Disclaimer: I hope, I wish, I pray, I yearn, but still I do not own The Phantom of the Opera.
Title: Peccata Mundi
Summary: The history of a man lies behind his white mask and his devotion to those in need. Through the shadows of his past and the light of the future, he seeks to right the wrong.
Assignment 2: The Fountain of Youth
Summary: After her big debut, Meg mysteriously goes missing. Add in multiple child kidnappings, and Erik is more than concerned. With the aid of his newest resident, he will have to solve the kidnappings and rescue Meg before it is too late.
Author's Note: Yes, I intentionally put a bit of modern slang into the first chapter. I apologize. An internal debate arose on whether or not I should add that in there, and I decided to do it for the sake of that little part of the story. Just for a reassurance, you all should know that I plan for it never to occur again. I just wanted a funny little confrontation between Erik and Christine. Thank you for all of your other suggestions, comments, etc. I will do my best to continue to write to your standards and entertain you. Thanks!
Section 2
- Standing Ovation
Needless to say, the ballet was a success! Meg's debut went off with a smash. She was the hit of the show. Her grace and posture and emotion stole the audience's attention. She put her heart into every movement, every dance sequence. And when the cast appeared for final bows, Meg completed hers to a raucous of applause and the entire audience standing in respect. A large bushel of roses were handed to her right on the very stage, and she swore she had never felt more delighted in her whole life than at that very moment.
Christine and Madame Giry could barely contain themselves as they waited for the dancer after the performance. Their eyes were locked on the stage door, waiting for it to open and a familiar face to appear. Erik, on the other hand, remained a few feet away, leaning casually against the wall. His head was bowed in patience, and it seemed as if he felt indifferent to the show. Christine would surely have said something to him if she wasn't so distracted by her delight and Meg's genius.
Finally their desires gave way to reality. The door opened and Meg emerged at a giddy pace. She ran into Christine's and her mother's open arms and the three women were encompassed in a loving, proud embrace.
"Meg, you were fantastic! Absolutely fantastic!" Christine declared.
"You did beautifully, my darling," Madame Giry complimented. "I had tears in my eyes the entire time."
Meg giggled, stepping back to properly peer into their elated faces. A big grin revealed her pearly whites. She held a bouquet in one hand and a small bag of her essentials in the other. Even though she had adorned the everyday dress she had worn there, her face and hair were still excessively made up, making her appear older, but also somewhat doll-like. The shine in her eyes outdid the shine from the paint, though.
"Thank you," she beamed then her sapphire eyes traveled over to Erik.
He still hadn't moved from his position when she had first emerged, but now he slowly lifted his head and gazed over at her. Her smile gradually decreased in size as she stepped forward one foot at a time toward him. He waited until she was right in front of him before relinquishing his reliance on the wall behind him. He stood to his full height, towering over her.
For a moment, neither of them moved nor spoke. Then Erik's eyes fell to his breast pocket with the rose popping out of it. He took the flower gently between two fingers and held it forward. Twisting it back and forth between his thumb and forefinger, he examined it for a couple seconds longer. Meg's eyes fell to the small blossom and moved as it moved. Then he held it out further, pointing it toward Meg in a silent surrender. Meg looked from the flower to Erik, questioningly and hesitantly. Her hand crept toward the rose until her fingers had taken hold of the small stem, just above Erik's gloved fingers.
"You did well, Meg," he said quietly. "I am very proud."
Then the flower passed into Meg's hands. She continued to look down at it for another few seconds before clutching it close to her body and peering up into his face with teary eyes. A big grin spread across her face. Subsequently, in her usual way, she jumped on Erik, wrapping her thin arms around his neck and hugging him tightly. Erik was so taken aback that he could not react in time to avoid the encounter. Instead, his eyes went wide and his body went stiff. He was at a complete loss for words.
A small giggle echoed from a few feet away. Christine couldn't help laughing at the expression on his face. Usually he was so serious and composed. But suddenly put out of his element, it was amusing to see how he reacted. A pleasant smile rested on her face as she watched the odd couple. They were so opposite, yet it would be most difficult to ever separate them. She knew that they both relied on each other in some unknown way. To her, it seemed like in Meg's presence Erik became more…human. It was definitely due to the sibling bond they had adopted.
"Thank you, Monsieur," Meg announced. "Your approval means more to me than any in the world."
Before he could untie his tongue, Meg had released him and gone back to her mother's side. Erik blinked at the girl a couple times then caught Christine's gaze. Her face was alight, still, with the joy of his startled expression and the scene in general. Seeing this glow in her cheeks caused a smile to escape onto Erik's face, too. He only allowed it to remain for a second before clearing his throat into his fist and enfolding his hands behind his back.
"Now then, shall we go for a drink?"
-----
The café around the corner was always busy after performances. Audience members, cast, crew all gathered inside for a nice nighttime beverage or snack. The building was quaint, but spacious. There was a patio outside with tables and chairs and decorative potted plants. Lanterns ensured this part was always accessible. The interior had similar furniture arranged to occupy the most people in a comfortable setting. There was more decorative vegetation in unusable space and artwork on the walls. A counter was shoved along the wall opposite the front door. It was set up with various treats and beverage menus. It was self-serve and self-seating.
This particular café just happened to be two stories. The staircase curved slightly with a hand railing that matched the black metal of the seating. Though the overall look of the café was fairly sophisticated, customers need not dress in the same manner in order to attend. The atmosphere, for that particular evening, was gay and hearty. The building, inside and out, was bursting with conversation and laughter. It had filled up quicker than normal after that evening's ballet performance because the show had been so splendid it had put every spectator, every dancer, every musician, and every employee of the Opera Populaire in a good mood. Since everyone was feeling so delighted, no one had been ready to head home. Instead, their risen spirits put them in a social state.
