Hi friends. This one was inspired by a prompt and I really like the way it turned out. Enjoy.
Phanty belongs to Leroux and Lloyd Webber
I didn't know what to expect upon opening the door, but to my beguilement the little Giry girl stood before me. Immediately, I knew that this would concern Erik; the man that I had finally convinced to find rest in the delirium he had lost himself in. I had left him in my quarters, sitting on the bed with his head in his hands. I had told him that torturing himself over what had happened would not take back what he had done, and it would not bring her back. I had told him this countless times over the last few hours; had tried to appeal to whatever Erik was left in the Opera Ghost I guardedly called my friend. But he had ignored me, or, when I pushed a little too hard; said a little too much, he had sworn at me in both hisnative tongue andmine.
When I suggested that he try to rest I received a mere nod in response; as good as I was going to get from Erik.
"Monsieur." Meg spoke demurely, adding a brief courtesy. She seemed on edge. She glanced behind me, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for someone. He was indeed there, but he was asleep. Or at least I hoped.
"Mademoiselle…" I nodded. I did not want to ask what her visit was pertaining to for that would have been outwardly rude, but I could not for the life of me guess at what she had come to tell me. I hoped that the message she brought would not make things worse.
"Would you like to come in?" I asked, opening the door further and gesturing for her to enter. "You shouldn't be out in the cold."
"No, Monsieur." She spoke, she looked down and continued. "I… must be getting back to maman."
She didn't want to enter because she was afraid of my new houseguest – this, I knew. I couldn't blame her.
"As you wish." I said. I stepped closer to her. "He… won't hurt you, you know."
"Maman seems to think the same thing." She replied, still looking at the ground.
"Did she send you?"
The girl nodded.
"Please come in." I offered, stepping back again. "You'll catch your death out here."
She shook her head.
I sighed.
"He won't hurt you, Meg. And aside from that, he is likely asleep."
She looked at me, as if asking me to convince her further.
"Come. I will make us tea."
We sat at my dining table. It was more of a bench; only being large enough to sit three or so people, but it served its purpose. An apartment in Rue de Rivoli did not allow for much space, but it was all I needed.
Meg sat before me, her tea cup clasped tightly between her small hands in an effort to warm them. She still seemed on edge. Thankfully though, I was quite accustomed to keeping the company of anxious people…
"Maman… she sent me." She repeated after taking a sip of tea. "She wanted to know if …hewas alright. She said it was safer for me. Said that… since the accident people have been asking her questions. They think she is in contact with The Phantom because she used to assist him at the Opera House."
"Your mother is probably right."
She nodded.
"He is alive." I said. "You may tell her that. I would not quite say 'alive and well', but he is safe where he is."
Indeed. Erik was far from well. It had been three days since the terrible disaster at the Garnier and I had still not gained any information as to where he had been for those three days. He would not speak of it. Perhaps he simply waited in the caverns, welcoming the mob. Or perhaps he wandered the streets, welcoming capture or death.
When he arrived on my doorstep, he simply pushed past me as he had often done, speaking nothing of what had happened to him or what had transpired days earlier. It was evident that he hadn't eaten or slept in those three days and was still wearing what remained of is costume from that cursed Opera; Don Juan Triumphant. I had been in the audience that night; had watched it all unfold. I had seen him abscond with Christine, enveloped by the bowels of the Opera House – and that was all. He had vanished, as was Erik's custom. The rest I had learned from reading the paper the following morning.
Three days later he had appeared in my doorway. Though, he wasn't scowling as he usually did when he visited me. He wasn't in a foul mood as he often was. He just looked… broken. He looked lost. I had seldom seen him so vulnerable, and I knew that I lacked the words needed to fix whatever was broken inside of him. So I didn't try, not until the next day.
Instead, I offered a single word;
'Tea?'
"She shall be glad to know that." Meg replied.
I looked down at my cup of tea, thinking of Erik; wondering if he was actually resting at all, or eavesdropping from the other room. I knew that the latter was more probably.
"How is your mother?" I asked.
Meg sighed.
"These past few days have been…" She brought her hand to her forehead. "They have been difficult."
I could only imagine. Little Giry had lost both her home and her livelihood in one night, as had her mother.
"If there is anything I can assist you with, do let me know." I offered.
She smiled.
"You are very kind, Monsieur. I will be sure to speak to Maman about what a true gentleman you are."
I smiled amiably.
"How is…" I glanced toward my bedroom, lowering my voice before continuing. "How is… she?"
"I regret that I have not seen her that much since the fire."
"Ah." I nodded. Though, I found that unlikely.
"…but, Monsieur. That is the real reason for my visit tonight."
"Oh?" I'd known as much.
"Christine le Vicomte… They have set the date for their wedding."
Before I could respond, I heard the bedroom door click open. The last thing I wanted to do was further upset Erik, but perhaps this was for the best?
Meg spun around in her seat, eyes wide, very much aware of the presence that had entered the space. She looked at him, then back at me.
"Monsieur, I… I apologise… I should not have intruded." She stood up and made for the door.
"Mademoiselle, please." I offered. "Do not leave."
"I must." She shot, visibly avoiding eye contact with Erik.
"When." He spoke; almost a command, his voice dark but clear.
Meg turned to him, but did not meet his gaze.
"Next week." She said, her voice small. "Wednesday, next week."
I heard Erik inhale sharply. I turned to look at him, at that moment empathizing more with him than I ever had before.
"Thank you." He said.
Meg looked up at him then, but he had looked away. I saw in her eyes what I felt. I afforded her a small nod. She returned it courteously before leaving my home. The door closed with a soft thud, and we were left in silence.
I looked at Erik once more, waiting for him to react. He sauntered over to where Meg had been sitting not moments before and sat, facing the door. One elbow on the table, the other hand in his lap.
I sat across from him.
"Erik… I'm sorry."
His eyes flickered slightly before he looked at me.
Then, just as I had before, I spoke the first thing that came to mind;
"…Tea?"
His smirk turned to a grimace. He took a deep breath and bent over the table, his head resting in his folded arms. His shoulders began to shake, his breath hitching in his chest as the full weight of his situation dawned on him; The night of Don Juan. Christine. His life.
It was over.
It was done.
As was he.