A Place in This World

Miffster – thank you for your words of encouragement; I hope I don't disappoint you with the angle of events that I take. Here is your update.

CHAPTER 20

While Erik Lauchlan slept the best sleep he had ever had, his friends stayed up until early morning talking about what they had learned. All except Raoul; he had excused himself and went to his room down another hallway after Michél assured him the Christine and Margarite would be escorted safely home. They sat in the front room of the hotel suite and closed all the doors so they would not disturb Erik while he slept.

"I can hardly believe it; Erik is a Duke…and a Scottish Duke at that! I would have never thought it!." Margarite injected. "I mean, I have always felt, deep inside, that he was of noble birth…I just never dreamed..." Margarite paused; a huge, joyous smile took over the lower half of her face, "…a Duke…"

Christine set demurely, only half listening to the conversation. She still could not believe the generous gift that Erik had bestowed on Raoul and her. The more she thought about it, she began to see the hidden agenda behind the gift. In giving them the money to build an entirely new opera house, Erik had guaranteed that she would stay in Paris, far away from him and out of his life; two things that made her very unhappy.

Christine knew that she loved Raoul. Her love for him had always been there, she could not remember a time when she did not love him; he was a permanent fixture in her heart…but Erik…he threw her senses for a loop. Seeing Erik, oh so beautiful Erik, in a state of undress had made her body react to him in a very physical way. He was like a forbidden, tantalizing demigod that lured you and seduced you into submission; awesomely eerie and provocative, but at the same time, exciting and illicit. She never knew what Erik was going to do; he was unpredictable and conniving, but she had also witnessed him being playful and flirtatious.

Could a woman lust after a man as badly as she did Erik and not be committed to him? Could a comfortable, safe life wrapped in the arms of a man, whose only display of passion had been a few fleeting kisses, subdue the pounding waves of passion that surged through her body? If it couldn't, she would gladly hunt Erik down wherever he was and give herself to him as often as need be to quiet the raging lust that boiled in her veins. Of course, that avenue would not be very beneficial to either party, nor did she think Erik would allow such an intrusion on his life; especially his life with another woman. (Blast it all! I need to stay as far away from Erik as I can! He has even taken measures to assure that I do. Stop dwelling on this you insipid fool, you are acting like a common harlot!)

Margarite noticed the silence that had fallen on Christine. Inexplicably understanding what she was thinking, Margarite commented, "Christine, you cannot second guess your choices. Erik has a life to move into now…he has a home with a family. Your apprehension and doubts prove to me that you are not mature enough to commit fully to either man without inclination; Erik has sensed this. He made it easy on you by bowing out…take the open door that he presented to you and let him live his life."

Margarite saw the sad smile that graced Christine's tired features. Her voice was distant, "Do you know the forbidden thoughts that I have entertained about Erik? I am not even ashamed to admit them…what is wrong with me?"

The last was said with such intensity that Margarite had to reach over and grasp Christine's hand to calm her.

Margarite revealed her secret in a hushed tone, "You are not alone, my dear. I have also had indecent thoughts about Erik, especially since seeing him in nothing but his black, silk pants and open robe…my goodness…I never knew what beauty he possessed other than the left side of his face, his voice, his genius…the list seems endless. Now we can add body to that list."

Margarite smirked at the knowing smile that Christine gave her. Margarite winked at Christine and gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "I thought these feelings died with Frank, but…obviously, I was wrong. Erik is a very potent, virile man: irresistible to say the least. Don't be too hard on yourself." Margarite let Christine's hand rest and sat back in her chair.

Christine eased a little bit but then looked at Michél as if suddenly remembering that he was in the room. She triggered a question at him that had been plaguing her mind since Alastair revealed to them who Erik really was. "Is there a woman waiting on Erik when he returns to Scotland? Do they have his life all mapped out for him much like Raoul's parents did his?"

