids Next Door is the brainchild of one Mr. Warburton. Bow to him, peon!
Swan Princess
Dolores had not meant to get separated from her siblings. However, in the close maze of costumes and masks, it had been easy to get bumped away from her family. Even though they had tried to use a common theme of princes and princesses so they could identify each other in case something like this happened, it appeared as though several other children had had similar ideas.
As what had become the norm when she came out of contact with her siblings, she felt that fierce need for group mentality start to loosen. (Though she would never admit it, even when she was with her creepy siblings, Dolores's need to be one hundred percent in tune with the group had lately started to lessen.) Yet now she felt isolated and nervous.
Immediately, she drifted to the wall near a darkened corner. In the dimmed lighting, it would be difficult to pick out her siblings, but perhaps they would be able to find her. All she needed to do was simply stay put.
"Good evening, Odette," an accented voice – familiar but still unidentifiable due to all of the noise of the party – cut through the loud music.
Whirling, Dolores stood face to face with a young man wearing a tuxedo with a cape wrapped around his shoulders. He wore white gloves over his hands, giving the impression of a cultured person ready to go to the theatre, not attend a school masquerade ball. An elegant mask, seemingly made of porcelain though she suspected it was actually cleverly disguised plastic, covered most of the mysterious boy's face.
Trying to recover her wits, she asked, "Why did you call me that?"
He smiled charmingly. "What else do you call the princess of Swan Lake?"
Surprised that he was actually familiar with the story, she asked, "How can you be so sure that I'm Princess Odette? I could be any princess."
"But not any princess would wear a mask in the shape of a swan," he pointed out, smile widening.
Her face blushing fiercely under her mask, Dolores's hand flew up to touch what hid her identity for the night. It was white and in the shape of a swan with its wings stretching over her pale blue eyes. The mask went with her white dress – a dress suitable for any princess – perfectly. To further disguise herself, she had redone her hair and done away with the bow for the night. (She doubted that any of the Kids Next Door would be able to recognize her.)
Irrationally, she felt the need to throw him off-balance. "I suppose you figured me out, Erik."
She smiled to herself as the smile slid from his face and a look of surprise replaced it. It felt good to catch him off-guard!
For a few seconds, he stared at her, groping for a response, before he started laughing. "Lesson learned, my lady. I wasn't expecting to be called anything except possibly 'Phantom' if you even recognized my costume."
"I read the book before I saw the musical," she explained with a smile. "So, why did you decide to stand in that corner?" She paused for a brief second as a joke concerning his costume came to her. "Scare fair damsels and spirit them off to your kingdom of music?"
"Oh, no. What happens if they can't carry a tune?" As she laughed, he winced then smiled. "No, I couldn't stand it being so bright anymore. The mask helps, but I needed a break."
"Bright?" she asked, incredulous.
Glancing about, she found it hard to see. Her eyes had adjusted a little to the dim lighting, the occasional flashing lights from the DJ's table, and the fog that the fog machine spewed out every ten minutes. But she certainly could not describe the room as "bright."
"My eyes are very light-sensitive,"[1] he mumbled, looking at the floor. "This is bright to me."
"Oh. Well, that's all right. You probably never get lost in the dark."
This seemed to cheer "Erik," making Dolores feel better.
"And what about you?" he inquired. "Why are you playing wallflower?"
"I've been separated from my group," she admitted. "I decided to wait until they find me."
"Judging by how bright – dark," the strange boy corrected himself, "the room is and how loud it is, you're going to be waiting a while."
She sighed.
"Cheer up! I think I can keep you suitably entertained." He bowed elegantly, a motion completely out of place in their current surroundings.
Giggling at the absurdity of the formality of his action in spite of the informality of the situation, she curtseyed in response. "I'm sure you can, sir."
@~^~~
As time passed, she barely noticed herself relaxing more and more while talking to her mysterious friend. Due to his insistence, she did not tell him her name, nor did she know his.
"It is a masquerade," he had pointed out with another of those charming smiles of his. "It's a tradition that identities are only revealed at midnight."
So she had agreed, and, for one night, she was Odette. Only this Odette's Prince Charming had no castle, no white horse, and the most amazing, light-sensitive sapphire blue eyes she had ever seen. Christine had been an idiot to choose Raoul.[2]
Amazingly enough, "Erik" read more than comic books. The story of the Phantom of the Opera had, obviously, fascinated him. He had read plenty on the Phantom and even recommended a few of his favorites to her though he warned her of some disturbing things in those books.
