A week later...
Ominous music drifted through the Opera House. Workers paused from building the sets, their eyes searching the rafters and shadows. The young chorus girls were running back and forth, crying out in fear with every shadow, hurrying to gather their things. The actors laughed nervously at the young girls but they feared the sweet sounding melody that seemed to come from themselves.
"This is a complete and utter outrage!" Armand Moncharmin yelled. He slammed the door to his office. He held a crumpled envelope in his hand, his fingers still tense around it. He looked at Firmin Richard, who was at his desk writing away. "Firmin!"
The Opera manager looked up. The soft candlelight shined on his brushed back blonde hair. Firmin smiled slightly, cocking an eyebrow as he saw his friend's obvious anger. "What is it now, Armand?"
Armand approached his joint manager and threw the envelope down with a grumble. "Look at that! Another note from the damned ghost of ours. With all the money he's asking for we'll be broke before we know it!" Armand fell into his chair with a sigh. He let his head fall back. "I thought we'd be making money for ourselves, not for some unseen mad man! And, to make it all worse, the man that was going to buy Box five, Monsieur Bovio, was frightened away the other night. The damned fool won't even return my calls."
Firmin picked up the envelope and pulled out the letter. He scanned the words, showing no emotion. "My word!" he exclaimed. Firmin put his work down and examined the letter more thoroughly. "He's asking for twice as much money! What for?"
"He gave no reason, Firmin!" Armand yelled. He ran a hand through his brown hair. The two became silent. The only sound drifting through the office was the music that seemed to emanate from every corner of the Opera House.
With a cry of frustration Armand stood, nearly throwing his chair to the ground. He looked down at the wood floor, as if it were the source of the music. "I wish that hellish music would stop!" Armand yelled furiously. His voice echoed off the walls and caused Firmin to jump at his friend's burst of energy.
Suddenly everything was silent. The two managers looked at each other in amazement. Armand gave a nervous laugh. "If I knew it was that easy, I would've done that earlier."
A scream cut through the air causing Armand to jump, his hand coming to his heart as he let out a sigh. A loud crash suddenly rose from the short silence, making Armand turn and looks towards the door. Firmin stood and looked at his friend with a curious gaze. Another scream rang out, followed by a second crash. The two managers rushed out of their office, their hearts pounding in their chest.
**********
Erik listened to the yelling above him. His brown eyes were fixated on the flames of the candelabra. A loud crash sounded above his home once more. Erik smiled softly, laughing to himself. He never seemed to lose interest in the screaming of the chorus girls. Each was frightened of the shadowed figure, which seemed to be everywhere. Everything was blamed on him, the Opera Ghost, even though half of what happened wasn't his fault.
The slender Siamese kitten came trotting to Erik, her eyes on her master with every step. She craned her head as she looked up at her master. With a purr she jumped onto Erik's waiting lap. Ayesha looked at him with half open eyes, her tail twitching around her. She purred and ran her head over Erik's stomach.
"Oh, Ayesha." Erik whispered. He began to pet the slender feline with a gloved hand. His eyes turned to the purring Siamese; a soft smile crossed his face. "It seems you've become restless as well. Night after night, the two of us sit awake, you chasing after spiders and mice. Me. . . . Well, all I can manage to do is compose an opera. I still haven't figured a name for that damn thing."
Ayesha meowed and opened her crystal blue eyes.
Erik laughed softly. The sound drifted through the air and seemed to slither through the stones of his roof. "I don't think that would a suitable name, Ayesha." Erik said. He smiled softly and kissed the cat's head. She purred merrily. "It may do us both some good if we took a walk. The night air will be nice for us. I don't think it's too late, but there shouldn't be too many people out tonight."
Ayesha jumped from her master's lap and trotted off.
With a sigh Erik stood. He stretched his aching arms as he strode towards a coat rack. He plucked his cloak from the wooden handles and put it on. Shaking his head Erik and running hand through his hair, he took his hat and put it on. Pausing he stepped in front of the single mirror he owned. Erik looked at himself, swallowing what little anger and fear he had. He fixed his hat until he found it suitable.
"Ayesha?" Erik called.
The Siamese ran towards Erik, the bell on her collar ringing all the way. Erik bent down, his arms open. Ayesha jumped into his waiting arms, much like a child would. Erik smiled and held the kitten close as he stood. He planted a soft kiss on her head, the kitten raising her face to her master's happily.
