A/N: For anyone reading A December to Remember, I apologize. Writer's block is my worst enemy. However, that should be updated within a week or so. Besides, this plot bunny has something against me. This will probably be a collection of drabbles after the first ten chapters or so, but still. I hope no one minds the short chapters, but I have trouble writing long things.
Disclaimer: The normal. Even though I hope to someday star on Broadway, that's probably not going to happen.
Erik POV
Slowly, gently. I scribble words on my page, determined to write down Christine's song. One last deed, I have decided. I will give it to Antoinette Giry in the morning. That will be the last they will hear of me, the man they call the Phantom.
The music is playing in my mind, so loud that I cannot hear the water lapping against the shore. Rarely does my head go so far ahead of my hands, but I must get the music out of my mind.
Louder than the music, I hear a crash.
Standing up, I walk to the shore of the lake. "Madame Giry?" I call, wary. She has a signal-specific tapping-which she would have done if it was her. I look around one last time.
A hand breaks the surface of the water as I watch. I might be a murderer, but only to achieve my own purpose. And this hand is small, so small I suspect it is a child. I dive into the water, swimming out to the place where I saw the hand.
I lift the child to the surface, already beginning to swim back. "You're safe," I whisper as they struggle against me. They continue to fight, however, until we reach shore.
Climbing out, I lay the child down on the bank. A young girl, from the looks. Her hair is cut short, however, so short that she almost appears to be a boy. She doesn't seem much older than ten years of age.
"Shh." I rub her back as she coughs up water. I can't be sure of what to do, but as she starts to breathe slower, I lift her up and place her in the boat to sleep. She is absolutely exhausted, I can already tell. As she curls up, I consider searching for Antoinette, just to try and figure out where the girl came from. But I stop when I notice a small mark on her left forearm. Freezing for a single moment, I pull up my own sleeve and examine the faded mark. The carrier pigeon, the symbol the circus branded its youngest members with, in case they were to run off. Why she was in the circus, I cannot be sure. But I do know one thing: Antoinette Giry must be told.
I sit down at my desk, picking up my pen and scribbling a message on one of the few blank sheets of paper I can find.
Giry-
I found a girl. A runaway. She has the mark of the circus branded on her arm, and she nearly drowned while wandering down here. She is still a child. Any information about her would be useful.
-Erik
P.S. The child is thin, but she does not appear to be injured after her swim. However, I would prefer if you could come down and check on her yourself. I will be in attendance at tomorrow's matinee in Box 5, so you may leave me a note with the time and location you would like me to meet you in that place.
I blot the final line before folding it carefully and putting the wax seal on it. Looking out to where the girl is still asleep, I grab a hunk of bread from my pantry before taking the note up through one of my tunnels. The evening performance is already underway, so I put the note on Antoinette's desk and go back to my lair, not wishing to reveal myself to the crowd while entering Box 5.
It seems that I am not meant to disappear yet, after all.
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