Erik's prisoner
Out of curiosity, Erik captures and brings home a young army officer. Curiosity soon turns into desire. Erik is, as always, determined to get what he wants.
Disclaimer: I do not have the pleasure of owning Phantom of the Opera.
Chapter One
Standing in front of the Daae mausoleum, Erik idly looked at the dead bodies scattered around in the cemetery of St. Isidore. They were mostly those of Parisian civilians and National Guard troops, as the bloody reprisal from the government began against the Commune and its sympathizers. There were, however, a few that belonged to the government troops. Judging from the speed of the retaliation, there would not be many more casualties from the government side. The Commune was now a lost cause.
What a convenient place to die. Erik was about to turn around to return to his underground home, when he noticed a stir below a dead body. "André?" A confused sound followed the move. What he assumed to be a dead body was still alive, despite the blood smudged uniform. "No… André … No… why? It should have been me."
Erik observed the owner of a muffled sob with keen interest. The voice did not sound like that of a man. Had it not been for the short hair cut and flat chest, he would have thought that the young man of medium height was, in fact, a woman, wrapped in an officer's uniform; a beautiful woman, for that matter. The next action that the young man took caught Erik by surprise; he was kissing the lips of a dead soldier.
So they were lovers. An officer and a foot soldier... lovers… a forbidden love. The young man intrigued Erik. He considered kidnapping the stranger to satisfy his curiosity. It didn't seem like a bad idea. After all, a lone officer in the streets of Paris could be an easy target for the angry, grieving Parisians. They could both benefit from the arrangement.
"I would not advise it," Erik finally spoke, seeing his potential captive dragging the dead body along the ground. "You better not be seen here for long. Get back to your unit if you value your life."
The young man looked around himself before noticing a tall figure, who stood just a few feet in front of him.
"I do not value my life," he answered, continuing his futile efforts. "I cannot leave my friend here, all alone."
Erik briefly contemplated the fact that the young officer now sounded like a man. A trained voice. He concluded with amusement. A man who trained his voice to sound like a man?
"Your lover died while trying to protect you. Surely you do not want to insult his sacrifice," Erik countered.
"You are armed," the young man stated, noticing Erik's sword for the first time. "Why did you not attack me? We are all enemies of you, Parisians."
"I am above a petty alliance to any political side," Erik replied with a sarcastic smile. "Seeing that you will not part with that body, I have a proposal for you. I will let your lover rest in one of these mausoleums. You can come back and visit him when things are settled between the government and the citizens of Paris."
"What do you want from me in return?"
"You will be my captive till I want to release you. You will remain silent about your captivity after your release."
The young man seemed to consider Erik's offer. Erik saw a brief moment of hesitation, followed by a look of resignation and tiredness. He finally made his reply. "Will you remain silent about whatever you learn about me during my confinement?"
Their gazes became locked, each party trying to see whether the other could be trusted to keep an agreement.
"I will," Erik replied simply.
"Then I consent."
"What is your name?" Erik asked, retrieving the lifeless body from the young man's hands and carrying it in his arms.
"Oscar… Oscar Ferré."
Back in his lair, Erik removed the blind folds from Oscar, who had so far shown no resistance to becoming a prisoner of a total stranger. Oscar's eyes clearly showed that he could not care less whether he lived or died. They contained neither hostility nor fear. He didn't even seem to notice Erik's mask. Erik doubted very much that Oscar would remember the way to his underground home from the cemetery. Still, blind folding him was a useful way of reminding him that he was now a captive. It seemed a pointless exercise to engage any conversation with someone who showed no interest in his surroundings. Erik led Oscar direct to the guest bedroom and left him there. By the time Erik came back with a glass of water and clean clothes, Oscar had fallen into a deep sleep, the right side of his face resting on the blood-strained, light blue tunic of André.
Erik pulled a chair near to the bed, to study the form of the sleeping Oscar. He wondered how on earth Oscar had managed to command his men. Surely, common soldiers would have despised effeminate men? It was also possible that Oscar was not even a man. Perhaps that was why he had demanded that Erik should remain silent about secrets that could be revealed during his imprisonment. It had been known that some women had managed to fool the army and fought as a common soldier, till their identity had been exposed. But the French army did not make a common soldier an officer without an identity check. Had Oscar been a woman, the deception could not have just involved Oscar; it would have been the scheme of his entire family. He could have not been a woman in any legal document.
After covering him with a blanket, Erik left the guest room to sit at his organ. He had not played it since the night of Don Juan Triumphant. However, the image of a young army officer kissing the lips of his dead lover stirred something deep inside him. Oscar's eyes revealed so much emotion within their short encounter; emotions that Erik could easily identify with. He had to express what he saw and tell the tragic story of a forbidden love and loss. His fingers masterfully moved across the ivory keys once again, filling his lair with music that spoke hopeless longing and cold, unfeeling despair.