A/N - Well . . . I hope you enjoyed seeing our poor beloved Erik being
emotionally tortured again. I don't know why fans seem to live for that
kind of thing . . . even though I enjoy the same type of thing as though as
he isn't being harmed. Anyhow . . . even though I don't plan at the moment
to have Erik go soliciting, I do need to tell people that if he even takes
the slightest interest in the idea, it's because I noted in the Susan Kay
book "Phantom" that he only never approached a prostitute because he feared
even they would reject him. Anyhow . . . I just wanted to say that now in
case anything should happen. Though, as I said, I've as of yet no
intention of that happening.
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Chapter 9: A Pleasing Night
Erik was quiet as he crept up the old stairs to the third story apartment room that belonged to Madeline and her family. There was light coming from in the single room, and he peered in a window to see Fleur, Marguerite, and the landlady with little Gerard in her lap, all sitting around the small table for a light supper of hot meaty soup with chunks of vegetables, fresh bread and butter, and obviously cold glasses of milk. He wondered how much of a treat such fresh foods must be to them. To have nice, cold milk, that did not threaten to start curdling within the next hour or so. He was certain that everything about the meal must be a rare treat to them.
He watched them for a long moment. Fleur - who he could discern from her sister because of a deep dimple in her chin - was enjoying her supper with a quiet smile. She didn't seem much changed since the day before. Marguerite, on the other hand, was picking idly at her food. She looked so depressed. He supposed that she was probably going to be furious with him when she saw him there.
Sighing, he tapped lightly on the door. Everyone looked up as he leaned over to look in through the window. Fleur was the first one to move. With a smile and a wave, she hurried out of her seat to open the door for him. Erik knelt down, smiling to greet her with a tender hug as she wrapped her arms about his shoulders. She didn't like to be picked up, so he just remained kneeling there until she chose to pull away. Then, Fleur turned and hurried over to her sister, tugging on her arm.
"Oh, leave me alone, Fleur!" Marguerite spat irritably, elbowing her identical sister away. Fleur pouted, then looked up at Erik.
"It's all right, Fleur." Erik told her gently. Moving across the room, he stood tall beside Marguerite's chair. "She's upset with me for not coming to collect you both this morning." Slowly, he knelt down, putting his hand close to hers on the table. "I'm very sorry, ma petite. But I only found out this morning that I had to be at the Opera for rehearsals. I had no time to come and tell you. Please forgive me. I will never break a promise to you again for as long as I live. I swear it."
"Where's mama?" Marguerite finally asked, without looking up at him. She was pushing her spoon through the thick soup in front of her, which was barely touched.
"Oh, she has a job painting in the Opera House now." He said with a smile. "Isn't that nice? Your mama and I work in the same place now. So now whenever I want to see you, I only have to find her in the building, and ask if I can come visit."
She looked up at him from the corner of her eye, almost failing to hide the smile that crept into the corner of her mouth. Then, she looked back down at the soup. Moving his hand a bit more, he covered her fingertips. He smiled when she didn't pull away.
"I was hoping to possibly bring you all out to supper. But it seems you've already eaten."
The landlady was watching him with quiet eyes. She was a woman in her mid to late thirties, with long mahogany brown hair, and matching eyes. She wore an old stained dress of dark green that must have been made by the woman herself. She bounced Gerard on her lap to try and keep him busy, yet she paid more attention to Erik now. She was about four years older than Madeline. Erik glanced at her, and she colored beautifully.
"Can we offer you something to eat?" She asked, motioning to the empty place opposite her. Erik smiled.
"That's very kind of you." He replied. "I'd be delighted to join you. But only if Marguerite says it is all right." Anxious to ease her anger at him, he looked back at her, and reached up to gently touch her hair. He was finally rewarded when she turned and put her arms tightly around him, holding on tightly.
"Monsieur Erik, I missed you!" She whispered softly into his ear. "Please don't go away again!"
"No, ma Cherie." He promised, whispering back to her so that their conversation would be private. Feeling her arms so tightly wound about him, he closed his eyes in pleasure, and stroked her small back. "I don't plan on going away again. Not if you don't want me too." Gently, he pried himself away from her so he could look into her eyes. "Ma petite, how would you like to move away from here and leave close to the Opera House? Your mama and sister ad brother could live right down the street from me. We could see one another whenever we wished."