"Let's see if the moon is out to night; she can always bring a song to my mind." Erik said as he began walking. He looked at Ayesha who was staring back. "No need to worry, child; the opera house can do without me for a few hours. Besides, Mme. Giry should be delivering my letter soon enough."
**********
"How did this happen?" Armand yelled, his eyes scanning his employees. The stage was littered with costumes and most of the props were strewn about the seats. Armand looked at the faces of his amazed cast members and set crews. "Well? Who's going to clean this up?"
No one moved. They looked at each other but said nothing. A few of the chorus girls huddled together whispering and shaking with fear. Their large eyes looked around, making sure nothing strange would sneak up on them.
"Speak up!" Firmin said, his voice slightly raised. His eyes looked over everyone before him. "Does no one know how this happened? These things couldn't have done it themselves."
Meg Giry stepped forward, shaking slightly. Her head was slightly bent, sending her curled hair over her eyes. She cleared her throat slightly. "It was the Phantom." Meg said in a meek voice. Her friends whispered behind her, frightened of what she had said.
Armand narrowed his eyes. "What?"
"It was the Phantom, sir." Meg repeated, this time a little louder.
"I heard you the first time." Armand snapped.
Firmin took Armand by the arm angrily and led him off to the side. The manager looked his friend in the eye. "These people are obsessed with this Phantom character, Armand. You knew damn well what the answer was." Firmin whispered. His eyes glanced over to Meg who had retreated to her friends. "Every misfortune that befalls this theatre is blamed on the Phantom. Ever since we arrived it is all they talk about."
Armand shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Its all they know, Firmin. They claim to see the wretched thing." He laughed softly. "I will only believe in the damned thing once I see it." Turning on his heel, Armand faced the people of the Opera House. "Now then, I want you all to begin picking everything up! No one is to leave until it is finished, even if your dear Phantom is to arrive. Do you understand?"
"Christine Daae has already left, sir." Meg suddenly said. She looked at the managers a sad look crossing her soft face. "She said she was feeling ill and took it upon herself to leave early. Christine is dreadfully sorry and promises to stay later the moment she can return. She would have informed you but. . . ."
Firmin sighed. "It's all right. She isn't the only one to be sick."
"M. Moncharmin and Richard. I have something for you."
The two managers turned quickly. Madame Giry came walking down the aisle, taking her time as she surveyed what had been done. She was the mother of young Meg and held two jobs in the theatre; she was box keeper and dance instructor. Despite her growing age she still held the youthfulness of her daughter, which was rarely shown and covered by her strict rules.
"What is it now?" Firmin sighed. He motioned to the mess around them all. "If you can't tell, we have something of a problem on stage."
Mme. Giry raised her head slightly, looking down at the managers. "The Opera Ghost requested I give this to you, Monsieur." She held out her hand, which was clasped around an envelope. The managers' names were written on the envelope's face. "He said it is for you and you alone."
Armand snatched the letter from Mme. Giry, who jumped slightly at the quickness of the man's reach. He eyed her for a moment, accusing her slightly with his eyes. Pulling open the envelope Armand pulled out a small piece of paper. His eyes scanned the words and his face slowly contorted into a look of anger and annoyance. "How dare he?"
Firmin peered over his friend's shoulder. "What does it say?"
"Our ghost is making threats! Can you believe that?" Armand hissed. He crumpled up the paper and shoved it into his pocket. He turned and faced Firmin. "No one is to tell him to stop his music, unless they wish to get involved in horrible consequences."
Firmin opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off.
"It would be wise, sir, to obey his wishes." Mme. Giry explained curtly. She raised her head slightly. With a sigh she began walking towards Meg. She placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder and then eyed the managers. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to anyone here, would we?"
"No." Firmin said quickly. He looked at Armand. "Come, Armand, we should head back to the office. We have some letters to write and some money to send out to our friend."
"I am not. . . ." Armand said with growing anger.
Firmin clasped a hand over Armand's mouth. He shook his head. "I don't care what you think, but we should go along with this for now. Like Mme. Giry said, we don't want anything to happen. We'll strike back in due time."
A smug smile crossed Armand's face as Firmin removed his hand. A plan was slowly forming in his mind. "I guess I can with hold all my anger for a while."
"Good." Firmin looked at the members of the Opera. They stared back at their managers, wondering what was to happen. "Clean up this mess and then head home. You will receive extra money for this work." Armand gave Firmin a questioning look. "I know what I'm doing." Firmin smiled.
