Memories Arisen 2,
Through the shell
Thank you to everyone who reviewed.
Les Mis Loony—Etymology has never been my strong suit. And I guess there are musical-ish elements in this, but that's partially for drama, and partially because it's always in my CD player (when the soundtrack for Wicked, or The Soft Parade by the Doors isn't, that is.)
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It was late night when he heard it—something that surprised him greatly; the soft playing of a hammered dulcimer coming from Erika's room. Silently, he peered through the partially open door.
Eithlinn was sitting on the side of her daughter's bed, fingers working swiftly with the slim hammers on the strings. Her voice as she sang a soft lullaby to Erika was soft and low and sweet, bringing to mind the sound of a Celtic flute echoing through cool, misty air. Normally, he preferred high sopranos, but he had to appreciate the quality. Gaelic wasn't his strongest language, so he could only understand half of the lullaby she sang.
The horrible emptiness had retreated from the little girl's eyes as she listened to her mother, replaced by a mesmerized admiration.
Funny, he never knew Eithlinn played anything. Ewain had mentioned once that his wife's family had used to be quite well known for their skills on the dulcimer, but he hadn't known the family tradition had carried on.
It was the first time he'd heard music since leaving the Opera House.
Eithlinn had been so careful not to dredge up the pain, even being careful not to even hum in his presence.
Erik appreciated the thought, but a life without music was no life, as far as he was concerned.
As much as it killed him to think about her, about what they'd shared, the silence was every bit as painful.
He saw the little harpsichord in the corner of Erika's room; the one he'd made her once.
Listening to his longtime friend, seeing the little child and her tiny possessions, he felt a smile come onto his face for the first time in so long.
The only thing that could make this more perfect is if he was looking at his own wife and child.
That thought depressed him again.
Two things he'd never have… a family, the love of a woman…
At least he was no longer alone.
Erik wondered idly how long it would take for Eithlinn to remarry; she'd retained her beauty, she was young yet, it was only a matter of time before a man decided he had to have her.
He hoped the man would be as good as Jack was, hoped he'd understand that Eithlinn and her daughter were all this broken old man had.
"Erik?" Eithlinn stood in front of him. When had she gotten up?
He stared a moment before coming up with something to say. "I… couldn't sleep. Then I heard you. You never told me you played." He was unable to suppress a slight tinge of accusation in his voice.
She blushed a little, "Well… It's a tradition. From mother to daughter." She explained, "I was the closest my aunt had to a daughter. It wasn't your type of music; I didn't think you'd be interested. You were always more for the great and grand. Huge orchestras, big casts, bright lights. That sort of thing."
"It gets old." He admitted, "Particularly when you'll never be on the inside." Those words summed up his entire life. He gave her a small, self-mocking smile, "You know, there aren't very many who play that particular instrument anymore. It's a dying art."
She shrugged, "Not in the Irish. There are those of us who will immortalize it. I'll teach my daughter, she'll teach hers…" She trailed off at the wistful look in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Erik." She said softly. He could feel her hands warm on his cold ones and savored the contact for a moment.
"You have nothing to apologize for, Eithi." He replied hoarsely, "I always knew, in some part of me, that it would end up like this. I had hoped… just for a little while, for something quietly beautiful, like you had with Jack." She flinched at the name, but visibly suppressed whatever feelings had been evoked. "I don't know what foolishness came over me to believe what I did."
A hand slipped beneath his mask to touch his cheek, surprising him. "Love is not foolishness, my dear friend. If it were up to me, I'd give you the world. For what it's worth, I swear that as long as I live, you will not be alone. You pulled me out of the darkness, gave me and my daughter a second chance and for that, if not for our twenty years of friendship, I'll always love you."
He felt a kiss on his bare cheek in the darkness before the familiar feel of his mask returned, and he knew she'd left him.
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Morning was uneventful, and Erik could only mull over the previous night's events.
Eithlinn was as calm as could be, except when she looked at her daughter.
Erika sat on the swing out on the oak tree out back; unmoving, dark jade eyes clouded and empty.
He saw Eithlinn staring sadly out the window, helplessly watching her daughter, so silent on a day when other children laughed and played.
After a long silence, she spoke, not turning from the window.
"I wanted my children to keep their innocence, Erik. I never wanted her to lose her light like I did when I was young."
"You never lost it." He replied.
She shook her head, giving him a disbelieving look over her shoulder. "You know that's not true, mon cher. I know you saw the age in my eyes."
"Maturity comes early to some. She'll pull through, as you did. Besides, she has her mother yet." He came up beside her, resting his hand comfortingly on the small of her back.
Eithlinn sighed, resting her cheek on his shoulder. She was accustomed to his lower body-temperature, his odd scent. It was just part of the man she trusted with her life; her childhood crush, and she rarely thought about any of his peculiarities anymore. "I wanted more for her." She whispered.
