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: Ok, so I lied. But Monday is close enough to the weekend, right? Anyway, I hope you like this chapter. It's kind of uneventful and boring, but it moves the story along…for the most part. I also hope it isn't too confusing in parts. Anyway, I'll leave you to it then.

Section 10

- A Step in the Right Direction

Early the next morning, just after sunrise, Erik dragged himself out of bed, dressed into one of his usual black suits, and called upon Joseph to take him out. It was obvious by the other man's disheveled appearance and delayed movements that he had been deeply asleep before being so abruptly disturbed by his master's summons. Erik allowed the man his comforting quietude, knowing that he was most likely in no mood to participate in a full blown conversation. There was only one command that he dared to give to his exhausted driver: "To the Opera Garnier."

Without crowds and a majority of the general population out on the streets, the trip was steady and quick. To either side of the carriage, shops were being prepped to open, some already were. A number of the women that consistently sold flowers along the streets were already taking up their places. The sun rose in the sky once again. The day was beginning anew. It meant fresh starts, new chances. It was a bittersweet feeling because it also meant a day for answers, as well as, yet another day wasted.

The Opera House looked desolate and dreary with the strange morning shadows cast across its edifice. There was no life in the structure at that hour. It was cold, unfeeling and it only offered memories to the normal activities that took place within it. Those memories would give way to actuality when the ballet girls and staff members penetrated the building for their daily routine only a little while later.

Joseph dropped Erik off at the front steps that fanned out in front of the Opéra Populaire like some regal carpet of clean white stone. He was told to wait out in the designated area until it was time to go. Meanwhile, he would be able to catch up on his disturbed sleep. Erik, instead, had business to attend to. He mounted the staircase in a casual, yet determined gait. He had decided long ago before even arriving upon the spot that he would inspect the place from top to bottom, inside and out for however long it would take to discover something, anything pertaining to the missing Meg. He was so focused on this goal because he knew for certain, whether it be an ache in his gut or a little voice in the back of his mind, that there was something there he just hadn't found yet.

Inside was dark and quiet. It was eerily reminiscent of a tomb—isolated from the world in a realm of maddening silence and pessimistic darkness. Erik did not shrink away. He ran his hand empathetically over the rough texture of one of the decorative pillars, feeling a sense of relatedness to the grand palace. It seemed to house secrets within the plaster barriers, just as he had his own safely tucked away behind the walls of his defenses. Now he tried to reach the building on another level. He tried to withdraw sympathy from it by connecting himself to the inanimate object that would create a bond between them.

"Help me," he whispered to the heart of the Opera House. "Help me turn up something. Help me retrieve Meg."

He decided he didn't need the aid of light at the present. Stepping away from the enormous column, he pushed his eyesight farther than just to an adjusted state in the darkness. If he concentrated for just a moment he could strain his senses to heighten and prevail within the black cover. It was a trick only he was capable of undergoing. Not only did it come in handy when immersed in that line of work, but it was another addition to the pile of things that set him apart from the rest of humanity.

Then he began the arduous task of examination. He needed to swiftly pass over the parts of the Garnier that would become inhabited in only a couple hours at the latest. He couldn't be interrupted and he couldn't have anything altered anymore than it already was. He even concluded to keep his presence hidden from the daily inhabitants. That way he could spy upon the actions to get a better idea of the night of the crime.

Erik swept over the main lobby with no success, and similarly finished the entire first floor. By the time he headed up the large staircase to peruse the balconies and hallways of the second floor, the large double entrance doors opened to emit the crowd of gossiping girls and janitorial hands. He easily sank back into the shadows, disappearing from view. He faded into the elements of the next level to get back to work. Though voices and noises drifted to him, he remained as disconnected from them as possible. He couldn't allow these distractions to faze him.

After clearing the hallway, he moved carefully to the boxes. Getting through these took longer than he would have liked because he had to make sure to not draw any attention from the rehearsing dancers below on the stage. As he made his way from box to box, drawing closer and closer to the stage, each investigation took more and more time. He didn't stop or skip a single one, though. There was something attached to that building, and he was going to find it.

Reaching box five, Erik hesitated. He knew he should go in despite it being his own personal balcony, and he did. He wasn't surprised to find absolutely nothing. In fact, he would have been astonished if he had found something. However, after the search, he couldn't help stopping for just a moment to reminisce of the night of Meg's fabulous debut. He ran his fingers over the red velvet of one of the chairs then looked to the lit stage below with the numerous girls executing the same moves in unison.

"The show must go on," he muttered to himself.

