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: Pour Trouver l'Homme Derrière le Monstre
Acknowledgements: TheSiriusSparrow, Collins, Shirl, and LostSchizophrenic have all realized Mireille's danger, but it was hardly a surprise, anyhow. And Collins: I would never ignore my beloved reviewers! They are my lifeblood! They are the graham-cracker to my marshmallow! They are the respirator to my coma! Etc, etc.
In this exciting installment, Erik learns the importance of tolerance, and Mireille learns the importance of tact! Other stuff happens too, but… it's a surprise!
Ooooooh I looooove surprises! I wonder what's going to happen!
Oh, wait. I know. I'm the author.
Hey, neat!
Oh, and credit for minor inspiration for certain description in this chapter goes to Mandy the O, who is my hero! Yay!
"Your mask. Does it stick, or something?"
Oh, honestly! I was such an idiot. I could tell by the shock that suddenly dropped into his eyes, to replaced by only a flash of – hurt? – before scorn and fury made the beautiful ghost-green irises burn with an unholy fire.
Still handsome.
Not fair.
"Putain de salope merdeux!" Erik roared.
Dear goodness, he knew his curses. Well, I suppose one hears a lot, when most of one's time is spent spying on people.
He wasn't finished. "Connasse!" His roar became more of a cry, and my heart rose into my throat, and made itself known by thumping loudly in my ear. "Baise-toi, gouine foutu!"
I paused at the phrasing, first insulted, then intrigued. "Do you even know what those words mean?" I asked him innocently. "Because the last one certainly isn't true."
His glare receded, though his chest continued to heave to make up for breath not taken in outrage. Receded, I say, but certainly did not disappear. He chose not to furnish me with a reply, and so I decided to make my own deduction – and keep it to myself. I prided myself in the realization that I now knew better than to say something he didn't want to hear.
So I did my best to find something he would want to hear. I came upon what I thought was an excellent supposition, and smiled earnestly as I sat back on the bench. "Anyway, I'm sure you're not so terrible beneath it as you're made out to be!"
I had made an unsound assessment. Again.
He gaped at me. "Well, then you're certainly not in your right mind, Mademoiselle!" He near choked the words. "And I'd have to say that it is past time for you to return to your bedchamber!"
Well… I certainly couldn't have backed down now! Alright, I suppose I should have. But I didn't.
"Oh, come now," I said, raising my eyebrows, "I've seen… the circus-folk. I'm quite positive that I have seen worse than whatever 'horror' lies behind your mask. Which is quite nice, by the way – is it porcelain? It looks like porcelain-"
"Mademoiselle, hold your tongue!" Erik finally snapped at me.
I paused.
"Would you prefer I take that literally, or figuratively?"
He sighed exasperatedly. "Figuratively, though I've mind to simply gag you, as I hardly think it possible for you to keep your mouth shut for any distinguishable period of time!"
"It took you at least ten seconds to say that, and that is a distinguishable amount-"
"Mireille!"
I closed my mouth firmly, then pressed my lips together when I almost told him how terribly unfair he was being.
This seemed to amuse him.
He then appeared to remember why he had intended to shut me up in the first place, and the almost-smile vanished. "I can assure you, Mademoiselle Decker, that you do not wish to see… this." He gestured to the right side of his face.
"Of course I do!" I burst, then covered my mouth, giving him a theatrically reproachful glance. Erik didn't see it.
A look so haunted had entered his marvelous eyes that I near wanted to cry. I knew what that look meant, even having known him for such a short time. It meant he was thinking of Daaé.
The connasse.
I, on the other hand, was perfectly aware of the definitions of the words I chose. She deserved every one of them, for hurting Erik like that! Or… for hurting anybody like that. It wasn't necessarily because she'd treated Erik the way she had, of course. It was for treating anyone the way she had treated Erik.
Right. That was it.
"You wish to see my face?" The beautiful man's voice was a swoon-worthy snarl, but I managed to control myself by noticing the agonized fury drawing tight lines across his prematurely aging face. "Very well. Perhaps such a sight will relieve me of your presence!"
And he threw the mask at my feet.
My eyes followed it habitually. Aha! So it hooked over his ear! Clever. How had I not seen that? Well, it wasn't a very large bit, and perhaps it was hidden by his hair…
I then remembered that Erik's face was what I was more interested in, and turned back to him abruptly.
