MW and Angelina walk out with smiles on their faces. MW: Well everyone,
its almost over!
Angie: Doesn't it seem like just yesterday we started the story?
MW: Grins Sure it does.... holds up a sign that reads "You don't get the last chappy until we get reviews"
Wandering Children
Chapter 11- Ain't it funny how life works?
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After exiting his parent's room Aidan heard his brother and sister's voices floating down the hall. "We can't do that!" he heard Christine say.
"Well what else should we do?" Michael asked in a harsh tone.
Before Christine could answer Aidan came into the room and saw Jessamine crumpled on the floor. He looked from Michael and Christine and walked over to her and kneeled down. Putting his hand under her nose he checked if she was breathing and then delicately opened her eyelid to look at her pupil.
"She just came in and -" Michael started put was cut off by a steely look from Aidan.
Aidan lifted her body off the ground and turned to his siblings, "I'll take care of her, while you two wait for grandpapa, when he gets back send him to my room."
Without waiting for their protests he walked towards his own room with Jessamine nestled in his arms, head against his chest while he supported her legs and back.
Thoughts ran through his mind about what could have happened to her. When he got to his bedroom he opened the door and laid her on his bed. After making sure her external vital signs were stable he exited the room to quickly get a damp wash cloth. He went into the bathroom and grabbed a wash cloth out of the closet. Aidan ran it under some cool water soaking it and then ringing it out he took it back into his room.
Pulling a chair over to the side of the bed Aidan placed the cloth on her forehead hoping she would wake up. "Please be okay," he murmured to himself watching her breath and making sure her condition wasn't changing. When he removed the quickly dried wash cloth from her forehead she groaned softly and moved a little bit. Aidan's heart lifted as her eyelids fluttered open and looked around.
"Where am I? What?" she asked groggily looking around the room. She rubbed her eyes and went to sit up.
Aidan gently pushed her back down onto the pillows and said, "What are you doing here? How did you get here?" he asked softly although a little worried that getting down to their home was becoming too easy.
"I followed you," she replied in a whispery voice. "But, the Phantom is supposed to live in the fifth cellar and this is the fifth cellar," her eyes went wide and her cheeks paled; she looked as though she was going to faint again. Aidan 'shushed' her so that she wouldn't excite herself. When she finally calmed down he let her begin again, "I was curious as to where you were going so I followed you from your mother's dressing room down the stairs and here. I wanted to find out what you were talking about earlier, about the Noirs and the de Chagnies."
Aidan took a deep breath before starting. "Jessamine, have you ever read The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux?" he asked. She nodded and he went on, "Well, Erik Noir, the Phantom, is my distant relative. Dante's distant relative is Philippe de Chagny. Ever since 1881 there's been a harsh rivalry between our families, namely over women. Well, in accordance with that someone always dies, it's either a De Chagny or a Noir. That's how it has been and always will be."
She just stared at him for a few moments processing the information. Then, after finally taking it all in she whispered, "I'm sorry about your parents."
Aidan nodded in agreement, "I am too, but they should be fine." He put on a good face and leaned back, "the dose wasn't dangerous so they'll be up and running again soon." He wasn't quite ready to tell her what he had to do for his father, but telling her who his father was felt like an obligation. "Jess," he said uneasily.
"Mhm..." she hummed looking around the medium sized room from her comfortable perch on his bed.
"Have you ever heard of Professor James Moriarty?" he asked quietly. Her head quickly jerked towards him and she gave him a questioning glance. Propping herself up she looked into his steel eyes waiting for an explanation. "He's," Aidan paused. 'You can still get out of it,' he told himself, 'you don't have to tell her.'
"He's what?" Jessamine broke his chain of thoughts. Realizing he may not want to say anything she muttered, "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."
'Come on man,' Aidan argued with himself, 'it's too late to back out of it now.' After wetting his severely dry lips he said, "He's my father."
Mirielle and John sat in the hotel room staring at each other. "I'm telling you," John argued, "Dante is the man we're after." He winced when he moved, momentarily forgetting about the still fresh wound on his shoulder.
"Prove it," Mirielle countered angrily.
"He tried to kidnap Miss Noir," he pointed out, "and you see how much trouble he causes around the opera house. It's almost too obvious."
"Dear John," Mirielle sighed leaning back in her chair frowning. "You know that when the ionizer shot was deflected that move was apparently a signature move of the Phantom."
"So?" John snapped. "It's easy to impersonate someone. Grandpa Grayson points that out all the time. Besides, I'm not sure that only one person knows how to do that. It is quite likely that a lot of people can."
Mirielle rolled her eyes, "Well then, why did we find the perp's footprint here? I know as well as you do that Dante is far too small to have footprints that size!" a smirked crossed her lips when John looked perplexed for several long minutes. "You're not being rational," she teased coldly.
"I am being perfectly rational!" John scoffed, "Besides, someone can wear shoes a few sizes too big to disguise themselves."
"Then who was with him?" Mirielle asked, "If you have it all figured out."
John's lip curled, "As dad always says, it is a capital mistake to theorize before you have enough data."
"He also said make your theories to suit the facts, not your facts to suit your theories," Mirielle retorted. John gaped at her; she had used his own argument against him. Seeing her brother stumped Mirielle chuckled and walked over to the videophone to call their parents.
After dialing the numbers they waited only a few seconds before Sherlock answered, "Hello?" he said seemingly distracted by something.
"Hi Dad," Mirielle smiled cheerfully, giving her brother a look that could kill. "Dad," she smirked, "John seems to think that our culprit is M'sieur Dante, but I believe it's the Phantom, well one of them anyway."
