Title: Child of Music
Author: Flounda
Fandom: The Phantom of the Opera
Rating: PG for now
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters, locations or plots belonging to Phantom of the Opera.
Pairing: Erik/Christine
Summary: set 6 years after the ending. Read on to find out more.
A.N: I know this didn't actually happen and that some of you may not approve, but for the sake of my story I'm making it that at some stage Erik and Christine slept together.
Feedback: PLEASE SEND FEEDBACK! I'd like to know wether or not to keep posting.
Archiving: If you want it, take it, just let me know where its going.
A little over 5 years ago, the opening night of the new opera Don Juan Triumphant, at the Opera Populaire, was heinously interrupted. The grand chandelier mysteriously fell; killing members of the audience and starting a fire that destroyed much of the majestic interior of the opera house. Also, a mysterious man, whom many believed to be a ghost or monster of some sort, appeared on the stage during the finale, and kidnapped the young soprano, one Christine Daae. Witnesses say he was hideously deformed and some say he was the son of the Devil himself; with horns protruding from his disfigured head. But as with all myths, we can not believe everything we hear. One thing that can be said with certainty, the opera house was abandoned and no sign of the singer or the 'phantom' were ever heard of again.
Erik performed his usual morning routine of making a cup of Russian tea, for breakfast, an unwelcomed necessity and then went straight to his music. Everyday he played and played for hours on end. Stopping occasionally to fulfil other tasks and then to resume playing with ardour until exhaustion overtook him and he slept. Only to wake the next day and do it all again. He had done this everyday for the past 5 years. After THAT night he had fled the opera house just in time to avoid the blood thirsty mob and lived in the shadows and alleys of Paris for a little over a week, surviving off rats. After that he returned to the now empty and desolate opera house, that held so many memories for him but that was also the only home he'd known. His first action was to return to his ransacked house and repair what he could. The vengeful mob, failing to find him, had turned to destroying all his possessions. Next he blocked off the way they had come and many others anyone could possibly have known about. However there was one particular passageway, one that was entered into through a mirror in one of the dressing rooms, which he could not bring himself to block off. In fact he used it often; when he wished to walk the empty halls and remember.
He was on one of these such walks this afternoon. When he suddenly heard familiar music coming from the theatre. He stopped dead in his tracks and a cold chill ran up his spine causing him to shake involuntarily when he heard a voice and the words it was singing so sweetly. "Angel of Music, guide and guardian, grant to me your glory! Angel of Music hide no longer, secret and strange angel." He moved quickly to the theatre; his fear fuelling his fury. Who would know this private and intimate tune? Who did they think they were, trespassing into his domain and taunting him so? Also, this person had invaded his home, his sanctuary, his solitude; he wasn't ready for human contact. He wasn't even wearing a mask! He grabbed his Punjab Lasso, determined to exterminate this great agitator and went back stage to get a glimpse of them.
He momentarily froze in shock at the sight before his eyes. A little girl was seated at the organ, playing and singing to herself. She wore some sort of green dress with a white apron over it and a large green bow in her dark brown hair. She looked no more than 6 years old but the way she held herself, her elegant posture and graceful movement along with her almost sad facial expression, could make one believe she was much older. He glanced down at his lasso and quietly dropped it. He couldn't kill a child, he wasn't that much of a monster, but he had to get rid of her. "LEAVE THIS PLACE!" he bellowed, making sure to stay out of sight. He'd frighten the child away.
The girl jumped, startled and fumbled her playing. She quickly gathered up her knapsack she had brought with her and hugged it tightly. She gulped and stayed where she was. "Who's there?" she called, trying to sound brave.
Erik managed a slight smirk despite himself. This child had courage, he gave her that. But he still knew one thing that would scare her far, far away. He walked onto the centre of the stage, placing himself and his face in full view of the girl.