She returned the favor. Swan Lake had been equally fascinating to her. She devoured every book she could get her hands on that was related to the story, so she recommended her favorites to him, relating similar warnings when necessary.
Everything about him fascinated her: the tone of seriousness he held under his smiles and laughter as though he had responsibilities he could not forget even as he relaxed, the way his eyes lit up when he talked about something he was excited about, the way he carried himself in a way that was both relaxed and alert. He was intelligent, and then there was that accent…
That made her pause. The voice was so familiar, but all of the background noise made it impossible to place. She supposed it would come to her later or once they had removed their masks.
After a while, Dolores desperately wanted to stretch her legs and possibly grab a commemorative photo with the mystery boy who had rescued her from pure boredom. After contemplating the matter for several minutes, she decided that it would not hurt to ask.
"They're taking pictures. Would you like to take one?" she suggested.
He hesitated, and she knew why: The flash of the bulb would be agony on his eyes.
"We don't have to," she added.
"No, let's do it." He gave her a faint smile and offered his arm.
Dolores looped her arm through his, her hand landing on his forearm. She walked beside him, blushing as the other kids stared as they passed. She jerked her head downward in surprise when his other hand landed softly on hers. She looked back up at him, but he kept looking forward, seemingly unaware of his hand's actions.
To her, an eternity passed before the pair reached the photo booth. Taking a different envelope from the stack than he did, she filled out the necessary information so the photographer would send a copy of the picture to her mansion, suppressing the urge to glance at the information he wrote on the envelope he had taken. But as soon as she had finished, she realized that her brother Reginald had her money. Since the princess costumes had no pockets or purses, and since the Delightful Children had been expected to remain together, the blond boy had held on to of all of their money.
"Oh, no," she murmured to herself.
"Here." The necessary amount fell next to her hand.
Dolores jerked her head up to see "Erik" looking in the other direction, clearly wanting to avoid seeing her name on the envelope. "I can't just take your money!"
"It's all right. I brought extra just in case one of my friends forgot their money, so take it."
"But – "
"Take it."
The gentle order in his voice, coming across as a firm request, prompted her to place the money in the envelope and seal it. She handed the envelope the photographer's assistant as her mysterious friend did.
She had no problems as she was positioned in front of the camera, used to such treatment after enduring several family portraits taken by photographers. However, her friend seemed to have difficulty being directed on how to stand, needing multiple directions in where to place his hands and feet and how to tilt his head. Dolores had taken particular enjoyment out of watching him squirm as the photographer adjusted his costume the third or fourth time.
"Are you all right?" she asked him as soon as they were finished.
"I can't see," he admitted, lifting a hand to rub one of his eyes through the eyehole of the mask. "Stupid flash. No dancing for me."
"I suppose it's for the best. I can't dance."
He seemed surprised. "I'm sure you can dance better than me."
"I bet I'm worse."
"Let's see then."
"You're kidding. You won't be able to see what you're doing!"
"Your point?"
"You're crazy."
He smiled a bit crookedly. "Maybe a little."
Dolores studied him for a moment. His eyes were not focusing on her very well and were even watering a little. He must have been in serious pain, but he was willing to give dancing a try with her.
She had to be honest with herself. She did want to dance with him but had not wanted to impose on him further, nor did she want to break his foot by accident. (She was wearing low heels which would not do as much damage as high heels, but they were still heels.) But if he was so dead set on having his toes trod on then it was his funeral.
"All right, but I'm afraid you're going to regret it," she sighed. Then she gave him a stern look. "But just one song. You look like you're hurting enough already."
"Yes, ma'am," he teased lightly. "Shall we?"
They stepped out onto the dance floor just as the opening strains of "Through The Rain" by Mariah Carey came over the speakers. Students left the floor for a break or paired off around them, but Dolores's full attention rested on her mystery man.
Naturally, they stumbled at first. Due to the aftereffects of the flash on his light-sensitive eyes, "Erik" had problems leading them. About a minute into the song, they found their rhythm.
The rest of the world vanished as far as Dolores was concerned as she danced with him. When the song ended, another slow song, "Can't Fight This Feeling Anymore" by REO Speedwagon, began playing. She thought at first that they would stick to their deal and go sit down, but they kept dancing instead.
