Wow, eight reviews! I think Erik's a little tired...
Erik: Sugar Peaches brought popcorn!
Um... That sounds nice... OK, let's get this started!
Sugar Peaches: Erik liked the popcorn. Bring some more next time you review and maybe he'll let you stay in his closet for more than five minutes... tee-hee!
Dahna: You're going to love POTO in French! And thanks for sticking up for me! Ha, hear that Erik? Dahna doesn't appreciate you being so mean to me!
Erik: (pouts) See if I ever share my popcorn with her again...
Paige Turner3: Thank you for the compliments! Erik appreciates the compliments that were directed at him...
Erik: I so would Punjab Boisvert if I actually had a rope in that stupid cage! Hey, authoress! Can I have a rope?
Sorry, Erik...
Kodukadvakch: Hey, Erik, I think this girl likes you! Her entire review was spent cheering you on for nearly choking the life from a man...
Erik: Hmmm... Don't know if I want to share my closet with her... She sounds German to me...
Hey! I'm part German, too!
Erik: Really? Well, that explains a lot about you...
Tadriendra of Mirkwood: Hey, I got good grammer ;) Oh, where would I be without you?
Erik: Stuck wallowing in a pit of loathing and self-doubt?
Most likely. Hey, she has Legolas locked in her closet! We're sisters at heart! I know it!
Erik: Dear Lord, you're all insane...
Legolas: Actually, I quite enjoy myself.
Erik: You're all insane!
phantomfreak258: What are you talking about? Erik never gets tired of me!
Erik: Please take me off her hands! Please!
Well, anyway... New chappie!
XxXxX
When Erik woke up, it was dark outside. The back of his skull ached terribly. He sat up slowly. Blood rushed to his head, making him want to throw up. He sat still a moment, trying to compose himself. Then he noticed Marie-Eve in the corner, sitting in the shadows, watching him. That's when Erik realized that he was in Marie-Eve's cage.
"They haven't fixed yours, yet," she explained, looking away from him. "I'm sorry…"
Erik was confused. "Sorry for what?"
Her voice cracked. "It's my fault you got hurt!"
"Marie-Eve! How can you say that?"
"If only I hadn't run away from Mama and Papa! None of this would have happened!"
Erik moved closer to her. He touched her shadowed cheek. "Monsieur would have found some other excuse to beat me anyway."
He drew his hand back when he felt something wet on her cheek. In the dim light, he gasped at what he saw on his fingertips…
Blood.
Erik pulled her close to himself to examine her face. On one pale cheek was an angry red welt that was open and bleeding. Erik's hands gripped her shoulders tightly as he tried to force down the erupting cloud of anger that was building up in his chest.
"E-Erik…" Marie-Eve whimpered. "You're… you're hurting me…"
Erik forced his hands to relax, taking a deep breath and shutting his eyes. "Monsieur did this?"
Marie-Eve hung her head. Tears mingled with the blood on her cheek. "He said it was to teach me a lesson… He said it was my fault that you got hurt… He said he… he…"
"What is it, my child?" Erik asked, forcing gentleness into his tone. The anger sat like a festering lump in his heart. But he would not let his daughter see him lose his temper again.
Marie-Eve squeezed her eyes shut. Tears were flowing freely from her. Instinctively, Erik put his arms around her and held her close to his chest. One hand cradled her head against his shoulder as she continued to cry.
"Marie-Eve, what did he say to you?"
Marie-Eve took a gulping breath, fighting back her tears. "He… said that… that he was going to… let you teach me a lesson…"
Erik's breath caught in his throat. "I… I don't understand…"
Marie-Eve wiped a tear from her face. Erik could feel her trembling against his bare chest.
The poor child was frightened! But why?
"He… he said that you would be mad at me… he said that you would punish me… he said that I would be lucky if you didn't kill me…"
Erik's restraint was fading quickly. He forced himself to focus on the poor girl in his arms… Forget the anger… Forget it… Concentrate on the girl… Concentrate on Marie-Eve…
Marie-Eve continued to shake in his arms. Erik rubbed her back comfortingly, trying to soothe the poor child. He allowed his other hand to reach up and stroke her hair. His hand strayed to her tear-stained face and caressed her cheek. She only trembled harder.
"Marie-Eve… Please try to calm down," he said in an attempt to pacify her. "Be still. I'm not going to hurt you."
"P-pl-please... please, don't do it!"
"Marie-Eve… I don't understand your meaning…" He could feel her flinching away from his caresses now. Her small body was tensed up, as though she expected him to do something horrible to her.
Why was she so afraid?
Marie-Eve hid her face in his chest. He heard her murmur something against his skin.
