A/N: As always, a Super-Special thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir. Especially for the dance/lift scenes in this episode!
Erik: the Vampire Hunter
Episode 11: Help Unwanted
By: Elektra
De Chagny Residence
"I am rather disappointed in you," The man known as Leader began as he stood in Phillip's study, "Your brother was supposed to take that girl off my hands. It seems, however, that he's frightened her away with his sudden declarations of marriage. Such a thing must be done carefully, which it something your brother does not seem to understand," The taller man frowned. "This upsets me Philip."
Philip swallowed nervously. "I apologize for my brother's boldness, sir. He's young and impetuous. I think, perhaps, he is worried about the intentions of the girl's tutor. My brother says he is quite hideous and not someone he wants to leave Christine in the care of." Philip paused for a moment, then the realization hit him. "It is the TUTOR you have an interest in, isn't it? The girl is inconsequential!"
"Ah, you finally figured it out," Leader replied. "Yes, it is HIM that has peaked my interest. And for such a thing to work to my favour, your brother needs to grovel and beg the girl for forgiveness. To get her AWAY from HIM,"
Philip furrowed his brow. "What, exactly, is your interest in him? I mean... if he prefers girls-"
"SILENCE," the Leader roared. "It is NOT that kind of INTEREST!" He then met Philip's eyes, his voice growing low, almost hypnotic, "You will NOT ask questions. You will simply do as I say..." Philip nodded dumbly, "You will convince your brother to grovel for the girl's forgiveness, and NOT frighten her away from him. He must be delicate with such things, you understand. I cannot accept any mistakes, Philip! NOW..." Leader broke his hold on the other man. "Do what you must."
"Yes sir..." Philip replied, and headed off to speak to his brother.
Ravelle College - Auditorium
Christine picked gingerly at her bra top, and then tried in vain to pull the boy shorts down. This seemed a lot less revealing the day we tried them on.
With only two weeks until the show went up, Dean Giry had moved rehearsals on stage. Meg was in the corner with her leg straight up the wall, pulling herself into a vertical split. Everyone else was either fixing pointe shoe ribbons or removing articles of warm up clothing. Christine reluctantly pulled off her leg warmers and her shrug, and walked over to the rosin box.
Bobby Stevens appeared behind her and put his hand on her back. "You want to try the lift?"
"No, not really."
"You sure? It would be better to try it before the music is on and Dean Giry's watching."
Christine shrugged her shoulders and let Bobby lead her to the stage. He stepped away from her, and asked two other dancers to clear the space. "Ready whenever you are."
"Why don't we just mark it first, huh?'
"Okay."
Christine counted under her breath. Step one, battement two, step three, four, run to him five six…On seven, she stood right in front of Bobby, weight on her left foot. She kicked her right leg up on eight, and felt Bobby's hand go to that place on the inside of her thigh. I bet HE's watching us walk through this.
Bobby was counting with her. "Eight, press one," He grunted as if she was heavy, and Christine hit his chest. "Hold two, legs around three, four, drop five… come on Chrissy, let's try it once. We start the run in five minutes."
Christine sighed and nodded. She ran on the right counts, felt Bobby grab her thigh and she jumped as he lifted, then tossed her into the air off of his hands. She felt him catch her and she wrapped her legs around him on three, then threw her head back on four…only to look up and see a shadow on the catwalk.
Erik!
Her legs went weak as she was instantly aware of Bobby between her thighs, and as Bobby released her to go into the back bend, Christine fell unceremoniously to the floor, head first.
"Christine!" Meg came running on stage. "Are you okay?"
Giry's cane came crashing down. "What happened?"
Bobby threw his hands up. "I don't know! She just…fell!"
Christine rubbed her head and neck as Meg helped her up. "Dean Giry, it was my fault. I lost my concentration. It won't happen again." Erik is going to distract me to death, she thought angrily.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes."
"Good. Let's run 'Meditations' first, since Kitty has to leave early." Giry shot a withering glare at the graduate student who had choreographed the piece.
They were nearing the section Christine suddenly dreaded. Why do graduate students feel the need to push the envelope of indecency? Meg was finishing her solo, easily managing the three pirouettes and landing without a sound. She slid into a split, rolled to stand up, and ran off stage left.
Christine gave one more futile tug on her costume, and let Bobby grab her hand. The stage went dark, and the four couples slipped out to get into position. Christine and Bobby were in the front, right corner. He lay down, and guided her down with him. When the lights came up, she squeezed her eyes shut as Bobby lifted his arm from behind her and drew his hand along her shoulder and side. He's only doing what Kitty choreographed … although I think he's enjoying it a bit too much, the perv!
Finally, she was able to sit up and began to move, trying to get lost in the movement. She and Bobby curled and uncurled in and out of turns and transitions, everything going well enough. They managed the press lift, the embarrassing embrace and drop just fine, with Christine landing gently on the floor.
Christine was perspiring heavily under the demands of the choreography and the pressure of her unseen audience. She ran to Bobby and leapt into his hands, ready to be thrown up into the air, but his grip faltered. She fell into his embrace, and his hands slipped up to her chest. Bastard! He did that on purpose! She pushed away from him angrily, trying to count and find her place. She was utterly panicked, flushed, and just downright annoyed.
Only seconds later, she stepped into arabesque, grasping Bobby's sweaty hand, feeling utterly off-balance. He pulled her into his arms, turning her and dropping her backwards. Christine snuck a glance up and saw movement. Is Erik trying to make himself visible to me?
