Disclaimer: Don't even ask.
Guardian Angel
Michelle splashed cold water onto her face and dried it with one of the soft towels hanging in the bathroom. She checked her face in the hand mirror she had brought with her. Her eyes were puffy and red, as was her nose, as was the rest of her face. But that's what happens when you spend three hours with your head in a pillow weeping over lost love. She felt tears threaten again, but sniffed them back. She looked in the mirror again, then shrugged and put it away. At least the tear stains were gone.
A rap at the door made her start. "Michelle?" Erik's voice called softly. She didn't move. She couldn't let him see her like this. Not when she looked like death on a good day. She heard him sigh and heard a soft rustling like paper or something. She listened to his retreating footsteps and bit her lip. Was he going to apologize? Was there a chance for them?
Steeling herself, she opened the door. Erik was gone. She heard the tinkling sound of a piano. Erik was playing. Not something new. It was the song on his music box; the one with the monkey that looked homicidal. She listened to the song. 'Masquerade. Paper faces on parade. Masquerade. Hide your face so the world will never find you.'
She looked down, gathering strength to go out and face him. On the ground near her door was a bouquet of flowers. Astounded, she picked them up. It was a large bouquet of a variety of flowers. She was having trouble breathing.
Tenderly holding the flowers, she left the sanctuary of her room and ventured out to the parlor where the piano was located.
She stepped into the front room and saw Erik. His back was to her. The final notes of "Masquerade" dissipated into silence. He began a new song, one she had never heard before. This one was a soft ballad.
"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation," he sang softly. "Darkness stirs and wakes imagination." Michelle walked slowly toward him, trying not to disturb the gentle flow of the song. "Silently the senses," he continued, "abandon their defenses." He played a few more notes; she was right behind him now, hoping for a way to interrupt him, but not startle him.
She needn't have worried. He stopped playing and, as if he had felt her presence, which he probably had, said very softly, "I'm sorry."
Michelle's heart leaped into her throat. She had to say something; something that would tell him that he didn't need to apologize, that she didn't care what he said anymore, that she loved him.
She sat down beside him on the bench and rested her hand on one of his, still resting on the ivory keys. "How does the rest of the song go?" she whispered.
Erik snickered shortly and smiled gently. Without turning to look at her, he began playing again. "Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor."
Michelle leaned her head on his shoulder and listened to his song.
"You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night." The final note drifted into the darkness leaving them alone in the night.
Erik's arms snaked around her waist and pulled her against his chest. She went willingly and wrapped her arms around one of his, leaning against him. She closed her eyes and smiled: for the first time in her life, she felt absolutely safe. She started to tell him what was in her heart, but the late hour was finally catching up to her. "Erik," she whispered, and drifted into a peaceful slumber.
Erik felt her go limp in sleep. He rested his head on top of hers, inhaling her sweet scent. He was amazed that, after all that had happened, she trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms, where she belonged.
Unfortunately, he couldn't hold her all night. Gently, so as not to wake her, he slipped an arm beneath her knees and lifted her. She murmured in her sleep and cuddled even closer. Erik walked slowly to her bedroom, so he wouldn't wake her. Or so he told himself. He went into her room and tenderly laid her on the bed. She was still wearing the gown he had given her, but her hair had come out of its pins and tumbled around her shoulders. Her soft, sweet lips were parted slightly, temptingly. Her dark eyelashes rested against her pale skin. She looked like Sleeping Beauty from the fairy tale. And maybe Erik could be the Prince that awakened her.
Erik mentally shook himself. He shouldn't be thinking like that. It hurt too much, knowing that she was practically a princess, and that he could never be her handsome knight in shining armor. His armor was tarnished and bent. And Lord knew he'd never be handsome. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face and wished things were different, that she would stay.
He turned away and left the room, closing the door softly behind him, before he did something he'd regret. He thought about going to sleep in his room, but the thought of sleeping in a coffin suddenly made him feel sick. He felt too alive to spend his nights in a casket. Thanks to Michelle. He'd have to get himself a bed.
Actually, he wouldn't mind spending the night in her bed.
Growling at himself, Erik stalked into the front room and sat in his throne. He'd sleep here until he could purchase something else.
Erik closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. And, just to torture himself, he dreamed of spending the rest of is life with Michelle, the woman he loved. With a heavy heart, Erik fell asleep, knowing that if love alone hadn't been enough to make one woman stay, it wouldn't be enough now.