"And?" Sherlock said looking at them with a confused, but strangely amused look on his face.
"We want to know who is right," John said, now standing behind his sister.
Sherlock turned around from the screen and walked into the other room. Mirielle and John exchanged glances and waited patiently before their father returned, with their mother in tow. Beth sat in front of the screen and smiled at her children in obvious amusement. "You two need to work together. Remember, united we stand, divided we fall. There's your history lesson for today," she grinned at her baffled children.
As Beth walked away from the screen Sherlock stayed behind, "Maybe you two should follow your leads separately. By the way, I'm sorry for your mother, but I couldn't resist telling her," he chuckled as they disconnected.
John plopped back down on the chair and sighed, "What a help that was."
"Shut up," Mirielle replied haughtily. "Well, do we listen to Mum, or Dad?"
They both pondered the thought for a while before John spoke up, "Dad's advice seemed the best. After all, if we both follow different trails then we could validate or disprove our theories separately."
"It's a plan then," Mirielle's eyes sparkled with the thrill of the challenge. While this case could make her career in New London, she wanted to work in Paris. Shoving that thought aside she decided it was about time to get ready.
Straightening his bowtie a malicious smirk crossed his face. His suit, pure black aside from the scarlet handkerchief with the initials M.C. embroidered with white thread in his pocket, made his already pale skin have a certain shine to it, making it look like marble. Smoothing out the front Dante came into the room, "I'm leaving now," he announced.
"And you needed to tell me because?" he snapped back, his black eyes flashing red for a second. "I swear you grow more stupid with each passing day," he chuckled at the befuddled Dante.
He ran his hand over his neatly combed hair while watching Dante slip through in the reflection of the mirror. As the door clicked shut he broke into peels of laughter. If only he could see them all in their beds crying out in pain, withering in their own sorrow.
He could only imagine what was happening right now. He could see that woman shrieking in pain while her husband, too weak to move, could only watch her die. Their children, he imagined, were meeting similar fates. If he could only watch and see them suffer, the rush it would give him. Wiping an amused tear from the corner of his eye he grabbed his coat and exited the apartment, hoping that his plan had carried through without a snag.
While walking down the streets watching the people watch him he wished he had saved some of the solution just to see what it would do. He knew what the text books said, but to witness it first hand, a shiver passed through his body. He clenched his fists as he walked along, just visualizing the gruesome scenes made a cruel smile crawl across his face.
"This will be the end of them," he said to himself. A stranger walking past gave him a strange look and received a look colder than ice, by which the stranger was reduced to shoving his hands in his pockets and speeding his pace along. "The De Chagnies will have their revenge," he proclaimed to himself, followed by a chuckle.
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Michael peeked into his parent's bedroom. Aidan told him that their parents wanted to talk with him. He looked in to see his mother begin to sit up. Erika flashed a small smile at her son and motioned him closer. Michael cautiously approached the bed. Erika smiled as Michael sat on the edge of the bed.
"How are you, Mama?" Michael asked.
"I'm fine. In slight pain but that is all. How is everyone?" Erika smiled.
"Christine and Grandpapa are making an antidote as we speak. Aidan is... occupied." Michael told her.
"Why do I think that it's something I'm not going to be happy about?"
"Because," James grumbled as he sat up to join his wife, "You know our sons very well. Michael, I want to talk to you."
"I know, Papa." Michael sighed knowing what was coming.
"Michael, do you want to take over for me if I retire?" James asked him softly.
Michael was silent as his heart and head fought over the answer. He didn't want to stay as a criminal his whole life. He wanted to do something else. Something like what Mama does when she can. Determined he looked at his parent and shook his head.
"I see." James remarked, "I expected as much."
Michael felt the need to explain, "I don't mind it, Papa, but it doesn't fit me. I want so much more than to be on the run all the time. I want to stay in one place and make my mark there."
"Then what do you want to do?" Erika interjected gently.
"Christine and I were talking. Mama she doesn't want to be the Phantom. She wants to sing and travel. I can understand that feeling. Christine doesn't want to disappoint you, but she doesn't feel ready."
"What are you suggesting, Michael?" James grinned knowing where this was going.
"I want to be The Phantom, Mama, Papa. I want to take over the mask." Michael declared, "I have the training and even helped Christine at times."
"If that is your wish," Erika grinned, "So be it."
Michael smiled, "I guess I need to convince the managers to give me a job."
"I don't think it will be that hard." James grinned at his son, "They've been after your mother for years to let them recruit you for the orchestra."
"I'll set up an appointment with them after this fiasco is over with." Erika yawned as she leaned against his husband's shoulder.
Michael stood up to give his parent's some peace. He nearly made it to the door when his Father called out to him. Michael turned and looked at James. James grinned to himself. Michael would make an excellent Phantom. Even his looks seem to say that that was to be his fate.
"I'm proud of you, my boy." James told him, "Not many people embrace their fate when it's given to them. Go and give the de Chagnies hell."
Michael smiled at his father and bowed. James grinned into his wife's hair. They were lucky to have such talented children.
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Akeem looked at the sword in his best friend's hand worriedly. Michael made a few test swipes through the air. Satisfied with the weight and flexibility of the sword, he turned to face his dear friend. Akeem sighed as Michael took a fighting stance.
"May I protest this need to work off your anger on me?" Akeem stated softly.
"You can, but will I listen?" Michael smiled, "Humor me, Khan. I need an outlet."
"My uncle would like me to stay in one piece for tonight's performance." Akeem reminded him, "Will the Phantom be in attendance?"
"Has he missed a performance yet?" Michael grinned.