**********
Erik walked down the abandoned streets of Paris, a soft breeze giving his cloak life. Ayesha trotted in front of him, her tail held up in pride and her small bell singing with every movement. Erik smiled to himself, walking slowly and keeping an eye on his pet and sole companion. He treated the young cat more like his daughter than anything else. Everything Ayesha needed was given to her without a thought of why. He protected the kitten with his life and would do anything to keep her by his side.
"Don't go too far, Ayesha." Erik called playfully.
Ayesha glanced at Erik and meowed. The cat quickened her step. She looked at her master happily and let out another meow.
"Ayesha." Erik called. "Listen to me."
Suddenly the young Siamese sprang into a run. Her small feet carried her through the shadows and around the bend of the street with lightning fast speed. Erik stopped in mid-step, his heart all but stopped. His eyes widened in horror when he didn't see the face of Ayesha appear from the corner, beckoning him to run with her. She always found it fun to scare Erik, hiding for hours or running off whenever she felt the urge for him to follow. This time, though, she didn't seem to wait and see if he was following.
"Ayesha!" Erik cried. He began to run down the sidewalk, following the cat's unseen trail. Erik's cloak billowed out behind him, his hat nearly falling from his head. He quickly held onto the hat, rounding the turn with incredible speed.
Erik came to a stop, his heart skipping a beat as he froze in the lamp light. A young woman stood before him, her eyes wide with fear and Ayesha in her arms. The small cat looked at Erik and meowed happily. She looked up at the young woman and nuzzled against her arm. The woman's fingers trailed over the cat's fur for a moment, but her eyes were on Erik. Ayesha wriggled out of the young woman's arms, much to her dislike, and bounded for Erik. A bead of sweat ran down the girl's temple, but she quickly wiped it away.
Silence settled around them. Ayesha had stopped purring and was now staring up at Erik, her small head cocked to one side. The young woman's wavy, dark brown hair danced in with the slight breeze. The two stared at each other. While fear danced in the young stranger's eyes, a look of adoration slowly began to form in Erik's.
"Thank you, Mademoiselle, for finding my dear Ayesha." Erik said, finally breaking their silence. He picked up Ayesha and stroked her fur. "She is my prized possession and I don't know what I'd do without her." Erik's eyes drifted back to the young woman. Her face was flushed, but it didn't seem like it was from embarrassment. "Are you all right?"
The young woman nodded, unable to speak. "I'm just feeling a little tired." she said, finding her voice. She spoke softly and her voice was gentle. Her hands fiddled with the tie of her cloak nervously, her fingers shaking slightly.
Erik took a step towards the young woman, but she retreated just as quick. Her eyes were wide with a sense of fear. Ayesha jumped from Erik's arms and took her position on a doorstep. "Please, Mademoiselle, I do not wish you any harm. I would like to offer you an escort home."
"It would be out of your way, Monsieur." the young woman protested. She lowered her eyes, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "I do not want you to spend your time bothering with someone like me. My home is not far from here; I can walk myself."
"I insist." Erik said quickly. He took a few steps towards the young woman. Her eyes followed Erik, unblinking. "You caught my cat before she ran too far from me. This is all I can do in thanks."
The young woman looked into Erik's eyes, finding the look of adoration they held. Her eyes shook for a moment but they never left Erik's. A wavered breath escaped her lips as she tried to reply. Her eyes fluttered and then rolled back. Without warning her body went limp and began to fall.
Erik gasped and quickly took hold of the woman's falling body. His hat tumbled from his head with the sudden motion. Ayesha jumped in surprise as the hat fell a few inches from her. She meowed and looked at Erik as he tired to wake the young woman.
"Mademoiselle?" Erik said. He shook the young woman slightly. Cautiously removing the glove from his hand, Erik pressed it against the woman's forehead. "I should've known. She's burning with a fever." Erik whispered. He studied the girl for a moment, his ungloved fingers stroking her cheek. "I suppose it's a good thing we ran into her. Who knows what might have happened if we weren't here."
Ayesha let out a meow. She pawed anxiously at Erik's hat.
Erik looked down at his pet. "Thank you, Ayesha." He picked up his hat and put it on, managing to keep the woman steady. "The only thing I can do is take her home with us, my dear. If we left her here she could be attacked or perhaps die from exposure to the chilled air."
Without struggling Erik cradled the unconsciousness woman in his arms. He paused, looking her over. His heart skipped a beat; the young woman was beyond beautiful. Erik pushed back a strand of hair from her face.
"Flawless beauty." Erik whispered with a soft smile. He sighed and looked down at Ayesha. "Come now. We must hurry before someone sees us."
The two began their hurried walk home.
