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: Well, we have finally come to the end. I hope you enjoyed this installment. Stay tuned for number three. It will be up at the end of this week. The next one is going to prove to be a bit different from these last two. Thank you all for sticking around through my long delayed updates, and for all of your reviews. Without you, this would not exist. So, again, thank you, and until next time, ciao!

Section 21

- As It Should Be

The explosion was grand, knocking apart most of the building. The back half was demolished so that not even an outline of what had once been there stood. Fires burned in numerous places after the blast. Dust and debris filled the air, creating a smoky haze. Pieces of edifice that had been shaken loose fell in irregular increments, making the perimeter still dangerous and unstable.

The children, herded by Meg, had escaped to a safe distance before the disastrous detonation. Christine and Erik had been close in tow, but hadn't gotten far enough away from the blast in time. The force that had penetrated the air pushed them forward, off balance, and they had fallen to the street. Perhaps inflicted with a few scratches and bruises here and there, otherwise, they were left unharmed.

Erik clambered to his feet then assisted Christine to hers. She was a little shaken up, unsteady on two legs for a minute or two. He held her arms until she could regain her composure. He studied her face intensely as her eyes darted this way and that, wanting to make sure she was not injured in any way. Though his grip was firm and his voice was controlling, there was gentleness and caring in his protective way.

"Christine, are you alright?" he breathed quickly. When she didn't answer, he continued the interrogation. He needed her to relay an answer as soon as possible. "Christine, listen to me. I need to know that you are not wounded. Are you hurt? Do you feel faint or pain?"

Christine shook her head, almost absently at first then with more control. "No, no. I'm fine. I'm just a little shaken, but unharmed."

Erik smiled with relief and brushed away a dark stain on her cheek. She smiled back at him, unable to do much more at the moment. After all, they were still getting their bearings after being tossed a few feet into the air and landing like two sacks of potatoes onto the hard pavement. Shouts and hurried footsteps interrupted the moment. Both turned toward the oncoming crowd and firemen.

"Is everyone alright?" one of the men asked Erik as he came up. "Did everyone get out?"

"Check on the children and make sure they are not wounded. We are fine." He paused. "There were still some employees inside…and you may want to check in the back for any signs of life." The man nodded and rushed off to aid the others.

Erik and Christine joined up with Meg and the children. Meg threw herself into Erik's arm, embracing him long and hard. An expression of shock was smacked on his face, but was swiftly replaced with a pleasant smile and relaxed frame. He joined in a moment later, just as overjoyed to see Meg as she was to see him.

"Oh, Monsieur," she exclaimed, "I am so happy to see you again."

"You really worried us, Meg," he replied.

She took a step backward and looked into his gray eyes. "I apologize. I should never have tried to leave the Opera Populaire alone, especially in the dark. I shall be more careful next time. I promise."

He shook his head. "It was not your fault in the least. We all know who was really behind this."

"I looked after the children as best as I could. You would have been proud." Meg's enthusiastic grin turned upside down and tears stained her sapphire eyes as she bowed her head in sorrow. "It was so awful. Each day he would come in and pick out one of the young ones just like a cattle being chosen for slaughter. I tried to keep them safely behind me, but he was too powerful. He would shove me aside and grab one of the children by the arm, pull him or her out wailing." A drop rolled down her cheek. "I had to remain strong for the rest of them, though. I couldn't show how much it tore me up inside to see one less in that horrible cage."

Erik raised her chin with two fingers so that she looked into his eyes once more. The smile he offered was comforting and proud. "You have nothing to be ashamed or apologetic for. You did fantastic. Finding strength in a situation like that, Meg, is what a hero is all about. And you were a hero to these young children."

"Thank you, Monsieur." And she grinned again.

Erik let Meg go assist the children in speaking with some of the crew that came to aid them. He moved closer to the rubble, surveying the scene from a short distance. His hands were clasped behind his back in a proper fashion, though his clothes were covered in dust and dirt. They were torn in a few places, as well, and a small gash at his hairline was stained with dried blood.

"Worried?" Christine inquired, stepping next to him.

She adopted a rather proper posture, too, but, likewise, didn't look the part. Her frock was just as unkempt as his suit. Her hair was messy and burly. A small scratch on the nape of her neck was dappled with scarlet beads. However, she still held an elegant air and stature alongside his own.

"Should I be?" he responded.