Akeem saluted his friend with the practice sword. They touched the tips and began to practice. Mirielle watched the two men cross swords from a distance. Michael moved around the stage with the grace of a feline. He was sleek and smooth as he dodged Akeem's offensives. Mirielle felt her heart speed up as she watched Michael fight his best friend. While Akeem was an expert swordsman, it was obvious he was nowhere near the level of Michael. After Michael disarmed him the two shook hands and Akeem was already backing away, making excuses. Mirielle decided to take a break and walk towards Michael who was practicing alone.
"Bonjour, Michael." Mirielle greeted only to have a sword pointed at her. Michael lowered his sword as he drank in her beauty. He could easily see the uneasiness in her eyes. Right now in the middle of all the crises around him and someone trying to harm his family, he wanted her. He wanted her so badly it ached in him. Michael knew that when she walked away from him, he won't be able to move on from her. Distantly he wondered if his parents felt this way when they first met.
"Um... Michael?" Mirielle repeated.
Michael shook his head and came back to Earth, "Bonjour, Mirielle. I'm sorry I just had a lot on my mind."
"Yes well, I was wondering if I could speak with your mother again." Mirielle asked gently.
"I'm sorry, ma chère, but she is indisposed right now." Michael informed her.
"For how long?"
"I do not know." Michael growled, "She has taken ill."
Mirielle jumped at the snarl in his voice, "I'm sorry."
Michael sighed knowing he shouldn't snap at her, "It's all right, chère. I'm just worried is all."
"You have every right to be." Mirielle agreed, "Maybe when she is better..."
"Maybe, Now Excuse me Mirielle, I have to get ready for tonight's performance of My Fair Lady."
Michael brushed by her and hurried off stage. Mirielle watched him go feeling confused and scared. Did she do something wrong? He seemed so angry just then.
Michael grumbled to himself later as he sat in Christine's dressing room. His little sister was currently busy at her vanity. Her eyes avoided him. She was grateful that he was taking over for him. But what was the cost to him?
Christine looked at him in to mirror. Carefully he adjusted the cloak and bent to pick up the mask. Akeem told her that Michael brushed off Mirielle earlier. Christine suspected he was preparing for the moment when she turned away. It wasn't fair. He deserved to be happy with the girl he loved. Christine applied the charcoal to her cheeks to give them a dirtied look. When she was done she took a deep breathe and turned around.
"Merci, Michael." Christine whispered.
Michael's fingers grazed the mask once before picking it up, "This was my destiny, Christine. You deserve to be free."
"Still you deserve to be happy. I mean Adian has Jessamine. I have my art. What about you?"
Michael smiled, "I will have my theater and an angel to look over. Leroux told me she is thinking of staying."
Christine stood up, "You are worried?"
Michael sighs, "I think she is staying because of me. What will happen when she finds out the truth?"
Christine smiled as she hugged him, "She will stay. She has a chance to grow here and she knows it. It doesn't depend on you."
Michael hugged her back, "Come, little sister. It's time for the final act."
Christine let go as Michael disappeared through the mirror. She smiled to herself. Everything will work out. It has too. A knocking at the door drew her attention. Carefully, Christine opened the door to stare at the end of a pistol. Dante grinned maliciously at her and motioned that she back up.
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Aidan stretched as he walked around the backstage area. Next to him, Jessamine was looking over the list Krissy gave of what they needed to do. Feeling proud of himself he slipped his arm around her. Once he explained everything to her, Jessamine was actually pleased to hear who his father was. She was even honored that James Moriarty's son even fancied her. Aidan tried not to beam too proudly but he couldn't help the smile on his face. Finally he found a girl with some sense.
Jessamine leaned against Aidan as she studied the list. She couldn't believe how much her life changed in the past two hours. Aidan, her Aidan, was the son of James Moriarty and Erika Noir. Erika was the Phantom, well, for now. Soon Michael would be wearing the mask for his mother. Jessamine smiled, Michael suited the part of the Phantom while Aidan would be an excellent criminal mastermind. Even now, he was plotting way to protect his sister from Dante. Jessamine's eyes light up on one item.
"Aidan," Jessamine called to him.
"Yes, my little thief." Aidan beamed.
Jessamine grinned at the nickname, "Krissy wants us to retrieve your sister."
"Does she?" Aidan peered over and smiled, "We probably should go and wish the vixen luck."
"Break a leg, Aidan" Jessamine corrected him playfully, "You say break a leg."
"I'm not saying that. She is a miserable patient." Aidan teased as he walked up to the door of Christine's dressing room. The sound of Arguing voices were heard coming from inside. Aidan's eyes narrowed as he gently tried the door to find it locked. Motioning Jessamine to step back Aidan aimed a strong kick at the weakest point by the hinges. Silently he thanked his Uncle Nadir for teaching him karate. Just as the door hit the ground, Aidan lunged for Dante who looked very pale.
Suddenly the ionser fired. Aidan felt the burning sensation in his shoulder and his body flying back at the sudden change in force. Distantly he heard His sister and Jessamine scream. As he hit the ground, he saw the mirror begin to change.
A tall figure in black stepped through with it sword drawn. Aidan smiled as his sister joined his side. Jessamine flanked his other side. The three stared at Dante who tried to fire at Michael who easily deflected the shot back hitting Dante in the hand.
Dante wildly was looking around. Sensing he was trapped ran out the door. Michael hesitated, concern showing in his bright green eyes.
Aidan shouted, "I'm fine, Michael. Go get him!!"
Michael nodded and ran out. Aidan felt proud of him as he watched Michael chase after Dante. The moment was cut short as Christine went to inspect his wound. Aidan growled loudly scaring Jessamine while Christine remained unaffected.