Michél caught the slight tinge of jealousy that laced Christine's words. "I honestly don't know Christine. Erik's father and mother are very liberal in their thinking and have revolutionized the nobility in Scotland; I would venture to say that Erik will be allowed to choose the woman with whom he will settle down." Michél tried to sound affirmative in his tone, "It sounds like his sisters were able to choose their mates if the arranged betrothal was displeasing in any way…I trust that much the same practice will be allowed for Erik. Knowing Erik, he will make the decision far more difficult than it needs to be by slamming the wall down around his heart – again! I had a brief opportunity tonight, to discuss this with Lord Alastair. He will make sure that Erik's self-esteem is nurtured and built up; Erik has no faith in himself as a man. He doubts his ability to attract, court, win the heart of, and marry a woman; and nothing I say or do convinces him otherwise."

Michél pulled his watch out and gasped at the time. "We really need to settle in for the night, it is 1:30 in the morning! Come ladies, I will see you home."

They managed to get a carriage to carry them the 20-minute ride home. As Margarite and Christine exited the carriage, Margarite turned to Michél, "Please promise me that you will not allow Erik to leave without allowing us to say good bye."

Michél smiled and squeezed her hand, "You know that I won't…come to the hotel around 7 am, we'll know a little bit more then."

OOOOOOOOOOOOOO

The next morning started out early for Michél. He did not get to bed until 2:00 in the morning and arose at 5:30. He headed for the train station upon Erik's instructions and purchased three tickets to London and three ferry tickets to Scotland. He was back to the hotel by 6:45 to find Erik and Alastair sitting in the front room. Erik was eating a banana while Alastair was playing a game of solitaire. It amused Michél to see just how much alike they were. They even sat the same.

"All the bags are packed Michél…I knew you were going to ask." Erik smiled at Michél as he teased him.

"Is that all you are going to eat Erik? You are going to turn into a mere wisp in the wind if you do not put some meat on your bones!" Michél teased right back.

Both men laughed, realizing that their laughter was lighter and contained none of the underlying sadness that had too long accompanied it.

"Michél, you realize that you are under no obligation to follow me, correct?" Erik changed the subject and his tone was serious but strained. He did not want to lose Michél's influence in his life…he had been a good friend. "This is my life, not yours."

Michél smiled and went over to Erik. He took the larger man in his arms and gave him the hug of a brother, a title that Michél had long ago bestowed on Erik, if only in his mind. Erik, knowing that he had long robbed this man of the true affection that he felt for him, hugged him back. "I will go with you to the ends of the earth Erik; you saw me when no one else did…I owe you everything."

Watching the exchange between these two long friends, Alastair saw the family that Erik had acquired while being separated from his blood family. He could not help but smile at the sibling quibbling that was going on between these two grown men. He was curious as to how these two happened upon each other.

As he was about to ask for a detailed report on that, Alastair heard the knock on the door. He opened the door to Raoul, Christine and Margarite.

"I don't remember ever having this many visitors in my Opera House." Erik stated with amusement.

"I don't remember you being this inviting at your Opera House, Erik!" Margarite retorted back with amusement.

Erik's eyes danced with laughter as he greeted her with a kiss to the cheek, something he had rarely done.

Margarite blushed at the contact, "Erik, I do believe that you would have easily won my heart, as well as the hearts of all the young ladies, had you been this charming to begin with."

Erik laughed, not taking her at all seriously, "Now you're just being insulting as well as ridiculous."

Margarite smiled a vibrant smile that told Erik she believed she spoke the truth. Erik showed them in and they all went into the cozy dining area where Erik had just finished preparing a fruit salad and some fresh, warm bread with marmalade. There was enough for everyone.

There was little conversation as everyone satisfied their hunger. However, the silence did not last long.

"Erik, how did you and Michél meet?" The question came from Alastair who had been anxious to learn about this curious relationship.

All eyes rotated to Erik, there was great interest in the answer that would come.

"I don't think that is necessary, Michél's involvement in my life can remain a heavily guarded secret." Erik did not even blink as he spoke; his resolve on the issue was evident in his tone.

Michél's injection was forthcoming, "Erik, these people need to know, that even back then, you were not the inhumane, vile man that everyone thought you were." Erik's shoulders slumped in defeat. Michél leaned forward in his chair, "I will tell you my story…

FLASHBACK (third person)

Paris; December 1858

Snow fell relentlessly, making vision very impaired. It was the coldest night that Erik had experienced in a long time. Having just returned to Paris after a long, 6-year hiatus in Istanbul, Erik had missed the look and feel of Paris, but he had not missed her people. Bitterness crept back into his heart as he remembered the hatred and belligerence of the Parisians as they gawked at the young man in the mask…no, he had not missed the people at all; he had missed Margarite, she was the only one.

