Title: le Visage dans le Miroir

Author: Rancid Melody

Summary: A ballerina from Rouen joins the staff of L'Opéra Populaire to prepare to take the position of a soon-retiring Madame Giry – assuming, of course, that 'all goes well.' Is there more to this cryptic reference than the ignorant Mireille Decker realizes?

Disclaimer: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra belongs to all those people who wrote it and stuff. But I reserve the right to stalk Gerard Butler. Until he notices, and gets a restraining order. Upon which I would have to use binoculars. Or something. Um. Heh.

Warning: I have not read the book. I have a Gerard-Phantom. Deal. However, my Gerard-Phantom will not be OOC. Also, there's some French in here. It's all translated at the end, if you don't mind scrolling down to check. However, most of it is easy to figure out, and what is not is not important to the story.

Chapter Title: les Péchés qui Sont à Vous

Acknowledgements: Thanks to Lola, Goddess of the Neon Rose, LostSchizophrenic, and TheSiriusSparrow for all of your reviews! Four in one day! I'm so proud! Oh, and to TheSiriusSparrow, I'm glad you understand most of it. I was worried that I might have made grammar errors – I speak textbook French, as well.

Anyhow, here's chapter ten. I'm sure you've all been waiting with bated breath to see what happens to poor, innocent, brainless little Mireille. Or not, since I only posted chapter nine Sunday morning.

But I'm going to keep you for a moment longer. I'd like to ask for a smidge of luck from my beloved reviewers, as I'm auditioning for South Pacific Monday afternoon, and I'm afraid it's unlikely I'll be cast in anything but the chorus, due to the number of those who have seniority over me. Fortunately for me, I don't particularly like the play, but I love to act, and I would really like a role… ah, well. To distraction!


Thoughts flew through my mind rapidly – does adrenaline heighten mental capacity, along with strength and tolerance of pain? Anyhow, my mind covered a rather impressive amount of blathering in a rather short amount of time.

Firstly I thought he would garrote me. Secondly, something told me he wouldn't dare, seeing as he did not need to stir up those who would easily be thirsting for his blood once more, would they were given the chance.

And, after that, it hit me, somehow, that he would not kill a woman at all. Hurt her, certainly, but we females had that lovely quality in us – that innocence, that we would never consider reciprocating such a crime in reversed positions – and Erik was not the sort of man that was cruel enough to overlook this.

Oh, I knew he was dangerous, and rather mad. I knew that, if I said enough of the wrong things, he might hurt me enough that I would die, though not of his intention. I knew, though, that he would not deliberately murder me.At the moment, this thought had comforted me, though it is still rather disturbing.

He was slightly insane, but I could not believe that he was truly evil.

And so what would I do to… lighten the mood, shall we say?

Only someone as truly ridiculous asI would be able to throw caution to the wind so easily.

"Oh, that is marvelous!" I cooed, turning to inspect what I could see of the rope that attached me to the place where Erik stood, across the room. "How clever! How does it work? It simply stays put – as if it were a living creature!" As I spoke, I casually unwound the rope from my neck – a harder task that I had expected. It was quite sturdy.

He was positively gaping at me. I could tell, from the way his face was arranged, that astonishment was not a sensation he often met.

I approached him to offer him the end of his… rope thing. "It's quite interesting, Erik – will you show me how it works?"

I am brilliant! His expression was watered between shock and even more shock, then flickered, and hardened. "Who told you?"

Oh, dear. I blinked, and wavered in my fortitudinous façade. "I – I-"

I decided I didn't want to answer that question. "I have come to apologize," I said solemnly, and fixed my expression to one of such anguish that I hoped he would be distracted.

He was. His confused expression was all the invitation to continue that I needed.

"I did not realize the reasoning behind your outrageous outburst, and so I did a bit of investigation, and researched your background in the only ways I knew how. The outcome has enlightened me on my cruelly casual manner, and I can only beg your acceptance of my apology, and will not even request forgiveness, as I know it is too much to ask of you-"

I saw him open his mouth, and knew he was going to ask about where I had found such information. I couldn't possibly dodge a question of such magnitude, and so I opened my eyes very wide, biting my tongue until my lip trembled. My unblinking eyes quickly filled with tears, and the near nauseatingly strong sorrow and anger I had felt at Meg's report of the past washed over me once more. I waited until the moment before the first enormous tear spilled over my eye before I stepped towards him, pressed my hands to his chest, and buried my face in his cloak, sobbing as delicately as I could manage.

Success! Of course.

He was very, very still, and then slowly, reluctantly, reached to pat my back gently. I almost smiled. How awkward he must have felt!