Ominous music drifted through the Opera House. Workers paused from building the sets, their eyes searching the rafters and shadows. The young chorus girls were running back and forth, crying out in fear with every shadow, hurrying to gather their things. The actors laughed nervously at the young girls but they feared the sweet sounding melody that seemed to come from themselves.
"This is a complete and utter outrage!" Armand Moncharmin yelled. He slammed the door to his office. He held a crumpled envelope in his hand, his fingers still tense around it. He looked at Firmin Richard, who was at his desk writing away. "Firmin!"
The Opera manager looked up. The soft candlelight shined on his brushed back blonde hair. Firmin smiled slightly, cocking an eyebrow as he saw his friend's obvious anger. "What is it now, Armand?"
Armand approached his joint manager and threw the envelope down with a grumble. "Look at that! Another note from the damned ghost of ours. With all the money he's asking for we'll be broke before we know it!" Armand fell into his chair with a sigh. He let his head fall back. "I thought we'd be making money for ourselves, not for some unseen mad man! And, to make it all worse, the man that was going to buy Box five, Monsieur Bovio, was frightened away the other night. The damned fool won't even return my calls."
Firmin picked up the envelope and pulled out the letter. He scanned the words, showing no emotion. "My word!" he exclaimed. Firmin put his work down and examined the letter more thoroughly. "He's asking for twice as much money! What for?"
"He gave no reason, Firmin!" Armand yelled. He ran a hand through his brown hair. The two became silent. The only sound drifting through the office was the music that seemed to emanate from every corner of the Opera House.
With a cry of frustration Armand stood, nearly throwing his chair to the ground. He looked down at the wood floor, as if it were the source of the music. "I wish that hellish music would stop!" Armand yelled furiously. His voice echoed off the walls and caused Firmin to jump at his friend's burst of energy.
Suddenly everything was silent. The two managers looked at each other in amazement. Armand gave a nervous laugh. "If I knew it was that easy, I would've done that earlier."
A scream cut through the air causing Armand to jump, his hand coming to his heart as he let out a sigh. A loud crash suddenly rose from the short silence, making Armand turn and looks towards the door. Firmin stood and looked at his friend with a curious gaze. Another scream rang out, followed by a second crash. The two managers rushed out of their office, their hearts pounding in their chest.
**********
Erik listened to the yelling above him. His brown eyes were fixated on the flames of the candelabra. A loud crash sounded above his home once more. Erik smiled softly, laughing to himself. He never seemed to lose interest in the screaming of the chorus girls. Each was frightened of the shadowed figure, which seemed to be everywhere. Everything was blamed on him, the Opera Ghost, even though half of what happened wasn't his fault.
The slender Siamese kitten came trotting to Erik, her eyes on her master with every step. She craned her head as she looked up at her master. With a purr she jumped onto Erik's waiting lap. Ayesha looked at him with half open eyes, her tail twitching around her. She purred and ran her head over Erik's stomach.
"Oh, Ayesha." Erik whispered. He began to pet the slender feline with a gloved hand. His eyes turned to the purring Siamese; a soft smile crossed his face. "It seems you've become restless as well. Night after night, the two of us sit awake, you chasing after spiders and mice. Me. . . . Well, all I can manage to do is compose an opera. I still haven't figured a name for that damn thing."
Ayesha meowed and opened her crystal blue eyes.
Erik laughed softly. The sound drifted through the air and seemed to slither through the stones of his roof. "I don't think that would a suitable name, Ayesha." Erik said. He smiled softly and kissed the cat's head. She purred merrily. "It may do us both some good if we took a walk. The night air will be nice for us. I don't think it's too late, but there shouldn't be too many people out tonight."
Ayesha jumped from her master's lap and trotted off.
With a sigh Erik stood. He stretched his aching arms as he strode towards a coat rack. He plucked his cloak from the wooden handles and put it on. Shaking his head Erik and running hand through his hair, he took his hat and put it on. Pausing he stepped in front of the single mirror he owned. Erik looked at himself, swallowing what little anger and fear he had. He fixed his hat until he found it suitable.
"Ayesha?" Erik called.
The Siamese ran towards Erik, the bell on her collar ringing all the way. Erik bent down, his arms open. Ayesha jumped into his waiting arms, much like a child would. Erik smiled and held the kitten close as he stood. He planted a soft kiss on her head, the kitten raising her face to her master's happily.
"Let's see if the moon is out to night; she can always bring a song to my mind." Erik said as he began walking. He looked at Ayesha who was staring back. "No need to worry, child; the opera house can do without me for a few hours. Besides, Mme. Giry should be delivering my letter soon enough."
