I'm sorry it took so long to update. I've been on vacation for the last two weeks in Alaska, and surprisingly being stuck in an RV in the middle of Alaska is quite inspiring (actually, I wrote out of boredom). So I hope the next bit is satisfying!
Thanks to MasqueradingThroughLife, for being my first reviewer, and a very supportive and enthusiastic one, at that! Sorry Chapter 1 was so short, and I hope this chapter's long enough to satisfy (but not bore) you. Here's to hoping you like the next one (and that I get more reviews)!
A/N: I do not own Erik, The Phantom of the Opera, Christine (I'm glad I don't own her. She's so incredibly naïve and childlike.), Nadir, Madame Giry, other characters you know about, The Opera Populaire, the movies, the musical, or the music. They belong to Gaston Leroux, and ALW. What I do own is a copy of the book, the sheet music for "All I Ask of You", and the OC's in this story.
Chapter 2 – In Which Erik Re-Enters the World of the Living
Erik regained consciousness in a dazed stupor, recalling little of the past events. Groggy, tired, and confused, he looked around, taking in his surroundings with growing uneasiness. What happened last night? Was it even last night? How did he get here? Where was "here"? Questions flooded through his mind as he attempted to gather his wits and remember. When he finally did, he wished he hadn't. Everything came back. The disastrous opening night. Kidnapping Christine. The resulting destruction of his beloved Opera Populaire. Letting her and Raoul go, while the pieces of his already broken heart were ground into dust and scattered by the wind. He remembered running out the hidden doorway after smashing all the mirrors. He recollected the mob's chants and running through what seemed like all of Paris, trying to avoid them. But beyond that, nothing came to mind.
Erik's first priority was to determine his location. Looking around the small room, he eliminated the list of possibilities that had been growing in his head. He was definitely not in jail. He wasn't in a hospital or institution. He wasn't even sure that he was in Paris anymore. The room was small and simple. The inclined ceiling indicated that he was in an attic room. The furniture was plain and sensible. It indicated someone of the lower class; not poor, but certainly not a noble, or even a man of profession.
Then Erik noticed the smell. It was unmistakable, distinct, and strong, he wondered how he had missed it for so long. Chocolate. Not just a faint scent, but an odor so powerful and intoxicating that they seemed to lure all his senses, not just his nose. He could almost see and taste it. He remembered it from Madame Giry's visits when he was younger; she'd bring them as a special treat. Though the gifts were few and far between, Erik still felt the gratitude and happiness that he'd felt when she brought them, all those years ago. Before he became the Phantom, and certainly before Madame Giry grew so afraid of the boy she had rescued from such pain and suffering. As he grew older, he still longed for the occasional indulgence, but hadn't dared to venture out and purchase some for himself. No chocolatier was open at the time he usually went out, and he hadn't thought it was worth risking his safety and solitude for that luxury. He couldn't ask anyone for it, either. Imagine, the Opera Ghost demanding a supply of chocolate with his monthly twenty thousand francs!
Now, just breathing in that rich, sweet smell was so overwhelming for him. Lying in bed, with blankets piled on top of his body, Erik took the opportunity of the new surroundings and stimuli to distract himself from the pain that consumed him inside, like a hungry fire that spreads by feeding on everything in its path. And at that moment, the biggest distraction of all entered.
The door quietly eased open, and a young woman walked in, carrying a tray. Panicking, Erik bolted out of bed and searched frantically for another exit, or even a shadowed corner to disappear into like so many times in his career as the resident Opera Ghost, and realized with a sinking feeling of doom and trepidation that a small room in the middle of the day offers no hiding spots for a grown man stretching well over six feet. He briefly contemplated strangling the person, but he wasn't physically, emotionally, or mentally up to the task. Christine's voice, normally so sweet and docile, had been laced with equal amounts of fury and fear as she demanded "Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for blood?", that night that seemed both ages and mere seconds ago. Those words still rang in his ears, dissolving the last shred of the thought.
"Oh, I see you're awake. How are you feeling? Did you sleep well? Are you hungry?" Ignorant of the danger she had been in, no matter how brief, the woman rushed on, meeting Erik's eyes with no curious stares at the right side of his face, like all the other people who encounter the mask for the first time. That's when Erik realized why, as his stomach dropped to the floor. He wasn't wearing it.
The woman suddenly grasped the reason for her companion's silence. Poor thing, she thought to herself. He's probably not used to being around other people with his face uncovered. Granted, she understood the reason why, and it had given her a bit of a shock when she turned the unconscious body over and saw the deformity back in Paris. But she had seen worse, and had had four days to get used to it. It had been during those four days that she vowed to show this unfortunate man kindness and acceptance that he probably never encountered before in his life.
Compassionately, and with a quieter, gentler voice than she had used before, she said in a soothing voice, "Don't be afraid. You're safe here. No one's going to hurt you. I'm the only one who knows of your presence. You don't have to hide your face here. I'm used to it, and I'm not going to harm you in any way." She put the tray down on the small chest of drawers and watched the man's face betray a dozen unidentifiable emotions.
Erik couldn't help but stare as he searched for words. Only once before had he been in a situation where someone had offered him kindness after seeing his hideous visage. Actually, this was only the second time he had been shown kindness, period, other than Christine's constant state of dumb awe and wonder while in the presence of her "Angel of Music". And her kiss couldn't be counted as genuine kindness, either. More like an act of desperation and pity. Taken aback, he stood rooted to the spot, wondering if it was all a dream. Then, with his mind in shock, and his body weak as a newborn, he felt the floor leap up suddenly to catch him, while the darkness he had frantically searched for finally arrived and carried him off.
Almost immediately, he opened his eyes, and bewildered, not to mention still mute, looked up at the woman in a daze. She was trying to help him back into bed, muttering under her breath in a foreign tongue that made Erik think of La Carlotta, for some odd reason, even though she didn't resemble her in any obvious way. Frustrated with his lack of control and state of weakness, Erik managed to get up with the help of the woman. He was surprised both by the strong odor of chocolate that came from her body and hair, as well as her unbelievable strength. Despite her small frame (she must have been almost a whole foot shorter than Erik); she was strong enough to lift Erik with little assistance on his part.
With some difficulty Erik got back into bed, and the woman sat down in the only chair and thought of a way to make him eat something. Erik felt his shame and fear overcome him. Familiar insecurities kicked in and he couldn't bring himself to look her in the face. Apparently she noticed too, because she leaned forward and gently turned his face towards her, cupping his chin in her hand. Starting at the touch, Erik couldn't help but shy away from the foreign sensation of a fellow human's touch. She felt him shrink under her touch and gaze, but, refusing to let him be afraid of her any longer, she spoke to him, looking straight into his frightened and panic-filled eyes.
"You have nothing, nothing, to fear here. This house seems to keep people away, and it's too far away from any houses to give me nosy neighbors. Don't feel afraid or self-conscious around me." She reassured, and then added softly, and rather enigmatically, "I've seen worse." When that didn't seem to relax her guest, she changed tactics, choosing to be curt, but not unkind.
"Now eat. You've barely had enough food to keep a small child alive for the last four days, and you need it to regain your strength. I hope you like sweets; I brought you some chocolate. Please, rest. You are weak as a newborn." And with that, she left the room, leaving Erik to his own thoughts. Too weak to do otherwise, he slept, the smell of chocolate tinting his sleep.