White Roses

Disclaimer: Do you think I would be writing phanphiction if I owned any of this genius? Obviously not. Because I don't. Own it, that is.

True Beauty

All through the night, Erik played his new violin. The music was addictive; once he played one note, he had to play them all. He was not sure how he instinctively knew how to maneuver his fingers to produce the haunting melodies, but he didn't care. All Erik cared about was the fact that he was happy. The music did not judge him. The music did not run from him in fear. The music embraced him and let him free his spirit in a way that cannot be simply put into words. The music accepted Erik.

x-x-x-x

After paying a quick visit to the costume department and pinching the sole remaining croissant from the breakfast table, Antoinette began making her way down to Erik's domain. She hummed a slightly off-tune song as she walked further and further away from the light, wondering if Erik was faring well. But as she drew nearer to the foot of the staircase, a beautiful sound began floating up towards her. In curiosity, Antoinette walked a little faster, trying to determine what was making the sound.

Upon reaching the underground chamber, Antoinette stopped and gasped. Erik was sitting in a corner, violin raised and playing an eerie melody that could not help but hypnotise the listener. The musician did not notice his visitor; his eyes were closed in concentration as note after note poured out of the instrument. Antoinette closed her eyes, letting the music wash over her; making her forget everything except the unearthly sound.

x-x-x-x

Erik drew the bow across the string one last time before opening his eyes. To his surprise, Antoinette was standing before him, eyes closed and a blissful expression on her face. Slowly, her eyes opened, and she stared at him in disbelief.

"Did you play that?"

"Yes."

"It - It is very good," she stammered. "Extremely good."

"Thank you," Erik said, not sure about why she was praising him.

"Did you learn to play before -" she began, before realising what she had almost said. "I'm sorry."

"Do not be sorry," Erik replied, softly. "It is not your fault."

The pair stood in an uncomfortable silence before Antoinette remembered her package. She gave the croissant to the boy, who devoured it greedily, before telling him that she had one more gift for him.

"Antoinette," Erik said, "please do not feel as if you must give me things."

"But I want to," she replied, smiling. "I just hope that it fits."

With these words, Antoinette withdrew a white, leather object from her bag and handed it to Erik, who looked at it in bewilderment for a few seconds.

"What is it?" he asked.

"It's a mask," she replied. "I hope you realised that I do so dislike talking to you whilst you wear that horrible sack."

Erik felt his cheeks burn as he examined the object. It appeared to have once been a full mask that had been cut; some of the edges were a little rough.

"Did you make this?" he asked Antoinette.

"Not really," she replied, shrugging. "I took a full mask from the costume department because we have so many. Masks are in great demand for the annual Bal Masqué, you see."

"I see."

"Yes," she continued. "So I simply cut the full mask to size. It was not that hard. Like I said, my only concern is that it will not fit."

Erik smiled and lifted his hand to remove the sack from his head, but stopped suddenly. "Antoinette, would you - I mean, could you please - I'm sorry, but I would -"

"Erik."

"Could you turn around, please?"

She sighed sadly, eyes lingering on him for a moment before obeying. When he was satisfied that her back was turned, Erik hesitantly pulled the burlap from his head and for once enjoyed the sensation of the cool air on his cheeks without worrying about the agony across his back to remind him of the shameful state of his face. He lifted the leather mask and carefully fitted it over the right side of his face, tying the strings that Antoinette had obviously added herself to keep it in position. The mask was a little big, but Erik decided that he could live with that.

"Are you finished?"

Erik looked back at Antoinette, still patiently waiting. He felt a little guilty; he had forgotten all about her.

"Yes," he replied. "You can turn around now."

She did so, and walked up to the boy, glancing critically at her handiwork. "It's too big."

"That is not a problem."

"Are you sure? I can try and find a smaller mask."

"Antoinette, please do not trouble yourself."

"It is no trouble for me."

"No," Erik said, firmly. "The mask is perfectly comfortable."

"If you are sure, then I suppose -"

"I am sure."

Antoinette smiled at his stubbornness and traced his left jaw with a white finger. "You really are quite handsome, Erik."

Erik blushed at the statement and Antoinette giggled. He knocked her hand out of the way and covered his burning left cheek, cursing himself for forgetting that the absence of the sack made his every emotion quite clear.

"I am not," Erik said, defensively.

"You are," she insisted. "Everybody had physical flaws."

"Not everybody has a face that looks like hell destroyed it."

"Not everybody can pick up a violin and master it overnight."

"I still maintain that -"

Erik broke off. He had been ready to fire back a retort, but Antoinette's statement had caught him off-guard.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Everything, Erik," she said, simply.

"No, it doesn't."

"It does!" Antoinette stamped a foot indignantly. "Do you not see? Not all beauty can be seen."

Erik laughed bitterly. "The beauty that matters is visible."

The girl rolled her eyes and sighed in frustration. "You are too much at times. Tell me, what do you think about music?"

Erik's eyes glazed over as he told her. Every emotion that passed through him as he listened to music or played his instrument, he told her. Antoinette did not interrupt him, simply standing, nodding and allowing him to rant. Eventually he stopped and looked at her, embarrassed at how he had rambled on. But Antoinette did not look irritated, merely satisfied.

"I take it that you believe that music is beautiful, Erik," she stated.

"Yes," he replied, hesitantly.

"And it matters to you?"

"Yes."

"Then you agree that music is beauty that matters?" she said, triumphantly.

Erik stared at her, mouth open. She's right, he thought. However, all too soon another, stronger thought hit him and he frowned.

"But that does not mean that people still will not run away from me and be afraid."

Antoinette paused for a moment, and Erik felt a grim sort of triumph that he had disproved her theory, despite the fact that it did him no favours.

