Leaves swirled around Antoinette Giry's feet as she hurried to the Opera House. She tightened her red wool scarf around her neck and had to jump to avoid a carriage that slipped on a patch of black ice. Paris was full of people as the holiday season rapidly approached, but Antoinette though only briefly of them. She had a more pressing concern. Namely, getting to the Opera House as fast as she could to fulfill a promise she had made, perhaps foolishly. She reached L'Opera Garnier clutching her basket of food and hurried to the trapdoor aside from the main entrance. She opened the window and dropped down, then pulled the basket down after her. Even though she knew what was down here, she still couldn't escape the feeling of being watched. And it was scary. She made her way down to the water's edge and called,
"Erik?"
There was no reply.
"Erik? Come out, it's me, Antoinette!" As if anyone else would come visit the poor child.
Suddenly, something icy and wet slid down her back. She shrieked and spun around, clawing the ice chunk out of her dress. Of course, there was no one there.
"Erik!" she cried angrily. "You come out here right now!"
A wicked little laugh reached her ears, seemingly coming from all directions. She cast her eyes around, searching for the impish little child she had taken in, recently turned 11. When she turned back around to look across the water, Erik was standing in his boat, smirking at her.
"Hello, Antoinette," he said far too innocently. "You look a bit upset."
Antoinette scowled at Erik. "You are a devilish little thing, Erik!" she cried. "I don't know why I bother to visit you, you always torment me!"
Erik frowned. "Are you going to leave now?" he asked.
"Are you going to stick more things down the back of my dress when I'm not looking?"
"No, I won't!"
"Then let's go," Antoinette said, getting into the boat.
She sat down in the front of the boat as Erik used the pole to push them along.
"Are you going to go home for Christmas?" Erik asked as he pushed the boat.
Antoinette sighed. "You know I can't Erik. I can't afford a trip to Provence."
Erik knew. But he still liked hearing her say she'd stay here.
"Will you come visit me?" he asked.
"I don't know. Maybe. I have things to do as well." Antoinette felt irritated by Erik's pleasure that she couldn't visit her family over Christmas.
Erik glared at the back of her head. They reached his lair and Antoinette leaned over to place the basket on the ground. Erik placed one foot on the edge of the boat and pushed on it. Antoinette screamed as she plunged into the slimy cold water.
"Erik!" she yelped. "You awful child!"
Erik didn't relax his glare as he leapt out onto the stone.
"You said you wouldn't visit me on Christmas."
"I said I might not! You know I'd try! I'd hate to think of you all alone down here on a holiday! It breaks my heart, that's why I'm here!"
Erik felt bad about dumping her into the water. He waded through the water and offered her a bony hand, pulling her up onto the stone floor.
"I'm sorry," he said, looking at his feet, tears threatening to fall from his bright yellow eyes. "I don't want you to leave me alone."
Antoinette sighed. As much trouble as Erik caused her, he was still just a lonely child. And most of his tricks probably came from his own boredom down in the cellars.
"Just help me set the table," she said briskly, getting to her feet. Erik snatched up the basket and hauled it over to the rickety wood table they'd dragged down here. The basket was so big it bumped his knees as he carried it, and Antoinette felt a pang of reluctant affection for the quirky little boy.
"Wow, there's so much!" he cried, opening the basket. "How'd you get all this?"
"I saved up a lot of money," Antoinette said, following Erik.
"You spent your money on this?" he asked incredulously, looking up at her, wide-eyed.
She nodded. Erik bit his lip, feeling even guiltier about her sopping wet dress and stockings. He dashed off down one of the corridors without warning, and returned to a bemused Antoinette with an armload of wood with some matches balanced on top. He piled the wood up inside a ring of rubble he'd collected and lit a fire.
"Come and sit," he said. "You need to dry off."
Antoinette smiled. "Thank you, Erik."
She pulled off her stockings and shoes, laying them out on the ground by the fire. Erik pulled the table and chair set over to the fire so they could eat by some warmth. It was frigid down in the catacombs. They sat down to eat and talked amicably, for the most part. But that didn't stop Erik from flicking peas expertly at Antoinette when she wasn't looking.
"What's this holiday again?" Erik asked, taking another slice of bread.
"It's All Saint's Day," she replied.
"Oh."
After they finished dinner, Antoinette pulled out a real treat: A miniscule little cake that had cost her forty sous. It was vanilla, with creamy white frosting. Erik's eyes widened beneath the mask, and for a moment, he looked just like any other child his age, thrilled and amazed over a seemingly impossible gift.
"Wow," he breathed. "Is it really for me?"
