Disclaimer: I am neither Andrew Lloyd Webber nor Gaston Leroux.
Author Note: Hey! It's an update! You may have noticed I changed my rating from T to M, and that is simply because I am new to fanfiction and have no clue as to what is the fine line between a T story and an M story...any advice would be much appreciated! Also, I have just realised that I can actually 'reply' to comments as opposed to putting my replies as reviews...I will do this from now on, my stupid mistake .
This chapter is dedicated to my lovely reviewers who made my day; EMCLucky13, Hugabouv, Dkk5...thank you so much guys! Reviews are, as always, greatly appreciated!
Two- My Dear Old Friend, Can't Believe You're Here, Old Friend
(The Giry Residence, Paris)
On a shabby street in Paris, a peeling door opened and sudden screams of delight erupted into the morning air as two old friends met again after a lengthy absence. An onlooker would have see an older woman all in black, hair tucked neatly away in an intricate braid embracing the two men standing on her doorstep without shame. Perhaps they would be shocked by this open display of affection from such a stern looking woman.
Erik was certainly shocked as he was embraced by Antoinette Giry. Was she not all repulsed by him? But then again, they were good friends of many years and theirs was a friendship that held no secrets; how could it?
"Erik, it is so good to see you again!" she beamed, eyes sparkling, "My, my, you're looking so healthy these days! And that mask- it doesn't even notice!"
"How else could I have returned to a city baying for the blood of a masked man?" Erik asked, an involuntary smile creeping onto his face. She laughed and nodded in agreement, unable to stop smiling.
"Oh, dear me, all the hype over that died down a good while ago." She suddenly seemed to see Nadir and so she lapsed back into hysteria. "Nadir Khan! It's been so long-! Oh, where are my manners today?! Come in, come in; both of you!"
Nadir smiled at the flustered woman whom he had met only once and yet already knew so much about from Erik's tales. He knew that this laughing woman had been the strictest and yet the greatest ballet instructor in all of Paris and had been quite a star in her day. Nadir watched how she acted with Erik, completely at ease with him, and instantly saw how she had rescued him as a little boy. He smiled to himself as Antoinette led both him and Erik through a shabby hallway and into a bright little kitchen, still babbling away non-stop about complete nonsense. You wouldn't think such a stern looking woman, disapproving in black clothes, would be such a chatterer.
Once in the kitchen, Antoinette threw her hands up in the air with a cry of delight, startling a young woman who was crouching down on the floor, feeding what looked like a small black cat. She had long blonde hair that glistened like gold in the light of the range, looking up with startled cornflower blue eyes.
"Erik, Nadir, you may have met my daughter Meg?" Antoinette gestured to her with an airy wave, evidence of her ballerina past. "Meg, this is-"
"It's him." She cut her Mother off with a fascinated whisper, eyes now interested and bright with excitement. She instantly straightened up from her crouch, a small smile spreading out onto her cherub face. "It is him! The Opera Ghost! Oh Monsieur, my Mother has told me so much about you-"
"And yet, evidently not enough that you can be polite." Antoinette chided sternly, voice cheerful to strict in a split second. "Erik. His name is Erik, Meg. And the other gentleman is his dear friend, Monsieur Nadir Khan."
Meg blushed a little at her mistake and ducked her head shyly. Erik managed another smile for the daughter of his old friend, making her look far more comfortable. She had improved a lot with age; her face now angelic and her hair radiant. Her smile was bright and she was stunningly beautiful...but Erik could never find anything more attractive than glossy brown curls or deep brown eyes, always innocent and slightly wary. He instantly dropped the thought of her hair and her eyes like a hot poker, hurrying to rid his mind of her.
"Pleased to meet you at last, Monsieur's." She said in a slightly sheepish and yet bright voice, not at all scared or wary of either of them. Erik had watched Meg often in the Opera, simply because as Christine's closest friend they had always been together, dancing and gossiping and laughing like sisters. Erik liked Meg Giry; she was optimistic, bright and had always treated Christine as she deserved; with kindness and love.