"Really?" Her eyes lit up. "What place would we live in?" By now, even Fleur had pulled up close to him, trying to listen anxiously to them as their voices rose.
"A nice apartment, where you could all have your own rooms. Your own beds." Erik smiled at her excitement. "Your mama said she will let me find a better place for the four of you to live."
"Oh!" Marguerite laughed, and hugged him tightly again. Holding onto her, Erik stood up, and swung her playfully about the room. Then, she pushed herself up so that she could look into his face. "Will you be with us?"
"Oh, I will be nearby." He promised. "It wouldn't be a very good idea for me to live *with* you. But I swear to live by you, and see you almost every single day."
"Almost ever single day?" She repeated, putting a desperate emphasis on the word 'almost'. Erik chuckled.
"I'm a very busy man, my dear." He explained softly. "I cannot be with you every moment, every day. Though I swear to do my best. All of my free time shall be spent with you."
The landlady stood then, and moved over to the stove. Taking a bowl out of the cabinet above it, she quickly filled it with some of the fine smelling soup, and set a place for Erik between the twins. Standing up, he looked to her with a smile.
"Thank you, Madam." He said sincerely, sitting himself. The twins quickly lowered themselves into their own seats again, and they began to eat quietly for a moment. Erik felt almost like he was part of a family sitting down to supper. The idea warmed his heart to no end. "This is delicious." He finally said, only to have the woman nod to him blandly, as she cooled of a piece of meat with her breath, and then gave it to Gerard, who chewed ravenously.
"Monsieur Erik, may I please ask you something?" Marguerite finally broke another long bout of silence, and he looked to her, his eyes shining with affection. He nodded, and she smiled shyly. "I know you aren't, and will not be. You told me last night. But can I please call you papa?"
Erik stared at her in shock for a long moment. He didn't even realize it when he dropped the spoon he was using into the bowl of soup, making some of the thick broth splatter out onto the table. He'd never imagined that she would ask such a thing of him. Not when she already knew he was never going to be her new father. He'd never thought a single soul in the world would call him father.
"Yes." He managed, his voice thick with emotion. Slowly, he reached across to stroke her cheek. "Yes, of course you can."
Marguerite smiled at him gladly, and then continued to eat. It seemed such a simple matter to her. It was astonishing that she should not find it so mind-blowing to call a near stranger her father. All Erik could do for a long time was stare at her. When he finally managed to move again, his soup was cold.
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It was nearly midnight when he wandered idly towards his home beneath the Opera House. Enjoying the long walks he had often taken at night, he was taking a long route home through shabby neighborhoods and empty shop streets. The only people he saw in the alleys and on the sidewalks were men who were undoubtedly criminal drunk, and women who were quite obviously prostitutes. A few of them waved to him anxiously when he passed, as though trying to hail him over. Yet Erik would only glance at them with an attempt at a friendly smile, without letting his eyes wander over their skimpy clothes.
He was no longer tempted by their forced and vulgar beauty. Although a great many of them were quite pretty, he simply could no longer be sorely tempted to reach out and touch them. No, there were better things in life than a tumble with a prostitute. There was love. And he knew, in the back of his mind, that nothing would ever equal making love, as apposed to rolling around in the hay with a stranger who meant nothing to him.
It was just a pity that the only person he would ever love would be Christine. He was quite certain of that. Even when he looked at her as a friend, he knew his heart had unshakable foundations of solid love for her. Nothing would ever change that. When Christine married the Vicomte, it was sure to splinter his heart all over again, as it had been splintered the night she kissed him and his life changed for what seemed to be the better. Yet for her happiness, Erik was willing to go an entire lifetime without knowing her love. He just wanted to see her happy.
Now, he had other things to look forward to. He had a career that obviously was going to take the city by surprise. He had two beautiful little girls who seemed totally taken by him. He loved them both dearly as well. Being addressed as Papa by Marguerite was something he would never wish to give up for a hundred thousand Christine's. It was as simple as that. He adored the children. He'd never abandon them. He had a life with them as the friend and father figure they would need as they grew up. The one that would protect them, and scrutinize their suitors when they grew old enough to be courted. The idea almost made him laugh.