Antoinette smiled again. It was moments like this that gave her a warm feeling of pleasure at having rescued Erik from the cruelty of the gypsies. Moments like this that made her sure she'd done the right thing, however much Erik tried to sway her to the contrary, with his terrors and tricks.
"Of course, Cherie."
Erik took a knife and carefully cut it in half.
"Here. I want you to have some too," he said.
So they shared the cake beside the dying fire, and when that was done, Erik rushed off again and came back over to Antoinette, who was sitting, watching the embers, shyly holding a book.
"Would you read to me?" he blurted out, feeling ridiculous.
Antoinette looked over, surprised. Erik was usually demanding in the things he wanted. But then, as far as affection went, he never asked for that. Just for food, or things, or her time.
"Sure, Erik."
He brightened immediately, thrust the book into her hands and crawled onto the mattress that lay unobtrusively against one wall. Careful not to step on anything sharp in her bare feet, Antoinette followed and sat down next to Erik. She looked down at the book.
"Les Misérables, Erik? Isn't this a little tough for you?"
"Of course not!" Erik scoffed.
Antoinette raised an eyebrow, but opened the book regardless.
"In the year 1815 Monseigneur Charles-Francois-Bienvenu-"
"I've already read that part," Erik interrupted. He reached over and flipped through dozens of pages. "There."
Antoinette looked at Erik from the corner of her eye, and then looked back at the book and picked up where his long finger indicated. By the dying firelight she read for a long time, and yet time seemed to slow down, and the world shrunk to just these two kids by a fire in the cellars of an Opera House, reading Les Misérables. When she was reaching the part of Cosette's rescue by Jean Valjean, she felt a sudden weight on her shoulder, and looked over to see Erik had fallen asleep against her shoulder, his mask pushed off to one side. She shook her head, lovingly exasperated. So much for his previously attentive listening. She set the book aside and gently eased the boy down onto the mattress. She was pulling the blankets up to cover him when his eyes flickered open. He grasped her wrist in his surprisingly strong grip.
"Antoinette, don't go. Please," he whispered, as if confessing some dark, shameful secret. "If you go, the nightmares will come back."
Antoinette bit her lip. She was supposed to be back at the dorms…She had stayed much longer than she'd planned already. But what could she say?
"Alright, Erik."
She removed her outer coats and spread them over the blankets for extra warmth and then lay down on the space that Erik had allowed her. He turned away from her and removed the white half-mask, setting it aside and curling up on the mattress, refusing to turn over and let Antoinette see his face. She couldn't understand his aversion to her seeing the deformation, she'd seen it before. However, rather than ponder the dark, twisted depths of Erik's young mind, she closed her eyes and wondered how much trouble she'd be in tomorrow morning when she finally returned to the ballet.
"Good night, Erik," she murmured, already dozing off.
He didn't reply for so long she thought he must have already fallen asleep again, but then as dreams claimed her, she heard a soft,
"Good night, Annie," drift to her from the other side of the mattress.
Antoinette was sitting in field of daises behind her house and her little sister Colette was calling to her from the window. She was telling her to hurry and pick some daisies for the party later that day. Antoinette couldn't remember any party, but she picked the daisies anyway. Out of the blue, an ear piercing, calm shattering, absolutely wretched scream reached her ears. She herself barely held back an answering scream as she jerked awake. Erik, of course, was the screamer, sitting up, clutching his knees to his chest, trembling all over. He had silenced himself by the time Antoinette woke, but he still looked terrified, his blue eyes massive with fear.
"Erik! Are you hurt?" she exclaimed.
Erik turned to her and then, in one fluid movement, threw his arms around her and pressed his face into her chest, his whole body shaking with sobs. Antoinette stiffened, taken aback by this unexpected physical contact, something almost forbidden by Erik. But her heart was wrenched with pity for this pathetic boy, who had no one in the world but her, and she held onto him, stroking his head occasionally.
"It's alright, Erik, Cherie, it's okay. It was just a dream."
"I'm sorry," came Erik's muffled voice as he pulled away from her, rubbing his eyes and once more refusing to allow her a glimpse of his distorted face.
"You shouldn't be. All kids get nightmares."
Erik didn't respond, just looked away.
Suddenly furious with his inability to believe anyone could care for him, Antoinette grabbed his face in her hand and twisted it around so he had to look her in the eye.
"Erik, you can't blame yourself for every little thing you do wrong. There are some things no one can help."
Yellow eyes met green, and for a long moment neither child moved. Then Antoinette hugged Erik and whispered,
"I'll always be here for you, mon chère."
Erik closed his eyes, feeling a lump forming in his throat, and didn't trust himself to speak. He hugged her back and then they lay down, curled up together against the biting cold of the catacombs, under a mound of worn blankets and girls' petticoats.