"Who knows if Jacque Marignon actually died in that pit of…well, whatever that substance was?"

Hearing it actually worded caused a whole different feeling to arise than merely thinking of it. Had he died? Or did he manage to escape the explosion to try and start anew somewhere else? Would his inhuman experiments continue on? Or had Christine put an end to them once and for all? These questions seemed to haunt Erik. He needed to know. He needed to see a body or some sign of Marignon's death. He needed to be absolutely sure.

Then if on cue, two men came out of the destroyed building carefully maneuvering a stretcher. All that could be seen from Erik's spot was a white blanket thrashing about and a small pale circle. Overcome with curiosity, and in hopes of having his fears extinguished, he hurried toward the odd buggy.

The victim strapped onto the stretcher was unrecognizable. It was only after Erik had stared deeply into the man's azure eyes that he gave a gasp of familiarity. The man before him had stringy white hair that was thin enough to show scalp beneath it. His face was distorted and acid burned. There were many wrinkles and other age marks beneath that, though. He was raving like a lunatic, babbling about beautiful exteriors and youthful looks. Yes, the man before him was just who he had been searching for. It was Jacque Marignon in the flesh.

"We found him in the back. A large metal bin saved his life, though whatever was in it seemed to have really left a mark."

"This is the man behind it all," Erik informed quietly.

The two assistants nodded and wheeled the psychotic Jacque away. Erik turned around to be face to face with Christine, who had followed him. They knew that it was now over. Marignon would be put away in a mental institute, most likely. He would never be released and he'd never have his handsome features back.

"It's done now," Erik concluded. He offered his arm to Christine, who gladly accepted, and they strolled away from the scene. "Marignon got exactly what he deserved in the end. He will never know a pleasant exterior again."

"Erik," Christine said carefully, "I cannot help but think that you personalized a bit with him. I know it sounds awful, but in a way it is as if you could almost put yourself in his shoes, minus the hysterics and devilish doings."

He couldn't help understanding where she was coming from, but he played it off. "How do you mean?"

"Well, if you don't mind me being so bold…" she started, waiting for his approval to continue.

"Go ahead," he allowed.

"Well, you know how Marignon was obsessed with his youth and his appearance. He needed to be beautiful. I can't help sensing that you might feel similarly. The way you wear that mask around, it's obviously hiding something that you do not wish the public to see. You, too, want to cover up any unpleasant exteriorities."

"Yes, I do," Erik admitted. "The difference between us, though, Christine, is that Marignon tried to completely change back to his past self. He wanted to go back in time to a youthful stage. I accept what I hide and do not try to alter it. I merely shield people from having the misfortune of laying eyes upon it."

"Erik…" she breathed, sympathetically.

"Appearances are always on trial, Christine, and the public eye always controls the gavel."

-----

The children made it safely home and into the arms of relieved and tearful parents. Meg was received in exactly the same fashion by Madame Giry, who then ushered her daughter into a private room so that they could catch up and bond. Madame Giry refused to let her daughter out of her sight for the next couple of weeks, until she was sure that Meg was safe. Meg, being at the ripe age of sixteen, of course felt smothered and slightly annoyed at the attention her mother paid her. However, she allowed her mother this after what she had put her through.

Erik was finally able to relax knowing that the members of his household were happy and safe. He was glad he was capable of helping those dear to him, yet he couldn't stop the musings of how much he had changed since Christine had come to live under his roof. She was a ray of sunshine that had dispelled the dark clouds he had formed over the entire household. He was actually starting to feel no regret for allowing her to stay.

That is, until one morning when sleeping late, Erik began to toss and turn as his sleep was interrupted by a familiar sound. He tried to muffle the noise by holding a pillow over his head, emerging his entire body underneath his sheets. Nothing worked, though. The incessant racket was back again, and there was no escaping it.

As he sat up in bed, fed up with the interruption of his slumber, there was only one word that exited his voice box in the form of an annoyed yell, "Christine!"

Downstairs, nowhere near Erik's bloodshot eyes, the brown haired beauty that sat at the piano, her fingers wildly, yet gracefully prodding up and down the ivory keys, smiled a pleasant smile. Everything was how it should be.

Fin

Next in store for our detective…

Playing with fire, one is bound to get burned. The flickering oranges, reds, and yellows are alluring, as well as dangerous. Only in the hands of a young woman will the inferno be able to bring about not only death, but life.