Et Velle Et Perficere

Disclaimer: Don't own POTO… but I do own Croft Manor. "I can make anything disappear," is of course a nod of respect to Susan Kay.

Chapter 2: I Can Make Anything Disappear…

Two entirely different men were sitting silently and in semi-discomfort in the front seats of the blue S-Type as the elder of the two drove them towards his home. The younger, even though he had been put through similar situations many times over the years, had utterly no idea what was expected of him, and so, he fidgeted quietly in the passenger seat. Saying he had been put through similar situations was not strictly true – he had been taken home by foster-parents before, yes, but never, never, by anyone quite like this…

Erik was completely used to the human scum scraped from the bottom of the proverbial barrel who usually wanted to foster him and had, as such, spent time beforehand preparing for what he had expected to be just another of them. What he had gotten instead had absolutely bewildered him and he childishly and illogically resented the man for that because he did not appreciate being thrust into unfamiliar, if better, territory.

When the young social worker at the home had told Erik that he was being fostered again, he had groaned inwardly and dejectedly started packing. They would be the thirteenth set this year, and while that number was unlucky for some, Erik believed that the whole affair was positively doomed before it had even begun. He believed he would likely be back before the week was through.

Perhaps, he had thought, miserably, that would be for the best.

Whatever disillusioned nightmares Erik had been expecting to show up in the car park, he certainly had not anticipated the person who actually had shown up. He had been looking out of the living room window when he saw the car, which was undoubtedly too fancy to belong to his new foster parents, drive in and park. He had wondered briefly if the home had been expecting an inspector.

Erik had been even more puzzled when a well-dressed and handsome man had gotten out of the car and entered the building.

That, he had mused, cannot possibly be him. Can it?

Before he had been able to think clearly, Lucy, the social worker, had led the curly-haired man into the room and introduced him as his new foster-father. Erik had been totally gobsmacked…

Now, he was stuck in a confined space with the man he'd been told to call Michael and Erik hated it – not knowing anything about him or if his appearance was all just a façade. But, instead of trying to find out any more, he had remained silent – he had learnt over the years to hate having forced conversations with the people who would most likely be kicking him out shortly.

Michael was used to the behaviour of foster-children – he'd had enough experience in the past to know that Erik's current silence was entirely normal – expected, even. The older ones tended always to be the more cynical and the least willing to try – but who could blame them? It might just take that little bit longer and that little bit more effort on Michael and Sarah's part but it would make the results all the sweeter. He would not be overly-confident in his ability, but, at the same time, he was hopeful that he and his wife could get through to Erik like they had all the others.

As Michael continued to drive, Erik had been thinking about what he knew the day would hold. No doubt he'd be 'introduced' to the rest of the family – though, he had already been told that Michael had a wife and a daughter, who was at boarding school – and he dreaded having to meet another procession of strangers. Then, if he were lucky, they would not expect him to remain in their company for very long before he could stay in whatever godforsaken room they banished him to.

And yet, there was something about this man's bright smile that was so genuine that Erik had to wonder how he could possibly be anything but genuine himself. He'd truly never met anyone like Michael before.

Michael cleared his throat and started to talk for the first time since they'd gotten into the car, turning his head briefly towards Erik every few seconds. "So, I hear you're somewhat of a musician – I'll show you the music room when we get home, if you like. We have a concert grand that I think you'll like. What do you say, can I tempt you?" Michael smiled again and Erik couldn't help but hope with a fierce desperation that the man before him was even half of what he appeared to be.

Elsewhere, Sarah Daaé had spent part of the afternoon starting the tea, telling her daughter the news about Erik and making up a bed in one of the upstairs bedrooms. When she'd finished and made sure that he would have everything he needed, she happily traipsed down the stairs to check how the tea was progressing. However, she was met in the entrance hall by the sound of her husband's car stopping in the driveway and so paused to let them in.

As she opened the front doors, she got her first glimpse of the boy they would be looking after from now on. He was very tall, she noticed, as he got out, and rather thin. But, more importantly, she noticed the bright white mask he wore over the right side of his face. What on Earth…? she wondered. But, having more sense than curiosity, she didn't and wouldn't mention it.

Michael got Erik's bags out of the boot and led him into the house. "This is Sarah, my wife," he said as he placed the bags by the side of the stairs and closed the doors.