"It looks nasty." Christine commented as she ripped his shirt away, "Good thing Mama will be up in no time."
Aidan grumbled, "I'll be fine. Tis but a scratch."
"And who are you now, The Black Knight?" Christine shot back as she looked behind her to see the cavalry coming.
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Mirielle and John stood in front of Krissy, both in their evening clothes. Mirielle played with the fabric of her dress. In the pit of her stomach she had a terrible feeling. She didn't know why, but she could feel something and it was making her sick. "Mir?" John questioned quirking a concerned eyebrow at his sister.
Shaking her head Mirielle turned back to him and their query, "Oh yea...I'm fine," she drifted off as her eyes wandered around the room. Krissy stood looking at the two of them with her arms crossed and foot tapping. She looked at Mirielle and sighed, the nervous glitter in her eyes was apparent as they darted from corner to corner.
Coming closer to John Krissy whispered, "Is she alright?" Her voice was tinted with a bit of concern as Mirielle raised her hand to her mouth and started to chew her fingernails. With a shrug John sent another glance his sister's way before sending his own glances around the stage. He was receptive to Mirielle's obvious anxiety and he wished for once he could tell what she was thinking.
"Now Miss Krissy," John began as he mentally slapped himself out of his train of thought, "We have a good idea of the situation around the Opera house, however there are still things that are rather foggy..." his voice was silenced by an ear deafening sound that seemed to ring out from somewhere in the dressing rooms.
Mirielle's stomach lurched. The voice in her head telling her that was what she had feared. 'What if Michael is hurt?!' was the first thought that came to her mind. She remembered Dante's ill-will towards Michael, Christine, and their brother and her eyes clouded momentarily. Stuck in her place, her heart beat rapidly, not knowing what to do.
With a moment of hesitation, Krissy was the first one to spring from her spot and head towards where the sound had come from. John quickly followed behind her, the thought of Christine and her safety fresh in his mind. After Krissy and John had left the room, Mirielle snapped out of her freeze and followed, trying to keep herself balanced in her heels.
With a bit of difficulty she caught up to the other two as they stood in a stand still. "What's wro..." she stopped talking as she looked over Krissy's shoulder. Her jaw dropped, Christine's arms were covered in her brother's blood, not Michael but the other while she saw a fleeting figure out of the corner of her eye.
Mirielle saw him, she saw the man she had chased in New London running out of the theatre. Kicking off her heels she started after him, her dress fluttered in the wind as she exited through the back door behind The Phantom who seemed to be chasing someone else.
"Stop! Police!" Mirielle shouted as she ran as fast as she could in her dress.
The Phantom looked back at her underneath a street light; those green eyes flashed quickly as he turned back and continued to run. The dark streets of Paris were lit by street lamps that cast a dim light on them as they sprinted through the streets.
The figure that The Phantom was chasing suddenly tripped and someone else jumped out of a side alley but The Phantom did not cease to run. Mirielle looked to the side as she passed, Krissy was on top of Dante pinning him to the ground as he struggled against her, "Let me go!" his voice was raspy as she straddled him restraining his arms.
"No chance in Hell," Krissy replied as she took electrical tape out of her pocket and started to tape his hands together right after placing some tape over his mouth. Smirking she set to work bonding his limbs together to get him into a desired state.
"Stop!" Mirielle yelled as she was gaining on him. The cape The Phantom wore billowed out behind him creating the fleeting villain look. With determination in her eyes Mirielle got a sudden burst of speed and gained ground on the mysterious stranger who she knew was a key part to her mystery, the key to her success. "Stop in the name of New Scotland Yard!" she screeched as she dove for the figure.
As they toppled forward Michael made sure his mask stayed in place. He looked into the face of Mirielle with a sad heart, 'It's now or never,' he told himself. Getting up off the ground he reluctantly held out his hand for Mirielle, she declined and stood on her own, "It seems you have caught me Mademoiselle," he said frowning.
Mirielle whipped out her Darbies and looked at the Phantom, "Remove your mask," she ordered firmly, wishing she had her ionizer with her.
(A/N: Handcuffs were called "Darbies" because a man with the surname Darby invented them.)
Without a second thought Michael removed it, revealing himself to her. He bowed slowly and solemnly said, "Now you see Mademoiselle, things are not always as they appear."
Mirielle staggered backwards. She knew things were too good to be true, this always happened to her, so close to something and then its ripped away.
"Michael," she breathed, barely audible. Her eyes blurred with confusion.
'How could this be?' she asked herself, 'It doesn't make any sense.' With a heavy heart she looked him square in the eyes, "I still have to arrest you," she walked towards him holding out the handcuffs.
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Mirielle," with that he threw down a smoke bomb. The street was filled with smoke before Mirielle knew it she was coughing up a storm. Standing up straight after the smoke cleared she looked around, he was gone. Tears once again clouded her eyes, the pain of losing the one she had learned to love and her case at the same time overwhelmed her as she wearily walked down the streets to the hotel to get ready to pack. She never wanted to leave anywhere more desperately than she wanted to leave Paris at that very minute.
"What am I going to tell Uncle Etienne?" she muttered to herself as her bare feet hit the soggy ground. Shaking her head she dejectedly sighed heading towards the hotel, as she walked along a light snow started to fall, the gray sky just as dark and depressed as Mirielle's mood.
-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-
MW (looks at the readers) What? Oh you expected there to be another chapter, because I'm trying to finish this thing up. Well, I'm not doing it until you review each chapter. That way I know you are not cheating and just skipping to the end. Well, The sooner you review the sooner I'll post.
A: You are evil.
MW: Where do you think Nightmare gets it from?