"And you, Mademoiselle." He returned the polite greeting. "You may call me Erik, and I am sure Nadir will let you call him just that."
Nadir nodded with a smile, making Meg giggle.
"You must both call me Meg." She beamed at them both, hurrying back over to the little black cat and scooping the mewing bundle up into her arms. "This is Pandora."
Both Erik and Nadir liked cats. They had spent many dark nights on their journeys being escorted by those stunning night creatures, their glowing eyes like little beacons in the darkness. Erik admired the independence of cats. They enjoyed solitude and could easily fend for themselves; qualities that he himself had tried and mostly failed to adopt.
Antoinette rolled her eyes and tutted her daughter, making shooing gestures with her delicate hands.
"Go, take that pet of yours upstairs. You know I cannot stand that animals fur, it sheds everywhere!" Antoinette said with a sigh, and Meg nodded and ran off with the cat still in her arms. Antoinette gestured for Erik and Nadir to take seats at the huge scrubbed oak table, smiling ruefully. "That girl...she would take in every stray in the city if she had her way. Too kind for her own good, I think. Now, please, sit! I will make us some refreshments whilst you tell me of your adventures!"
Meanwhile, Meg skipped up the stairs and lay her precious Pandora down on her bed, hurrying to quickly straighten her hair and brush the stray black hairs off of her white dress. Looking in the mirror she touched her soft, pale cheek and thought about how horrid it must be to have to wear a mask everyday of your life. Surely it would rub you raw. Meg shuddered delicately. She could hardly believe that the mysterious Opera Ghost, the monster of her nightmares and the evil kidnapper of poor Christine could really be that nice man! She had been horrified when her Mother had told her about Erik three years ago, whilst also feeling secretly curious and a little desperate to meet him. He seemed and sounded perfectly pleasant and Meg decided that he must be nice.
As she brushed her long hair, humming a little tune to herself, she suddenly wondered if Erik or Nadir knew that the de Chagnys were living in Paris for the moment, or that rumours stated that the Vicomptess was expecting a child in October. Her Mother had told her that it had been Erik's passionate love for Christine that had turned him insane enough to kidnap her. Meg instantly questioned the idea of telling Erik these things, but thought better of it. Maybe he didn't want to talk about it.
Now convinced, after meeting him, that Erik's desperate love for Christine was dreamily romantic, Meg wondered if he still loved her. She nearly swooned at the thought of reuniting the two of them so that their music could flourish once more!
Meg missed her friend, dearly. They had been avid pen pals until Christine's marriage, writing with promises to still be friends and meet one another to go shopping or to watch an Opera together. But someone, somewhere, had obviously decided that it was rather improper for a Vicomptess to be friends with a ballerina, for the letters had stopped soon after the wedding and all of Meg's own letters were returned to her. It had annoyed her immensely at the time.
But now Meg Giry was happy enough. She still danced and was starting to sing more and more, discovering that her voice could in fact sound lovely. She cared for Pandora as if she were a real human child and still secretly fed all the other strays she could find. She had been courting Edouard, the handsome violinist, for nearly a year now and was perfectly happy with him. She only wished that Christine had not been swept away into the aristocracy, and could still be dancing and laughing by her side.
She danced down the stairs and into the kitchen, stopping in horrified shock as she saw her Mother sobbing. But as she ran over to her, she realised with sweet relief that her Mothers tears were not due to anguish, but joy.
"Oh my darling girl, Erik has- oh dear me Meg! These two men, these two perfect men, have- oh my dearest, they have given us enough money to live at ease!" Antoinette tried to calm herself down, fanning her face and dabbing at her streaming eyes with a handkerchief. "You will not need to work in that ghastly bar anymore in the evenings, why, you can even take in another blasted cat! Oh Erik, Nadir, we can never thank you enough!"