"It's lovely to meet you, Erik," Sarah said. Erik stared at the outstretched hand of the smiling dark-haired lady for several long moments before tentatively and briefly touching his fingertips to hers.

Michael, knowing how tense and uncomfortable Erik was, offered to show him up to his room before picking his bags up again and moving up the stairs.

A short time later, in the room Erik had been provided with, he sat perched on the large four-poster bed, thinking. He'd never been anywhere like this before – he'd never even dreamt he could be this fortunate.

Michael had left him alone for a while to get used to his surroundings but he was not terribly sure he could ever get used to this. He was very aware of the fact that he might be told to leave soon and he did not want to get so attached to the place that he would find it difficult. However, it was going to be harder here, at Croft Manor, than it was anywhere else he'd stayed – they had all been rat-infested dumps – but this was… sublime.

Michael had promised to show Erik around the whole house after tea and around the rest of the grounds whenever he got the chance. However, Erik was more looking forward to being shown the music room later – ever since Michael had told him about the piano he had been itching to get in their and play it. Perhaps, before the day was through, he'd get a chance.

He was startled from his thoughts by a gentle knocking at the door and looked up to see Michael push it open. "I know I said after tea, but Sarah's been waylaid with it, so perhaps you'd like the tour now."

Erik was amazed at all the wonderful rooms that he saw. They had started on the ground floor with rooms like the conservatory and drawing room, and worked their way upwards stopping for a brief time in the library/music room for Erik to inspect the piano he would acquaint himself with properly later.

He had expected to be able to look at little else in the room when it came to the piano; he so often became engrossed in his music that he thought of doing little more. However, there was something else that Erik could not truly draw his attention away from…

He stared intently at the divinely beautiful girl in the photograph – her perfect face, the dark curls that fell almost to her waist, the way her eyes twinkled as those perfect lips were drawn into a beautiful smile for the camera – he simply could not tear his eyes away from her. She was, at least in appearance, totally without fault.

"That's Christine," Michael said, having noticed the look on Erik's face, though not being quite able to interpret it, "she's still at boarding school, at the minute, but she'll be back in a couple of weeks."

Erik wasn't sure he was completely unhappy about that anymore, as he had been before he'd seen her. At least, if she were home he could see her more closely and, most probably, she would not live up to his expectations. No doubt, she would be totally unworthy of his attentions and devoid of the compassion he saw in her father – then he knew he would forget her and concentrate on the music he would surely be able to produce in this house.

"Come," Michael called to him from the door, "tea should be ready now."

As Erik followed the older man out of the door, he took one last look back at the girl in the picture…

She was his first real understanding that angels truly existed…

After eating, Michael excused Erik so that he could go back to the music room. Michael had known that he would be eager but he had not expected just how quickly the boy vanished up the stairs. Laughing amiably, Michael was, perhaps, unaware of the true reason Erik was in such a rush to get there…

Erik lifted the frame into his hands and held the picture close to his face. He had been unable to think of anything else during dinner and he did not appreciate being so distracted. She was truly remarkable, this girl he had never met, and he was entirely unaccustomed to the effect her mere photo had had on him. He had no idea what it was about her that made him feel so… so… he didn't even know what it was he felt, seeing as he'd never experienced such feelings before. And yet, he didn't know her at all, had never met her and knew very little actually worthwhile about her.

Perhaps, I can rectify that, he thought.

He made up his mind to look for her room after he'd played for a while – surely Michael and Sarah would be suspicious if they did not hear the piano playing first – and that might give him an idea of what she was like.

Collapsing the top on the piano, he set the frame on it to look upon her while he played. She would be his inspiration this night, and, if he were lucky, something worthwhile would come of it.

"When they said he was good, they certainly did not do him justice," Michael commented as he sat in the downstairs living room on the sofa, next to his wife.

Sarah nodded gently as she took another sip of the wine, "Lord, Michael, I've heard worse professionals." The rhythmic piano music continued as Michael and Sarah listened, quietly thinking of how things had turned out this evening.

"I know… I just don't understand how he could have developed such talent in a care home… I mean, they don't even have an upright or a keyboard. And, from what I've heard of his previous carers, neither did they."

