Saturnine

A/N: My first Phantom fic. Set during Susan Kay's Phantom, when Erik travels to Pairs (let's pretend he already visited Mademoiselle Perrault), hoping to help create the Paris Opera House with Charles Garnier. Forgive me if any facts/descriptions are inaccurate. I'm semi-retarded when it comes to checking my facts.

ButI know there's one big inaccuracy in this story (at least I think it's an inaccuracy), but it's purposeful.

Chapter One: Fainting Thief

Erik's POV

The journey back to Paris was ghastly. The gloomy, rainy weather withheld nocturnal and daytime travel, delaying my progress through the abandoned forests and woodlands significantly.

The fact that I traveled through unmapped area also postponed my pace. Wary of unnecessary human contact I avoided routes of easy access, roads easily taken. Of course I trekked alone, with only my two aging mares as company, as per usual. I had learned years ago the consequences of company. Nadir had been a splinter beneath my fingernail when he had taken me to Persia. Yet I still missed him.

But, no. No more travel companions. I learn from my mistakes.

Unfortunately this journey became one of them.

At the end of a particularly bothersome day of relentless walking, in which little food or cover could be found, I created a fire underneath a forlorn-looking old oak tree, deciding that if, or more appropriately when, raindrops began to fall I 'd be sheltered, if not slightly. My durable cloak would provide me with more protection from the elements.

With my two mares safely tied up to a tree nearby, a blanket of wool over each of them, and a small fire burning steadily before me, I foolishly let my mind wander to plans for the opera house.

This opera house would be my final creation, the one I was meant to design. It would be the most beautiful building in all of France, no, Europe, and would not only be remembered for its astonishing beauty, but also for its mystery. Of course that would be if I had my way. Which I certainly would, despite any objections from Garnier or other likeminded fools who wished the opera house to be an unsightly building meant only for pompous aristocrats to gather on a daily basis. I couldn't let that happen.

Despite my thoughts I caught the sound of Rosetta, my white mare, whicker, startled, and I immediately banished my daydreams, focusing on the sound. My horses rarely made noise, unless a stranger was near. I had taught them to respond to me, my touch and voice alone. I had no need to tie them up at all, but it was for their own protection, I told them whenever they stomped a foot in protest. In case we ever encountered a thief. Which seemed to be now, apparently. Shangri La, my black mare, snorted, a confused sound and whickered like Rosetta had seconds before.

Someone was obviously meddling with my dears. Something I would not ever tolerate.

Silently, I turned to the intruder, to my horses, my suspicions confirmed. A figure was facing them, back towards me, petting Rosetta and Shangri La's muzzles hurriedly, trying to calm them into silence. I smirked at this vain attempt, and noiselessly rose to my feet. Of course any sound I made would have been hidden behind the crackle of the fire.

Sweet Shangri La had today managed to wedge two sharp rocks into two different hooves, and Rosetta limped mysteriously on her hind right foot, not only upsetting out travel pace but upsetting me as well. These mares did not deserve pain or suffering. No one did.

Unless said 'no one' was trying to steal from me.

In less than two seconds I had caught hold of the stunned intruder by the back of his collar and had him pinned to the dirt ground. With little thought I reached into my cloak, about to pull out my Punjab lasso, when I noticed that my intruder was distinctly female. "Well, mademoiselle," I stated coldly, "I had no idea that thievery was taught at finishing school."

The young lady in my hold snarled at me, appearing quite animal-like, despite her once fine clothing. The material of her dress seemed to be made of the best quality, yet dirtied by filth and torn somewhat by the wilderness. Her brown hair was tangled and in a mess, her face contorted in frustration at being caught. "Let me go," she demanded boldly.

I laughed frostily. "Mademoiselle, you are not in a position in which you can make an order that will be followed."

Her gender stayed my hand though. I had killed countless men, many for lesser crimes than touching my belongings, but had never murdered a woman. Something inside me wouldn't allow myself to. Perhaps it was because of my mother, or the fact that they were pushed and pulled around by men, like I was in my childhood, or maybe I pitied the weaker sex. Deep inside I thought them akin to spiders. A nuisance, but not worth harming.

I didn't allow myself to dwell on it though. I readjusted my grip on the girl, looking at her.

She squirmed in my grasp. Perhaps eighteen or twenty, just out of finishing school, she still had a life ahead of her. Her eyes met mine, and she faltered momentarily, gazing at my masked face, awe and shock evident in her stare. Then she spat, "Let me go, you loathsome beast!"

Long ago such a comment would hurt me. Now it only serves to anger me. Sarcastically, I hissed, "'Loathsome beast'? Mademoiselle, how astounding! Only a few moments in my presence, yet such an accurate description you've developed of me. Tell me, child, is it my hideous appearance that reveals this? Or perhaps my actions?"

She glared at me in silence, breathing in and out deeply, fuming. Realizing that she had no intention of answering me—though the question was rhetorical for the most part—I prepared to let her go. An unexpected and shocking pain near my groin stopped me. It took me a few seconds, through the unbearable sting, to understand that she had kneed me there, in a deeply sensitive spot. White and black swirls ran across my vision like white Bengal tigers. I blinked a few times, willing the extreme discomfort away, a growing rage replacing the pain.

Oh, yes, Erik. A mocking voice inside my head whispered sardonically, as I closed my eyes against the severe pain that refused to be ignored. The weaker sex, indeed. She's not a weak harmless spider, oh no, but a terrible tarantula, and you should know better than to let your guard down! Has your miserable life taught you nothing? Get rid of the menace and be done with it!

Fury swallowing reason, I yielded to the voice within. I quickly pulled her up from the ground and held her against a tree, left hand around her neck, holding her several inches off the ground. She gasped in disbelief and shock, but I couldn't hear her, as lost as I was in brooding thought. She attempted to free herself by hitting and kicking at me, but this, along with the suffering pain I had from her last blow, added more unneeded fuel to my fire, and I raised her up a few more inches by her neck.

As the anger and pain ebbed unhurriedly away I saw the girl's face, beneath the grime covering it, slowly turn a sick pallor. Suddenly recalling my promise of not killing to Nadir, and realizing that I was strangling this girl to death I released her immediately, disgusted with myself. She sunk to the ground, coughing and gasping for air.

I walked away from her shivering form to murmur words of reassurance to Shangri La and Rosetta, who nudged me gently, offering understanding and comfort in a small gesture. Retrieving a pouch of water from the fireside, I handed it to the girl, who looked at me in new alarm and caution.

"I may be a beast," I told her softly, "but I am not a cruel one."

Her energy gone, hysteria overwhelming her, she grew lifeless in a dead faint.

A fainting thief. How quaint.

In a single motion I removed my cloak and placed it over her.

Within minutes the evening cooled down considerably with fresh chilly raindrops descending from the sky.

Oddly enough I welcomed it.

A/N: So? Love it? Hate it? Want more? Please tell me!

All chapters will probably be this long, or longer.

Compliments and criticism embraced,

Alda