Chapter Five: Insane Curiosity
Erik managed to corner Gerard in his study alone three days later.
"You said he was a good man. What would he have thought of me?"
Gerard gasped as he looked up at his nephew, not realizing until he heard the question that he was even there. "Erik, you startled me. Who are we talking about?"
"You know who," Erik rasped, pacing to the window which overlooked the street. He stared out; the mask reflected by the dim light of the waning day as he reined his courage in and asked again, "My father. What would he have thought of me, Gerard, had he lived to see me? Would he have run at first sight of me?"
Gerard stared blankly at his nephew for several moments, trying to contemplate an answer, before finally breathing out, "I don't know, Erik. I know by his letters and the few times I saw him between wedding your mother and his death that he was greatly looking forward to fatherhood. He was older than she was, and one would think a bit wiser in the ways of the world, and he certainly was not spoilt as she was, as you well know she was. I'd like to believe that your face would not have mattered, but he never did see you, so how can I know?"
Erik took a deep breath as Gerard finished, "Tell me more about him, Gerard. I don't know why, I've not thought about it in my fifty years on this earth, but now, I want to know."
Erik sat in the chair on the opposite side of the desk from Gerard, his eyes unblinking behind the mask. Gerard's face suddenly filled with trepidation.
"I was being truthful when I told you he was a good man. He was intelligent, and caring. He was much loved by everyone whose life he touched. Your grandfather, your mother's father, seemed to look upon him almost as if he were his own son, even before your mother showed her preference in Charles. He was kind. Erik, it is hard to sum up a man's life."
"Then don't try to sum it up. Tell me whatever you can. What was he like as a child? What interested him? What made him so loved? What made my mother choose him?"
Gerard sighed again, the sadness coming once more to his eyes. "As a child he was rather well behaved, he never caused our mother trouble as I did. I can remember him getting me out of scrapes on many occasions. Of course, I don't know what he was like as a small child, I wasn't there. He always seemed older, wiser than his years. He loved beautiful things, as most of us seem to. I can't remember a time he wasn't into building things; he loved learning how things worked. And he adored making beautiful buildings most of all."
He took a deep breath, and continued, "Your parents, they met at a building site. Charles was working on a building designed by your grandfather, and your mother accompanied him one day. Before long, he began to court her, and then they married. They went to London for the honeymoon, and her parents died while they were there, from Cholera. The whole household died, and I daresay if your mother had been home at the time, we would not be sitting here talking right now. I believe you were conceived by that time. Your mother didn't want to stay in Rouen, and talked your father into the house in Boscherville. I know he traveled between there and here each day, and then there was the accident. A piece of masonry fell . . ." Gerard trailed off, and looked up from the desk straight into Erik's eyes, the moisture he was trying to hold back now evident. "I'm sorry. I told you to ask, that I could talk about it, that the fifty years since his death meant I could talk without it affecting me, but . . . I was wrong, wasn't I? He was my brother, and I loved him, and I wish I had been closer to him in those later years, but it's too late to turn the clock back now, n'est pas?"
Erik nodded, his body finally relaxing in the chair he'd taken.
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"I'd say that went rather well, Gerard," Marie said quietly as she entered the study after Erik had left.
"Better than I had hoped, but Marie, I still didn't really answer the question he wondered about most."
"How can you? How can you tell him how someone would have reacted to something they had never seen? That would require psychic abilities, and we both know it."
"Marie? You knew him briefly, if Erik had asked you, what would you have told him?"
"Erik did ask me Gerard," Marie answered, "and I said I was sure that Charles would have loved him regardless. Whether or not that is true is another story, but what was I to tell him?"
"Indeed," Gerard sighed, "I'd have probably done the same. In fact, I think I just did, almost."
Marie wrapped her arms around her husband's waist and pulled him close as his arms wound around her back and pulled just as tightly.
'Now if only I could gain the courage to ask him about the Opera.'
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Raoul looked in the window of the small café, his eyes closed upon the table near the back, a table of one. Bright green eyes perused a menu as tiny hands grasped the paper, and then the eyes lifted to speak to the waitress and a bright smile graced her small lips.
'Meg. Meg Giry.'
He shook his head, a lock of hair falling into his eyes before he brushed it aside. He drew himself up to his full height, and made his way into the café, his eyes still trained on the table where the pert little dancer was sitting.
He could hear Philippe's reaction now. Another dancer. But it didn't matter what she was. She'd offered out the hand of friendship that day he'd bumped into her, and he'd be damned if he was going to refuse!
She looked up in time to see him nearly pass her table, "Raoul!"
He looked down, pretending surprise, "Meg, fancy meeting you here."
Meg smiled brightly, "Indeed. Are you meeting someone or are you here alone?"
"I'm alone, and you?"
She sighed softly, "Alone. Would you care to join me? Then neither of us has to eat alone, and I do so detest eating alone."
Raoul grinned, and took the chair opposite Meg. "Have you been enjoying your vacation from the Opera?"
"Yes . . . and no. Yes because I have time to do all those little things people sometimes take for granted, but no because . . . I love dancing. Granted, Maman won't let me go a day without practicing, and even if she weren't there I'd likely practice anyway, I still miss the structure of the Opera, and . . . I miss being in front of the crowd, the applause for a job well done."
