Disclaimer: All originating characters and storylines belong to their respectful owner. This is mostly a continuation of ALW's work, but I do throw GL a couple of good nods. All new characters and sub-plots are my original work and are not to be used/reproduced without my expressed permission. Enjoy the story and shoot some feedback my way if you can! Thanks for reading.
Author's Note: So it has been a while since I last updated. Sorry that it has taken so long. I've been super busy at work and my writing has suffered. Hope to get back into groove soon! - t
Phanatic: Thanks for your continued support! It really means a lot to me!
Tomy: Welcome aboard. Glad you are enjoying it!
Chapter Thirteen
Meg's limp body was difficult for Erik to maneuver. As he tried to keep his balance, Erik found himself swaying from side to side. He shuddered every time he heard Meg's head thump along the wall. A few times he had to stop and collect his breath. In his prime, this would have been an easy task. Erik softly had to remind himself that he was getting along in his years and no longer the strapping young man he once was. He was angry for having to admit this small defeat. In the small opening where Meg had kept Christine and him captive, Erik put Meg gently on top of the rope netting. He went back outside into the musky evening air. Inhaling deeply, he thought to himself that there was nothing as comforting to him as the smell of the Paris night sky, even if the old stables were but a few meters from him.
He pulled his cloak tightly around his body and made sure that his face was covered. Heading toward the street he stopped at a small fruit stand. Purchasing some apples and grapes, he thanked the cowering boy left to tend the stand while his mother was away. The bakery was only a few blocks down. Erik admonished himself for not getting prepared before retrieving Meg as he filled the first of two canteens from a nearby well. He hoped that she wouldn't wake up before he returned.
After he finished gathering all the food and water he could carry, he returned to look over a stable from across the opera house main gate. It was attached to three-story brick home that was owned by a very prominent member of Paris' influential circle of self-appointed members. Madame Sherriney was a friend to the Persian once before. Nadir had always told Erik to call upon her whenever the need would arise. He assured Erik that any request would never be denied. Erik hoped that his luck would hold true. He did not think twice of it when he rasped the door handle. It was only after the long wait that he panicked about the hour he was calling upon her. A stately looking older gentleman answered the door in his nightclothes. Sizing Erik, he calmly answered in an annoyed lisp, "Who calls at this late hour? The lady of the house is sleeping and does not wish to be disturbed."
Erik whispered, "Tell your lady that an interested party inquires on behalf of her old Persian friend, Nadir." That comment seemed to work as the butler's eyes grew slightly larger and he graciously allowed Erik to enter. Erik followed up the stairs, the butler lighting candles along the way. Madame Sherriney's town home was adorned with exquisite tapestries from around the world. Many gifts, he knew, must have been from Nadir himself. The butler showed Erik to a small, but crowded sitting room. This area was filled with a various mishmash of trinkets and statues that seemed to have all been placed here for lack of space in the rest of the home.
As he was looking over an ivory horn carving, a small voice called from behind him. "Nadir said that you might come here someday." Erik turned to see an elegant, but small woman dressed in sheer lavender robes. Her hair was half up in a chignon, but the rest of it flowed past her right shoulder in curls. It was dark crimson, but Erik could see the white strands speckled throughout. The redness of her hair was not a trait that French women had naturally. She smiled grandly. "I had always hoped to see you someday. My Naddy spoke so highly of you." She walked around and sat in a billowy chair across the room. "I would offer you some tea, but I do not think that is why you have called upon me, is it?"
"No, Madame Sherriney, but I thank you all the same," Erik replied, bowing. "I am in need of a horse and carriage. I have some - "Erik hesitated, "Some business that needs to be taken care of, post haste. Nadir said that you might be able to help me." When she didn't immediately respond, he continued, "My friend is in a bit of troub - "
Madame Sherriney gently waved him off, "I do not need to know specifics." She nodded at her butler. "Favien will help you with anything you need." She stared at Erik for a moment, "You are not as menacing as the stories would have you. I am glad to have finally met you, Erik. Please, if you ever need anything again, do not stop to see me sometime. I very much enjoy the company." She got up to return to her chambers.
"Madame," Erik called after her, "I do not know when, or if, I will able to return."
She turned her head, "They are gifts to you to do what you with. It is my pleasure." Seeing his hesitation, she prodded, "Please, I insist. It is the least I can do for him." Erik bowed graciously and started to leave. She called out, "Have you seen him?"
Erik turned back, "It has been nearly three years without word, Madame." He saw her nod her head.