Guardian Angel
Michelle splashed cold water onto her face and dried it with one of the soft towels hanging in the bathroom. She checked her face in the hand mirror she had brought with her. Her eyes were puffy and red, as was her nose, as was the rest of her face. But that's what happens when you spend three hours with your head in a pillow weeping over lost love. She felt tears threaten again, but sniffed them back. She looked in the mirror again, then shrugged and put it away. At least the tear stains were gone.
A rap at the door made her start. "Michelle?" Erik's voice called softly. She didn't move. She couldn't let him see her like this. Not when she looked like death on a good day. She heard him sigh and heard a soft rustling like paper or something. She listened to his retreating footsteps and bit her lip. Was he going to apologize? Was there a chance for them?
Steeling herself, she opened the door. Erik was gone. She heard the tinkling sound of a piano. Erik was playing. Not something new. It was the song on his music box; the one with the monkey that looked homicidal. She listened to the song. 'Masquerade. Paper faces on parade. Masquerade. Hide your face so the world will never find you.'
She looked down, gathering strength to go out and face him. On the ground near her door was a bouquet of flowers. Astounded, she picked them up. It was a large bouquet of a variety of flowers. She was having trouble breathing.
Tenderly holding the flowers, she left the sanctuary of her room and ventured out to the parlor where the piano was located.
She stepped into the front room and saw Erik. His back was to her. The final notes of "Masquerade" dissipated into silence. He began a new song, one she had never heard before. This one was a soft ballad.
"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation," he sang softly. "Darkness stirs and wakes imagination." Michelle walked slowly toward him, trying not to disturb the gentle flow of the song. "Silently the senses," he continued, "abandon their defenses." He played a few more notes; she was right behind him now, hoping for a way to interrupt him, but not startle him.
She needn't have worried. He stopped playing and, as if he had felt her presence, which he probably had, said very softly, "I'm sorry."
Michelle's heart leaped into her throat. She had to say something; something that would tell him that he didn't need to apologize, that she didn't care what he said anymore, that she loved him.
She sat down beside him on the bench and rested her hand on one of his, still resting on the ivory keys. "How does the rest of the song go?" she whispered.
Erik snickered shortly and smiled gently. Without turning to look at her, he began playing again. "Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor."
Michelle leaned her head on his shoulder and listened to his song.
"You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night." The final note drifted into the darkness leaving them alone in the night.
Erik's arms snaked around her waist and pulled her against his chest. She went willingly and wrapped her arms around one of his, leaning against him. She closed her eyes and smiled: for the first time in her life, she felt absolutely safe. She started to tell him what was in her heart, but the late hour was finally catching up to her. "Erik," she whispered, and drifted into a peaceful slumber.
Erik felt her go limp in sleep. He rested his head on top of hers, inhaling her sweet scent. He was amazed that, after all that had happened, she trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms, where she belonged.
Unfortunately, he couldn't hold her all night. Gently, so as not to wake her, he slipped an arm beneath her knees and lifted her. She murmured in her sleep and cuddled even closer. Erik walked slowly to her bedroom, so he wouldn't wake her. Or so he told himself. He went into her room and tenderly laid her on the bed. She was still wearing the gown he had given her, but her hair had come out of its pins and tumbled around her shoulders. Her soft, sweet lips were parted slightly, temptingly. Her dark eyelashes rested against her pale skin. She looked like Sleeping Beauty from the fairy tale. And maybe Erik could be the Prince that awakened her.
Erik mentally shook himself. He shouldn't be thinking like that. It hurt too much, knowing that she was practically a princess, and that he could never be her handsome knight in shining armor. His armor was tarnished and bent. And Lord knew he'd never be handsome. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face and wished things were different, that she would stay.
He turned away and left the room, closing the door softly behind him, before he did something he'd regret. He thought about going to sleep in his room, but the thought of sleeping in a coffin suddenly made him feel sick. He felt too alive to spend his nights in a casket. Thanks to Michelle. He'd have to get himself a bed.
Actually, he wouldn't mind spending the night in her bed.
Growling at himself, Erik stalked into the front room and sat in his throne. He'd sleep here until he could purchase something else.
Erik closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep. And, just to torture himself, he dreamed of spending the rest of is life with Michelle, the woman he loved. With a heavy heart, Erik fell asleep, knowing that if love alone hadn't been enough to make one woman stay, it wouldn't be enough now.