**********
"How did this happen?" Armand yelled, his eyes scanning his employees. The stage was littered with costumes and most of the props were strewn about the seats. Armand looked at the faces of his amazed cast members and set crews. "Well? Who's going to clean this up?"
No one moved. They looked at each other but said nothing. A few of the chorus girls huddled together whispering and shaking with fear. Their large eyes looked around, making sure nothing strange would sneak up on them.
"Speak up!" Firmin said, his voice slightly raised. His eyes looked over everyone before him. "Does no one know how this happened? These things couldn't have done it themselves."
Meg Giry stepped forward, shaking slightly. Her head was slightly bent, sending her curled hair over her eyes. She cleared her throat slightly. "It was the Phantom." Meg said in a meek voice. Her friends whispered behind her, frightened of what she had said.
Armand narrowed his eyes. "What?"
"It was the Phantom, sir." Meg repeated, this time a little louder.
"I heard you the first time." Armand snapped.
Firmin took Armand by the arm angrily and led him off to the side. The manager looked his friend in the eye. "These people are obsessed with this Phantom character, Armand. You knew damn well what the answer was." Firmin whispered. His eyes glanced over to Meg who had retreated to her friends. "Every misfortune that befalls this theatre is blamed on the Phantom. Ever since we arrived it is all they talk about."
Armand shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Its all they know, Firmin. They claim to see the wretched thing." He laughed softly. "I will only believe in the damned thing once I see it." Turning on his heel, Armand faced the people of the Opera House. "Now then, I want you all to begin picking everything up! No one is to leave until it is finished, even if your dear Phantom is to arrive. Do you understand?"
"Christine Daae has already left, sir." Meg suddenly said. She looked at the managers a sad look crossing her soft face. "She said she was feeling ill and took it upon herself to leave early. Christine is dreadfully sorry and promises to stay later the moment she can return. She would have informed you but. . . ."
Firmin sighed. "It's all right. She isn't the only one to be sick."
"M. Moncharmin and Richard. I have something for you."
The two managers turned quickly. Madame Giry came walking down the aisle, taking her time as she surveyed what had been done. She was the mother of young Meg and held two jobs in the theatre; she was box keeper and dance instructor. Despite her growing age she still held the youthfulness of her daughter, which was rarely shown and covered by her strict rules.
"What is it now?" Firmin sighed. He motioned to the mess around them all. "If you can't tell, we have something of a problem on stage."
Mme. Giry raised her head slightly, looking down at the managers. "The Opera Ghost requested I give this to you, Monsieur." She held out her hand, which was clasped around an envelope. The managers' names were written on the envelope's face. "He said it is for you and you alone."
Armand snatched the letter from Mme. Giry, who jumped slightly at the quickness of the man's reach. He eyed her for a moment, accusing her slightly with his eyes. Pulling open the envelope Armand pulled out a small piece of paper. His eyes scanned the words and his face slowly contorted into a look of anger and annoyance. "How dare he?"
Firmin peered over his friend's shoulder. "What does it say?"
"Our ghost is making threats! Can you believe that?" Armand hissed. He crumpled up the paper and shoved it into his pocket. He turned and faced Firmin. "No one is to tell him to stop his music, unless they wish to get involved in horrible consequences."
Firmin opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off.
"It would be wise, sir, to obey his wishes." Mme. Giry explained curtly. She raised her head slightly. With a sigh she began walking towards Meg. She placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder and then eyed the managers. "We wouldn't want anything to happen to anyone here, would we?"
"No." Firmin said quickly. He looked at Armand. "Come, Armand, we should head back to the office. We have some letters to write and some money to send out to our friend."
"I am not. . . ." Armand said with growing anger.
Firmin clasped a hand over Armand's mouth. He shook his head. "I don't care what you think, but we should go along with this for now. Like Mme. Giry said, we don't want anything to happen. We'll strike back in due time."
A smug smile crossed Armand's face as Firmin removed his hand. A plan was slowly forming in his mind. "I guess I can with hold all my anger for a while."
"Good." Firmin looked at the members of the Opera. They stared back at their managers, wondering what was to happen. "Clean up this mess and then head home. You will receive extra money for this work." Armand gave Firmin a questioning look. "I know what I'm doing." Firmin smiled.