Angie: Doesn't it seem like just yesterday we started the story?
MW: Grins Sure it does.... holds up a sign that reads "You don't get the last chappy until we get reviews"
Wandering Children
Chapter 11- Ain't it funny how life works?
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After exiting his parent's room Aidan heard his brother and sister's voices floating down the hall. "We can't do that!" he heard Christine say.
"Well what else should we do?" Michael asked in a harsh tone.
Before Christine could answer Aidan came into the room and saw Jessamine crumpled on the floor. He looked from Michael and Christine and walked over to her and kneeled down. Putting his hand under her nose he checked if she was breathing and then delicately opened her eyelid to look at her pupil.
"She just came in and -" Michael started put was cut off by a steely look from Aidan.
Aidan lifted her body off the ground and turned to his siblings, "I'll take care of her, while you two wait for grandpapa, when he gets back send him to my room."
Without waiting for their protests he walked towards his own room with Jessamine nestled in his arms, head against his chest while he supported her legs and back.
Thoughts ran through his mind about what could have happened to her. When he got to his bedroom he opened the door and laid her on his bed. After making sure her external vital signs were stable he exited the room to quickly get a damp wash cloth. He went into the bathroom and grabbed a wash cloth out of the closet. Aidan ran it under some cool water soaking it and then ringing it out he took it back into his room.
Pulling a chair over to the side of the bed Aidan placed the cloth on her forehead hoping she would wake up. "Please be okay," he murmured to himself watching her breath and making sure her condition wasn't changing. When he removed the quickly dried wash cloth from her forehead she groaned softly and moved a little bit. Aidan's heart lifted as her eyelids fluttered open and looked around.
"Where am I? What?" she asked groggily looking around the room. She rubbed her eyes and went to sit up.
Aidan gently pushed her back down onto the pillows and said, "What are you doing here? How did you get here?" he asked softly although a little worried that getting down to their home was becoming too easy.
"I followed you," she replied in a whispery voice. "But, the Phantom is supposed to live in the fifth cellar and this is the fifth cellar," her eyes went wide and her cheeks paled; she looked as though she was going to faint again. Aidan 'shushed' her so that she wouldn't excite herself. When she finally calmed down he let her begin again, "I was curious as to where you were going so I followed you from your mother's dressing room down the stairs and here. I wanted to find out what you were talking about earlier, about the Noirs and the de Chagnies."
Aidan took a deep breath before starting. "Jessamine, have you ever read The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux?" he asked. She nodded and he went on, "Well, Erik Noir, the Phantom, is my distant relative. Dante's distant relative is Philippe de Chagny. Ever since 1881 there's been a harsh rivalry between our families, namely over women. Well, in accordance with that someone always dies, it's either a De Chagny or a Noir. That's how it has been and always will be."
She just stared at him for a few moments processing the information. Then, after finally taking it all in she whispered, "I'm sorry about your parents."
Aidan nodded in agreement, "I am too, but they should be fine." He put on a good face and leaned back, "the dose wasn't dangerous so they'll be up and running again soon." He wasn't quite ready to tell her what he had to do for his father, but telling her who his father was felt like an obligation. "Jess," he said uneasily.
"Mhm..." she hummed looking around the medium sized room from her comfortable perch on his bed.
"Have you ever heard of Professor James Moriarty?" he asked quietly. Her head quickly jerked towards him and she gave him a questioning glance. Propping herself up she looked into his steel eyes waiting for an explanation. "He's," Aidan paused. 'You can still get out of it,' he told himself, 'you don't have to tell her.'
"He's what?" Jessamine broke his chain of thoughts. Realizing he may not want to say anything she muttered, "You don't have to tell me, if you don't want to."
'Come on man,' Aidan argued with himself, 'it's too late to back out of it now.' After wetting his severely dry lips he said, "He's my father."
Mirielle and John sat in the hotel room staring at each other. "I'm telling you," John argued, "Dante is the man we're after." He winced when he moved, momentarily forgetting about the still fresh wound on his shoulder.
"Prove it," Mirielle countered angrily.
"He tried to kidnap Miss Noir," he pointed out, "and you see how much trouble he causes around the opera house. It's almost too obvious."
"Dear John," Mirielle sighed leaning back in her chair frowning. "You know that when the ionizer shot was deflected that move was apparently a signature move of the Phantom."
"So?" John snapped. "It's easy to impersonate someone. Grandpa Grayson points that out all the time. Besides, I'm not sure that only one person knows how to do that. It is quite likely that a lot of people can."
Mirielle rolled her eyes, "Well then, why did we find the perp's footprint here? I know as well as you do that Dante is far too small to have footprints that size!" a smirked crossed her lips when John looked perplexed for several long minutes. "You're not being rational," she teased coldly.
"I am being perfectly rational!" John scoffed, "Besides, someone can wear shoes a few sizes too big to disguise themselves."
"Then who was with him?" Mirielle asked, "If you have it all figured out."
John's lip curled, "As dad always says, it is a capital mistake to theorize before you have enough data."
"He also said make your theories to suit the facts, not your facts to suit your theories," Mirielle retorted. John gaped at her; she had used his own argument against him. Seeing her brother stumped Mirielle chuckled and walked over to the videophone to call their parents.
After dialing the numbers they waited only a few seconds before Sherlock answered, "Hello?" he said seemingly distracted by something.
"Hi Dad," Mirielle smiled cheerfully, giving her brother a look that could kill. "Dad," she smirked, "John seems to think that our culprit is M'sieur Dante, but I believe it's the Phantom, well one of them anyway."
"And?" Sherlock said looking at them with a confused, but strangely amused look on his face.