"I thought as much. If you should see him before I do, please tell him that I miss him terribly." She turned to look at Erik one more time, "He was such a dear person to me. I would very much like to see him again, even if just one more time."
Erik simply nodding again and met with Favien in the stable. A white and brown spotted mare was already hitched to a small buggy. "I hope that this will suffice," Favien droned. "I could get a bigger one ready for you, Monsieur, if that is your wish."
After Erik told him that it would be fine, he rode back to the stable yard of the Opera Populaire. Quickly, he ran inside to see if Meg had escaped, but he was relieved to find her sleeping peacefully as he left her. He took some rope from the hoist and began wrapping it around her ankles and wrists. With a heavy heave, he threw her over his shoulders and began to transport her to the carriage. Placing her delicately in the seat, he threw his bag to the front and began his trip to Troyes. He rode through to the sunrise whistling songs to help keep him awake. Finally when he could go on, he stopped near a small wooded area to close his eyes and rest. A small stream with greenery was enough for the horse. He unhitched her and tied her to the tree. The mare paced about to eat and drink before lying on its side. Erik placed a heavy blanket over her, stoking her neck. She whinnied back to him. He smiled at her. He sat back on the carriage. Perching himself to nod off, he let himself drift off to a much needed sleep.
A small rustling jostled Erik back awake. Meg must have risen from her induced sleep. Her screams were muffled from inside. Reluctantly, he stepped off and retrieved some fruit and bread from his knapsack. He carefully opened the door and jumped back as a precaution. Meg lashed her feet at him, "You monster! You drugged me and then kidnapped me!" It was hard for Erik not to laugh as Meg thrashed about. She let out a primal scream that echoed in the wilderness. "Let me go!"
Erik could not help but laugh at her after the last scream. "Don't you dare mock me! Release me at once!" Meg screamed furiously.
"I can leave you here, mademoiselle, if that is really what you want. But I feel that I should warn you. You see, as I cannot untie you until we arrive at our destination, you would be bait for all the creatures that live in those woods," Erik calmed replied pointed to the trees. "But if you insist, I will leave you here on your own accord." He leaned forward to carry her out. As if on cue, a horrible sound came out from the forest. Meg froze. "So you are not as brave as you seem. How about I let you out so that you can relieve yourself, eat some food, and then we can be on our way." Meg looked as though she were calculating another route to escape but slowly nodded her head in reluctance. Erik went back to help her before stopping to warn her, "I do still have that bottle of chloroform and will not hesitate to use it again. I hope that I won't."
Meg seemed to understand as her body went soft. Erik carried her into the privacy of some trees and bushes. "You will have to manage the best you can," he said to her empathetically. "I cannot risk you being able to run away." Reluctantly, he loosened her wrists slightly. "That will have to be enough to work with." Seeing her squirm, he told her, "I know that it is difficult. Believe me," he whispered, "I know. This is the best I can do. I'm sorry." Erik turned back to the carriage. Looking at the sky, he thought that it must be mid-day at least. He retrieved an apple from his sack and went back to the mare.
Picking up the tossed blanket, he saddled up next to her laying his face on her warm body. "Good girl, he whispered. "Just a little more to go." She turned and nipped at the prize he carried in his hand. Erik happily gave her the well-earned treat. He heard her crunching through it as he went back for Meg. She was waiting for him, indignant. Stepping towards her, he asked, "Will I have to tighten those, or can I trust you to behave yourself?"
Meg stared loathsomely at Erik before grunting, "You can trust me." Erik smiled and led her back to the coach. He gave her two apples, some grapes, a loaf of bread and one of the canteens of water after she was seated in the back. She waited until he left to fill his canteen before she dove into her feast. Erik refilled his water and hitched the mare back to the carriage. He would have to ride through the woods before he could tell how far it would be to his destination.
Now that Meg was awake, he heard her thump against the side whenever she had to stop. He didn't complain. He knew the horse was tired as well. They stopped again at night to sleep. Meg did not speak to him at all. The next day Meg continued to stop the carriage. After two breaks, Erik figured that Meg must have fallen asleep since there were no more interruptions. He started whistling to himself again as he caught himself nodding off. Without thinking, he began to whistle the melody of some of the songs he had once coached to Christine. He stopped as soon as he realized. It wasn't long before his mind began to wander back to her. He took small comfort in his bittersweet memories.
