21

"Indebted to Her"

Practically running down the passage that lead underneath the opera house, he felt the adrenaline shove through his veins, his breathing still shallow and uneven. Finally getting there, he found his hands still shaking. Shocked and unnerved to the core, he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to truly comprehend how he had managed to keep his cool before her. She touched me! Not merely a touch either, but an embrace! How is this possible? His head swimming, he stopped pacing to drop himself into a chair, trying to collect himself. He mentally reviewed all that had happened, since she had walked into the room with her arms filled with food to when he had practically flung himself out the door to escape her. How did it happen? One minute we were talking, the next, arguing, and then she was embracing me! Breathing deeply to try to calm his nerves, he wondered at her strange mood fluctuations. She had been playful and teasing, angry, sullen, depressed and practically crying, and then excited to the point she had exuberantly embraced him. She makes no sense…All women are mad.

His mind shifted to how she had suddenly started tearing off her dress, he had been enraptured and severely confused at the same time, his body wanting her to take it off, his mind not being able to figure out why. It certainly wouldn't have been a reaction to me. He chuckled grimly. Then how she spoke to me! He had frozen, not knowing whether to watch or flee out of confusion and common decency. It certainly would have been inappropriate for him to be in the same room with her while she was undressing, he thought at first it was a strange custom from her home that he wasn't familiar with. So, not knowing what to do, he had merely stood there, confused, intrigued, embarrassed and nervous. "Don't give me any of your goddamned politeness shit! Just get your ass over here and undo these!" No one, no one, had ever spoken to him like that. Ever. And he very much doubted that if he really were still as insane as he had been, he would have tolerated it. Anger had overcome him, he still wasn't sure why she wanted her dress down, but if she demanded he take it off, then by hell, he would show her! Undoing the buttons, his anger most likely would have driven him to tearing the rest of the dress off of her if she hadn't pulled slightly away. He remembered himself then, and along with it, sudden shame in what he had been tempted to do. Something about her brash, commanding manner he had found darkly attractive. Wary of this, the possessive want that had driven him to his madness in the past, he backed away, wanting then only to escape. She had broken down in front of him then, and he had watched her, bewildered yet again. The strong, willful woman had disappeared, leaving behind a hysterical mess. It was only then that he truly comprehended the truth of her claims. Her technology had been convincing, certainly, but he couldn't get past his suspicion that it was somehow a trick. When he had seen her utter despair though, the soft whisper of "I can't do this," he realized that it was no trick, no lie. Only a scared young woman, alone. Alone like me. Only then wanting to end her fear, sorrow, misery, he had comforted her in the only way he could think of, offering his help. He had not expected her reaction, and certainly not the intensity of it.

His mind shifted to the embrace, how she had pressed her face into the fabric round his neck, her arms wrapped around him as tightly as they could. He remembered the feel of her breath against him, the way her hands had slightly ruffled the hair that ran down his neck to his high collar. Incredible…he closed his eyes, pulling all the feelings back, trying to relive the moment. It was like she cared. If he pretended enough, he could almost trick himself into believing it had been real, that there had been real emotions behind it. His eyes snapped open, suddenly. No, it wasn't real. She doesn't care about you, she just wants to use you! Fool! You let a woman control you, use you again! Idiot, stupid, stupid, foolish man! Tell her no! Don't let her do to you what Christine did! Tears ran down his cheek now, he trembled slightly, pulling his knees up to his head. Resting his forehead against them, he sobbed, his mind clinging to his worthlessness and how she, like Christine, would be sure to leave him. They all leave me, no one wants me. She will leave and forget…Just like Christine.

His tears stopping, he snuffled into his sleeve, for once thankful he was alone for his undignified break-down. I said I would help. I said I would meet her. I cannot, I will not. No. But I said I would, she will be expecting me. That is most unfortunate for her, then. I refuse to be dragged back into more pain. I barely survived Christine. I was going to die…I was going to die—I was going to…He had thought on his near escape from death often, it rankled deeply how very close he had come to the oblivion. So concentrated on that, though, he had barely ever thought about why it didn't happen. I was in the water, about to do it, when she pulled me back. She pulled me back. The voice he had thought was Christine's, returning to him, the one that had been Gwen's, rang through his head. Realization dawned on him. She…saved my life. She was the one that prevented me from doing it, I was so close! After the last few minutes of wallowing in hatred, a surge of gratitude rose in him. I did not truly want to die…just escape the pain. The pain that was still present, he knew, but had ebbed slightly. Why…?