"And she has it."
"We're not the same people anymore, are we, Erik?" She mused.
"I think we both know the answer to that, my dear."
He slipped away, out the door, to try to reach little Erika.
"Life goes on, little one." He said softly.
She stared blankly at him.
"You've been neglecting your music, child." Erik informed her.
A flash of shame came over her face, and was gone.
He continued, reassured by her response. "You know, your mother is terribly worried. We both are. Do you want her to lose you, too? How long do you think she'd survive?" It was harsh, but it brought a response.
Positive or negative, she had to face some sort of feelings!
"You know, it was bad enough for her to lose your father, your sister, your brothers, but at least she had her little girl to live for. But you're not much more than a ghost, are you? Do you realize it's killing her? Do you know you're hurting her?"
Her little lower lip trembled, "I don't wanna hurt mommy." She whimpered, blinking back tears. "I'm sorry, Uncle Erik, don't stop loving me!" Her little face was completely devastated. Erik sighed with relief, smiled, and picked her up.
"Hush now, little one. It's alright."
The tiny girl continued to cry into his shirt for awhile. When she calmed down, he raised her face so that she looked him in the eye; "You understand why I had to say those things, right child?"
She nodded.
"That's my clever girl." He encouraged. "Now let's go in and practice on your little harpsichord; we can't have you getting rusty. Perhaps with time we can talk your mother into letting us get a proper piano?"
He was rewarded with a shy smile. 'So much like her mother sometimes.' He thought.
------------------------ March, 1883
"It's just one cat, Eithi. It won't be much trouble."
"Oh, you're as bad as she is, Erik!" Eithlinn exclaimed exasperatedly. "Fine, you can keep the cat, but you two are taking care of it."
Identical smirks gleamed back at her from two faces that couldn't have been more different.
Eithlinn sighed, "Good lord she's a mini you!"
"With your looks, thankfully." Erik replied, looking down at Erika cradling the little grey kitten in her arms. He ruffled the seven-year-old's hair and she swiped playfully at his hand.
He jumped back, feigning horror.
Eithlinn gave a long-suffering sigh, "Erik, dear, how old are you?"
"Getting senile, Eithi? I thought you were younger than I."
"You are incorrigible."
The two years in that house of love and family had changed him. Erik still had his bad days, haunted by gruesome memories. He still had nightmares that woke him in a cold sweat with tears running down his face.
But he was no longer alone.
And he thought the open air and sunshine was good for him.
He enjoyed teaching Erika in music and her studies, enjoyed working in the garden with Eithlinn, nurturing instead of killing.
There were a few dark spots, though, in the near-idyllic new life.
The small village they lived near was far away enough from Paris to escape rumors and suspicion, and they had crafted a good alibi for the mask (hunting accident,). But going to the market, he saw young men flirt with her, drawn in by her beauty and quiet good-nature, transfixed by her Irish accent, intrigued by her mystery.
Good-looking men said charming things and Erik would see her blush prettily, lower long-lashed eyelids with a shyness that she'd never quite grown out of. The men would be encouraged, and Eithlinn would come home glowing with honest pleasure at their words, though she tried to be modest, as always.
Seeing her with those men disquieted him in a way he couldn't quite understand.
It almost reminded him of seeing Christine with Raoul, but that was ridiculous—she was just little Eithi, a girl he'd known since her childhood.
Yes, her crush on him, which had endured during teenaged years, had been flattering, but she was just a child, and she'd forgotten quickly enough when she met Jack.
Not that he blamed her.
The man had been decent and charming.
Handsome, too, in a bookish sort of way.
Erik had respected him, had been proud to call him a friend.
There could have been no better man for her.
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It still struck Eithlinn how seamlessly three broken lives had merged to one. The serenity of life with Erik made her wonder what she'd have done without him.
The sound of a piano playing drifted out to the kitchen.
"Wonder which of them it is this time." She mused.
Her question was soon answered as a cool arm wound around her waist.
"Hello, Erik." She murmured. "You know you really must stop sneaking up on me like this."
"Someday I may listen, my dear." He replied. He was silent for a moment, listening. "She's excellent for her age." He remarked.
"You taught her well."
Erik smirked.
The playing stopped for a moment.
"The tone's off a bit." Came Erika's voice, "I think the piano needs to be tuned."
"After dinner, child." Erik called back.
"Thanks Daddy."
Erik felt a surge of joy, but Eithlinn had paled.
He kissed her cheek, and started to walk away. "We'll talk about this later, dear." He said softly.
She nodded dumbly, startled by the change.
A/N—If anyone's confused and wondering what exactly is between Eithlinn and Erik, don't worry: They don't know either!