A/N I notice that I forgot to mention Marguerite's little sister once Erik brought her home . . . (Or did I? *Devilish smile.* I think I have an idea of how to take care of that.

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Chapter Four: The Temptations from the Past (Or - I WANNA TORMENT MY MANAGERS!!!!)

For a few days, Erik simply found it entertaining, and exhilarating, to walk about Paris all day, often giving some coins to the poor urchins he passed, or buying fresh flowers for his home - which he was cleaning up to the best of his ability during the night. It had come to his attention that perhaps he should abandon the effort to clean his house, considering that almost everything in all the rooms except for Christine's had been destroyed. He did not even have the original scores to his music anymore. However depressing that thought was, Erik was a great deal like Mozart in that it was all locked away in his memory, and would simply need to be re- written.

When he wandered the city, he often bought new clothes, slowly shedding his black garments for something more befitting a young man at that day and age. He still preferred his clothes dark, though.

He put away the fedora which had helped to keep his face hidden in shadows for so long, and found himself buying simple hats that were fashionable, yet to his tastes. Although they seemed to have gone out of style practically before he was born, Erik found it delightfully entertaining to wear a lacy cravat about his throat, the usual dress shirt, and a waist coat with a bit of color to it . . . usually an extraordinarily dark blue or purple. Then, he wore the same dark slacks as always, and the same comfortable shoes. The long dark, concealing cloak that had once made him quite formidable was exchanged for something that seemed to attract the attention of many a young lady that he passed. It was a long, deep dark purple cape of velour.

It was merely a delight to be alive. To be able to be seen by others, but not feared or reviled. There was no disappointment when shopkeepers or scum would try and be difficult with him. He still had his powerful personality, and the hypnotic quality to his voice that could keep any threat at bay. Even those whom he knew would try and swindle him out of a great deal of money for a very cheap trinket would usually be wise enough to offer him a fair price. People took second glances at him as he passed in the street from time to time because he was a handsome, ambitious young man who seemed utterly confident and charming.

He never did forget the little girl he'd seen near his Opera House that one afternoon, selling her dirty little flowers for a few pennies each, simply so that their family could afford something - anything - to eat that evening. He remembered it finding it amusing when he'd handed her those 26 centime, and she'd thought it such a very great deal of money. Then at the shabby apartment, her mother had acted the same way. For only a fraction of the dollar, their spirits had been lifted to beyond what he'd thought possible. Then he'd placed well over one hundred dollars in the woman's shaking hands, and simply walked off without giving them a chance to say thank you. But he still had planned to go back that Sunday afternoon, as he'd promised to return, and see how they were fairing.

Apparently, three days had been too long of a wait for the charming little girl who had all but stolen his heart from him. One early morning, when Erik chose to go for a walk during the quieter hours of the streets - just like he had when he'd been forced to hide in shadows - he heard a young exclamation from down the street - which had at the time been too far away and too soft for him to hear clearly. Yet then, a pair of heeled shoes had come running in his direction. He hadn't paid much attention to this at first. Yet after a moment, a voice called out again, and he smiled uncontrollably.

"Monsieur Erik! Oh, Monsieur!"

Turning, he crouched down so that he'd be able to greet little Marguerite at her height. She looked stunning, with her black hair falling down over her shoulders in luxurious, clean curls . . . and a brand new dress of soft light blue velvet. Her green eyes were sparkling at him excitedly as she came racing towards him. Then, he was vaguely startled to see another girl not far behind her, almost the exact replica of his precious little beauty. The only difference was that she wore a dress of soft peach color.

Twins - he realized. Marguerite was a twin. Yet it only took him a moment to realize this, and he offered his arms to the enthusiastic child with a good-natured laugh. He always had liked children, unless they chose to scream at his appearance. Yet most of them, once he'd been an adult, had not known enough to be afraid of him, so he had always enjoyed their company. Being handsome and young did not change that. The little girl vaulted into his arms, nearly knocking him over. Yet he played the fool for her, hoping that it would make her smile last longer, and let himself fall back onto his backside, sitting on his expensive cape.

"Marguerite!" He greeted happily. "Oh, ma petite beauty! Look at that lovely dress!" He gave her a quick hug - not used to such actions, but glad to offer anything to a child. Turning, he took notice of her twin sister, whom had stopped a few feet away, and was looking at him quite shyly, yet was smiling happily. "Why. who is this lovely Mademoiselle?"