Lost in his thoughts, his head began to dip and bend with exhaustion. Just as he thought he would doze away, a huge clap of thunder erupted from the sky. The clouds unleashed a cascade of water. The jolt gave Erik the much-needed adrenaline to get him through the rest of his journey.
For its proximity to Paris, it was surprising how Troyes had remained mostly pastoral in nature. There was only one billowing smokestack from a small industrial plant, but it could hardly overpower the view. Erik could not help but gaze at the beauty of rolling hills surrounding the town. As he rested for a brief moment, the rain started to die away and through the storm clouds Erik saw the most brilliant cornflower blue sky peeking through. Making sure his face was concealed, he led the mare into the heart of the small town. Not finding any recognizable signs, he stopped a young woman walking in the street. "Excuse me, Mademoiselle, I am looking for an old friend. Madame Giry? Do you know where I could find her?"
"Madame Giry?" she questioned. "I am sorry, monsieur, I am not familiar with this name."
"I believe she teaches here at the dancing school."
"Hmm. Well, I know the miller is housing some has-been from Paris. Perhaps she is teaching his daughters? He lives at the end of the town. Down near the creek" she pointed, indicating where he needed to go. "Just two streets down. It is next to the windmill."
After he thanked her grittingly through his teeth, Erik continued on his path. People on the street stared at him as he rode past. Furious at their audacity, Erik forced the horse into a full gallop to his destination. The school was nothing more than a large shed next to the miller's building. His heart dropped. This is what Madame Giry had reduced to after Erik's fiasco. Guilt sat heavily in the bottom of his stomach. He checked in on Meg. She was still sleeping. Securing the horse to a nearby post, he made his way to the entrance. His gloved hand only tapped on the door twice before a young girl greeted him. She looked no older than five or six and stood petrified at the masked figure framed in the door. "Umm, hello. Is Mada -"
Before Erik could finish, she let out a piercing scream. Erik jumped in alarm and fumbled over himself trying to calm her down, without success. Her teacher escorted her to the back of the room. Still turned away, Madame Giry cried out angrily, "I insisted that there was not to be any interrup-" She stopped suddenly turning back to look at the figure guarding the doorway. "Who are you?" She asked quickly, "What business do you have here? The miller should be back at any moment if you would just wait!" Erik could only stare at her. She still had fire in her eyes and had hardly aged a day. When he didn't answer, she spat back, "What do you want, then?"
"Perhaps it is better that we speak in private, madam." Erik told her.
"I asked you a question, monsieur" she replied indignantly. "You are interrupting my class. I expect a direct answer, this moment, before I continue with this charade."
Regaining his composure, he leaned in. Making sure that no one else was able to see him, Erik pulled a small corner of his cloak away. "It is your ghost, Madame. Please, I need your he –" but Madame Giry wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight Looking up at him, she tenderly wiped off some dust that accumulated on his overcoat.
"Erik! Oh, Erik, is it really you?" She beamed at him. "You are all right! I didn't think I would ever see you again!" When he didn't reciprocate her excitement, her face dropped. When she pulled away, she shouted back at her students, "Class is over for today. Please, go home now."
Disappointed, the girls began moaning their displeasure. "Now!" Madame Giry snapped back at them. "We will make up for it later, I promise." Erik quickly recovered his face as only four girls passed him to leave. Each one stopped and stared at him in terror. "Go, quickly. And don't stare. It's rude!" Madame Giry ushered them out. The girl that had answered the door stopped to inspect Erik even closer. Before Madame could stop her, the little girl kicked him in the shins and ran off. "Horrid creature. My apologies. Please, come in," she asked to Erik. She led them into a small back room with a tiny kitchen and two beds. "I will put on some tea. Make yourself comfortable."
"I need you to see this first," Erik said rubbed his leg. He pointed back outside.
"What exactly are you here for?" Madame Giry asked, involved with her task. "To take me away from all of this? Rescue me?" She laughed. Looking back to him, "It is good to see you, Erik. It has been too long, old friend." She retrieved two matching china cups from a cupboard above.
"It's Meg, Madame." Erik solemnly answered.
Madame Giry stopped suddenly, dropping one of the cups to the floor. She turned back to look at Erik, "You have seen her?"
"She is not well, I fear. She's been at the Opera house, Madame. She's been there for quite sometime, now. Almost a year."
Madame Giry simply nodded and retrieved another cup from the cupboard, "So what is five more minutes?" She slammed the kettle on the stove and turned back to Erik, her eye glowing with anger. "You don't know what that girl put me through. I awoke one morning to find her gone. Without a note, or saying good-bye." She tossed her hand in the air. "If she is not well, it is of her own doing."