Michael thought of Christine and how she would have loved to be with them right now listening to the most beautifully played piano they'd ever heard. He would keep it a surprise and hopefully it wouldn't be too difficult to get Erik to play for her when she got home – after all, he did seem quite taken with her photo. Sarah also thought of Christine, but she was more concerned with how she and Erik would get along. It had been a long time since Christine had been home while they had someone to look after and she wasn't sure how they would take to each other. It would be an absolute disaster if they fought – it would completely ruin Christine's holidays and she would not appreciate it when she was sent back in September. Sarah often worried about things such as these but she tried not to let them bother her too much and just hoped that Erik and Christine might find something in common – music, perhaps, if nothing else…

Lulled by the music and the wine, both Michael and Sarah began to fall asleep where they were, resting against each other. Michael's last semi-conscious thought before giving in to his exhaustion was a more than slightly disappointed comment about the music stopping…

True to form, Erik crept, unnoticed, back up the stairs after checking to see where Michael and Sarah were – he had found them asleep in each other's embrace in the living room. He made his way swiftly passed the first floor landing and up to the second floor where the bedrooms were. He had not been shown earlier which one was Christine's room – Michael had only told him where his own room was and, of course, theirs in case Erik should need them – but he was not averse to trying every single one until he found it.

Having been entirely unwilling and unable to part with the photograph when he had left the music room shortly before, he had removed it from its frame and hidden it somewhere only he could admire it. He knew the empty frame would be noticed sooner or later but he didn't much care if it meant he could keep the picture all to himself – years of living in a care home with a dozen other children taught one quite efficiently how to be totally selfish and how to get things for oneself. And, after all, he liked beautiful things. He was just taking it for his collection, he told himself.

The first door he tried was what seemed to be a spare room as there were no defining objects in it, so was the second, however, the third – the room directly opposite his – seemed to belong to her. It was much in keeping with the rest of the house but it had belongings in it that he decided must belong to a girl.

Closing the door over behind him, he stepped into the centre of the room to have a look around. On the bedside table was a picture of Michael and Sarah, another of Christine herself with a blond young man and a blonde young woman, and, beside them, a silver hairbrush. The door to her wardrobe was open but he did not wish to nose through her clothes and, now that he was actually in her room, he wondered if he could really just snoop around – it suddenly seemed like invading her privacy – not that it wasn't before but, somehow, it mattered now.

Resolving to come back later if he felt inclined to do so, Erik moved back out her door, closing it behind him, and walked back to check on his foster parents again. He passed the stairs just in time to see Michael enter the music room and he cringed – unlike with his previous foster parents, Erik had no wish to upset Michael or Sarah, but it could not be avoided. He made a hasty retreat back to his room and sat on the bed, waiting for the inevitable confrontation. He would not have to wait long…

"Erik," Michael said calmly as he entered the young man's bedroom, "do you have any idea where Christine's photograph has gotten to?"

"Should I have?"

"I've asked Sarah and she said she did not remove it and I know I didn't touch it. That, I'm afraid, only leaves you… Did you take it, Erik?" he asked as he sat on the bed next to him.

Erik remained silent awhile as he contemplated what answer to give Michael – he did not wish to make the situation worse – had it been anyone else they would probably have struck him by now.

"Was it you, Erik?"

"No…" Erik replied, more out of instinct than any conscious thought.

"Come now, Erik… are you telling me that it is more likely that some vagabond had the good grace to get in without breaking a window and then just passed by all of the CD players, antiques, artwork and other valuables, instead daring to live on the effects of a photograph of my daughter? Look, Erik, you can be honest with me, you know. I'm not angry with you; I just want you to tell me the truth. Did you take it?"

"Yes…" he sighed quietly, defeated. "I can make anything disappear… if I want to."

"Well…" Michael said, at a loss. "I'm not exactly sure why you took it, but you could have asked, you know – it's easily replaced… Anyway, it's late now and you should get some rest. Tomorrow's Monday so I'll be away for part of the day – Sarah will still be here if you need her and, of course, you may go anywhere in the grounds. I would ask you to behave but I am not sure it would be anything other than a waste of breath," Michael said, smiling gently at the boy as he stood to leave the room.

"I'll be down the hall if you need anything…" And, with that, he left Erik alone in the room to contemplate what, exactly, had just transpired.

© Copyright of CrawfordsBiscuits, September 2005