Angel of Grey
Chapter six: Eternal Life
Meg awoke, nestled comfortably in her bed. She sat up groggily and noticed a cup of warm broth next to her, a wedge of cheese, and several pieces of dried beef. The scent of food threw all her caution to the wind, and she quickly consumed most of it. She chewed a piece of cheese thoughtfully as she wondered what was going on. He had said he would kill her…and now here was probably the most generous meal he had ever brought her. She wondered too late if maybe it was poisoned…but no. That just wasn't his style.
Meg got up and stretched, shaking out her stiff limbs. She must have been asleep for a long time, because her muscles were pretty cramped up. She did some stretches, then decided to try walking into the lion's den.
She found Erik in his bed, writing furiously into one of his empty leather-bound books. When she walked in the room, he didn't seem to notice.
"You know, you walk as quietly as a cat. Anyone but me would never hear you coming." He noted suddenly, not taking his eyes off of his writing.
"R-really?" She asked, startled by the sudden unexpected sound of his voice. She had been preparing herself for insults, threats…not the casual notation she just heard now.
"Yes. I suppose that is because you are a dancer; but you are no mere dancer, there is more behind the mask you wear." He commented, finally looking up at her.
"What do you mean, my mask?" She asked, intrigued.
"You once said to me before that you hated people who just thought you were nothing more than a witless little dancer girl, yet that is the mask you wear." He looked her in the eyes, "What have you been hiding from me, my little dancer girl?"
His tone was very shrewd, and she found that she would have much preferred it if he was yelling at her now.
"What do you mean? What do I have to hide?" She asked, and Erik got up. He handed her a jumble of notes. Her notes. Some on her own paper, some scribbled in the sidelines of his own notes. All the calculations she had to do, the mixing…
"This is not usual of a girl your age, nor of a witless dancer girl. Now tell me, what have you been hiding?"
She backed away, his calm tone unnerving her. It was silky and commanding , demanding that she should only answer, and listen to him…that everything would be okay if she did. The implied power of his voice over her frightened her.
"Do you mean how I know these things? I simply study in my free time…I..I have an interest in medicine."
"Simple study and interest brought you to this knowledge? No my dear, that is not the answer I am searching for."
He suddenly began to sing, and it brought memories surging foreword. The little birds dieing in her hands, all the other animals she had helped heal…the others that did not make it; and a single memory too painful to bear…
She cried out, and began to sob, sinking to the ground.
"It is not simple interest." He said, bending down, propping her chin up so she looked at him, "It is a passion. It is important to you, something that is connected to you so deeply…you cannot deny it, my song brings the truth out of you."
Meg struggled free from the hypnosis of his song, and slapped him. The sound resounded across the walls and she gaped as she realized what she had done. She backed away from him, getting up and placing herself against the far wall.
Erik, still bent down on the ground, was holding his cheek and looking at her with a mixed expression of shock, anger, and respect.
"Girl, I would be very careful with your actions." He growled and slowly sat up, his gaze never leaving her. Anger rose up in her at the threat. She just saved his life, and he was threatening her!
"You hit me first! How can you not expect retaliation! I won't just sit here and take this!"
"What do you mean? I never touched you!"
"You played with my mind like it was some sort of toy for your deranged whims! That is much worse than any physical blow could ever be."
Erik opened his mouth, then seemed to reconsider.
"You are right…I am sorry. I beg your forgiveness on this, I overstepped my bounds." He said with a short bow.
Meg sat there, gaping. This was not a side of Erik she had seen before. When he looked up she found herself blushing, stammering an acceptance of the apology for lack of knowing what else to do.
He walked up to her, and handed her the book he had been writing in. The volume had been empty, and was now full.
"I want you to finish this."
"What do you mean?" She asked, forgetting her embarrassment as her curiosity took over.
"I meant just what I said. Finish it, then bring it to me when it is done." He gently ushered her into her room and walked out, refusing all attempts on further questions. When she rushed back into the main room intent on demanding answers, he was gone, as if he had disappeared the moment he had walked out of her room. She shook her head with a sigh and went back into her room, settling on her bed and setting the book down in front of her.
"What does he expect me to do, just follow his orders? What nerve he has if he truly thinks he can make me read and finish this." She muttered to herself. How was she supposed to finish something he started writing anyway? She resolved herself not to so much as open the first page. It was a matter of pride…certainly he had her imprisoned here, could threaten her life…but the last freedom she had was that she could choose what to do with her free time. She wasn't about to give that up.
She sat there, wondering what she should do. What was there to do…?
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She was nearly through with the book, still a bit puzzled about what he wanted her to get from it. It wasn't up to par to his normal skills…she had already corrected several mistakes (they bugged her so much she couldn't just let them stay that way) and some things she had to cross out and put in completely different formulas.