I blinked, and tilted my head to the side.
Well.
It was really hard to imagine that his face could be so perfect on one side, but on the other… not so perfect.
His deformity was in almost the exact line of the mask, proving he'd designed the cut of the costume himself. The skin grew pale and looked to be pockmarked, but not from any accident. His cheekbone was the same size as the other, but looked to large the skin was so thin that one could see the raw flesh and purpley veins just beneath, though it was mottled with white blotches of slightly thicker skin and it was sunken against his face with the look of a corpse preparing to rot its own skin away.
Mercifully, the ghastly condition bypassed his extraordinary eyes, sliding around them to neatly prevent the growth of half of his right eyebrow, and skulking up into his hairline – so, he wore a wig, I supposed? Ew. Well, I suppose it wasn't so bothersome, if one considered that it wasn't necessarily baldness if it wasn't due to old age… right?
I managed to conduct the survey in a matter of seconds – I do think rather quickly, if not well – and the turned to composing my response.
I do not like to brag – oh, never-mind, I love to brag – but every now and again, I can lie very well. This, luckily, was one of those rare times. I pursed my lips and raised my eyebrows at him, before saying, "Is that all? My goodness, Erik, I was expecting something a bit more impressive!"
His expression – cold, furious, and almost reproachful – fell immediately into shock. "What?"
I shrugged. "Dear boy, with an imagination like mine… you'd have to be a regular monster to frighten me."
He sputtered for a few moments before emitting something intelligent – well, sort of. "But… I am a monster!"
I snorted at his expression, feeling quite pleased with myself as I stood. "Who said you get to decide whether or not you're a monster?"
Erik blinked.
"Really," I remarked, putting a hand on my hip as I reached conversation distance between he and I. Actually, the more I weighed his deformity on his right against the severe lack of deformity on his left… yes, the left side was winning by a literal landslide. I really astounded myself with my perseverance. And fortitude, on that note. "You give yourself too much credit!"
He choked again – but was that a laugh that almost escaped his almost irresistible mouth? Yes, I believe it was!
Triumph flooded my senses.
Alright, so I'll ask you to picture me standing there, smiling blindingly – which makes my eyes bulge, I later noticed after inspecting myself in my hand-mirror (I daren't use the enormous one) – at a man with a deformity that is, in fact, quite impressive – I told you I lied – as he did his best to suppress laughter.
Yes, I thought we made a lovely pair as well.
Right.
Stop laughing.
But his eyes slowly cleared of their amusement, and in the wake of his ease came a horrible sorrow and desperation that tore at my heart, but not so vindictively as the words that accompanied them.
"Why could she have not thought so?"
I felt all expression slide off of my face, giving way to a blunt numbness. Tears collected in my eyes, but I had not the life in me to let them fall. It was as if he'd taken out that dagger of my nightmares and slit my throat then and there.
My legs gave out.
Yes, that's a rather ridiculous thing for me to let happen. But I couldn't help it! I'm no plucky novel heroine, who can run away when she's been hurt, to be chased by the hero, and to make amends in a most romantic fashion. I didn't have the strength to hold myself up, so I didn't.
My eyes, however, brought my chin up to look at him.
He was staring at me, with an expression as confused as it was… even more confused. And startled. And a bit concerned. Perhaps he thought I'd gone mad?
Had I gone mad?
Something else crossed through his eyes, and he dropped gracefully to his knees to grasp my nerveless hands in his leather-clad ones. "I apologize, Mademoiselle, I did not mean to imply that I thought nothing of your opinion-"
"Indeed not," I said, my voice hoarse, high, and altogether not my own. "I think… I think that you were right in saying that it was time that I returned to my bedchamber."
And then I found the strength to rise, and fled to my boat, not letting myself look back to where I knew he was staring blankly after me.
Translations:
le Visage dans le Miroir – The Face in the Mirror
Pour Trouver l'Homme Derrière le Monstre – To Find the Man Behind the Monster
Hm. That wasn't what was in my outline.Ah, well.I like this better.
Not much French in this one – I had no time to check my grammar, so I didn't bother – but it's longer! Four pages in Microsoft Word. Yay me!
Review please!