"Oh - this is my sister, Fleur!" Marguerite reluctantly released the tight hold she had about his neck to turn and introduce her sibling, but was smiling as Erik did not loosen his arm about her waist. He could tell this was a child who adored being held and coddled. "Fleur - come say hello to Monsieur Erik! He's the one who gave us the money so that mama could buy us our dresses and blankets!"

The little girl took a step closer, then shook her head quickly, giggling silently. Erik watched her curiously, finding this an odd thing for a child to do. Usually their laughter rang out clear as a bell, often unbidden. Sitting up straighter, he gently placed Marguerite on her small feet, and reached out to touch Fleur's shoulder in a greeting. Yet the little one pulled back, bringing her arms up in front of her, and making a cross out of her arms, as though to tell him silently *NO*.

"She cannot speak, Monsieur." Marguerite said quietly. "Mama says that God did not give her a graceful tongue."

Erik looked between the two girls curiously. Again, he was struck with the speech of the little girl. Days ago, he'd been surprised that her mother was using such graceful language when he visited their apartment. Today, her daughter was speaking the exact same way. Surely their mother had to have at one time been educated in etiquette and speech, or else such a young child would not be speaking so finely.

"I can see that she speaks with her hands." Erik smiled at little Fleur kindly, and she slowly lowered her hands. "It's all right, ma petite. If you do not wish me to, I will not touch you. But you don't have to be afraid of me. I'd never harm you."

"She doesn't like boys." Marguerite laughed. "She's so funny! I don't know why she doesn't like them. I think boys are wonderful!"

"That's actually a bit unusual for a child your age." He confessed to her in a whisper. "At such an age, most boys and girls don't like the opposite gender."

"Gender?"

"Never mind, ma Cherie."

Standing slowly, Erik offered both girls his hands. Marguerite took the offer immediately, and then Fleur took her sisters' arm. Erik was not offended by this. It only showed that Fleur had a different personality than her sister, as was usually the case in identical twins. He'd done enough research in his lifetime to know about them. They began walking down the street together, and Erik paused suddenly, wondering what he was doing.

He'd been about to walk away with these little girls as though he had every right in the world to do it. Oh, certainly no one around them would object. Yet their mother might not approve of him taking them anywhere. Perhaps he should get her permission to take them with him for a day? He had to admit, he was loath to leave their delightful and innocent company.

"Where is your mother today?" He finally asked them, his eyes scanning the street. It was starting to get busier, as more shops and street venders opened. Yet he could not see the woman anywhere. The little girls were quiet for a moment, but then shrugged simply.

"Mama is sleeping. She works at the tavern - just like I told you." Marguerite told him. "She sleeps during the day, and leaves our brother with the landlady."

"Ah, that's right. You did tell me." Erik nodded, and then wondered to himself why their mother would continue working at such a filthy place when he'd given them so much money. Then again, that money would not last for all that long. The woman must have been smart enough to realize this, and so kept her job so that she might be able to continue supporting the family in the future. "Tell me, girls. Have you eaten this morning?"

"No, Monsieur." Marguerite was watching him as though he had her in a wonderful trance. This stunned him. Was it possible his voice was doing things to her that he was not willing it to? No, not possible. He would know the power of his voice if it were at work. Perhaps the child had a slight crush on him. Yes . . . perhaps that was it. "We came straight here after we woke up. Mama said that if we could find you, we could thank you again for your . . . generosity!" She smiled, apparently proud to have remembered such a big word.

"You are more than welcome, ma petite." He promised, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. By this point, Fleur did not seem so shy and uncertain about his company, and allowed him to muss her hair gently when he slowly went to do so. For a moment, Marguerite stared at her sister, and then all three of them laughed. "Come! How would you like to have a muffin for breakfast?" He thought that surely that would be enough for such small bellies.

"Oui, Monsieur!" Both girls nodded eagerly. "Muffins are a good idea!"