In Dolores's eyes, this was heaven. They tripped over each other's feet every so often. As she predicted, she did step on his foot. Yet for their dance's imperfections, it was more perfect than the rehearsed performances seen in movies.
At the end of the second song, the boy in the tuxedo murmured, "I'm sorry, but I need to get out of the lights, Odette."
Nodding, she took his hand. The princess led her companion through the throng, knowing that his eyes were in too much pain for him to see straight if at all. They sat in the plastic chairs in the darkest corner of the room.
"You okay?" she asked softly.
He nodded, holding his head in his hands. "Just stayed out a little too long."
Blushing behind her mask, she said, "You didn't have to do the second song you know."
"I…really liked dancing with you," he admitted, his ears turning red with a blush mostly hidden behind his own mask.
Her blush deepened, and she opened her mouth to tell him that she enjoyed dancing with him as well.
But before the sentence left her mouth, her siblings appeared before them. Dolores looked up into her blond brother Reginald's pale blue eyes.
"Time to go," those eyes told her.
She shook her head, pleading with her brother. She needed to make sure her friend was all right. She did not even know who sat next to her.
Those eyes remained firm, unmerciful.
Sighing, she said to her mystery friend, "I'm sorry, but I have to go."
"Now," Reginald and the other three stated flatly.
She sighed again and stood.
"Then I hope to see you again," her friend said.
"And I hope I see you again, too."
Impulsively, she leaned forward and kissed him on the part of his mask covering his right cheek.
Her mysterious friend's ears turned even redder.
She sadly noted that he did not look up, yet it was quite understandable. His eyes probably prevented him from looking. What was dim light to her was far too bright to him now, especially when it reflected off of her white dress.
She turned away from him, walking with her siblings. It was then that she realized that she had forgotten to ask him his name and wondered if it was too late to go back.
But he beat her to her own question, and his voice made her turn.
"Wait! What's your name?!" he shouted, looking up, eyes squinting.
"It's Dolores!" she shouted, but the DJ decided at that moment to play what must have been the loudest heavy metal song in existence, swallowing up her response, and she doubted he could truly see well enough to read her lips.
Before she could even go back to repeat herself, her sister Veronica pulled her away towards the exit and away from "Erik."
@~^~~
Weeks later, Dolores searched the shelves at the local bookstore for anything of interest. Then a title jumped out at her: Journey Of The Mask by Nancy Pettengil.[3] She paused. It was one of the titles "Erik" had recommended to her.
She truly missed him. Just the other day the photo from the masquerade ball had arrived. She had placed it in a frame on her dresser. Now she stared at his image, trying to puzzle out his identity every time she brushed her hair.
Adding the book to the small collection in her hands, she walked towards her siblings to rejoin the group at the salesclerk's desk. But her journey was interrupted when she bumped into a familiar face.
Nigel Uno backed up a step to pick up his dropped books and adjust his sunglasses. He growled, "Be a little more careful, Delightful Dork."
Dolores regarded him calmly though not without a little confusion. The leader of the Kids Next Door was either in a very good mood or very distracted, for that was very mild compared to how he normally talked to her and her siblings.
"Would you like some help, Nigel?" she offered in her calm "Delightful Child" voice, not the warm voice she had used with "Erik." She did not want to seem overly friendly with any member of the Kids Next Door, simply polite.
"No, I've got it," he snapped.
She watched as he collected his books and walked to the cashier, quickly paid, and left. Shaking her head, she walked to the cashier in order to pay for her books, aware of her siblings waiting just behind her.
Two questions lay in the back of her mind the whole time:
Why did he wear those sunglasses all the time? Even the teachers let him wear them.
And did she see The Black Swan by Mercedes Lackey[4] among all of those books, or was that just her imagination?
[1] My personal theory for why Numbuh 1 wears his sunglasses even at night. See Endnote #4 of "I'm Their Leader" for details.
[2] In both the book and the musical adaptation of the book The Phantom of the Opera, Christine must choose between Erik (the Phantom) or her childhood friend Raoul.
[3] This is Nancy Pettengil's post-Phantom story. Excellent book, but there are some disturbing scenes involving cult practices in it.
[4] This is Mercedes Lackey's retelling of Swan Lake. Another excellent book, but there are some hints of less than noble behavior if you catch my drift.