The child screamed. Never before had she seen something so horrifying. It was like a creature out of the ghost stories she'd shared with her peers. The ones her mother had never approved of. Her mother said there was no such things as ghosts and strongly discouraged all that silly nonsense. She slid off the stool and backed away, stumbling and falling to the floor. She rose up on her elbows but stopped. She just stared at the man in front of her.
Why wasn't she running away? Erik bristled. Surely this vision would traumatize and scar her for life. Why did she just lay there? "GET OUT OF HERE!" he growled, taking a step towards her. She didn't move. He took a few more steps "I'm giving you one last chance. Leave now and never breath a word of what you saw. For if you do I shall know and I shall hunt you down and" what was something children were scared of? "eat you! He finished dramatically. The child gulped and got up gathering her things and began to walk away. When suddenly something occurred to Erik; he'd been so determined to get rid of her that he'd skipped the very important question. "Wait!" he yelled, hoping the child wasn't too scared to stop.
The child slowly turned around. Good God! The face! THAT face! It was so familiar. "I'm just curious" he masked his desperation "where did you hear that ridiculous little tune you were squawking out?"
The child hung her head "from my mother." She answered quietly.
Erik narrowed his eyes at her "and where did your mother hear that…well it's not even a song is it?"
The child's lip quivered "I don't know where she heard it."
Erik was frustrated at not getting a satisfactory response "Well didn't you ever ask her? Have you ever heard it anywhere else?"
The child shook her head sadly "my mother doesn't approve of music." She confessed "We have nothing to do with it. She says it's a waste of time."
"If she hates music so much, then why does she sing to you?"
"She doesn't. Sometimes when she's sad and she thinks I can't hear she sings it to herself."
Erik went quiet and regarded the child. how was it this child wasn't running from his face in terror? How did her mother know THAT song? And why did she sing it to herself in secret? Unless…NO! It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. The resemblance was just his mind playing tricks on him. But who else would know THEIR song? OF COURSE! It fitted. Brave and annoying. Her smirked at the little girl, grateful to have the upper hand. "Why, you're a Giry, aren't you?" he sneered "Yes I knew your mother and grandmother, you are just like them."
The little girl just stared up at him strangely, Erik assumed she was staring at his deformed face. He couldn't believe he had been unmasked in front of a person for so long and that that person wasn't running in terror. Still, he was self conscious. He quickly held his hand up and turned away from her.
The little girl watched the scary looking…man? Was he a man? Yes, even though his face might be a little different she was sure he was still a man. He was very skinny and he hadn't groomed his hair. Mama wouldn't approve of that. She brushed her hair twice a day and brushed her own a lot more. Her mama's hair was curly so she was always trying to straighten it and tie it up in a tight bun. She said curls got in the way. This man looked embarrassed about her seeing his face. She reached into her knapsack of precious possessions and pulled out something she thought might belong to him. She wasn't sure, but it made sense. She would miss it, but she could tell this man needed it.
Erik felt something tug on his sleeve. He turned around ready to yell at the child but froze at what he saw. There she stood, calmly holding something out to him; it was a mask, a white half face mask. He slowly reached out to take it. He caressed it reverently, like and old friend. Then placed it on his face, instantly regaining his confidence. He turned to the child, towering over her "You will tell me where you got this." He commanded.
The little girl gulped at took a step back. "My mother had it." She whispered.
Erik let out a maniacal laugh " Meg Giry? Or, what's her name now?"
The child look up at him confused "Who are you talking about."
Erik paled, who was this child? Desperation overtook him he grabbed her roughly by the shoulders "If your mother was not Meg Giry, than by the Devil you tell me her name!" he shouted.
The little girl shook and began to cry "C-C-Christine C-C-Claudet" she stammered.
IMPOSSIBLE! NO! Wasn't she married to Raoul? Claudet was his last name but there was no way she could have known that. It must be someone else, that was the only practical conclusion.
The little girl looked at him as what she could see of his face went through a series of changes echoing his emotions. "My name's Erica Claudet" she added.