Though one of the best dancers in the troupe had gone missing, the rest went on as if there was no crisis at hand. They chattered away like a friend could not be in possible danger or even…

He couldn't even bring himself to think the word. Perhaps he was misjudging the girls, though. Maybe they really did fret in their spare time. All he could be sure of was that in accordance to the production Meg was not missed by her peers. Her absence was actually convenient. In the world of dancing, it was every person for herself. Competition was everything, and having someone so talented out of the way opened the door for another to take her place.

Erik didn't immediately suspect one of the other ballet dancers of being the criminal. It would have been too obvious, too easy. Besides, with their stick-like frames and virtually no arm muscle, it seemed almost impossible for one of the young ladies to be able to overpower another and dispose of the incapacitated body without leaving a large area of struggle or injuring herself in some way or not being found out in the process. No, he was positive they were all innocent.

As he looked away, not being able to stand the sight anymore, his eye was caught by an indistinguishable white dot amidst the darkness of the audience. He leaned in closer to the rail to try and get a better look, but it was too small and too far away. In its proximity to the stage, too, he would have to wait until lunch break before he could go down and properly label the substance, whatever it was. He took a seat behind one of the red curtains so that he remained hidden, while never taking his gaze from the mystery below. He tried to come up with some answer during the wait, but couldn't think of any. With his mind so consumed, time flew by and lunchtime approached quickly.

The dancers ate out in one of the main foyers, leaving the entire auditorium at Erik's disposal. Face to face with the mysterious white he had discovered from above, he got down onto his knees to properly inspect it. He swiftly recognized the substance as a white powder most likely left behind from the bottom of someone's shoe. He pinched a little bit of the dust between his fingers. It was soft, yet slightly chunky and waxy. He sniffed it to the best of his ability. It smelled nice and familiar. If he wasn't mistaken, he swore he could label the material as…

"Soap?" he questioned.

What was soap doing on the bottom of someone's shoe? How had it gotten there? What did it mean? Erik stood up, dusting the substance from his fingers. He glanced around the sea of empty chairs. His first assumption was that it had come from one of the workers during cleaning. However, the more he thought about the possibility, the more he out ruled it. From just where he was standing, he noticed a few hairs here and there on various seats. He noticed the scuff marks on the surface of the stage. Soon there was no doubt that the auditorium had not yet been cleaned since the last performance. Sure any larger pieces of trash had probably been picked up and tossed away, but no detailed work had been put into it. Why? Because the ballet girls needed to practice, and why would the hall be thoroughly cleaned once only to be messed up and have to be cleaned again? It was more efficient and less costly to do meticulous maintenance right before the next performance. It was a fact then. This substance had definitely remained from Meg's debut.

-----

Keeping that powder in mind, Erik continued his scrutiny of the rest of the Opera House. He went to the top floor-to the roof even-without any other discovery. The rest of the inside was empty. So he decided to move to the outside. The sun had already disappeared behind the buildings and further sank into the horizon. A glow was cast behind the city, giving it a surreal aesthetic. Erik barely took notice as he started in the front of the structure and would work his way all the way around it until he ended back in the same spot.

The grounds were definitely easier to go through than the interior of the Populaire. There was less to cover. While the inside had taken him nearly an entire day-and even then he felt as if he hadn't gotten through it all-the outside, he estimated, should only take him a few hours into the night. Though the others were stuck inside, he was still conscious of his visibility. Even if there were less choices as to where to hide or blend into, he made it work. He was always able to make it work.

Eventually, he snaked around to the same alley he had investigated the other day. The sun was already gone, and he had to once again heighten his senses to a point of normality when there was no veil of night. The moon, being in a gibbous stage, offered aid, too. Erik saw that the garbage he had knocked over in his last visit had been picked up and was no longer there. He didn't worry too much about that. Instead of focusing on what could be in the trash, he tried perusing along the edge of the building and in any little crevices or corners.

Amidst the solitude, a squeak echoed louder than expected within the back alley, grabbing Erik's attention. He scowled when he saw the rat that had uttered the noise. He watched it scurry by, along the edge of the edifice, then out of view. Erik's expression gradually changed from a frown to one of intrigue and curiosity. The rat, being perfectly normal and an unpleasant creature, was not what caused such interest in the man. It was what the nasty little thing had run right by that captured his attention.

Erik bent over and fingered up the small object the rat had unintentionally revealed to him. It glinted in the moonlight, bright enough to be another star in the sky. Perhaps it had fallen from above and wished to be placed back among the heavens. But Erik knew otherwise. This little star belonged to the kidnapper, he was sure of it. This little ring fashioned in shimmering diamonds was exactly the clue he had been looking for.