Raoul smiled as she rambled on, "I can see the way your eyes light up when you speak of it that you do love it. How much more time is there before you return?"
"Two and a half weeks I'm afraid. Sometimes it doesn't seem to move fast enough."
He nodded, "Yes, I can imagine, when you love something so much, to be separated from it, time must slow to a crawl."
Meg's
brow furrowed. "Has that ever happened to you?"
"Yes."
"What causes time to crawl for you?"
Raoul shook his head, "Used to. Love, I imagine, or so I believed."
"Christine," Meg replied simply.
Raoul's eyes widened.
"You'd have had to have been blind not to notice the way you looked at her when you came to the Opera last year."
Raoul nodded, "I suppose to one who was looking in, yes, perhaps. I loved her. Perhaps I'll always love her in a way."
"I don't imagine it's easy to forget your first love. I wouldn't know. Unless you count dancing. But I don't see how it can be the same."
"You could equate dancing. Think what you would feel if you could never dance again?"
Meg nodded solemnly, "I'd be devastated. I'd think the world were coming to an end. Is that how it feels, losing someone you love?"
"Yes, you think you can't go on another day without her, then you wake up the next morning and wonder why when there is this ache in your heart. As time goes by, that ache gets smaller and smaller, until one day, you find you can breathe again. And you can live again. And begin to think that perhaps, one day, when the time is right, you can even love again."
Meg smiled, "You'll love again. One day, the right woman will come along, and she will love you as much as you love her."
"One day," Raoul whispered. "Yes, one day. On that day, you can tell me that you told me so!"
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'All in all, I'd say it was a good lunch,' Meg thought as she slipped into the quiet house, and replayed the entire afternoon, spent with Raoul. It seemed like they couldn't run out of things to talk about, and after lunch was finished and they realized that neither was ready to part company for a lonely afternoon, they took a walk down to the Bois, which lead to more interesting discussions and before they knew it, it was nearing suppertime, and Meg had promised her mother she'd spend the evening with her, so she gracefully declined Raoul's offer of dinner. He'd looked taken aback for a moment before she'd explained, then seemed resigned, smiled and said another time then.
Meg hugged her arms to herself as she replayed that moment in her mind over and over and over. The smile came easily to her lips as she thought of his gentle hand on her shoulder at the door, almost as if he were going to . . . 'but no, that part had to be a dream, it was too real to be otherwise!'
'Look at you Meg Giry! Fawning over a slight touch. Reading more into it than could possibly be, when at the beginning of the afternoon he all but told you he would always love Christine.'
'But he did say he would always love her, and wasn't it Christine the one who told you that loving someone and being in love are two completely different things all together?'
"There you are!" the stern voice of Madame Giry broke into Meg's musings.
"Maman!" Meg whirled around from her stance, staring at the door, to face her mother head on.
"I was beginning to worry, you said you were merely going for lunch, and it's nearly supper."
"Maman, I'm fine, I merely . . . lost track of time. I took a walk in the Bois and before I knew it, it was getting late, and I hurried home."
"And met with the Vicomte de Chagny on your way?"
Meg gasped and her eyes widened.
"I saw you from the window. Meg, what is it with you lately? You seem . . . preoccupied so often lately, and if I didn't know better I'd swear . . ." she trailed off, and scrutinized her daughter's face.
"I'm just . . . I'm . . . I've just had a lot to think about lately Maman, all the changes at the Opera, thinking about the upcoming season, knowing that I'm now captain of the corps . . . it's nothing, Maman, just a lot of thinking and a bit of daydreaming about next season."
Madame Giry shook her head, almost as if saying she didn't believe her daughter, but she let it drop. "Nevertheless, that's no reason to go around moony eyed and not pay attention to your practicing. You know that being made leader of the Corps brings with it new responsibilities, you have to be better than the other girls, you have to work harder."
"I know Maman, and I promise you, I'll do my best."
Madame Giry nodded, and hugged Meg quickly before releasing her, "now, go on up and get changed for dinner."
Meg smiled, and dashed up the stairs.
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Author's Notes: Between Fanfic.net troubles with uploading, my computer eating chapters, and a slight case of . . . not necessarily writers block, but writer's detour (hey, I'm gonna have to remember that for later!) this story isn't exactly moving as fast as I originally intended it to. I ask that you bear with me. When I started I had a few chapters written, and I've gone through that reserve now so that what you are reading is pretty much what I have, save for some of the later chapters that I still have to tie into.
Awoman: Kids . . . hmmm. Interesting thought. No, you're right, Christine is still young, goodness knows my father was nearly 60 and became a father again, so it wouldn't be too far out there, buuuuuuuuttttt, I'm not saying a word. As for Raoul causing trouble, um . . . I think that any trouble from Raoul will be from quite a different vantage point. Erik and Christine make enough for themselves!
Ash: Yes, everything will be explained eventually, but its going to be an arduous journey, in which I hope that Gerard and Erik become closer. Goodness knows Erik needs family, someone to love him, and now he's got it if he just opens up his eyes!
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