"You don't mean that." Erik empathized with her. "You should really - "
"Why wouldn't I!" she yelled as she forcefully pounded her cup on the table. "She deserted me." Glancing brazenly at Erik, "Much the way you did." She leaned in on her elbow, burying her forehead into her hand. Sighing, she said, "You know, she was the one who saved me afterwards. Found someone that would take us in. I really can't blame her for wanting to escape this horrible place." She got up and began cleaning the chattered porcelain scattered across the floor. "I don't know why she would go back there." Erik crawled down to help her. "Thank you," she whispered, wiping away some tears that had started to form. "If she is such dire need of help, why wouldn't she come to see me herself?"
"Madame, she needs you. Now." Erik pleaded with her, trying to lead her back outside.
She brushed Erik off. "I am not going anywhere with you. If Meg needs my help, she can come ask for it herself."
Erik growled and stormed away. Madame Giry threw her head back in defiance. When she saw Meg limp in his arms, she caved in worry, "Oh no! What has happened?"
"Nothing," he whispered hoarsely with great effort, "She is sleeping." He placed Meg on the bed.
"Meg? Wake up! Mama's here." Madame Giry desperately cried out to her, "Mama's here!" She turned ferociously to Erik. "What did you do? Look at my little girl! You have her chained like an animal. Is this why you came for me! This is the trouble she was in?" Madame Giry traced her hand delicately along the cuts and bruises on her face. She rose and lunged at Erik, beating on his chest. "She was still a little girl! She didn't deserve this! How could you do this to me! To her!"
Erik placed his hands over hers and placed them down to her sides. "I have to attend to the horse." Without any more answers, Madame Giry only stared after him as he left.
Meg's eyes fluttered gently. Madame let out a small sigh. Slowly, Meg rose from her deep sleep. When she saw where she was, she looked back up to her mother and spat on her face.
"Meg!" Madame Giry admonished her, slapping her face. "What's come over you? What do you think you are doing!" Madame Giry tried to maintain her dignity as she cleaned her face with the back of her hand. She stood and walked across to the other side of the room. She ran back out to Erik.
"That is not the daughter I remember." Madame Giry glanced nervously at the house. "What happened to her?"
"She is in your care, Madame. I will leave her to you." Erik tried to shy away and leave.
Madame quickly grabbed his arm and pulled him forward to face her once again. "You cannot walk away from me this time Erik. I might have been afraid to confront you before, but not now. You will tell me, this instant, what exactly happened to my daughter. I refuse to play anymore games with you."
Erik sympathetically sighed, "I do not think that it would be wise to answer that."
"And why would that be?" was her curt reply. "Obviously something happened, and you were there to see it." She rolled her eyes at him. "You cannot all this way only to leave me here with this mad person for which I have no idea how or why it happened to begin with. You will answer me, Erik!"
"What, do you want me tell me that your daughter never learned the skills to cope with the outside world? Do want me to tell you that everyday she was out here she felt isolated and alone because you refused to act like her mother and provide for her? Or perhaps you would like me to tell you that her mind is so far lost that she convinced herself that she had kill Christine? Take your pick Madame. Which will you have it?" Erik bellowed out to her. "Your daughter is sick and needs your help. She has been hurting for you, Madame, even if she does not seem to care about you."
Madame Giry stood shocked and silent. They stood staring at each other. It took a moment to gather her thoughts. A single tear trickled down her stone face. Looking Erik in the eyes, she asked, "Is all that you told me true? Does she really hold me responsible? When Erik nodded, she sobbed quietly, " I never thought - I didn't mean for this to happen. I never wanted - " She clutched her fist to her chest and fell to the ground crying. "Oh, Erik, how could I let this happen? I should have gone after her. I should have tried to find her. I'm her mother," she pleaded with him, "I shouldn't have let her just walk away. What if she were dead? What if some stranger on the street had to be the one to tell me that my own daughter was dead?" Madame Giry began crying hysterically into her hands.
Erik kneeled beside her, "Madame, she isn't dead. Meg wants to do what's right. Deep down, I think she knows what she has done is wrong. You have to help her, show her the way. You are the only one that can."
Madame Giry wiped her nose with a hanky tucked into her sleeve. "You're right," she nodded in agreement, "I am her mother, after all. If not me, then who will help her?" She stood up to return into the house. "I am the one who must fix this."