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: Sorry, sorry, sorry about the late update! My power went out and I lost internet connection for a few days, so I apologize. Oi, I'm so bad at this. Sorry! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this little section. It's kind of interesting with a lot of tension and such. I'll leave you to it then.
Section 12
- Perception
Erik stopped upon setting one foot inside of the house. Something wasn't right. There was an off feeling at that late hour. He removed his jacket and top hat and paused. He listened, but only heard the ticking of the grandfather clock. He turned toward the coat rack to complete the task he had started, yet halted again in mid-motion of hanging up his outerwear. This time he noticed something that did not belong. There was a jacket-a male jacket-that did not belong on the rack. It was not his. He placed the items in his hands upon the wooden holder, took a few more steps inward, and stopped and listened again. This time, he tried to shut out the tolling of the old clock. It worked. He could just make out whispers emitting from the sitting room. Without anymore hesitation, he headed in that direction.
As he drew nearer and nearer, the voices began to pick up and become more distinct. The current one that filled the air belonged to Madame Giry. He couldn't really tell what she was saying, but was interested nonetheless. The doors were only opened a crack, and a flickering light danced across the floorboards into the hall. Upon reaching the entrance, he swung open the double doors, stopping them before they could continue their motion into the wall. Though his elaborate appearance hadn't made much, if any, sound, Madame Giry's head shot up and her gaze fell right onto him. She was seated on a couch that faced the doors. There were two heads across from her, their backs toward the doors. One was easily recognizable because of its dark curls. Before she even followed in Madame Giry's shoes and looked over her shoulder at the intruder, he knew it was Christine.
However, the head next to hers was a little less than willing to so desperately see who had barged in. The short, dirty blonde hair obviously belonged to a male. Although, in the pit of his stomach, he believed he knew who the gentleman was, he didn't want to even comprehend that the man could be sitting in his house next to Christine, sipping tea from his fine china. Both of the women's eyes focused on him, but he could only stare at the strange head, until it finally turned to reveal its identity. Sure enough, to his dismay and displeasure, the other body in the room belonged to none other than Raoul de'Chagny.
"Well, this is a surprise," Erik muttered after a moment of silence, trying to hold back his disdain. "Have I interrupted some sort of secret meeting?"
"Don't be foolish," Christine responded immediately, though her voice was quiet and fleeting.
She turned her head back to the forward, copied by Raoul. It seemed to Erik as if he had walked in upon some deep dark secret or just unveiled a hidden conspiracy involving all three of the persons seated. He didn't know whether to sit down and join them or leave the room and pretend the strange encounter had never happened. Before he could make up his mind, though, Madame Giry did so for him.
She stood up, motioning toward the small couch she had just been occupying. "Please, sir, sit down."
His eyes flickered from Madame Giry to Christine and Raoul, who both had their heads bowed as if mesmerized by something in their laps. Without shifting his gaze, he traveled across the room and took up the cushion that was now free. To his right, a fire burned lively inside the fireplace. It was what allowed the entire room to be lit. The two couches faced each other with a small table between them. Tea had been served on its surface.
"Christine," Madame Giry said, interrupting the strained silence that had befallen the inhabitants of the room, "perhaps you should confide in Monsieur Erik now."
Christine slowly lifted her head, her emerald eyes shining intensely with little help from the flame to her left. She stared at Erik momentarily before looking up to the housekeeper.
"I hesitate out of fear that he will be angry with me," she whispered.
Her voice was innocent and troubled. It was obvious that she cared more about his temper toward her than the actual news she had to share. And it wasn't that she feared he might lash out at her or in anyway threaten her existence because she knew that to be out of his nature in any situation. She only sought to not burden him and to merely act as a comfort after the long days of his business.
"Child, don't be daft. Of course-"
"Madame Giry," Erik interrupted the older woman. "Would you please bring me a cup of my specific tea?"
Her eyes widened. "Yes, sir." She exited swiftly.
With nowhere else to look, Christine stared straight into Erik's eyes. He, in turn, stared straight back. An awkward silence was allowed to fall between the three occupants. The fire crackled beside them, foreshadowing a brutal tale.
"I promise to hear you out to the end," Erik finally stated. "Now, Christine, pleaseā¦"
She nodded, the fear gone from her eyes. She allowed her gaze to waver to Raoul for just a second before resuming its position on Erik.
"When I awoke this morning, you had already left to pursue Meg's case further. As always, I assisted Madame Giry around the house for the entire day. I had noticed through the windows and during whatever small amount of time I spent outside that the weather had been agreeable and the day actually quite beautiful. Being cooped up, I yearned for a stroll." She paused. "By the time I finished with the chores, the sky was already darkening. I informed Madame Giry of my plan to walk just around the block. She insisted that I not go alone out of concern of my wellbeing. She said she already lost a daughter and couldn't bear to lose me, too." Her voice grew stronger and stronger as the story progressed. "So I agreed. You, sir, were still absent-"
"So she called upon me," Raoul interjected.