For once in his long and otherwise miserable life, Erik was more than merely content with his life. He was pleased with it.
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Chapter 9: A Pleasing Night
Erik was quiet as he crept up the old stairs to the third story apartment room that belonged to Madeline and her family. There was light coming from in the single room, and he peered in a window to see Fleur, Marguerite, and the landlady with little Gerard in her lap, all sitting around the small table for a light supper of hot meaty soup with chunks of vegetables, fresh bread and butter, and obviously cold glasses of milk. He wondered how much of a treat such fresh foods must be to them. To have nice, cold milk, that did not threaten to start curdling within the next hour or so. He was certain that everything about the meal must be a rare treat to them.
He watched them for a long moment. Fleur - who he could discern from her sister because of a deep dimple in her chin - was enjoying her supper with a quiet smile. She didn't seem much changed since the day before. Marguerite, on the other hand, was picking idly at her food. She looked so depressed. He supposed that she was probably going to be furious with him when she saw him there.
Sighing, he tapped lightly on the door. Everyone looked up as he leaned over to look in through the window. Fleur was the first one to move. With a smile and a wave, she hurried out of her seat to open the door for him. Erik knelt down, smiling to greet her with a tender hug as she wrapped her arms about his shoulders. She didn't like to be picked up, so he just remained kneeling there until she chose to pull away. Then, Fleur turned and hurried over to her sister, tugging on her arm.
"Oh, leave me alone, Fleur!" Marguerite spat irritably, elbowing her identical sister away. Fleur pouted, then looked up at Erik.
"It's all right, Fleur." Erik told her gently. Moving across the room, he stood tall beside Marguerite's chair. "She's upset with me for not coming to collect you both this morning." Slowly, he knelt down, putting his hand close to hers on the table. "I'm very sorry, ma petite. But I only found out this morning that I had to be at the Opera for rehearsals. I had no time to come and tell you. Please forgive me. I will never break a promise to you again for as long as I live. I swear it."
"Where's mama?" Marguerite finally asked, without looking up at him. She was pushing her spoon through the thick soup in front of her, which was barely touched.
"Oh, she has a job painting in the Opera House now." He said with a smile. "Isn't that nice? Your mama and I work in the same place now. So now whenever I want to see you, I only have to find her in the building, and ask if I can come visit."
She looked up at him from the corner of her eye, almost failing to hide the smile that crept into the corner of her mouth. Then, she looked back down at the soup. Moving his hand a bit more, he covered her fingertips. He smiled when she didn't pull away.
"I was hoping to possibly bring you all out to supper. But it seems you've already eaten."
The landlady was watching him with quiet eyes. She was a woman in her mid to late thirties, with long mahogany brown hair, and matching eyes. She wore an old stained dress of dark green that must have been made by the woman herself. She bounced Gerard on her lap to try and keep him busy, yet she paid more attention to Erik now. She was about four years older than Madeline. Erik glanced at her, and she colored beautifully.
"Can we offer you something to eat?" She asked, motioning to the empty place opposite her. Erik smiled.
"That's very kind of you." He replied. "I'd be delighted to join you. But only if Marguerite says it is all right." Anxious to ease her anger at him, he looked back at her, and reached up to gently touch her hair. He was finally rewarded when she turned and put her arms tightly around him, holding on tightly.
"Monsieur Erik, I missed you!" She whispered softly into his ear. "Please don't go away again!"
"No, ma Cherie." He promised, whispering back to her so that their conversation would be private. Feeling her arms so tightly wound about him, he closed his eyes in pleasure, and stroked her small back. "I don't plan on going away again. Not if you don't want me too." Gently, he pried himself away from her so he could look into her eyes. "Ma petite, how would you like to move away from here and leave close to the Opera House? Your mama and sister ad brother could live right down the street from me. We could see one another whenever we wished."
"Really?" Her eyes lit up. "What place would we live in?" By now, even Fleur had pulled up close to him, trying to listen anxiously to them as their voices rose.