"I can't hear you, child," he said, tilting her face up with his fingertips. "What did you say?"
"M-Monsieur said that… that… I would be… y-your bride tonight…"
Her words hung in the air like a heavy fog…
This was why she was so frightened…
This was why she trembled in his arms even now!
Erik severed all contact with her immediately, leaving the poor girl kneeling on the floor and weeping. He moved as far away from her as he could, trying desperately to control his anger.
He wanted to kill Boisvert for inciting such fear in Marie-Eve! Even more so, for he had made her fear him. Him! Her own father! Forget that Marie-Eve was his daughter… She was just a child! Did Boisvert truly believe that he was some wicked creature capable of doing such a thing to a little girl?
"But you did do such a thing to Christine," a taunting voice in his head reminded him. "Remember? The woman you supposedly loved more than life itself?"
Erik crouched on the floor, his fingernails digging into his skin as he clutched at his own arms, trying to force the anger down.
"Marie-Eve! I'm sorry!" Erik cried desperately. "Please, I… I was just trying to make you feel better! I didn't want that! I would never ask for that! I would never hurt you, my child!"
The anger was rising to the surface… Erik could not remember being so angry! He was about to start into a fit of profanity, but managed to control himself. He quietly began swearing in Persian.
"What are you saying?" Marie-Eve asked. Her voice sounded somewhat calmer.
Erik sighed. She certainly had inherited her mother's curiosity. "I was just expressing how angry I am at Boisvert," he replied. "In Persian."
"Really?" Marie-Eve sounded intrigued. "Wow, you're really smart for a… uh… I mean…" she stammered.
"For a circus freak?" Erik supplied, his tone hardening.
"No!" Marie-Eve said quickly. "No, no, of course not! I just mean… well… you seem like you've been here your whole life and… who taught you?"
Erik sighed. "No one taught me… I had to teach myself… When I was a child, I passed my time reading books… I learned a great deal… I ran away from home when I was a child with the intention of seeing the world… I eventually ended up working for the Shah of Persia."
"The Shah!" Marie-Eve gasped. "That must have been exciting!"
"Hardly… I was a slave…"
"Oh."
"I was there for two years… I was the Shah's entertainer, I suppose. I had to sing for him… sometimes I performed magic tricks at his feasts and celebrations… I used to spend my free time composing music down by the river Punjab… And during my time there I learned a little Persian vocabulary. I ran away when I was nine and Boisvert found me. I've been here ever since."
That wasn't entirely true… He hadn't been there ever since. He'd spent over twenty years living below the Opera Populaire in Paris… Then ten years in a small cottage not far from Marie-Eve's home. He'd only just recently become Boisvert's prisoner again.
"Don't you have a family?" Marie-Eve asked.
Erik paused, looking down at the floor. "My father died when I was very young. I don't remember him."
"And your mother?"
"…She hated me."
Marie-Eve nodded sadly. "I know how you feel. My mama doesn't like me either."
Erik looked up at her. "Why do you say that?"
"She never believed in me," Marie-Eve said sadly. "She thinks I'm silly to want to be a singer."
"Marie-Eve," Erik said. "Your mother is just trying to protect you."
"From what?" Marie-Eve asked incredulously. "What's so dangerous about singing?"
"You'd be surprised…" Erik thought to himself. Then he sighed. "Child, you must believe me… All mothers love their children…" He paused with realization. "Even mine!"
Marie-Eve looked down at her hands, than peeked up at him again. "I… I am sorry for… for believing that… you would ever hurt me," she said meekly.
"Don't think of it," Erik said. He paused. Then he began chuckling.
"What is it?" Marie-Eve asked, failing to see any humour in their situation.
"I was just thinking… I would have loved to hear some of the gossip those rich folks would have been spreading over tea this afternoon!"
Marie-Eve paused. Then she started giggling too. "Yes, I would have loved to hear it, too!"
"At least we made their conversations a bit livelier!"
Marie-Eve paused. She was so certain that she knew his voice from somewhere. And after spending time with him, she felt as though she had known him her whole life. But that was impossible. She didn't know anyone named Erik. And besides, it would have been impossible to forget a face like his.
She watched him silently for a moment, then she crawled forward and resumed their former position – she snuggled up against his chest as he held her in his arms. This time, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Thank you, Erik," she whispered.
Erik felt happy and sad all at once. He missed hearing her call him "Papa."
"Ange de Musique, mon guide, mon garde, accordez-moi la gloire," Marie-Eve sang quietly. "Ange de Musique, sortez de l'ombre. Quand viendrez-vous, cher Ange?"
"Where did you learn to sing so beautifully?" Erik asked, already knowing the answer.