"Erik," she said finally, "why am I standing here?"

Erik had not expected such a philosophical question from the young ballerina and simply shrugged. "I don't know."

"I'll tell you why," she said, smiling. "I do not fear you or think any less of you because I looked past the obvious. There is more to you that meets the eye, Erik. You have a beautiful soul. And that is the beauty that matters to me."

"Antoinette, I ..." Words failed Erik as he met the girl's eyes. He did not see any pity in them this time, nor fear, hatred or sorrow. All he saw were kindness and honesty.

"Oh!" Antoinette suddenly clapped a hand to her forehead. "I must leave or I will be late for rehearsal!"

"Very well, then," Erik replied. "Good-bye, then."

"Good-bye, Erik," Antoinette said. "I will come back later and help you move the gondola, if you like."

Erik nodded. "Thank you, Antoinette."

"Not at all." With these words, Antoinette leant forward and quickly kissed Erik's unmasked cheek softly. "Good-bye, then."

Erik watched her scurry up the stairs. He could not seem to come up with any coherent words or thoughts and simply raised his left hand to his cheek where she had kissed him. What was that for? he wondered. Slowly, Erik sat down on the bottom stair and simply remained there, trying to make sense of the situation.

x-x-x-x

Panting from her long ascent, Antoinette hurriedly joined the rest of the corps de ballet at the rehearsal and began to warm up. As she moved through the set of stretches, she absently noticed the strict ballet mistress, an elderly widow named Madame Leblanc, talking to Amandine Vereneux, the most talented dancer in the opera house. Antoinette sighed as she watched Madame Leblanc shake her head and alter the position of Amandine's arm as the ballerina demonstrated a demi-plié. Antoinette wanted nothing more than to be the one in the spotlight and hear the applause after her solo, but she knew that as long as the older, more experienced and prettier girl was there, she had no chance. Amandine was simply too perfect.

The rehearsal was uneventful, but tiring all the same. As the dancers began to cool down, Amandine remained dancing; she always insisted on perfection when she danced solo, perhaps even more so than Madame Leblanc. Antoinette was half-listening to Lisette and a few other girls tell a scandalous story about Isabelle, a rather promiscuous ballet rat, when she felt a hand slap her across the back of the head. She heard Amandine's voice behind her.

"Oh, Lisette, I'm so sorry! Such a clumsy pirouette! Did I hurt -" Antoinette turned around and the older girl's expression changed from one of concern to one of disdain. "Oh, it's you."

With that, Amandine flicked her dark curls and flounced back to Madame Leblanc, leaving Antoinette with a throbbing temple and a sense of great indignation. Amandine was perfectly friendly to most of the dancers, but had taken a sudden dislike to Antoinette. It had begun the night after they had all visited the gypsy fair.

"Oh, no, I thought that contortionist was incredible!"

"Really? You didn't find it a little gruesome?"

"Not at all! I wonder if I could do that - let me try!"

With that, little Madeleine was lying on her stomach on the floor of the dormitories, legs bent back, nearly touching her jet black hair. Spurred on by the applause and cheers of the other dancers, the tiny girl attempted position after position until finally Amandine entered the room.

"Madeleine! Whatever are you doing? Stop it now or you will hurt yourself!" she cried. "Madame would be none too pleased if you sprained an ankle."

Grudgingly, the younger girl returned to her bed, explaining what she had been doing. Amandine gave a cheeky smile.

"Do you know what I liked best?" she asked. "I liked the Devil's Child!"

"Oh, yes!"

"He was horrible!"

Amandine began squeezing and twisting the skin of her right cheek, screwing up her right eye and letting out mocking cries. This display was met by much enthusiasm from the other girls, and loud squealing and giggling ensued.

"Stop that!"

Everybody turned to look at Antoinette, standing defiantly on her bed and shooting Amandine a fiery glare.

"What did you say to me?"

"I said stop that!" the younger girl cried, incensed. "It's so cruel!"

"Calm yourself, Antoinette," said Isabelle, patronisingly. "It's just a bit of fun."

"Fun at somebody else's expense! It is not his fault he looks like that!"

"Antoinette, it is not as if he hears us."

"That still does not make it right! And besides, you all laughed openly today! Did you not see how scared he looked?"

Amandine stood, walked over to the angry girl, and yanked her arm so that she sat down. "Your heart is soft, Antoinette, but you must learn not to take everything so seriously."

"Perhaps if you lived like that for a day you would think differently, you savage beast!"

A collective gasp came from the ballet dormitories. Nobody ever spoke to Amandine that way.

x-x-x-x

Finally, Erik moved from his seat and opened the violin case again. Once more he played his resplendent music, but this time it was not for him. This time, the music was for Antoinette.

Now ... drum roll, please ... reviwer replies!

Immokk - my first reviewer:) Glad you like the length as most of the chapters will be this long. As for the Raoul bit ... a random thought that I now look back on with affection. At least somebody found it funny!

Acantha Mardivey, thanks for the verification of the name. Call it intuition ;) Good to know that you're enjoying it. When you say that some things don't fit ... could you elabourate as I'm not sure exactly what you mean. They might make sense later in the phic ... or they might not. It's a bit hard for me if I don't know what you mean, exactly ;)

sixkulps, thanks for stopping by. Glad you like it - hope you enjoy the rest!

amycad, thanks for reading and your review. Good luck with your own fanfic!

Baby-Vixen, I'm not worried, so don't you worry! I've been called weirder ... like 'little kettle', for instance o.O Well, I'm carrying on full steam ahead, so stay tuned!

Malena, thanks for your lovely review. I'll try and post a new chapter every three days, so I won't keep you hanging for too long ;)