Erik felt more than a little overwhelmed as Meg too began to cry, rushing over to him and kissing his cheek before moving onto Nadir and doing the same. Never in his life had anyone been so thankful of anything he had done, no-one had ever been so nice or...comfortable around him as Meg. She had accepted him from first glance, ignoring the mask on his face and seeing the man behind it. Even now, as he wore the far more comfortable and obvious white mask, she still did not stare.
"Thank you Erik." She wept and gave him a quick embrace. "Thank you from the bottom of my heart! And you too, dear Nadir, we have only just met but I already esteem you both as the kindest men I have ever known!"
Erik was so stunned he could do little more than nod and try to smile. He failed the latter miserably.
Over the mid-morning refreshments Meg and Antoinette dried their eyes and engaged their guests into far cheerier conversation, nearly bubbling over with gratitude and happiness. Their eyes, with dark circles underneath, sparkled with life and Meg practically pirouetted around the kitchen as she cleared away plates, her dress billowing out so she looked like a dancer in a show.
"Monsieur- I mean, Erik." She giggled a little. "Would you be so kind as to help me with a song? I am singing a solo in the latest act but a few of the notes remain a little...strained. Are you able to help me at all?"
"I would be happy to help you, Meg." Erik nodded, feeling a little pleased that she had asked him. "Where is your venue; have I heard of it?"
Meg stifled a giggle, her hand pressed against her mouth as her cheeks turned pink.
"Heard of it?!" she burst out laughing, "Why, you practically ran it! It is the Opera Populaire, Erik! They re-built it; didn't you know?!"
Erik felt dazed, his head beginning to spin in a nauseating fashion. Re-build the Opera Populaire? But...why? Hadn't the fire and the deaths, not to mention the fear of the Opera Ghost, scared everyone away from that place, leaving it in abandon? Erik turned to Nadir and saw he was just as stunned, his coffee coloured skin faded to a deathly pale.
"Is this- can this really be?" the Persian man asked in a hoarse voice with what appeared to be hesitancy. Nadir could not believe that such an important detail could have passed him by. If he had known he would never have agreed to come to Paris! This cruel reminder of a dark past was all Erik needed now.
"It is true, Nadir. I shall explain." Antoinette said gravely as Meg bit her lip and looked a little sheepish. Antoinette patted her daughters arm lightly. "After the fire, the mob pillaged the catacombs of the Opera House, searching for a masked man. They found no-one, not even the Vicompte and Christine as they had already fled. The mob raged the streets of Paris, searching high and low for you."
"I-I was in the vault behind my mirror." Erik whispered and his voice cracked as the words inadvertently brought back the pain of that night. "Nadir came and found me hiding there. He smuggled me out of the country."
"Well, the mob searched all the likely areas that you might be hiding." Antoinette continued methodically, reaching for Megs hand without breaking her level gaze with Erik, "As they found no masked man after a whole night searching, it was eventually assumed that such a man had never truly existed. Many believed it to be a stunt organised by the Vicompte de Chagny, to have an excuse to whisk away young Christine Daae. All, however, agreed that the fire and the chandelier fall must have simply been an accident and the matter was dismissed. The myth of the Opera Ghost was laid to rest. The Opera Populaire came into new hands; a pair of music published called Jean Thiland and Francois Galley. They tore down the damaged stage and seating, leaving the undamaged parts of the Opera standing, and rebuilt those areas that were torn down. The construction finished about a year ago, and publicity had flourished."
Antoinette stood up with ease, her past as a ballerina meaning she was still fit and able to move as swiftly as a river flows. She went to her cupboards, opening doors and searching intently until she found what she desired. She brought back to the table a wooden crate; taped shut and sinister looking. Erik swallowed loudly, a lump catching in his throat.