He knew why. She had unintentionally saved him again, was continuing to save him. And in her desperation, she was giving him purpose. It had been her curious presence, her strangeness, everything about her that kept him interested, watching. All that time he had spent thinking about and watching her, he had not been focusing on his grief, the torment he had been so sure he would not survive. She lured him away from his caverns, where he would have only concentrated on his hurt, a distraction from the pain. He sat up, eyes wide. She is not indebted to me, I am indebted to her! She has been the one keeping me away from my thoughts, away from this cursed place of darkness! Confusion cleared as he began to pace again, excitedly, agitatedly. She knows not what her irritating presence does for me! Does to me! She is foolish, ignorant, impulsive, loud, opinionated, and insolent, but I would not be alive without her! He threw his head back and laughed, a loud bellowing laughter that reverberated against the cavernous walls, at the irony, how much he had despised the girl for being everything Christine was not. Now he realized how much he owed her for being Christine's opposite. She had distracted him through the worst of it, and though thoughts of his past love still cut him deeply, he was no longer in danger. He was no longer a danger to himself. Riled out of his exhaustion, and unable to sit still, he sat down squarely on the seat before his organ. Inhaling, he pressed his long fingers to the keys he had not touched since Christine's flight.

o o o o o

"Are you alright, Gwen? You seem a little out of it today." Nathaniel's voice caught me by surprise, I was jolted out of deep thought.

"Sorry, sorry. Just thinking…I guess I'm kinda tired," I gave him a weak smile and he nodded, handing me the armful of laundry he had been helping me pick up. "Ugh! And I'm so tired of other peoples' gross, sweaty clothing! Why do you offer to do this with me on your break? You should be eating or taking a nap or something," I nagged him, trying to hold my breath against the sweat and body odor that wafted off the clothing in my arms. He chuckled lightly, he was in a relatively good mood, but I could still see the strain in his eyes. He, like all the other people working in the Opera Populaire, had been pushed past his limit, and was running on sheer determination.

"But if I did that, when would I get to delight in your company?" I gave a sharp laugh at that, I knew that I had been a grump for most of the day. Worrying about meeting the Phantom later that evening had my insides bunched into knots, and as time passed, my anxiety only grew.

"We both know I'm not much of a delight, Nat," I replied dryly. He only awarded me with a knowing smile as a response, I stuck my tongue out at him. We shuffled to the laundry room, one of the places in the opera house I spent most of my time in, through a congested hall in the underbelly of the Opera Populaire. I was broken out of my task though, being grabbed from behind, a slender strong hand gripping my arm and heaving me backward. I let out a gurgle of surprise, as I was pulled against a wall and abruptly spun around to face Kathryn, dropping my load in the process.

"What the hell are you doing? You could have just said my name, Kat!" I bent angrily to pick up my load, Nathaniel hadn't seen me be nabbed and paused to glance around for me, pausing in the anecdote he had been relating.

"No! Gwen, shhh! I'm not suppos'd to be in 'ere, I'm suppos'd t' be runnin' an errand, but listen! Fauvre's back!"

"What!" I cried, a little too loudly because she snapped her hand over my mouth.

"Quiet! He was jus' in the hall a few minutes ago, tha's why I rushed to find you before he did!" Nathaniel strode over to Kathryn, perplexed at our harsh expressions and her hand clamped over my mouth.

"What is the problem?"

"Fauvre, the Inspector, he's back!" He had a similar reaction to mine, getting Kathryn's other hand pressed to his own mouth. I ripped her hand away from my face.

"And what am I supposed to do? Go hide in my room? I'll get fired, Kathryn!" She glared at me just as harshly as I was at her, put off by my rude manner towards her warning.

"I do no' know, Gwen, tha's for you t' decide, since ya won't tell me wha' happened t' you!" She bit at me, I was furious with her, with myself, and horribly guilty that I had lied, and more so that she hadn't believed it. I swung away, angrily grabbed the spilt laundry on the floor. Nathaniel said nothing, his face still being held by Kathryn, his eyes shifting in between us. Cautiously, as if afraid sudden movements might set one of us off at him, he pulled away from Kathryn. She turned despairing eyes at him, sighing, watching as I stomped down the hall to the washroom.

"I—I don't know wha' t' do, Nat. She won't tell me…"

"Tell you what, Kathryn?" She merely shook her head, her shoulders drooped as she walked away from him.

I felt sick as I threw my load into the wash, taking a pole and churning the clothes with sudden weakness. Dammit! Here I am, all tense about the stupid Phantom, and I go off and yell at my best friend! What the hell is wrong with me? She was just trying to warn me…God, what's my problem! I stopped churning, leaning heavily on the pole. And he's back, he's back. What am I going to do? He wouldn't forget the injuries I had given him, nor the arrival of my savior. He's not an idiot, even if he is the worst man on the planet…he's going to connect us, I'll be dragged into his questioning room, probably at the police department, where not even Erik can save me…Erik…His name seemed to stem the flow of desolation in me a little, giving me some sense of comfort. Hearing movement behind me, I attempted to stir the laundry again, not wanting to announce my vulnerability. Nathaniel had entered, depositing his load into my tub. I tried to give him a smile of thanks, but failed miserably. Apparently not knowing what else to do, he wrapped his arms around me. I buried my face into his chest, welcoming whatever comfort he could give me.

"You will not do this alone, Gwen," His words soft, meant to be comforting, I was reminded of the same comfort I had been given the night before. No, I won't be doing this alone…