Smiling, Erik walked across the street to a vender, and bought them each a muffin. Fleur selected a plain one, with just a little bit of light frosting on it. Erik and Marguerite each selected blueberry muffins. It has to be said, though, that Marguerite refused to make her choice until after Erik had. His suspicions that she might have a crush on him were growing stronger by the minute. They found a bench in front of a nearby dressmakers shop, which had yet to open, and sat to have their breakfast in quite companionship. Then, Erik stood.

"Mademoiselles, I wish I didn't have to say this. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to say good-bye for now." He turned to look at the little girls, and Marguerite seemed to all but have tears in her eyes. Fleur just looked mildly disappointed.

"Monsieur, can we not stay with you the day?" Marguerite asked pleadingly. "Mama would not mind! She said that as long as you said it was all right . . . "

Erik considered this. He'd planned on going to the Opera House that day, because the paper had finally announced that there would be auditions for the chorus, and for a new leading tenor. He could not miss the opportunity. Somehow he had the feeling he would immensely enjoy a career at the Opera. And even though all it would take to make the witless managers hire Erik Génie would be a note from the Opera Ghost, he thought that just once he'd like to be accepted fairly. And if he were hired fairly, that would give him the awesome opportunity of bringing havock to the lives of the foolish managers, and they would never know it was him! It was one of the most entertaining thoughts of his entire life!

"Monsieur?" Marguerite pleaded again. "I promise we won't be trouble! We'll be ever-so-good!"

Smiling, Erik finally nodded.

"Well, my dears. How would you like to see the Opera House?"

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It was quite loud in the corridor where Erik sat on a bench, one little girl sitting on either side of him. The hallway was lined with young men and women warming up their voices, and practicing their audition pieces. Erik simply sat quietly. It was easy for him to warm up his voice without anyone even hearing him. That was one of the perks of ventriloquism. He could warm up from the lowest bass note, to the highest of tenor notes, and not even once be heard by either child at his side.

Marguerite and Fleur were as good as their promise to be good for him that day. An hour and a half had passed since they had sat down, yet neither seemed to mind having to sit still for so long. Not even the other children - mostly of younger age or at least younger maturity levels - had managed to tempt the twins from their seats. Erik was immensely proud of them.

The door to the practice room where auditions were taking place opened, and a few people glanced up while they practiced. The girls looked anxious, sitting up on the bench eagerly. A young man looked over a list of names, and then found the bench where the twins sat with Erik.

"Monsieur Génie?" He asked over the noise of the crowd. Erik nodded, and stood quickly.

"Now, ma petites, you must promise me you will not move from this spot while I go audition." He told the girls. Marguerite stood up on the bench quickly. He found himself grateful that the soles of her shoes were clean, so that they would not ruin the upholstery.

"Might we come in and hear you sing?" She asked. Again, she gave him a beautiful pout that Erik simply could not help but give in to.

"Only if you promise not to say a single word while we are in that room."

"Oh, I promise! And Fleur will be good too!" Both the girls leaped down from the bench, and took his hands as he smiled to them. Gently, he led them into the practice room, past the young man who seemed to be quite impatient at the children's slow progress. Erik did not say anything to the man, but frowned at him. Their little feet could only go so fast.

The room was large, and Erik remembered that he'd designed it with high vaulted ceilings, so that the acoustics would carry the voices of those practicing in the room with ease. Any voice would seem better in it. Erik wondered how much better his voice would sound. Well . . . as the children sat on two chairs by the door, he knew he was about to find out. The managers - Richard and Andre - sat in two chairs on the far side of the room, like a prince and king . . . each on a throne. Erik thought that oddly appropriate and yet disgusting at the same time.

"Good morning, Messieurs." He greeted, sorely tempted to yell at them with his most formidable Phantom voice. He thought the girls would truly enjoy seeing the two managers jump as though they were being shot up with electricity. He would greatly like to see it himself. Yet he restrained himself. He would try his hardest to be on his best behavior.

"What part are you auditioning for?" Richard asked, looking bored, and weary. Undoubtedly they'd been listening to a great deal of people with little to no talent all morning.

"Well, I would like to audition for lead tenor." Erik announced. "But if you think I am only fit for the chorus, I'd be pleased to sing there."

"What will you be singing?" Andre put in, looking just as lifeless as his partner. Erik smiled, feeling his shoulders square. He wondered if they would recognize his voice.

"The part of Faust in the final trio of the Opera." He announced.