"Meg and I went straight to the catacombs as soon as we received your letter or explanation and we recovered all we could. The mob damaged your lair rather badly, Erik, but perhaps it is better that such as place is destroyed." She said softly, her eyes very warm. She slid the crate soundlessly across the table, over to Erik. "Here are the items we recovered. Scores mostly, a few withered roses, some clothes...Erik, you might not be aware of this, but we found a small not for you, left on the floor by your mirror. From-from Christine."
Antoinette opened the crate a foraged for a short moment, finding a small scrap of badly damaged paper that had clearly been torn from the corner of a music score. There, in small and neat handwriting, were the words Christine had left for him.
'Forgive me'.
Erik's heart smashed his ribcage. Just hearing her name tipped him out of his carefully controlled balance, let alone to read those desperate words that stung him right to the core of his pitiful, shattered heart. Once again he saw her screaming face, terrified of his own. Her eyes filled with tears of fear as she backed away from him, or the terror mixed with anger as he throttled Raoul before her very eyes. He couldn't shut her disgusted pleas for release from his beaten brain and tears sprung to his tired eyes.
"Erik?" Nadir said softly. "Erik, I think Antoinette would be deeply upset if her table were broken."
Erik suddenly snapped out of his spiral of gloom to realise he was gripping the table with such force he could have easily snapped a chunk off from the rest. He let go, dazed, feeling Nadir pat his arm and Antoinette take his hand in a surprisingly sisterly gesture. Megs blue eyes swam with heartfelt tears as she looked at him.
"You poor man. She- she doesn't realise what she has done to you, does she?" he heard the girl barely whisper, her voice so horrified and upset that he immediately felt awful for putting such a light on the whole escapade so that he looked innocent and Christine looked evil. It was so opposite to the truth.
Desperate to put matters right; he shook both Nadir and Antoinette off, pulling himself together in order to look Meg very directly and very seriously in the eyes.
"Meg, I am sure that you knew at the time just how scared Christine was. What I did to her, taking her like that...it was awful." He choked out, feeling wretched. "I should have stayed her angel, her friend and tutor. Had I stayed as that and not forced her to almost marry me...my only defence is that my mind, my very soul, was weak and raging with jealously and hatred towards that fop- but my pupil, my Christine, she suffered too much at my hands."
"And yet the very fact you can say all this proves you to be the opposite of the monster you proclaim yourself to be!" Meg cried, rushing to kneel at his feet and grasp his other hand. Her eyes were full of sincerity, and were firm with the choice she had made. "I swear, Erik, that you shall suffer no longer! You will cry and be so tormented by a dark and distant past no more! I will help you, Erik; I promise you that you will lead a happier life."
"But how can you promise such a thing?! How can ANYONE promise such a thing?" he barely managed to speak, his demand coming out more a croaky whisper. "Not even I can promise MYSELF a life, let alone a happy existence!"
At this point, Antoinette cut in. She re-took Erik's hand and stroked it softly, her wise old eyes both full of sense and care for the clearly anguished man sitting beside her.
"Erik, as my daughter says, the pain is over now." She spoke calmly, leaving no room for hysteria or contradiction. "You did the right thing and you should realise that. Leave the past behind, Erik. We are all here to help you, you know that."
Erik lapsed into silence, the words of protest he had meant to argue back with suddenly gone from his mind. How on earth had he, a monster, managed to claim these friends who honestly cared about his well-being? Why could these three people sitting around the same table as him somehow see past the ugly face when so many others had not?
Erik knew Antoinette and Meg spoke sense. He knew he should leave the past at rest and continue to live in the present, looking towards a golden future, but his heart still felt heavy and lifeless. He knew he could manage a life without his muse but the prospect still horrified him into despair.
But as Antoinette had assured him, letting Raoul take her away and letting her choose the man she truly loved had been the right thing. She would be happy with Raoul. That was all that mattered...as long as she was happy.
Erik would at least feel a little less the monster he was as long as she still smiled. That was all that mattered now.