"We want to know who is right," John said, now standing behind his sister.
Sherlock turned around from the screen and walked into the other room. Mirielle and John exchanged glances and waited patiently before their father returned, with their mother in tow. Beth sat in front of the screen and smiled at her children in obvious amusement. "You two need to work together. Remember, united we stand, divided we fall. There's your history lesson for today," she grinned at her baffled children.
As Beth walked away from the screen Sherlock stayed behind, "Maybe you two should follow your leads separately. By the way, I'm sorry for your mother, but I couldn't resist telling her," he chuckled as they disconnected.
John plopped back down on the chair and sighed, "What a help that was."
"Shut up," Mirielle replied haughtily. "Well, do we listen to Mum, or Dad?"
They both pondered the thought for a while before John spoke up, "Dad's advice seemed the best. After all, if we both follow different trails then we could validate or disprove our theories separately."
"It's a plan then," Mirielle's eyes sparkled with the thrill of the challenge. While this case could make her career in New London, she wanted to work in Paris. Shoving that thought aside she decided it was about time to get ready.
Straightening his bowtie a malicious smirk crossed his face. His suit, pure black aside from the scarlet handkerchief with the initials M.C. embroidered with white thread in his pocket, made his already pale skin have a certain shine to it, making it look like marble. Smoothing out the front Dante came into the room, "I'm leaving now," he announced.
"And you needed to tell me because?" he snapped back, his black eyes flashing red for a second. "I swear you grow more stupid with each passing day," he chuckled at the befuddled Dante.
He ran his hand over his neatly combed hair while watching Dante slip through in the reflection of the mirror. As the door clicked shut he broke into peels of laughter. If only he could see them all in their beds crying out in pain, withering in their own sorrow.
He could only imagine what was happening right now. He could see that woman shrieking in pain while her husband, too weak to move, could only watch her die. Their children, he imagined, were meeting similar fates. If he could only watch and see them suffer, the rush it would give him. Wiping an amused tear from the corner of his eye he grabbed his coat and exited the apartment, hoping that his plan had carried through without a snag.
While walking down the streets watching the people watch him he wished he had saved some of the solution just to see what it would do. He knew what the text books said, but to witness it first hand, a shiver passed through his body. He clenched his fists as he walked along, just visualizing the gruesome scenes made a cruel smile crawl across his face.
"This will be the end of them," he said to himself. A stranger walking past gave him a strange look and received a look colder than ice, by which the stranger was reduced to shoving his hands in his pockets and speeding his pace along. "The De Chagnies will have their revenge," he proclaimed to himself, followed by a chuckle.
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Michael peeked into his parent's bedroom. Aidan told him that their parents wanted to talk with him. He looked in to see his mother begin to sit up. Erika flashed a small smile at her son and motioned him closer. Michael cautiously approached the bed. Erika smiled as Michael sat on the edge of the bed.
"How are you, Mama?" Michael asked.
"I'm fine. In slight pain but that is all. How is everyone?" Erika smiled.
"Christine and Grandpapa are making an antidote as we speak. Aidan is... occupied." Michael told her.
"Why do I think that it's something I'm not going to be happy about?"
"Because," James grumbled as he sat up to join his wife, "You know our sons very well. Michael, I want to talk to you."
"I know, Papa." Michael sighed knowing what was coming.
"Michael, do you want to take over for me if I retire?" James asked him softly.
Michael was silent as his heart and head fought over the answer. He didn't want to stay as a criminal his whole life. He wanted to do something else. Something like what Mama does when she can. Determined he looked at his parent and shook his head.
"I see." James remarked, "I expected as much."
Michael felt the need to explain, "I don't mind it, Papa, but it doesn't fit me. I want so much more than to be on the run all the time. I want to stay in one place and make my mark there."
"Then what do you want to do?" Erika interjected gently.
"Christine and I were talking. Mama she doesn't want to be the Phantom. She wants to sing and travel. I can understand that feeling. Christine doesn't want to disappoint you, but she doesn't feel ready."
"What are you suggesting, Michael?" James grinned knowing where this was going.
"I want to be The Phantom, Mama, Papa. I want to take over the mask." Michael declared, "I have the training and even helped Christine at times."
"If that is your wish," Erika grinned, "So be it."
Michael smiled, "I guess I need to convince the managers to give me a job."
"I don't think it will be that hard." James grinned at his son, "They've been after your mother for years to let them recruit you for the orchestra."
"I'll set up an appointment with them after this fiasco is over with." Erika yawned as she leaned against his husband's shoulder.
Michael stood up to give his parent's some peace. He nearly made it to the door when his Father called out to him. Michael turned and looked at James. James grinned to himself. Michael would make an excellent Phantom. Even his looks seem to say that that was to be his fate.
"I'm proud of you, my boy." James told him, "Not many people embrace their fate when it's given to them. Go and give the de Chagnies hell."
Michael smiled at his father and bowed. James grinned into his wife's hair. They were lucky to have such talented children.
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Akeem looked at the sword in his best friend's hand worriedly. Michael made a few test swipes through the air. Satisfied with the weight and flexibility of the sword, he turned to face his dear friend. Akeem sighed as Michael took a fighting stance.
"May I protest this need to work off your anger on me?" Akeem stated softly.
"You can, but will I listen?" Michael smiled, "Humor me, Khan. I need an outlet."
"My uncle would like me to stay in one piece for tonight's performance." Akeem reminded him, "Will the Phantom be in attendance?"
"Has he missed a performance yet?" Michael grinned.