"A nice apartment, where you could all have your own rooms. Your own beds." Erik smiled at her excitement. "Your mama said she will let me find a better place for the four of you to live."
"Oh!" Marguerite laughed, and hugged him tightly again. Holding onto her, Erik stood up, and swung her playfully about the room. Then, she pushed herself up so that she could look into his face. "Will you be with us?"
"Oh, I will be nearby." He promised. "It wouldn't be a very good idea for me to live *with* you. But I swear to live by you, and see you almost every single day."
"Almost ever single day?" She repeated, putting a desperate emphasis on the word 'almost'. Erik chuckled.
"I'm a very busy man, my dear." He explained softly. "I cannot be with you every moment, every day. Though I swear to do my best. All of my free time shall be spent with you."
The landlady stood then, and moved over to the stove. Taking a bowl out of the cabinet above it, she quickly filled it with some of the fine smelling soup, and set a place for Erik between the twins. Standing up, he looked to her with a smile.
"Thank you, Madam." He said sincerely, sitting himself. The twins quickly lowered themselves into their own seats again, and they began to eat quietly for a moment. Erik felt almost like he was part of a family sitting down to supper. The idea warmed his heart to no end. "This is delicious." He finally said, only to have the woman nod to him blandly, as she cooled of a piece of meat with her breath, and then gave it to Gerard, who chewed ravenously.
"Monsieur Erik, may I please ask you something?" Marguerite finally broke another long bout of silence, and he looked to her, his eyes shining with affection. He nodded, and she smiled shyly. "I know you aren't, and will not be. You told me last night. But can I please call you papa?"
Erik stared at her in shock for a long moment. He didn't even realize it when he dropped the spoon he was using into the bowl of soup, making some of the thick broth splatter out onto the table. He'd never imagined that she would ask such a thing of him. Not when she already knew he was never going to be her new father. He'd never thought a single soul in the world would call him father.
"Yes." He managed, his voice thick with emotion. Slowly, he reached across to stroke her cheek. "Yes, of course you can."
Marguerite smiled at him gladly, and then continued to eat. It seemed such a simple matter to her. It was astonishing that she should not find it so mind-blowing to call a near stranger her father. All Erik could do for a long time was stare at her. When he finally managed to move again, his soup was cold.
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It was nearly midnight when he wandered idly towards his home beneath the Opera House. Enjoying the long walks he had often taken at night, he was taking a long route home through shabby neighborhoods and empty shop streets. The only people he saw in the alleys and on the sidewalks were men who were undoubtedly criminal drunk, and women who were quite obviously prostitutes. A few of them waved to him anxiously when he passed, as though trying to hail him over. Yet Erik would only glance at them with an attempt at a friendly smile, without letting his eyes wander over their skimpy clothes.
He was no longer tempted by their forced and vulgar beauty. Although a great many of them were quite pretty, he simply could no longer be sorely tempted to reach out and touch them. No, there were better things in life than a tumble with a prostitute. There was love. And he knew, in the back of his mind, that nothing would ever equal making love, as apposed to rolling around in the hay with a stranger who meant nothing to him.
It was just a pity that the only person he would ever love would be Christine. He was quite certain of that. Even when he looked at her as a friend, he knew his heart had unshakable foundations of solid love for her. Nothing would ever change that. When Christine married the Vicomte, it was sure to splinter his heart all over again, as it had been splintered the night she kissed him and his life changed for what seemed to be the better. Yet for her happiness, Erik was willing to go an entire lifetime without knowing her love. He just wanted to see her happy.
Now, he had other things to look forward to. He had a career that obviously was going to take the city by surprise. He had two beautiful little girls who seemed totally taken by him. He loved them both dearly as well. Being addressed as Papa by Marguerite was something he would never wish to give up for a hundred thousand Christine's. It was as simple as that. He adored the children. He'd never abandon them. He had a life with them as the friend and father figure they would need as they grew up. The one that would protect them, and scrutinize their suitors when they grew old enough to be courted. The idea almost made him laugh.
For once in his long and otherwise miserable life, Erik was more than merely content with his life. He was pleased with it.
