Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story except some of the characters and the storyline. I make no money from this.
A/N: This story was inspired by Katerinapetrova6969's Could it Be. A million point to anyone who can guess who the three spirits and the one helping them are.
As Meg crouched to take the Phantom's famed mask from the low table she felt a chill at the nape of her neck, as if someone were watching her. Whirling on the spot she braced herself, fearing it was the Phantom himself, ready to strike her down for entering his domain.
But the small cavern that looked to serve as his bedroom was still empty save for herself.
Brows creasing in confusion she looked back to the mask. Perhaps just touching it was enough to make one feel the foreboding presence of it's owner, she thought with a shiver.
Inspecting it more closely she turned it this way and that and as the light caught the porcelain surface she saw the hint of a reflection.
With a gasp she turned again.
Still, no one was there, she was alone.
Hesitantly she gazed back at the mask's gleaming surface, looking for the face to appear again. Perhaps the Phantom had secretly embossed a faint image onto the mask's surface to add to the mysterious air about him. To trick the eye and mystify anyone who caught a glimpse. Meg squinted down at the mask in her hands.
Nothing.
Perhaps more light was needed. Turning so that the candlelight was behind her, shining directly on the mask she tilted it once more trying to see.
There! On the high cheekbone staring straight at her, where here own reflection should be was the image of a beautiful woman with auburn hair that fell down around her delicately angled face in waves. Bright hazel eyes stared at Meg with a somewhat expectant gleam to them.
Then she blinked.
The woman in the mask's reflection... Blinked!
With a sharp gasp Meg made to throw the mask away, but it was already too late.
The woman seemed to surge forward, like she intended so leap out of the porcelain right at Meg's face!
Meg felt a gust of warm air blow past her, it carried with it the faint smell of heather blossoms. A jolt of raw energy shot through her, like a bolt of lightening.
Suddenly everything went dark.
Erik stumbled through the darkness of the tiny escape tunnel, a broken sob tearing past his lips.
She was gone. He sweet angel had gone away with that foolish boy. Leaving him alone and broken. His legs seemed to be suddenly drained of all their strength, he slumped heavily against the stone wall of the tunnel, sliding down onto the cold damp ground. He sat there thinking of all that had happened to him, his head bowed in silent resignation.
How sad and pitiful it was to think that it all might have been different. That things could have been different, better than this. If only he had been able to control his blasted temper!
He had all but chased her away with his actions. Chased her straight into that fools arms!
That one truth was what hurt the most.
To admit to himself that he had no one else to blame for this misfortune.
Another sob left him, the echos in the tunnel coming back to him sounding like a wounded animal.
He had no idea how long he sat there wallowing in his own sorrow, it could have been minute, or hours, but he was broken from his thoughts by the sudden sound of footsteps closing in on him.
His head jerked up, cocked slightly to the side listening. The echos made it hard to tell but he was sure it was just a single set.
Coming from behind him.
So someone had found the entrance to his escape route.
Gritting his teeth, he stood.
He may be brokenhearted and miserable, but he was far from ready to just lay down and die! Glancing around himself he looked for something to use as a weapon to defend himself, he would have to face his pursuer head on as there were no recesses or alcoves that he might hide and wait in for them to pass. That was also the only boon of the tunnel, it's size meant that while he may not be able to sneak up from behind, he still held a tactical advantage. The narrow tunnel allowed for only one parson to walk though at a time, if there was indeed more than just the one person following him, they would have to take him on one at a time. And his superior skills made that a very unfortunate thing for the opposition.
But there was nothing to use!
In his haste he had not taken the time to collect any of his belonging, or supplies. Thus no rope or sword, and the tunnel was so small he had never put in any torches. There wasn't even a damned rock anywhere that he could see to use to his defense!
And hand to hand was out of the question! Surely the men after him would be armed.
Gritting his teeth once more he turn with a small growl of frustration and began to make his way further into the tunnel as quickly and as quietly as he could. He detested the idea of running, like a scared little rat, from a fight which under any normal circumstance he could easily have won.
He was at least half way through the tunnel at this point, and once he reached the end he would be just a short sprint way from an entrance to a system of tunnels that connected to, and branched out from the old stone mines that ran underneath Paris. Erik had found the entrance years ago, not long after Giry had brought him to the opera house. The discovery had been made during one of his only trips to explore the areas surrounding his new home. He had taken note of it and returned later with a bag full of things that would be of great use in situations just like this one.
He heard the steps of the person behind him growing louder.
He was almost there, only a quarter of the tunnels length was left. Disregarding the noise he sped up to a run.
The sound of the footsteps behind him quickened as well, but Erik just grinned at the attempt. Not many men could keep pace with Erik if he did ever choose to run. He always made sure to stay in good physical health.
But the sound of his pursuer's footsteps grew steadily louder.