Akeem saluted his friend with the practice sword. They touched the tips and began to practice. Mirielle watched the two men cross swords from a distance. Michael moved around the stage with the grace of a feline. He was sleek and smooth as he dodged Akeem's offensives. Mirielle felt her heart speed up as she watched Michael fight his best friend. While Akeem was an expert swordsman, it was obvious he was nowhere near the level of Michael. After Michael disarmed him the two shook hands and Akeem was already backing away, making excuses. Mirielle decided to take a break and walk towards Michael who was practicing alone.
"Bonjour, Michael." Mirielle greeted only to have a sword pointed at her. Michael lowered his sword as he drank in her beauty. He could easily see the uneasiness in her eyes. Right now in the middle of all the crises around him and someone trying to harm his family, he wanted her. He wanted her so badly it ached in him. Michael knew that when she walked away from him, he won't be able to move on from her. Distantly he wondered if his parents felt this way when they first met.
"Um... Michael?" Mirielle repeated.
Michael shook his head and came back to Earth, "Bonjour, Mirielle. I'm sorry I just had a lot on my mind."
"Yes well, I was wondering if I could speak with your mother again." Mirielle asked gently.
"I'm sorry, ma chère, but she is indisposed right now." Michael informed her.
"For how long?"
"I do not know." Michael growled, "She has taken ill."
Mirielle jumped at the snarl in his voice, "I'm sorry."
Michael sighed knowing he shouldn't snap at her, "It's all right, chère. I'm just worried is all."
"You have every right to be." Mirielle agreed, "Maybe when she is better..."
"Maybe, Now Excuse me Mirielle, I have to get ready for tonight's performance of My Fair Lady."
Michael brushed by her and hurried off stage. Mirielle watched him go feeling confused and scared. Did she do something wrong? He seemed so angry just then.
Michael grumbled to himself later as he sat in Christine's dressing room. His little sister was currently busy at her vanity. Her eyes avoided him. She was grateful that he was taking over for him. But what was the cost to him?
Christine looked at him in to mirror. Carefully he adjusted the cloak and bent to pick up the mask. Akeem told her that Michael brushed off Mirielle earlier. Christine suspected he was preparing for the moment when she turned away. It wasn't fair. He deserved to be happy with the girl he loved. Christine applied the charcoal to her cheeks to give them a dirtied look. When she was done she took a deep breathe and turned around.
"Merci, Michael." Christine whispered.
Michael's fingers grazed the mask once before picking it up, "This was my destiny, Christine. You deserve to be free."
"Still you deserve to be happy. I mean Adian has Jessamine. I have my art. What about you?"
Michael smiled, "I will have my theater and an angel to look over. Leroux told me she is thinking of staying."
Christine stood up, "You are worried?"
Michael sighs, "I think she is staying because of me. What will happen when she finds out the truth?"
Christine smiled as she hugged him, "She will stay. She has a chance to grow here and she knows it. It doesn't depend on you."
Michael hugged her back, "Come, little sister. It's time for the final act."
Christine let go as Michael disappeared through the mirror. She smiled to herself. Everything will work out. It has too. A knocking at the door drew her attention. Carefully, Christine opened the door to stare at the end of a pistol. Dante grinned maliciously at her and motioned that she back up.
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Aidan stretched as he walked around the backstage area. Next to him, Jessamine was looking over the list Krissy gave of what they needed to do. Feeling proud of himself he slipped his arm around her. Once he explained everything to her, Jessamine was actually pleased to hear who his father was. She was even honored that James Moriarty's son even fancied her. Aidan tried not to beam too proudly but he couldn't help the smile on his face. Finally he found a girl with some sense.
Jessamine leaned against Aidan as she studied the list. She couldn't believe how much her life changed in the past two hours. Aidan, her Aidan, was the son of James Moriarty and Erika Noir. Erika was the Phantom, well, for now. Soon Michael would be wearing the mask for his mother. Jessamine smiled, Michael suited the part of the Phantom while Aidan would be an excellent criminal mastermind. Even now, he was plotting way to protect his sister from Dante. Jessamine's eyes light up on one item.
"Aidan," Jessamine called to him.
"Yes, my little thief." Aidan beamed.
Jessamine grinned at the nickname, "Krissy wants us to retrieve your sister."
"Does she?" Aidan peered over and smiled, "We probably should go and wish the vixen luck."
"Break a leg, Aidan" Jessamine corrected him playfully, "You say break a leg."
"I'm not saying that. She is a miserable patient." Aidan teased as he walked up to the door of Christine's dressing room. The sound of Arguing voices were heard coming from inside. Aidan's eyes narrowed as he gently tried the door to find it locked. Motioning Jessamine to step back Aidan aimed a strong kick at the weakest point by the hinges. Silently he thanked his Uncle Nadir for teaching him karate. Just as the door hit the ground, Aidan lunged for Dante who looked very pale.
Suddenly the ionser fired. Aidan felt the burning sensation in his shoulder and his body flying back at the sudden change in force. Distantly he heard His sister and Jessamine scream. As he hit the ground, he saw the mirror begin to change.
A tall figure in black stepped through with it sword drawn. Aidan smiled as his sister joined his side. Jessamine flanked his other side. The three stared at Dante who tried to fire at Michael who easily deflected the shot back hitting Dante in the hand.
Dante wildly was looking around. Sensing he was trapped ran out the door. Michael hesitated, concern showing in his bright green eyes.
Aidan shouted, "I'm fine, Michael. Go get him!!"
Michael nodded and ran out. Aidan felt proud of him as he watched Michael chase after Dante. The moment was cut short as Christine went to inspect his wound. Aidan growled loudly scaring Jessamine while Christine remained unaffected.
