Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Erik, POTO ( I wish I did), Andre, Firmin, Raoul, Christine, Madame Giry, Meg, Reyer, Carlotta, or Piangi, or the original lyrics to the song in this chapter...atleast the original parts that are from No One Would Listen. Kiera, though, is mine. As is Madam Sandria, Madam Bardoix, Marie Torque, and Jacque Torque! They are shmine so no stealing! Also, Erik uses some humor in this that is way ABNORMAL! So, don't pitch a fit. It's only for the purpose of the story! 'Kay, that's all!Oh, and what is in paraentheses at the end is the translations for the French used in the conversations. I just thought I'd add in a little, since this in France.
Kiera
"Kiera," a voice calls to me. "Kiera, wake up."
I open my eyes to find the room completely dark. Not even the faint glow of a hot coal in the fire place is visable. Looking up, I find Erik hovering over me with a dull visage. His tall, shadowy figure is intimidating, as always and I am slow to get up for fear of angering him with my movement. Well, it's not as much fear as it is an unbelievable amount of respect. Rising to my feet, I notice that my violin is in its same old case, and my tea cup has been removed. "Erik, how long has it been since I fell under your spell?" I ask.
"Spell?" He raises a brow and stares at me.
"Yes. When you play, it as though you are putting a spell on me. As a musician, I'd hoped I would be immune to your powers, but it appears that I've not reached that yet."
"But still, my friend, a spell? Surely you could come up with a synonym for it," he continues.
"Oh, stop your complaining and answer my question."
He shakes his head and pulls out his pocket watch. "It's nine o'clock. You've been here for five hours," he answers, dropping the watch into his pocket again.
"Nine o'clock!" I exclaim. "Madam Sandria will be worried sick!" I hurry to the door.
"Are you so eager to return after she was going to make you find elsewhere to live? You truly have lost your mind." He follows behind me to the affect of my shadow. "And..since when have you started growing attached to people? The last time you and I spoke, you weren't one for getting close to anyone for fear of hurting them. Or perhaps the other way around."
"Erik, she has been kinder to me than anyone I've ever known, and I've known very few people."
He begins to chuckle softly just as I finish this statement.
"Erik! You sick-minded man!" I exclaim. "Not in the biblical sense! Your humor is disgusting!"
"Oh, calm down. I was only joking. I know precisely what you mean." All is quiet for a moment. "But you must admit that it was quite funny."
"Yes. It was rather entertaining. You certainly still are the same man I befriended in Persia those years ago, but you have acquired a different sense of humor."
"Indeed. Now, since you are in such a rush to get back to Madam Sandria, I'll escort you back to the surface." He hands my cloak to me and pulls on his own.
We exit the house and climb into the little row boat still waiting at the lake's shore. He pushes it into the water and rows. It is silent for a while but a song pops into my head, and I begin to hum it. Erik looks at me curiously and says, "That is the tune to the song I was playing before you arrived. How do you know it?"
"Your song is how I found my way down here," I reply. "I came into the Opera to explore and see what was left of my violin. I heard your song while in the theater and decided to find the person responsible. I wandered through the catacombs and voila! I find you, of all people."
"You've very good hearing, then."
"Aren't musicians supposed to?"
"I suppose." He hums it along with me, but it is in a lower octave.
Soon, I begin to add lyrics to it:
"Locked in my solitude,
Hid from the multitude,
No one would love me.
All alone with just my music.
Turned to a runaway,
Running both night and day,
No one would love me.
In the dark, I played sweet music.
Then atlast, a song from the gloom,
Seemed to cry I hear you.
You share my fears,
My torment and my tears.
He felt the same as I,
Knew all their tricks and lies.
No one would love me.
Just that one man, could be someone like me.
No one would love me.
Just this one man, could be someone like me."
The boat stops in the middle of the lake, the dark water growing still. "The person you sang of was yourself." Erik puts down the oars. "Why?"
"I sing what I feel. Those words are exactly my feelings."
"And this man you spoke of...who is he? Someone you met before our friendship or after our seperation?" he inquires.
"You know him, my friend," I answer. "You know him very well. He is my only friend in this world, besides my music."
"No, Mademoiselle. I don't know him."
"Then ponder my words as we continue. Perhaps you will discover his indentity." I sigh and dip my fingers in the black water, watching the ripples expand until they disappear.
My finger tips begin to drag across the water's surface as the boat starts moving again.
"I'd be careful, if I were you. The siren doesn't take kindly to beautiful women contaminating her domain and degrading her own beauty," Erik warns.
"Siren?" I remove my hand from the water. "There is one in this lake?" I stare at him, unbelieving. "You realize I no longer believe in sirens, don't you?"
"Yes, I know, and that is precisely why you will fall victim to her jealousy if you do not do as I say."
"Did you say she would be jealous? Of who? Me?" I question, awe-stricken.
He nods. "She will be very jealous of your beauty and your uniqueness. I highly doubt that there is another in the world like you."
"I'm not beautiful, Erik...not even average. That I know." I look down and begin to play with my fingers.
"Kiera, I, of all people, should know what true beauty is, seeing that all of my life I have been searching for just that. You may be different but you truely are one of the brightest flowers in the boquet," he assures me.
"Enough, Erik! I will not allow you to continue teasing me! Just take me back to the surface!" I snap.
"As you wish."
The rest of the journey is as quiet as death. Neither I nor Erik say anything. "Here you are, Kiera." Erik opens the door to an alley entrance. "Follow the alley and you will soon be in main streets. Au revoir, mon cherie."
"Au revoir, mon ami," I say as he closes the door behind me.
I walk back to the inn slowly, paying no mind to the shadows and sounds of night in Paris. I drag my feet and only think about what Erik said. She will be jealous of your beauty and uniqueness. You may be different but you truely are one of the brightest flowers in the boquet.
"Ou avez-vous ete, Kiera?" Madam Sandria exclaims as I enter the building.
(Where have you been, Kiera?)
"Bonsoir, Madame. "
(Good evening, Madam)
"Etes-vous tout droit?" she continues.
(Are you all right?)
"Tres fatigue, Madame. Bonne nuit." I turn away and go to my room.
(Very tired, Madam. Goodnight.)
She follows after me but I close my door before she reaches my room. "Kiera? Ou avez-vous ete, doux?"
(Kiera? Where have you been, really?)
"Madam, I don't want to discuss this. Please, I need some sleep and time to think."
"Very well. Bonsoir, ma petite."
"Bonsoir." I pause as I hear her footfalls. "Madam!"
"Yes?" The footsteps cease.
"Merci."
"Vous etes bienvenu," she answers. The footfalls start again, soon distancing and finally disappearing.
(You are welcome.)