He barely felt human now. He had been privy to some of the most inhumane acts ever performed on anyone when he stood in the streets of Istanbul. He thought no one had ever been treated as badly as he was…he soon found out to the contrary. While there, he learned some most valuable techniques. He worked himself doggedly as he pushed his body to limits that doctors and physical scientists would tell you were beyond the capabilities of the human body; but Erik had done it. His body was a weapon; capable of issuing a deathblow from any angle and in any position; the world that had turned its back on Erik would now have to face his wrath…his deadly wrath. But why did he find no joy in his accomplishments?

Erik, so wrapped up in his inner turmoil, almost toppled over on top of a large object lying in the middle of the sidewalk. He bent to remove it, when he heard a soft, pitiable moan. His uncanny eyesight adjusted quickly to the night cover and he was astonished to see that the "object" was a man, not much older than he was. The man was in a state of disarray; looking like he had been starved and beaten.

Erik was not in the habit of picking up stray humans and mending them back to health; in fact, he had never even considered it before. This man stank of urine and feces and was completely filthy. Erik, thinking the man must be homeless; reflected on his own fortunate salvation years ago and saw no harm in allowing the man to clean up and eat and maybe even get a good night's sleep down in his lair.

Upon a closer look, Erik saw that the man was half frozen. He barely had clothes on and definitely had no outer covering to protect him from the cold. Erik jostled the man up onto his broad shoulders, ignoring the stench that wafted to his nose.

The opera house offered Erik all the things the loved most; solitude in his lair, music in the auditorium, women to admire and frighten, and a quiet place to work and play. The latter two usually involved the same activities.

He had never allowed anyone to interrupt his sanctuary. Not even Margarite entered without fair warning. But this night, Erik found himself nursing a man back to health. When he arrived at the lair, Erik laid the man gently down on the carpet beside the organ. He got some water from the spring that passed through his home and heated it up on the wood burning stove. Erik was no doctor, but he had a vast knowledge of the human anatomy and understood injuries and their nature. This man had been beaten, but not recently. The injuries were old, maybe days old.

After removing what few clothes were on the man, Erik noticed just how emaciated he was. It looked like no food had passed this man's lips for days, maybe weeks. The injuries to the upper torso and head were older, but still looked festered and painful. A fever was raging through his body, causing him to be delirious. He shivered uncontrollably; whether from the cold or the fever, Erik was unsure.

The water was finally heated and Erik went about cleaning the man up. He was a great deal shorter than Erik was and much thinner, due to starvation. After cleaning him up, Erik wrapped him in a warm blanket and set about finding some clothing that he could modify to fit the man. Erik dressed and tended to his wounds, noting the ones that needed greater attention. He would have to ask Margarite to provide him with some infection fighting medicine.

He stayed up day and night for 72 consecutive hours as he placed cold compresses to his forehead to break the fever. He took a brief few moments to contact Madam Giry and ask for her help. She gave him the needed medication, thinking it was for him; he said nothing to convince her otherwise.

After the 72 hours, Erik began seeing a noticeable difference in the man's coloring. He was no longer so pale and death-like. His cheeks actually began to get some rosy shading back and Erik finally allowed himself to sigh in relief. He had never felt such a sense of purpose as he did when nursing this man back to health.

Another couple of days went by and Erik entered the room carrying a tray of fruit, only to find a pair of light brown eyes staring at him in bewilderment.

"How are we feeling today?" Erik asked in French, not considering that he may not be French. "You have had quite a time of it lately, from the looks of you when I found you…are you hungry?"

The man had no idea how to react. He was shaken by the kindness being shown him by this mysterious man in the mask.

"Where did you find me, Monsieur?" The voice was weak, but articulate.

Erik regarded him with guarded eyes, and spoke in an equally guarded tone, "I literally tripped over you five nights ago while walking down Parlé Street. I could not just leave you there, so I brought you to my home to recuperate."

"No one has paid me any mind for weeks…thank you…I don't know how I will ever repay you." The statement was said through strained lips, as the man was fighting back sobs.

