Okay, Erik isn't exactly being the nicest dad, is he:shakes head: No, he isn't. Don't worry, the cemetary scene will come, just not right now! I'm going to make a little time stretch after the masquerade because you know that the cemetary didn't just happen the day after the masquerade. That would be too weird. And it gives you more chances to see Amile:grins: This chapter is one of my favorites. It goes off topic, but I still love it! Reaaaaaadddd for my health!

Chapter 28: The Drawings

Erik had walked around the lair absent-mindedly for two days, planning on how to get Raoul back for taking his beloved Christine. But he was also thinking on how to make Amile feel better. He felt like he had ruined her life. For those two days, she had been acting like a lifeless rag doll. Her movements were jerky and careless. She refused to talk to her father, making him only feel worse. She had gone out once, just somewhere. It made him feel irresponsible because he never knew where she was going.

Now he watched her sit on her bed, drawing. He had never seen any of her drawings, but judging by the pile of papers forming by her bed, she was getting good at it. Her pencil worked feverishly and her eyes followed it. She seemed so focused, so intent on the object, she was oblivious to what was around her. Yawning, she stopped and stretched. Looking at her drawing, she let a weak smile appear and put the drawing on her growing pile. She moved her wrist to get feeling back in it. She got up and stretched some more. "I'm going upstairs now." she said simply, her voice seemed gravely, probably from not using it for a couple days. Erik looked up from his latest writings and nodded at her. She let out a tired sigh and made her way up.

As soon as he was sure that she was gone, he walked over to her bed, carefully picking up the pile. Bringing them back to his desk, he looked through them. A gasp escaped him. She was overly talented with drawing. The pictures were so beautiful. Delicate pencils lines stretched across the page. There was one of his mask with a rose going through the eyehole. He admired it for a minute before continuing. Then there was one of him at his organ. She had perfectly captured the feeling of the moment. It seemed almost...intimate. In the picture, his back was arched slightly and his head was tilted back. He had assumed this position when he got into what he was doing. His long hair, unkept in this picture, was dark as night itself. Erik smiled at his daughter's work.

Then he got to a picture that made his stomach lurch. Not in disgust, but in shock. Amile had drawn one of the most beautiful pictures he had ever seen. In the picture, he was sitting by the chapel window, looking outside, Christine on his lap, her head on his shoulder, sleeping. He was holding her hands in his and he had a smile on his face. Erik had never guessed that Amile would be in her right mind to draw this. Beauty, intimacy, love. All captured like a photograph. His fingers traced the lines of the window, trying to see how she did it so perfectly.

He changed the drawings again. The next picture made him feel like crying. It, yet again, was him, but he was standing with Amile in front of him. He had his arms around her waist and his head on her shoulder. Both of them were smiling happily, their eyes focused on the artist. They both had their masks on and she had her blanket around her shoulders. "Amile..." he whispered sadly. She probably brought that out of her imagination, showing what she wanted. She wanted them both to be happy, both to be smiling like that, holding eachother like that. He bit his lip and set the pile down, not sure if he could get through them all. He looked back at the picture, looking at Amile mainly. Her smile looked so natural. Normally, most of her smiles were forced. Yet again, he thought about how she wanted this. To smile naturally, not force anything.

Forcing himself to change the picture, he found that the next one was not as emotional, but more beautiful. It was a pigeon, just a simple pigeon. But it looked real. It was black with a white V shape on its back. On the bottom was the simple name, Audron. He wondered how she came up with that, then he mentally smacked himself. He had seen her go to the highest rafters, where the pigeons were. The pigeon in the picture was probably one that she liked. She made the one in the picture so real.

"Daddy" came a voice from behind him. He jumped what he thought was three feet in the air. "Y-yes" he responded shakily. Amile walked over to him. She looked over his shoulder and frowned. "You saw them." she said quietly. He looked to the side.

"I'm sorry Amile. But, they are beautiful. I didn't know you could draw like that. Why did you never tell me"

She shrugged. "I didn't think you would care. You mainly focus on Christine." He shook his head and stood up, looking at the one with the organ again. "This one, can I keep it" She nodded, almost looking embarassed. "Sure." He smiled and hugged her. "They really are beautiful Amile." Then he kissed her cheek gently. She backed up and gathered up her drawings. Brushing past him, he could have sworn he saw her really smile.