**********
Erik walked down the abandoned streets of Paris, a soft breeze giving his cloak life. Ayesha trotted in front of him, her tail held up in pride and her small bell singing with every movement. Erik smiled to himself, walking slowly and keeping an eye on his pet and sole companion. He treated the young cat more like his daughter than anything else. Everything Ayesha needed was given to her without a thought of why. He protected the kitten with his life and would do anything to keep her by his side.
"Don't go too far, Ayesha." Erik called playfully.
Ayesha glanced at Erik and meowed. The cat quickened her step. She looked at her master happily and let out another meow.
"Ayesha." Erik called. "Listen to me."
Suddenly the young Siamese sprang into a run. Her small feet carried her through the shadows and around the bend of the street with lightning fast speed. Erik stopped in mid-step, his heart all but stopped. His eyes widened in horror when he didn't see the face of Ayesha appear from the corner, beckoning him to run with her. She always found it fun to scare Erik, hiding for hours or running off whenever she felt the urge for him to follow. This time, though, she didn't seem to wait and see if he was following.
"Ayesha!" Erik cried. He began to run down the sidewalk, following the cat's unseen trail. Erik's cloak billowed out behind him, his hat nearly falling from his head. He quickly held onto the hat, rounding the turn with incredible speed.
Erik came to a stop, his heart skipping a beat as he froze in the lamp light. A young woman stood before him, her eyes wide with fear and Ayesha in her arms. The small cat looked at Erik and meowed happily. She looked up at the young woman and nuzzled against her arm. The woman's fingers trailed over the cat's fur for a moment, but her eyes were on Erik. Ayesha wriggled out of the young woman's arms, much to her dislike, and bounded for Erik. A bead of sweat ran down the girl's temple, but she quickly wiped it away.
Silence settled around them. Ayesha had stopped purring and was now staring up at Erik, her small head cocked to one side. The young woman's wavy, dark brown hair danced in with the slight breeze. The two stared at each other. While fear danced in the young stranger's eyes, a look of adoration slowly began to form in Erik's.
"Thank you, Mademoiselle, for finding my dear Ayesha." Erik said, finally breaking their silence. He picked up Ayesha and stroked her fur. "She is my prized possession and I don't know what I'd do without her." Erik's eyes drifted back to the young woman. Her face was flushed, but it didn't seem like it was from embarrassment. "Are you all right?"
The young woman nodded, unable to speak. "I'm just feeling a little tired." she said, finding her voice. She spoke softly and her voice was gentle. Her hands fiddled with the tie of her cloak nervously, her fingers shaking slightly.
Erik took a step towards the young woman, but she retreated just as quick. Her eyes were wide with a sense of fear. Ayesha jumped from Erik's arms and took her position on a doorstep. "Please, Mademoiselle, I do not wish you any harm. I would like to offer you an escort home."
"It would be out of your way, Monsieur." the young woman protested. She lowered her eyes, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. "I do not want you to spend your time bothering with someone like me. My home is not far from here; I can walk myself."
"I insist." Erik said quickly. He took a few steps towards the young woman. Her eyes followed Erik, unblinking. "You caught my cat before she ran too far from me. This is all I can do in thanks."
The young woman looked into Erik's eyes, finding the look of adoration they held. Her eyes shook for a moment but they never left Erik's. A wavered breath escaped her lips as she tried to reply. Her eyes fluttered and then rolled back. Without warning her body went limp and began to fall.
Erik gasped and quickly took hold of the woman's falling body. His hat tumbled from his head with the sudden motion. Ayesha jumped in surprise as the hat fell a few inches from her. She meowed and looked at Erik as he tired to wake the young woman.
"Mademoiselle?" Erik said. He shook the young woman slightly. Cautiously removing the glove from his hand, Erik pressed it against the woman's forehead. "I should've known. She's burning with a fever." Erik whispered. He studied the girl for a moment, his ungloved fingers stroking her cheek. "I suppose it's a good thing we ran into her. Who knows what might have happened if we weren't here."
Ayesha let out a meow. She pawed anxiously at Erik's hat.
Erik looked down at his pet. "Thank you, Ayesha." He picked up his hat and put it on, managing to keep the woman steady. "The only thing I can do is take her home with us, my dear. If we left her here she could be attacked or perhaps die from exposure to the chilled air."
Without struggling Erik cradled the unconsciousness woman in his arms. He paused, looking her over. His heart skipped a beat; the young woman was beyond beautiful. Erik pushed back a strand of hair from her face.
"Flawless beauty." Erik whispered with a soft smile. He sighed and looked down at Ayesha. "Come now. We must hurry before someone sees us."
The two began their hurried walk home.