Erik had no trouble reserving a table. He was known well within the café, so a special table was always left empty should he stop in on a whim. Though he hadn't graced the building with his presence in quite sometime, there was no doubt in recognizing his face the moment he stepped through the door.
"Monsieur Erik!" the owner, who was on duty, ejaculated excitedly. "I wondered when I would be seeing you next. You never come in anymore."
"Good evening, André," Erik greeted with less enthusiasm. "It has been a long time."
The man came out from behind the counter. André was an older man with grey streaks threatening to take over his red hair. He was on the chubby side, and shorter than Erik by a couple inches. He had kind light blue eyes that wrinkled at the edges whenever he smiled or laughed. His cheeks had a natural red blush to them and his skin possessed a tan tint. The rest of his wrinkles were age and experience lines. Upon meeting him, it was clear how the café had got its friendly reputation and even its name. Being the founder and owner, the café was respectively titled Café d'André, or just plain André's for the regulars.
"Usual table then?" André inquired.
"Is there any other?" Erik questioned wittily back.
The owner chuckled to himself and led the party of four toward the back of the café. In one of the corners, amongst a sea of a crowd, was an empty table. Red velvet ropes maintained its availability from any trespassers. It was a relaxing location under any other quieter circumstances with a small window equipped with a small curtain. It was a medium sized table, perfect for the amount in the party. The correct number of chairs was already stationed around the circular surface.
"Do you come here often?" Christine asked, sliding into one of the far seats.
"I'll show my face every now and then," Erik replied nonchalantly.
"Every now and then?" André interrupted with a laugh, helping everyone get settled. "Why, Mademoiselle, he used to frequent the café like it was his second home. Some days we couldn't get him to leave."
Christine smiled at Erik, who shot André a knowing stare. He couldn't contain the upward curl of the edges of his lips, though. There was so much she had yet to learn about this man. His mystery seemed to grow with every new bit that arose.
"I know Monsieur Erik and Mademoiselle Meg and Madame Giry, but I have yet to meet you," André addressed Christine, who quickly came out of her daydream.
"Oh, my name is Christine." She offered her hand. "It is very nice to meet you, Monsieur André."
The owner took her hand and kissed it tenderly, and while still touching her fingers replied, "There is no need for formalities here, my dear." He released her hand and bowed. "It is my pleasure." He was charming. Some things never changed. "So the first round is on the house, but I cannot promise anything after that. I'll do the honors of delivering the usual drinks myself."
"Monsieur André, you spoil us," Meg giggled.
She had actually gone to the café in recent years more than Erik, and her and André had developed a nice relationship. He winked and left them alone. Christine couldn't help peering around. She wasn't used to fanciful surroundings that she seemed exposed to on a regular basis nowadays. There was much to get used to, but she wasn't complaining.
André delivered four cups of steaming tea or coffee, depending on the drinker's preference. Christine found the contents of hers to be something she had never tasted before, but then again she wasn't familiar with what was served in this class. Her taste buds tingled with flavor. She felt as if she couldn't savor it enough before it began to fade. She took another sip and tried to figure out the blend. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she thought she could identify a cherry flavor mixed with some chocolate or vanilla, or both. It was possibly one of the most delectable tastes she had ever experienced.
Meg struck up a conversation about how her ballet instructor reacted to the performance. Christine listened with joy at every complimentary word, but surveyed the crowd at the same time. With all of the people in that area of the café, half or more were darting glances their way. More specifically, they were darting glances Meg's way. It was obvious they recognized her from the show. If everything continued in this direction, Meg was sure to be a smashing hit within months. It would be little over a year before the entire world knew of her success.
Christine's eyes fell across the room to the other corner. She hardly noticed how impolitely she stared, but her gaze was absent. She vaguely knew that she was taking sips, let alone what she was looking at. However, the coffee sparked her senses once again and she blinked a couple times to take in what was in her view. There was a man, a lone man. At least she thought it was a man—shadows fell across every distinguishable characteristic, and at that distance it was hard to see any detail within the darkness. All she saw was his right hand as light fell across it every time he reached for his mug. Most eye-catching about the man's hand was the large diamond studded ring that adorned his ring finger. It had to be worth more than her life, and he had to be someone of great importance.
She also noticed that, unlike other people, he stared freely at Meg without averting his gaze every now and then in order to not seem impolite. Perhaps he didn't care. Perhaps he was too important to care. Or perhaps, she realized, he didn't even know his gaze was unceasing. Maybe he was so absorbed in his own thoughts, like she had been moments ago, that he didn't recognize what he was doing. She decided that that had to be the answer, and thought nothing more of it. Her attention was called back to the table at that moment, anyway.
"Christine," Erik called again.
He had been trying to get her attention for a few attempts already. Christine's head snapped to the side Erik sat on. She blinked a couple times, smiling innocently. She was a little embarrassed and felt rude. She shouldn't have mentally dozed off like that.
"Yes? I'm sorry, I must have gotten distracted," she excused.
"Would you like a refill, my treat?" Erik asked quieter.
Christine looked down into her cup, perplexed. She hadn't even realized, but she had finished off the liquid and saw right to the bottom of the mug. She slid it toward him, nodding.
"Please, if it's no bother."
"None at all," Erik replied, standing and collecting all of the cups. "And when I return, we will toast to Meg's success."