How?! His mind screamed.
His brow knitting in confusion and agitation he ducked his head and pushed forward in an all out sprint. Thankful that he did not have on his usual attire of a full suit and cloak to weigh him down.
Still the sounds of the person behind him did not fade away.
Cursing, he pushed himself has hard as he could, his legs pumping furiously, a fine sheen of sweat breaking out on his brow.
There! He thought with relief. Only a hundred meters or so ahead, he saw the low light filtering through the small gaps of the hidden door that served as the tunnel's exit.
With one final burst of speed he raced for the exit, pulling the lever hastily as he passed. He burst out into the deserted alleyway.
"Finally!" He exclaimed with a gasp as he skidded to a stop on the damp cobblestones. Taking a quick look around he saw no one. He made his way down the alley, at the end there was a small alcove between two buildings, in the center of which was a large stone slab with severely faded etching on it. No one else had ever seemed to notice how out of place it was amongst the much smaller cobblestones of the streets and side alleys. But Erik's keen perception had picked it out right away. Upon further inspection it had proven to be loose enough to pry up and away from the rest of the stones. Underneath had been a small tunnel, barely big enough for a man to squeeze through, but plenty wide enough for young Erik to fit at the time. The small passage had no doubt been used for airflow into the mines, as well as and emergency exit in case of a collapse or some other unforeseen disaster.
As Erik stooped to moved the stone though two set of immensely strong arms snaked around his own, hauling him back and up. The unseen attackers shoved him quite harshly against the stone wall of the building opposite the mine's entrance, holding him there with his arms and shoulders pinned.
Erik gave a bestial roar of outrage and trashed in his captor's grips. But it was no use, his struggling barely seemed to faze the men holding him. They did not budge or even flinch at his struggles or curses.
Though neither did they move to harm or do anything further than restrain him.
He paused, his breath coming in labored gasps.
Who were these men? He did not recognize either as one of the stage hands or crewmen from the opera house, and they were not dress like policemen.
So what business do they have with me? His brow knit and his lips turned down in utter confusion.
"Who are you? What do you want?" He demanded aloud.
The two men looked at each other then, their expressions switching between uncertainty and determination, as though having a silent conversation. Erik took the time to get a better look at them both.
One was tall, with a wiry frame and lanky brown hair that fell to his shoulders. Thick unruly brows sat above piercing gray eyes and a somewhat crooked nose. He had never seen this one before, though on closer inspection he noted that he recognized the other from somewhere.
He was shorter, and much younger than himself and the other man. His sandy blonde hair was cropped short, and uneven in places, as though he had done it himself. Hazel eyes that seemed far too sharp and held far too much knowledge for one so young peered out from a dirt smeared face.
Erik glanced down to assess the child further when he caught site of a crumpled copy of Le Figaro protruding from his back pocket. Of course! The paperboy! That was were Erik had seen him. He helped to delivered the paper to the opera house and all the shops and restaurants in the area.
This was extremely confusing though. The boy couldn't be more than 12, hell he could barely reach to hold Erik's shoulder in place against the wall!
So how on earth is his grip so strong and unyielding?!
"We are trying to help you Erik." The voice of a woman called from further up the alley. All three men turned to look as she approach from the tunnel that Erik had just come through.
It was none other other Meg Giry.
Erik cursed under his breath. "So, not only has your mother betrayed my trust, but now you wish to finish me off yourself?" He accused nastily.
"If you would simply listen!" She snapped angrily, "Then you would know that I said we are here to help you. Not harm you."
Erik was shocked to say the least. Never before had he heard the young Giry girl talk back to anyone. Least of all someone she had always shown herself to fear. Then it struck him, how her movements were off. The way she walked, and held herself, were very different from the shy, quiet, and obedient daughter of Madame Giry. They were much more confident and self assured. Then he took notice of her eyes. Normally a warm brown, they were now a brilliant hazel.
The same as the paperboy's.
"What sort of trickery is this?" He demanded fiercely, beginning to struggle once more. "Who are you? Why do you wear the face of another?!"
"Be calm! We mean you no harm!" The strange woman soothed. Stepping forward she gently placed her small hand on the deformed side of his face. He stopped thrashing immediately as a surge of energy seemed to radiate from her hand and spread throughout his entire body. It brought with it a feeling of reassurance and a strange calmness that he had never felt in his life. Erik sagged against the arms of the men holding him.
"There now, isn't that better?" She asked softly.
With a deft nod he asked once more, "Please, who are you? What do you want from me?"
She smiled kindly at him before nodding to the other two, who quickly released him and stepped back.
"I am a spirit of salvation, as is my brother." She gestured to the paperboy.
"And I am a spirit of mercy." The taller man broke in, his voice much deeper and richer than his slim build would allude to. Erik thought distractedly that he would make a decent baritone given some practice, but shook the thought away as the man continued to speak. "We have seen your plight and wish to offer our help."