Christine's eyes fluttered downward and her breath caught in her throat. She had to swallow before she could find the air to fuel her voice box to continue on. She looked up, glancing at Raoul then over to Erik again.
"So I called upon Monsieur de'Chagny. It was a pleasant evening, not too cold, and we decided to go a block further before turning back. Though our chatter lightly touched the air, we heard scuffling and muffled noise coming from an alley. Raoul tried to convince me that we should leave because the situation could quickly turn foul. However, I insisted upon discovering the source of the noises."
"A trait she no doubt picked up from you, Monsieur," Raoul scolded, frowning at Erik. "It is undesirable and could have caused much harm this evening if I hadn't been present."
Christine turned to him, placing her hands over one of his, which rested on his leg. A rather frustrated expression composed her face. "Please, Raoul, allow me to finish." He shut his mouth obediently, sitting back stiffly. Christine moved back into her neutral position in which to address Erik.
"I couldn't believe my eyes when we entered the alley. There was a child and a shrouded figure. The figure was attempting to capture the child, who, luckily, struggled for his life. I refer to the attacker as a figure, sir, because we could not make out any discernable features. It was covered in shadow and a dark cloak. Well, what else could we do but come to the child's aid? Raoul and the figure struggled momentarily, but Raoul got forced back. He hit his head pretty hard against the brick of one of the surrounding buildings. So I took up any object I could find and I hit the figure with it. The figure fell and I dug my heel into its left hand. It let out a shrill cry, obviously, but lashed out and tripped me." Suddenly her eyes began to fill with tears. Though her vision began to become blurry, she didn't allow her gaze to waver. "The figure grabbed the child and took off. There was nothing I could do."
Erik was more on edge than he had thought. His nails dug into his palms at the point in the narrative where Christine had become involved in the fight. This figure had harmed her, knocked her down. It made his heart jump and his muscles tighten. He could hardly keep a grip on his reaction. Then, to make matters worse, Raoul decided it a good idea to share his opinion.
"This was all too much. Christine would never be exposed to such situations if she were safely under my protection. This is all your fault, Monsieur. You are a magnet for danger and violence."
Erik opened his mouth to retort, but was rendered speechless by Christine's defense.
"Raoul, bite your tongue!" she shot at him. All traces of tears in her eyes were gone. They were dried by an angry fire burning threateningly deep inside. "If it wasn't for him I would be dead! I owe Erik my life, and I gladly hand it over to him."
"Christine, he isn't capable of watching over you, of protecting you. He shows only annoyance toward your presence in his house. He is gone more than half the time. He is not there for you. He does not care for you."
"He cares for me more than you will ever be capable of comprehending!" Her ferocity brought her to her feet, her fists clenched at her sides.
Raoul stood to meet her, but in a calmer fashion. "Christine, please. Be reasonable."
"I've never been more reasonable in my life, Raoul!" She grabbed his hand and marched out of the room dragging him along. Her footsteps led to the front door, which was thrown open. "Leave. I don't want to see you here again."
"Christine-"
"Be quiet! I want you to just get out, just leave."
"What has come over you, Christine?"
"In my past, I was blinded. I've grown up and I've changed. I can never now be with someone as closed-minded and ignorant as you, Raoul. Don't come see me again."
There was a loud slam. Erik listened in stunned silence to everything that played before his eyes and even that which happened outside of his sight. He tried to review what exactly Christine had said, but it all seemed to blur together in the heat of the moment. The house was now uncomfortably quiet. He was suddenly in an unknown position. He didn't know where to go from there.
Madame Giry slid slowly into the room with a cup of tea and set it down carefully in front of her manager. She then took up the seat next to him, being gentle in every movement so as not to startle him. He was frozen, his body having fallen into a lax position. He didn't move; he didn't breath. His lungs were beginning to ache from the stagnant air inside of them.
"She thought that the encounter might be of some use to the case," Madame Giry whispered. "She said the figure could share the same identity as the one that kidnapped Meg."
Erik slowly looked over at Madame Giry and nodded absently. He reached down and picked up his teacup and saucer and took a sip. The warm liquid relieved his innards. It was comforting and relaxing.
"You know that the boy's animosity stems only from his position of second. He's lost the woman in his life to a most unsuspected competitor."
Erik choked on the tea. He coughed slightly, setting the china back onto the table. He wiped his mouth and checked back in with Madame Giry.
"D-Don't be absurd," he stammered, still coughing a bit and looking away.
"Absurdity is only absurdity if it is false." Madame Giry collected the previous tea set and stood. She was about to exit the room to drop the dishes off in the kitchen, but stopped and pivoted toward him. "For a detective, sir, you are not as perceptive as you think." And she flitted out of the room, leaving Erik alone with the dying fire.