Erik brushed his gratitude aside with an elegant sweep of his hand, "I do not expect any repayment; I did what any normal person would have done." The man tried to stand but Erik was immediately at his side, propelling him back into the bed.

"You need to stay where you are, your strength is still returning…here, eat some fruit and I have some fresh tea made." Erik turned away to get the tea but stopped and once again addressed the man. "What is your name, if I may ask?"

At first, Erik thought the man would refuse to answer him, but he was encouraged to hear him reply, "My name is Michél Pinchót."

Erik did not hound the man for explanations immediately. He allowed him to recover for a few more days. He never left the lair, except to obtain food. As a result, he needed to shave, have his clothes cleaned, and pick up parchment paper and ink. He had not gone out for basic supplies and was quickly running out of everything. He was down to wearing plain breeches and an open shirt. The tenants were probably beginning to think "The Phantom" no longer existed.

Later that afternoon, after his patient had napped and eaten, Erik broached the subject that had littered his mind for days. "Well Michél, I do believe it is time you tell me your story. Why were you lying on the sidewalk, almost dead?" Erik did not wait for an answer just yet,"What misfortune has befallen you?...Your speech belies your attire and dilapidated appearance."Erik moved to set on the bed next to his visitor, "You are an educated man…what happened?"

Michél had come to trust this puzzling man whose care of him had been better than he could have expected in any hospital. He sat up, propping himself on the pillows. His strength had returned, approaching the strength he had possessed as a younger man. He was not proud of the story he was going to tell Erik, but he must; he owed him at least that much.

He told of how he had been a partner in a very lucrative, but somewhat illegal, business venture. He was living high on the hog - women, wine, great food, the best living quarters; everything a man could possibly want.

Michél grew up in a modest family. He never seemed to want for anything. His father was a merchant and his mother a seamstress. He was educated in the finest schools that his father's money could buy and Michél was an avid student. When he was 12, both of his parents died in a carriage accident, leaving Michél to the care of his shrew of a grandmother who cared not what young Michél did. Needless to say, he got in with the wrong crowd and proceeded down the path of self-destruction.

He made a particularly good move, it seemed to him, and befriended the son of the chief of police. As it turned out, he was a wicked boy with a penchant for the fast life. He got young Michél involved in many shady dealings that taught him to cheat, lie, and manipulate others into giving up their life investments to these "brokers" who would guarantee their money would be returned three fold. Of course, that never happened and the boys began calling this their "business". They were quite adept at it.

One particular morning, about five months ago, his partner decided to take it upon himself to invest all his money in a money-doubling scheme. Knowing that Michél would not agree to this, he "borrowed" Michél's share of the profits and proceeded to lose every last bit of his money. His partner had protected his investment, but had not taken such precautions with Michél's share. In a matter of hours, his entire life collapsed around him.

He lost his home, his nest egg, his reputation – everything. Michél found himself living on the streets, unable to find any kind of job. He had no real skills, he had been a scavenger all his life; living off the success of others. No one cared about a beggar with no hope. He slipped into the world of the invisible and unworthy, not eating or sleeping for days at a time. Other vagabonds and drifters would beat him on the off chance that he had something of value on him. His last beating had been especially severe and brutal. When they had found nothing, they stole his dilapidated shoes, ripped his clothing and left him for dead. That had been his life for five excruciating months.

Michél was not sure how Erik would react to the knowledge that he had been a thief, a very good one at that. He could never repay this man for the kindness he had shown him and had no desire to offend him any way. He held his breath for what seemed like hours as many different emotions played on Erik's face.

Erik knew that it had been hard for Michél to reveal his past indiscretions to him. He felt honored that Michél trusted him. Erik continued to treat the remaining injuries on Michél's torso over the next few days and got him up regularly to exercise his muscles before atrophy set it. They became more and more comfortable around each other and developed a friendship that both men craved, but neither would admit to needing.

END FLASHBACK

…Erik eventually revealed his deep, dark secrets to me and I tried to put some life into this brilliant, self-loathing man…he taught me to be the man I am today instead of the selfish braggart that I was just a few short years ago. I pledged my service to him for life…for when I was invisible, Erik saw me." Michél's voice was barely above a whisper, but everyone heard the admiration, gratitude and love in his voice.

Chapter 21 preview – Where do we go from here?