Meg finally came to the last page and as she read the formula there her mouth hung open. It was only half done, but the half that was there was pure brilliance. It was going to be tough to get this one…
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Erik crept in her room later that night to find her sprawled over his book fast asleep, the pen on the ground and dripping ink. He pried the book out from under her and flipped through it. She had corrected every mistake it looked like. After sitting down for a while and noting each revision he found that about three quarters of the revisions were correct…but that still left a quarter of them wrong. She still had a long way to go. The last page would be what really told him though. He looked to find it nearly finished, but not quite. The progress she had made was still astonishing. He sighed as he put the book down. In a way, she was no better off than him with these talents…he could not use his knowledge for good because people would not accept him or what he could do…because of his scarred face. Meg on the other hand had a completely different problem all together…
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"But Mama, why not? I want to be a doctor, I want to help people!" Meg cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. At ten years old she was stubborn and more than willing to throw a fit in order to get her mother to see her side of things.
"Oh Meg, you do not understand…you -"
"I would be a good doctor!" she pouted. Madam Giry shook her head and led Meg to the couch to sit down.
"I am sure you would Meg, but I need to explain something to you." Meg sniffled, but stayed silent, her eyes still shining with tears fixed on her mother's face.
"Meg, this world is not fair, you know this." Madame Giry started. Meg nodded and looked down, sensing that where this discussion was going was not anywhere near the hopeful path she had set out for herself.
"People expect pretty girls like you to dance or sing, they do not expect you to be a doctor. The expect men to be doctors, the older and more distinguished the better."
"I don't care what they expect, I want to be a doctor!" Meg replied stubbornly. Madame Giry sighed, and shook her head.
"Oh my dear, if only passions were enough to make it in this world, then I am sure you would; but the fact is that if people do not accept you then you cannot succeed. For an artist to be an artist they need patrons, for a dancer to be a dancer she needs an audience, and for a doctor to be a doctor, he needs patients. Do you understand?"
"No! I think that all a person needs is passion because then if everyone can sees how much passion they have they will believe!" Meg stormed off and Madame Giry sighed…it would be a hard lesson that Meg would have to learn before she gave up.
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Meg slowly awoke again to the smells of food. She ate slowly, wondering where the book had gone. She had fallen asleep practically sprawled over it, so she knew she hadn't put it somewhere…Erik must have gotten it.
After she finished eating she put it aside and walked out into the main room. He was nowhere to be seen, but the book was out in the middle of the floor, open. She went to it to find that on certain pages things would be crossed out, or a simple "no" was written next to it. Sometimes even a vague hint on a better approach to figuring it out. It reminded her of her assignments she would get back from her mother after she had corrected them…
Was that what he was trying to do…teach her? She closed the book and stood up as something dawned on her. Why he was being civil to her…
She was becoming another proverbial Christine. She was just another project…someone he could mold to his will.
She stood, picked the book up, and considered throwing it in the fire. No, she couldn't bring herself to do that. She simply put it back on Erik's bed, a clear message that she was not going to play along.
She settled in her room, awaiting the explosion that she was near certain would take place soon.
Hours later, she was still waiting to no avail. When she walked out into the main room, Erik simply sat near the fire, writing peacefully into another blank volume. He looked up at her when she entered, not a hint of anger in his eyes.
"Soon enough you will. There is nothing for you to do down here but to learn." He said, an answer to her unspoken statement from before.
"I am not Christine." Meg said flatly. Erik looked mildly surprised.
"No, of course not. You haven't half the voice, and none of the innocent allure she had." He said in a matter of fact tone. Meg bristled, but then calmed down, noticing that he was trying to bait her. For her to respond in an angry way would humble her…but to be his equal she would have to be as cool and calm as he was.
"Of course I'm not innocent. Christine was like a child. I am not a child, and I know what you're doing. I will not be another little pet project of yours, and I know better than to give in to your enchanting." She responded, keeping her eyes steady with his. For an instant she saw a flash of anger in his eyes, then it was gone, replaced by an almost mischievous look. He saw a challenge, and he wasn't about to lose.
He got up and slowly walked towards her with the grace of a cat. She gulped as he got so close she could feel his body heat radiating off him. When she looked up into his eyes she saw fire, and when he opened his mouth she felt bliss.
He never touched her, but the song caressed her everywhere. For a moment she was content to stay and let this song fill her with wondrous bliss, and for a moment she truly understood what Christine must have gone through.
She stepped away, feeling a blush radiate off her cheeks.
Come to me… He beckoned in song. She shook her head, and stepped farther back. She had to do something, something to break the spell. She wouldn't let herself be controlled like this. An idea came to her and she opened her mouth. He didn't like her voice? Then let it distract him. An old song her mother used to sing when she thought she was alone…
The man was alone
And the clock struck twelve
Rang through his bones
Deep into his skull it delved
Trapped in his own mind's maze
Forever lost in a red haze
Of passions lost,
Of dreams unfulfilled
Bridges uncrossed
And hopes killed
The song had successfully struck him to silence. She stopped, and eyed him warily. Moment ago he seemed to radiate power, and now it seemed as if he was ten times smaller.