Bobby set her upright en pointe, but Christine started to lose her balance. Reaching out to her, Bobby grabbed her around the hips, grazing her rear end. At this Christine lost her cool, and was more than happy to run off stage.
"What was that?" she hissed, careful to keep her voice low. But she didn't need to ask. Bobby was well known for purposely putting his hands in the wrong places and feigning innocence.
"What? I was trying to help," Bobby whispered with a smirk.
"Help like that may lead you to jail, BOY…or to HELL…whichever I chose for you..." A deep, dangerous voice echoed off the walls of the auditorium. Time seemed to freeze, as the students looked high and low for the source.
"It's the ghost! He's here!" A young dancer named Jammes gasped aloud. Christine and Meg exchanged glances, both surprised that Erik would make his presence so obvious.
Dean Giry, on the other hand, looked incredibly angry. "Rehearsal is over!" Giry declared, much to the chagrin of her students.
With an angry bang of her stick, Giry looked up at the catwalk where Erik was hiding, and left the auditorium. The ghost of Ravelle College would soon feel the wrath of an angry ballet mistress...
Outside the De Chagny Residence – Dusk
Nadir watched as Leader left the home of Philip De Chagny. He could call the Guild now, inform them where Leader was, but he was quite sure the man… or whatever he was… would manage to disappear before they arrived.
Of course, that was provided Nadir could even get to his phone on time. For he saw an odd red glow in the oncoming darkness. No. Several odd red glows.
Which meant…Well, this is an unfortunate turn of events, Nadir thought as he was soon surrounded by five creatures that meant him great harm...
Pareau Women's Prison
The 49-year-old woman was startled from her reading by a loud clanging. She quickly jumped up, her blond-gray hair dishevelled as she focused her dark blue eyes on the two prison guards banging their nightstick against the bars of her cell, "Prisoner 261, you have a visitor!"
She furrowed her brow. The only visitors she ever had were her lawyer, and a few former associates, "Who is it?" she asked.
The guards frowned, "I suppose you'll find out," said the dark haired one. She slid the door opened and her partner took their prisoner's arm, the two of them leading her to the visitor's area.
261 was startled when she saw the stern woman who waited behind the glass for her. The woman wore a black dress, her dark hair tied back in a long braid.
261 quickly picked up the prisoner's phone, her voice harsh when she spoke, "Who are you, and what do you want?" she demanded.
"My name is Antoinette Giry," the woman began into the visitor's phone, "And I am here to ask you about your son,"
Ravelle College - Auditorium
Christine walked into the large empty auditorium nervously. Everyone was gone, scared away by the Ghost after Dean Giry had effectively ended rehearsals two hours ago. She climbed up onto the stage to practice a few steps. It was so much larger then the rehearsal room. She wanted to make sure her pacing was right.
Christine turned around, and started, seeing a moving shadow in the wings, "Are you hiding?" She asked.
"Ghosts do not HIDE," came a deep voice in response.
"They do if they know Dean Giry is going to kill them for interrupting her rehearsal,"
"Antoinette does not scare me." A pause. "You have not seen her around, have you?"
"No. I saw her leaving campus a little while ago. I guess she has other business," Christine studied the shadows, "You really shouldn't have interrupted, you know,"
"Perhaps I should have let Bobby's hands continue to slip instead," he answered.
"Well... it IS a hard lift... but..." Christine was hesitant. "He was slipping a little TOO much,"
"I could have lifted you without such problems."
Christine raised an eyebrow. "Really?" She asked. "I'd like to see you try."
Erik came out of the shadows and stood before her. "Very well..." he replied, then shrugged off his duster and tossed it aside.
Christine studied him a moment. Well, Bobby certainly had nothing on him. Erik had the build of a dancer, but with an added grace that was almost inhuman. Christine also couldn't help but notice that beneath his black tank top, he was inhumanly pale as well. She hadn't noticed it that night in his room since he had kept the place so dark, but here under the stage lights, she could see the faint traces of blue-black lines she thought were only regulated to his poor face actually seemed to cover his entire body. He looked like a beautiful white-marble statue.
"Christine?" Erik began, feeling a little uncomfortable at her sudden attention to his form, "Shall we do it?"
Christine's eyes went wide. "WHAT!" She gasped, then suddenly felt like a fool. "OH… the lift you mean… right. Um…" she grew nervous. "How much experience have you had? Uh… lifting ballerinas I mean!" she added quickly.
Erik shrugged absently. "I've been watching Giry's classes for 15 years now," he answered, then glanced back at her. "I will not drop you. I can promise you that much, at least..."
Christine had a feeling she could take him at his word. "You should stand there." She pointed upstage. Erik walked back and stood when she had indicated. "And I start here."
"Very well."
"And then, I…uh…run at you."
"Yes. Hopefully with a modicum of grace," he replied dryly.
She laughed nervously. "That's the general idea." Erik nodded and waited silently. "So, I pique arabesque on one," she went through the motions, "then I run two, three..." She stood right in front of him. "On four, I plie, and you put your hands on my…" She reached out for his wrists, "Hips." Both held their breath, and it took Christine a moment to find her voice again, trying to ignore the warmth of his hands, "Uh… not my waist, or you'll hurt me. Your hands will slip into my ribs. