Disclaimer: There are some talented people to praise for establishing the original characters and the original story, yet I am not one of them.

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 3: Phoenix Rising

Summary: Playing with fire, one is bound to get burned. The flickering oranges, reds, and yellows are alluring, as well as dangerous. Only in the hands of a young woman will the inferno be able to bring about not only death, but life.

Author's Note: Thank you for the French corrections. They were greatly needed. And, yes, I believe this installment may move more fluidly than the other two have. I will also let on a little secret that you will learn in upcoming chapters: someone who will remain throughout the story is bound to make an appearance, so be on the lookout; he is someone rather unexpected, I should think. Adding him in here makes me rather happy and excited. Keep up the awesome reviews! Thanks so much and enjoy!

Section 2

- Apologies and Greetings

Returning home around noon, Erik was immediately pounced upon by Christine as soon as he stepped through the doorway. Ignoring her pressing questions that she couldn't wait to ask, he ushered her into the sitting room and refused to begin before receiving some tea from Madame Giry.

After assisting him to an extent in his previous case, Christine felt a great urge to continue to lend an extra hand whenever possible. Erik still preferred working alone. He concluded he could think at his best when no one else was present. However, she had proved reliable, capable, and an asset. Even so, he wasn't sure he wanted her to continue getting involved. Dangerous situations were inevitable. The bullet wound to his shoulder from Jacque Marignon, the demented youth-obsessed monster, had guaranteed that. He didn't want her at risk.

Even now, the muscle felt tight whenever he moved or rotated it. But, since the bullet had gone straight through, the injury had healed fairly nicely at a fairly rapid rate. There wasn't even a scar left as a reminder. Then again, he wasn't prone to receiving any sorts of scars or lasting cuts. Every wound, given a small intensity, closed up without a trace and, giving his ingestion of his medication, did so in a relatively short amount of time. He was glad of this fact. It allowed him to return to work right away.

With a china set positioned on the coffee table in front of them, Christine made it evident she was ready to begin the informational. She sat across from him, her emerald eyes wide with curiosity. Her hands rested lightly in her lap, though he knew she was itching in anticipation.

Erik took his time. He poured himself a cup of his special blend and proceeded to sip it. He leaned against the backboard of the sofa, glancing lazily over the woman in front of him. Christine had adorned a dull blue frock for the day. Her brown curls had been pulled out of her fair face by two matching ribbons. The outfit was one of the more conservative that she had in her wardrobe. A white lace stretched from the top of her bosom where the cobalt fabric started and up to her neck. The same lace was detailed into the gown and on the edges of the sleeves. She looked absolutely lovely and pulled it off as a queen.

He couldn't help musing, though, how color was starting to come back into his life. Before Christine had begun staying with him and the Girys, the house had been void of anything other than black or grey or trims of white. Yet, somehow, a silvery blue creature was sitting under his roof at that very moment. The most beguiling part, however, was that he did not even mind. Christine's grace and elegance pulled off anything and everything. He believed he could sit just like this with her wide array of colors always before him.

Setting the china cup back onto its matching saucing and gently placing that back onto the surface, Erik cleared his throat and finally uttered, "The client is Monsieur Oliver Ackart."

"I know of him," Christine interrupted instantly, even though this was what she had been waiting for.

"Who doesn't?" Erik continued, unfazed. "He is a big name in scientific advancements, but has gained notice by the public for the way he markets these progressions."

"It was his man that died yesterday, was it not?" He gave her a somewhat questionable look as to how she could have known that. She smiled and innocently admitted, "I read your paper this morning while you were away. I wanted to be informed and prepared by the time you came back. I thought the paper could offer some jumping off points to whatever case you were about to take."

Erik nodded slowly and raised his eyebrows. "I must say, Mademoiselle, that I am impressed. Never have you taken this initiative. It is the first, I believe, that you have looked in the news."

She nodded, proud of her actions, and waited as he took another sip of tea. He set it back down and leaned against the backrest. Her spine was straight. Excitement or propriety the cause, he couldn't tell.

"His partner, the one mentioned in the paper, died yesterday. It was not an accident. He believes he knows who is behind it and asked for me to look into it."

When he didn't immediately go on, Christine pursued, "And who does he suspect?"

There was a pause. It was the first time Erik's eyes drifted away from hers. They shifted to the ground for a mere moment before coming back up to be lost in the pools of green. He swallowed, knowing that she wouldn't be willing to fully accept the accused right away.

"He believes his daughter-in-law is the murderess."

"His daughter-in-law?" she echoed incredulously. "Is there any evidence to support these allegations? What is his reasoning?"

"Monsieur Ackart actually offered a very convincing story as to the motive. Even though I am still unsure of his character, I decided to take on the case, if not just to find out more about this would-be-relative of his."

"Are you going to relay this story of his to me?"

"No," he replied directly. He was final in his word, one could tell, by the tone and suddenness of it.

"Why not?" Christine thrust. She wasn't going to give up that easily.

"Because, you are too emotional. Emotions tend to sway the case. I can't allow that to happen, especially in this circumstance."

Christine opened her mouth to retort, but luckily Erik was saved by a rap on the door. She closed her jaw and stood up fiercely. While she tended to the caller, Erik drank some more tea. He heard her stomps reach the front door and throw open the slab of wood. Then, a gasp. He froze in his motion of bringing the cup to his lips. His interest was ground into what was occurring in the front of the house.

"R-Ra-" Christine stammered, left off guard.

"Christine," the male voice interjected, "please, I need to speak with you."

Oh no. Erik set the cup and saucer onto the coffee table. He recognized the voice, and, even so, he hoped beyond hope that he was mislead. Why had the man come again? Didn't he understand that he should just stay away? There was no deterring this man from whatever he set his mind to. It was pestering and annoying. Yet, he seemed to be growing on Erik at the very same time. It was troublesome and confusing.

Two sets of footsteps returned to the sitting room after the door had closed. Erik kept his eyes downcast for as long as he could. In some part of his mind, he actually thought that doing so would perhaps alter the caller. It didn't. When Christine lightly said his name, it was like a tug on his pupils. He had to raise his head and take in the arrival.

"Monsieur Erik," the young man greeted with a slight bow.

"Monsieur Raoul de'Chagny," he stood and returned in the same manner. Then once again erect, "What brings you about? I am sure you did not think the lashing you received at your last visit was an invitation."

Christine blushed, but shot Erik an angry expression. He really did not have to be so rude about it. He even thought so directly after uttering the words. He looked downward, ashamed, but was drawn upward again by the unfazed gentleman.

"Actually, that is why I have returned. I wanted to speak to both you about our last exchange," Raoul said formally.

"Please, have a seat," Erik offered with a wave of his hand.

They sat down: Erik taking up his spot on the sofa, and Christine across from him. Raoul found an empty, and they were all tense and serious. Raoul's azure eyes searched the floor for where to begin. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. He seemed to have found what he was looking for when he cleared his throat.

"I owe both of you an apology," he started. "I did not mean to be so crass and judgmental. It's just that, ever since the death of Christine's father, I have felt the overwhelming need to protect her." He looked up at Erik. "I know you are capable of doing a good job of it, too, sir. After all, you were the one who discovered where she had been spirited away to." He shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable. "And that may be another reason for my hostility that evening. I believe that I had hoped to be her hero—her knight in shining armor. When Christine had gone missing, I had tried so desperately to get her back, but failed. I thought why should you be the one to rescue her when you don't even know her."

"Raoul," Christine cooed sympathetically.

He glanced at her then back to Erik, who remained silent and staring, taking in all that he said. "I realize now how foolish I had been. I am willing to allow Christine to make her own choices and figure out what is best for her. I only ask to continue to remain a part of her life, as a friend if nothing more."

This man certainly had the charm and the chivalry down. With his blonde locks, bright eyes, and handsome features, as well, he was the epitome of the perfect man. The most nauseating part of it all, though, was that he was completely genuine. None of his attributes was an act. His loyalty, his courtesy, and even his instant courage was one hundred percent him.

"Oh, Raoul," Christine beamed, drawing all eyes in the room to her. "Of course we are friends, and always remain so."

She drew him into an embrace, where Erik felt a pang of tightness in the pit of his stomach. He was glad they were at amends, but something told him to end the contact instantly. So he stood up abruptly and cleared his own throat. Christine unlatched herself from Raoul, who stood, as well.

"I accept your apology, Monsieur, and welcome you back at any time you desire."

He held out his hand in a friendly gesture. What else could he have done? He couldn't very well turn Raoul away after such a confession and response from his ward. He would look like a brute. And despite the irritation Raoul caused, Erik had a feeling that this was for the best and might actually turn out to be a fairly agreeable arrangement.

Raoul shook Erik's hand enthusiastically, a broad smile displaying his pearly whites. "Thank you, Monsieur. I promise I will not be a nuisance." He let his hands fall to his thighs. "Well, I really must be going. I just dropped by to make amends. Now that that is over, there are appointments I still must keep."

Raoul was accompanied to the door by both Erik and Christine. Opening the door, the young man was apart to step through it, but had to quickly catch himself before running head on into little Meg Giry. Her hand was outstretched, as if she were about to open the door. A paper bag filled to the brim with groceries was supported by her other arm. The look on her face was that of bewilderment, but swiftly changed to pleasant surprise.

"Hello, Monsieurs, Christine," she greeted, curtseying as best she could. "Mama asked me to pick up some groceries, and I've just returned. Chance that you should be opening the front door just as I am coming in."

Adorning a salmon colored frock with a matching bow holding back half of her golden hair, all complimenting her pale skin and sapphire eyes, Meg looked like a living porcelain doll. However, the style of the garment revealed a maturing young woman in its design. Her ever energetic and ever pleasant attitude had caused a natural glow to root itself in her features. She was beautiful and untainted, yet knowledgeable and curious.

Raoul had noticed all of this about her the instant the door had opened. His wide cerulean eyes spoke of interest and wonder, while his slightly agape mouth signaled his surprise at running into the creature. He was able to regain his composure somewhat quickly, but only after she was emitted into the domain.

Erik couldn't believe it, but it was true. Raoul had never yet met Meg, despite imposing on the household those several times. This was his first time meeting her, and it was obvious his captivation. He would have never thought Erik to house not one, but two gorgeous ladies. Was it so bizarre that he should be familiar with women like them? Yes. He even admitted his luck. Despite his position, which any man would gladly trade him for, he could not have, nor did he want to or try to pursue, the relationship that might initially be assumed of such an arrangement. For him, it was impossible.

"I am afraid I have not yet met your guest," Meg initiated.

Raoul fully composed now, thrust out his hand. "I apologize. My name is Raoul de'Chagny."

"Monsieur de'Chagny-"

"Raoul," he corrected.

"Raoul, it is nice to meet you. I'm Meg Giry."

A polite smile on her face, she outstretched a small hand into his. Instead of shaking it, he lifted her knuckles to his lips and softly them. A faint blush crept to her cheeks.

"My pleasure, Mademoiselle Giry," he greeted suavely.

"Call me Meg," she stated.

"Meg," Raoul tried out. The name was sweet on his lips.

They smiled at each other, unaware their hands were still interlocked. Erik, who had witnessed the entire exchange, felt unnerved by the scene. He was uncomfortable and unsure. Meg, only sixteen, should not have been eyeing a twenty-year-old the way she was. Although the age difference was not necessarily unheard of, he did not want to see a thing like that happen. He was like a protective older sibling, and suddenly it hit him. He was empathizing with Raoul. He could now understand the man's feelings toward Christine. It had been more of a familial protection than actual romantic intentions. Nevertheless, he was unwilling to allow Meg to continue like this.

"Well then," he interrupted. "Meg, shouldn't you be getting to unpacking those groceries?"

She had created space at the sound of his voice, and now studied him hesitantly. "I suppose." She sounded unsure.

Erik nudged her toward the kitchen. "Your mother," he stressed, "is back there to assist you." He watched her retreat to the kitchen then he turned back to his guest with a forced cheerful grin. "And, Monsieur, I must say to the surprise of us all, I'm sure, this visit has been most pleasant. Call again soon, if you wish. Your presence won't be nearly as detested as it has been in the past. Goodbye now."

He closed the door in Raoul's face after had successfully ushered him onto the stoop. He leaned against the secured wood feeling exasperated. He took in a deep breath and released it in a sigh. Christine, who had been silently taking everything in, now met eyes with Erik, a small smirk on her face. She knew exactly what had played out and exactly what he was thinking.

"I'm going to have to keep an eye on them, aren't I?" he asked breathlessly.

"Yes, you will," she answered smugly then strolled away amused.