"Spirits?" The phantom scoffed. "Unlikely!"
He made to brush passed, headed once again for the mine's entrance. "You three are no more spirits than I am a real ghost!"
Just then the boy reached out and grabbed Erik by the front of his shirt pushing him back and up against the wall again. He lifted the older man up as high as his shorter arms and smaller stature would allow. A feet that should not have been possible for a normal human child or his age and size.
"You doubt us?" The boy all but yelled his voice taking on a strange booming quality, as though it was not only emanating from within the boy's throat but also from the very air around him too. "You whom I should take before my wife and her kind for punishment for your crimes! Yet here I am attempting to help you! All on my dear sister's request!"
"Brother please!" The woman sighed gently pulling his arms away, "He is just a man, and men have always had difficulty perceiving anything that is out of the ordinary."
With a sigh that could have been a growl the boy released his hold on the taller man and stepped back.
"Please do not pay any heed to my brother. Too many years spent with no other company aside from Prax has made him quick to judge ones guilt before taking into account the worth of ones character." She said pointedly with a meaningful look at her brother.
A derisive snort from the boy was all the answer she received.
Erik stared at her thoughtfully for a moment before asking, "Why would spirits such as you wish to help me?"
"We have seen the cruelty you have endured at the hands of those that should have protected you." The brunet man stepped forward. "All of the pain you have suffered for something which was beyond your control."
Erik's hand flew to his face, covering his deformity.
"And," The taller man continued, "though you have done things that have condemned many before you." Here he pause to let the full meaning of his words sink in. "You have also proven yourself to be capable of feeling true remorse for your actions, and that you are also more than capable of feeling true love and compassion."
"And expressing those feeling in the most beautiful of ways!" The woman cut in with a wistful look in her bright hazel eyes.
Her brother heaved a disgusted sigh, which earned him a pair of nasty looks from the other two spirits.
Erik was silent for a moment, contemplating.
"How do you plan to help me?" He asked, his expression guarded, even as a small glimmer of hope sprung to life in his chest.
The woman stepped forward again. "We wish to grant you, with the help of another," all three glanced at each other, and a look passed between them that Erik could not decipher, "a chance at happiness. A chance to live a normal life, without having to constantly hide or worry about people rejecting or fearing you on sight." With this she held up his mask, that he hadn't noticed her holding at her side.
"And how could you possible give me that?" He asked, a hint of venom in his tone. He snatched the mask from her and placed it carefully over his face. "Strike the entire world blind?"
"We will heal your face." The boy said bluntly, as though it had been obvious all along.
Dumbstruck, Erik's jaw dropped open in shock. "How?" He breathed, not daring to hope that they truly had the power to do such a thing. "How could you heal me?"
"We cannot." The woman said anxiously, averting her gaze.
Anger flooded him at her words, but before he could utter a single curse the taller man spoke up quickly.
"But we know someone who can!" His hands raised slightly, as though he were dealing with a wild animal that might attack. "And he is willing to give you the chance to prove that you deserve this gift."
Erik's mind raced at the possibilities! He would be able to have a happy, normal life! He could have a wife! Children!
Christine!
If his face was healed then surely he could find a way to win her heart from that foppish boy!
Once he was healed he could go to her and prove that he loved her truly and that he could be a far better husband to her than the Vicomte! The boy could never understand her the way Erik could! She was a star that needed to shine brightly and to be adored by all. Center stage at the opera was the perfect place for her, not some manor somewhere out of sight! Why couldn't she see that?!
Making up his mind then and there he demanded, "I accept your offer. What must I do to earn this?"
A brilliant smile bloomed on the woman's face. "Excellent!" She said with a small clap of her hands. "All you have to do is find someone whom you can love unconditionally can love you in return the way you are now!" The light and airy way she said it made it sound like anything but the impossible task that it was.
"What?" He bellowed in response. "Are you all mad? You have seen how that will play out for yourselves! Why would you put me through it again?" He ran his hands through his tousled hair in agitation.
"Those are the conditions which must be met!" The boy said with an air of finality. "You have already accepted, there is no backing out now. Your word is your bond." With that he turned and began to walk away.
"And what if I fail?" Erik spat at the boy's retreating back.
"Oh trust me, you can't possibly fail!" The woman said with a smile.
"What about when I grow old? What if I become sick and die before I find someone?" Erik bit out.
"You wont." The taller man said with a somewhat grave look on his face.
"And how would you know that?" Erik scoffed.
"Because you cannot." The brunet gave him an odd look, almost as though he pitied him. "By accepting our offer you have been give everlasting youth and vitality. Until you can fulfill the agreement."
Another look passed between the two spirits still in the alley with him.
"The one who's help we have petitioned to heal you does not like for his gifts to be squandered."