Finally, quietly, he said, "Where did you hear that?"
"…my mother would sing it…"
"That fool of a woman…." He muttered darkly and turned away to sit on his bed.
"What? What is going on?" Meg asked, curiosity taking over her upset feelings.
"It is my song. I don't know where she heard it, but it is mine." He turned to her, "Never sing it again. It is not for your lips. Besides…your voice tires me…" He said, turning away from her again.
"Sorry I'm not Christine" She spat at him.
"No you are not. You are much different than her…" He said almost thoughtfully. Then he chuckled. He actually chuckled and said, "You've more spirit. You're probably more trouble than you're worth."
"No doubt." She replied, sitting down by the fire.
"You really won't finish that book, will you." He said, looking at her. She shook her head, keeping her eyes on the fire.
"You want to. You want to learn, I can see it in your eyes. You know that I can teach you much."
"It's a dream I gave up long ago." She replied with a sigh.
"I thought you smart enough to not give up your passions." He said.
"Passion alone is not enough,"
"No my dear, passion is everything. It is what makes this world continue to turn. Without passion to do something, nothing would ever get done, things would never be created."
"Perhaps; but if the world rejects the very idea of you pursuing your passions you won't get very far…" She trailed off.
"Ah, but look at me. At one point I practically owned the opera house with my passion alone…"
"And look where it got you." She retorted, getting irritated by his persistence.
"You know, stubbornness stops being a good virtue at a point and simply gets annoying." He said, an icy glare falling into his eyes.
"Not used to not getting your way, are you?" She said sharply, and got up, heading towards her room. He got up and pinned her against the wall. Her heart started beating fast out of fear for her life…and…
"You seem to forget who is in control here. I could just kill you now."
"Y-you won't." She stammered, trying to ignore the pleasant affects the close proximity of his body was having on her, even in the midst of her fear.
"I may." He growled.
"Then you've lost your new project!" She said, letting her anger take her over. His eyes flared, and he yelled.
"Don't you understand, you aren't just a project…you…"
"I'm what!" she demanded.
She sat there, as he stared down at her. She was still breathing heavily and her chest brushed against his. He backed away, as if for the first time realizing how close he was to her.
"Nothing. Just go." He said, stumbling to his bed.
"But…"
"GO!" He roared, and she fled into the room, taken aback by his sudden outburst. She sat down, and was surprised to find tears wetting her face. Why was she getting so worked up about this? She shook her head, and decided to dance to work out her frustrations. She peeked out into the main room to see Erik by the fire, brooding. She crept out as silently as she could and walked to the clearing by the lake. Erik looked up as she passed him and she dared him with her eyes to say something, to demand that she go back to her room, but he simply looked back into the fire. She sat by the lake while stretching out her muscles and watched the flickering fire light dance across it's surface. Strangely enough sitting by the lake was peaceful, and she found herself calming down.
She got up and did some simple move practices for about an hour, then sat down again contemplating the waters surface. After a while she got up and passed Erik without a word, returning to her room. She passed the time rereading another book until soon she felt sleep returning to her.
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"Mama, why did you choose to teach ballet?" Meg asked one day, curious.
"Because I am too old to be a dancer, but too young to want to stop." Madame Giry answered with a smile, "I want to be able to pass on my knowledge to other people so that they can find joy in it too. That way, in a way, I live on forever through the things that I taught all of my young students, and then those students who pass on what they know to others."
Meg nodded, and got up. She understood.
"Mama, do you think I can pass on my knowledge to other people to become doctors when I am a doctor?"
Madame Giry shook her head with a sigh. No matter what she did, Meg always came back to the doctor issue. Poor Meg loved to dance, but even she knew that she could not dance forever. Madame Giry herself was proof of that.
"Meg…" She started, but Meg, sensing where the conversation was going got up and walked out the door.
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Meg slowly returned to consciousness, the memory still fresh in her mind of what her mother had told her all those years ago. To live forever through passing on knowledge…was that what Erik wanted to accomplish? Was it simply the desire to be able to leave behind something in this world that could not be extinguished by people's illogical hate? She sighed. She knew she wanted to learn…and she was beginning to feel that she could not begrudge him of that last wish. She got up and walked into the main room to find Erik still at the fire, now tending a pot of broth.
He looked up at her and their eyes met as she bent down and picked up the book. They both said nothing, but she could have sworn she saw a flicker of happiness pass through his eyes.
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Sorry about the two week wait! College started up again. But for an apology I did put a little bit of yummyness between those two ;-). Still, things are gonna keep getting rougher for them, so don't be fooled. Reveiw and maybe I'll put up another update early this week!