"It looks nasty." Christine commented as she ripped his shirt away, "Good thing Mama will be up in no time."
Aidan grumbled, "I'll be fine. Tis but a scratch."
"And who are you now, The Black Knight?" Christine shot back as she looked behind her to see the cavalry coming.
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Mirielle and John stood in front of Krissy, both in their evening clothes. Mirielle played with the fabric of her dress. In the pit of her stomach she had a terrible feeling. She didn't know why, but she could feel something and it was making her sick. "Mir?" John questioned quirking a concerned eyebrow at his sister.
Shaking her head Mirielle turned back to him and their query, "Oh yea...I'm fine," she drifted off as her eyes wandered around the room. Krissy stood looking at the two of them with her arms crossed and foot tapping. She looked at Mirielle and sighed, the nervous glitter in her eyes was apparent as they darted from corner to corner.
Coming closer to John Krissy whispered, "Is she alright?" Her voice was tinted with a bit of concern as Mirielle raised her hand to her mouth and started to chew her fingernails. With a shrug John sent another glance his sister's way before sending his own glances around the stage. He was receptive to Mirielle's obvious anxiety and he wished for once he could tell what she was thinking.
"Now Miss Krissy," John began as he mentally slapped himself out of his train of thought, "We have a good idea of the situation around the Opera house, however there are still things that are rather foggy..." his voice was silenced by an ear deafening sound that seemed to ring out from somewhere in the dressing rooms.
Mirielle's stomach lurched. The voice in her head telling her that was what she had feared. 'What if Michael is hurt?!' was the first thought that came to her mind. She remembered Dante's ill-will towards Michael, Christine, and their brother and her eyes clouded momentarily. Stuck in her place, her heart beat rapidly, not knowing what to do.
With a moment of hesitation, Krissy was the first one to spring from her spot and head towards where the sound had come from. John quickly followed behind her, the thought of Christine and her safety fresh in his mind. After Krissy and John had left the room, Mirielle snapped out of her freeze and followed, trying to keep herself balanced in her heels.
With a bit of difficulty she caught up to the other two as they stood in a stand still. "What's wro..." she stopped talking as she looked over Krissy's shoulder. Her jaw dropped, Christine's arms were covered in her brother's blood, not Michael but the other while she saw a fleeting figure out of the corner of her eye.
Mirielle saw him, she saw the man she had chased in New London running out of the theatre. Kicking off her heels she started after him, her dress fluttered in the wind as she exited through the back door behind The Phantom who seemed to be chasing someone else.
"Stop! Police!" Mirielle shouted as she ran as fast as she could in her dress.
The Phantom looked back at her underneath a street light; those green eyes flashed quickly as he turned back and continued to run. The dark streets of Paris were lit by street lamps that cast a dim light on them as they sprinted through the streets.
The figure that The Phantom was chasing suddenly tripped and someone else jumped out of a side alley but The Phantom did not cease to run. Mirielle looked to the side as she passed, Krissy was on top of Dante pinning him to the ground as he struggled against her, "Let me go!" his voice was raspy as she straddled him restraining his arms.
"No chance in Hell," Krissy replied as she took electrical tape out of her pocket and started to tape his hands together right after placing some tape over his mouth. Smirking she set to work bonding his limbs together to get him into a desired state.
"Stop!" Mirielle yelled as she was gaining on him. The cape The Phantom wore billowed out behind him creating the fleeting villain look. With determination in her eyes Mirielle got a sudden burst of speed and gained ground on the mysterious stranger who she knew was a key part to her mystery, the key to her success. "Stop in the name of New Scotland Yard!" she screeched as she dove for the figure.
As they toppled forward Michael made sure his mask stayed in place. He looked into the face of Mirielle with a sad heart, 'It's now or never,' he told himself. Getting up off the ground he reluctantly held out his hand for Mirielle, she declined and stood on her own, "It seems you have caught me Mademoiselle," he said frowning.
Mirielle whipped out her Darbies and looked at the Phantom, "Remove your mask," she ordered firmly, wishing she had her ionizer with her.
(A/N: Handcuffs were called "Darbies" because a man with the surname Darby invented them.)
Without a second thought Michael removed it, revealing himself to her. He bowed slowly and solemnly said, "Now you see Mademoiselle, things are not always as they appear."
Mirielle staggered backwards. She knew things were too good to be true, this always happened to her, so close to something and then its ripped away.
"Michael," she breathed, barely audible. Her eyes blurred with confusion.
'How could this be?' she asked herself, 'It doesn't make any sense.' With a heavy heart she looked him square in the eyes, "I still have to arrest you," she walked towards him holding out the handcuffs.
"I'm afraid I can't let you do that Mirielle," with that he threw down a smoke bomb. The street was filled with smoke before Mirielle knew it she was coughing up a storm. Standing up straight after the smoke cleared she looked around, he was gone. Tears once again clouded her eyes, the pain of losing the one she had learned to love and her case at the same time overwhelmed her as she wearily walked down the streets to the hotel to get ready to pack. She never wanted to leave anywhere more desperately than she wanted to leave Paris at that very minute.
"What am I going to tell Uncle Etienne?" she muttered to herself as her bare feet hit the soggy ground. Shaking her head she dejectedly sighed heading towards the hotel, as she walked along a light snow started to fall, the gray sky just as dark and depressed as Mirielle's mood.
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MW (looks at the readers) What? Oh you expected there to be another chapter, because I'm trying to finish this thing up. Well, I'm not doing it until you review each chapter. That way I know you are not cheating and just skipping to the end. Well, The sooner you review the sooner I'll post.
A: You are evil.
MW: Where do you think Nightmare gets it from?