I was no beauty, but I had a nice face though rather pointy and one of my greatest prides was that I cried as prettily as a storybook damsel – in that I didn't get splotchy. Sure, my eyes swelled a bit – that was unavoidable – but it gave my light brown eyes a sort of tawny hue when against the pinkness of my skin – only my cheeks, really, and my nose. I really had a face that was good for crying. Unfortunately, I did not smile as prettily as I cried.

I wonder if that was some sort of hint.

Anyhow, because I cried well, I felt no dismay at my appearance, though my hair was rather disheveled, when I looked up at him. "How could they do that to you?"

He said nothing, but his eyes were rather enormous, and he looked almost… frightened. Vulnerable, even.

The reversed roles gave me confidence. Too much confidence. "Christine… that manipulative salope. Elle a allumer toi, and then… betrayed you, manipulated you, forced you to release her from a debt she'd brought upon herself. That vixen, that pouffiasse-"

"Putain foutu!" he roared.

And right into my face, too! How rude! I backed off. Okay, so I fell down. But he practically pushed me!

"You dare speak so of my angel? In my presence?" He bellowed, and I cowered shamelessly. I expected a bit more ranting, but he seemed rather beyond words, breathing forcefully.

Ok, how was I going to get myself out of this?

Oh. Right. The same way I got myself out of everything else. Steady tears began to trek down my cheeks once more. "How could she do this to you, Erik?"

He said nothing. I was not sure if I was saving myself, or digging my own grave, but I continued nonetheless. "How could she leave you? How could she scorn such a powerful love, that you would kill, to keep her by your side? Is she as perfect as you say, if she could not see that she had more than she chose to keep?"

I was astounded by the darkness that veiled his amazing eyes. Sorrow; bitterness; hatred; pain; jealousy; love – all in abundance. My stomach writhed with envy – how I would wish for attentions of such intensity to be centered upon me!

Not necessarily Erik's intentions, mind you. Besides, he seemed quite preoccupied with his little soprano.

I wish I could sing.

"Oh, Erik…" I sighed at the blackness behind his eyes. "Le pauvre…"

He would not cry before me, I knew, but he sincerely needed to, my presence notwithstanding.

"I… apologize, as well, Mademoiselle," he said in a voice thick with emotions that had very little to do with me and very much to do with what I had spoken of. "I should not forbid you your opinions."

"And I should not bother you with them," I countered coolly, feeling rather unpleasant beneath my sorrow for his sake. Eyes still rather watery, though I no longer cried, I stood again, and reached forward to put a hand to his left cheek. "But you must not let her haunt you."

His eyes became heavy-lidded as soon as my hand came into contact with his face, and I hesitated for an unperceivable moment before relaxing, awed at the effect simple compassion inspired in him.

I had learned something important. I let this knowledge imprint itself into my brain, before registering his words.

"I cannot keep control her. She reigns over my thoughts, as she does my heart," he had murmured.

The tears that spilled over my lower lashes were not forced, or even summoned. Something like surprise flashed in those ghostly green eyes, and I only subconsciously registered him leaning forward, closer and closer, until out noses were nearly touching… to murmur, "It is time you returned to your own chamber, Mademoiselle."

I blinked.

Wait a minute… that wasn't what was supposed to happen!

I hadn't planned it, of course – I was not that clever but I had thought, for a moment, that he had been about to…

Oh, well. It was not as if I had wanted him to.

Except that his mouthlooked positively glorious, and I knew it'dfeel wonderful…

But still. I was not interested. He was not interested. I was not some silly chorus ballerina, to be fantasizing about a clearly unattainable man. Such silly things had only occurred to me due to the situation he had put me into. I did not desire damaged goods!

Oh, dear. That sounded horrible. I had only meant to refer to his adoration of Madame Daaé.

With a jolt, I realized that neither of us had drawn away from the other, and I could feel his warm, if not exactly freshall the more attractive, in my opinion – oh, dear, stop – breath on my face. "Of course, Monsieur," I gasped, stepping quickly out of his casual, one-armed embrace, which I had not noticed before, as I slipped back into formality. "I would not want Madame Giry to be worrying after me again."

He nodded, face once again unreadable, and walked me to the boat, helping me keep my balance as I stepped in, like a regular gentleman. I settled myself into an awkward kneeling position, and pushed away from the steps, only weakly smiling a farewell.

He did not watch me leave, but turned to his cabinet – the one I had near destroyed. And though it cost me several spills from the rickety boat, I ruined another sous la robe indicating the way through the maze of clammy stone and icy water.

At least I am consistent!


Translations:

Le Visage dans le Miroir – The Face in the Mirror

les Péchés qui Sont à Vous – The Sins Which Are Yours

Elle a allumer toi – she teased/seduced you

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