Father Once Spoke of an Angel
By: Stealiana
Disclaimer: The same as before applies.
A/N: I wrote the mini-song that appears in this chapter, so if you're wondering where it came from, I'll take credit for it!
Chapter 3: Broken Souls
Erik had been prepared to leave. And this time, he would follow through with it. He didn't even know why he had bothered to wait so long. He was forced to remind himself over and over that she was gone. She was gone with Raoul. Was he really waiting for her to come back? Did he really think after she had seen his face she would come back voluntarily? No, she thought he was a monster. Oh, he should have been dead by now. The dungeon he called his home was filled with her, where she had been, what she had said, songs they had sung. And where she had kissed him! It tore him to shreds every time he passed that spot. He had never stood there again. How could he, when he remembered the only time she had willingly touched him? It made him feel the sharp pangs of loneliness more than ever, and it reinforced the throbbing of pain that thoughts of his angel evicted. Erik knew he had held on for far too long. It was time to put an end to this.
As he walked, he ran over the list of things he had still neglected to do. Seal his music portfolio - yes, he needed to put them all in some sort of envelope or booklet. Cancel the monthly allowance - he knew the managers would be thrilled. There was also the gunpowder… he had yet to devise a way in which she could light the fuse without actually knowing she had done so. His instructions were for her to come in the dead of night. He would have the Opera House ruined - he would bring the whole place down! He would be broken amongst the theater he had loved best, which had never loved him back. It was fitting, a well-deserved punishment he had put off for too long.
He had reached the fourth level of cellars before he noticed that soft sound. He could not make out exactly what it was, but the tune lilted and twisted in his head, driving him to find just who had entered his domain. The constant ire that rose to the surface on the occasions he needed to scare off intruders was not present, oddly enough. Erik silently opened another door and stepped into the cellar.
His ears were graced by the sound of a lullaby, being sung by a boy's voice so strong and pure that it hurt. The words were barely audible, but a girl joined in, her own voice matching his in elegance and innocence. It was clear that neither knew what it was to sing, but there was such a massive amount of raw talent behind the ragged edges that it was overwhelming. He closed his eyes, noting every word.
"It doesn't matter just how far you go,
There's always a second answer, another way.
And if you merely ask me one more time
Then gladly I will forget the rest to stay.
Close your eyes to stop the tears from falling,
Hold out your hand to save a broken soul.
Put your head on my shoulder and rest now,
You are all that's left to keep me whole…"
The girl's voice had faded out, a deep cough was followed by silence, but the boy continued singing softly.
"Don't be frightened of the dark while I am here
Don't waste your thoughts on whatever will come next.
We'll hold our hands together for these broken souls
Just put your head on my shoulder and rest…"
Erik had stood, listening, watching, as the boy painstakingly lay the girl down and wrapped her in tapestries. Erik did not realize that throughout the song he had slowly come forward, drawn in by the sound of the voices. He was suddenly reminded when The boy turned, his eyes filled with anger. He immediately rose to his feet and glared at Erik, who was still dazed by the performance.
There was a tense silence; the lanky boy was no match should the Ghost choose to do anything violent. But the tenacity of his clenched fists oddly fascinated Erik. The Ghost deliberately opened his mouth, choosing his words carefully.
"What are you doing in these cellars?" He tried very hard to sound matter-of-fact about it. No point in letting the boy know he had heard. No point in being sympathetic. The boy paused, and Erik could see he was anxious.
"When you have no where else to go, one takes what one can find," the young boy answered cheekily, at length.
"How did you get in?"
"I've been here before, I know my way."
"The doors through the Opera House are locked, how did you get in?"
"Another was unlocked, Monsieur."
"I am losing my patience. I asked, how did you get in?"
"… I have a key."
"How did you get it?"
"I found it."
"I said -"
"I-!" The boy lowered his voice, remembering the girl who was sleeping. "…found it." Erik was silent for a moment. He recalled when he had promised Christine he wouldn't go into her dressing room again without her permission. He had given her a key. A key to the Rue Scribe passage.
"You found it."
"Oui." Erik paused for a moment, his eyes traveling to the girl. So innocent…
"What's wrong with her?"
"She is sick." The boy looked at him warily. "Not that it concerns you." Erik felt a prick of anger over the boy's hostility. But he suppressed it.
"How long has she been like this?" There was a silence; the boy did not answer. "For God's sake, boy, answer the question! How long -"
"Four or five weeks." The boy lowered his eyes, trying to hide his concern. Erik felt himself wavering, subconsciously fighting it. He looked at this boy, this boy he could have been, singing to Christine, asking her to hold his broken soul…
He caved in. In an authoritative manner, he stepped forward.
"She will come with me."
***Friendly reminder to r/r!