"Oh… from an old friend…" Marie-Eve answered sleepily.
"He must have been very lucky to have you for a friend."
"No," Marie-Eve yawned. "I was the lucky one… He was a genius…"
"Who was he?"
Marie-Eve's eyelids drooped and closed. She murmured into his chest, her warm breath tickling his skin. "He was an Angel…"
They fell asleep like that, Erik cradling his child in his arms, wishing he could give her a better life.
XxXxX
Raoul was asleep in bed. Christine bent over him and lightly kissed his cheek.
"Forgive me," she whispered. "But I cannot sit here and do nothing."
Christine went out to the stables and took her horse. She road off, leaving the small cottage behind her.
She had to find Marie-Eve…
XxXxX
It was almost a full day riding to reach her destination. It was almost evening before Christine found herself back at the fairgrounds. Tethering her horse to a tree, she sat down and waited for darkness to settle. Then she could enter the grounds. She knew Erik would help her any way he could. He might be able to tell her where Marie-Eve might have gone.
The darkness came swiftly. Everything was quiet down in the grounds. Christine was almost ready to make her move when a hand grabbed her shoulder. She whirled around.
"Raoul!"
"Did you expect me to just let you run off on your own?" he demanded angrily.
"Raoul…" Christine could offer no explanation.
"What if something had happened to you?"
Christine hung her head. She knew she should have trusted him.
"Well, I suppose you want to go alone again," Raoul directed his gaze towards the fairgrounds.
Christine nodded. "I think it is for the best… If I am not back in an hour, go get help."
Christine rushed down to the grounds again. She crouched beside the main tent to avoid being seen by anyone. That's when she heard Boisvert speaking angrily to Babet.
"Wouldn't sing!" Boisvert yelled. "That insolent brat thinks she's in charge! So things got out of hand yesterday! It's not like she got hurt!"
"Just be patient," Babet said. "You'll break that wild spirit of hers soon enough."
"Erik is the key… That much is certain…"
"She does seem rather attached to him."
"She certainly obeyed when I started beating him again!"
"But Erik's not one to be tampered with. You remember what happened last time he escaped."
"He escaped because Javert was incompetent! Besides, just as Erik is the child's weakness, so she is his!"
"He regards her almost like a daughter!"
"And he will obey me… when I threaten to kill her!"
A rough hand grabbed Christine's shoulder. "What are you doing here!" a large gypsy bellowed at her.
Boisvert and Babet ran from the tent, finding the man holding Christine.
"Who are you?" Boisvert shouted.
"I–"
"You're a little thief come to rob me!" he accused.
"No!"
"You'll pay!" Boisvert grabbed her roughly and dragged her over to another tent.
Erik's tent, Christine realized.
Boisvert grinned. "People who make me angry get a special privilege… A night with the Phantom of the Opera!"
Christine's eyes grew wide. Boisvert laughed.
"I hope you're not married. You're his bride tonight!"
Boisvert dragged her inside the tent. The padlocks on Erik's cage had been replaced and he lay inside, half-asleep. Boisvert opened the cage and hurled Christine inside. She tripped over Erik's sleeping form and feel on top of him.
"Have a lovely night!" Boisvert laughed. Then he left.
"Christine?" Erik whispered. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, Erik!" she cried, hugging him tightly. "Something terrible has happened!"
"Marie-Eve…" Erik said, knowingly.
Christine pulled back from him. She furrowed her brow, confused. "How did you…?"
"Mama?"
XxXxX
Well, isn't this interesting? Erik, what are your comments?
Erik: Boisvert is a very bad man...
So true... Anything else you'd like to say?
Erik: Hmm... Well, now that you mention it, I hate how you keep portraying me as a softy! Hello? I'm the Phantom of the Opera! I kill people who make me mad! That's my thing! What is it with you people?
Well, I suppose I must respect your feelings... Anything else?
Erik: What is wrong with Marie-Eve? I'm supposed to be some scary-faced freak and she's coming up and hugging me all the time!
But... she's your daughter...
Erik: Well, she doesn't know that!
OK... Was there anything you liked about this chapter?
Erik: Well... I'm locked in a cage with Christine now... (grins evilly and rubs his hands together) Muhahahaha!
Erik... She's married with two kids...
Erik: Well, one of 'em's mine!
That doesn't make her any less married...
Erik: Spoil-sport...
Sorry, Erik. Well, now you as a reader can have a few minutes with Erik as soon as you review. Until then, I'm putting my time in! (Heads for closet).
Erik: No! No, not again! Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh!
Send a review and spare Erik a few minutes with me! Muhahahahaha!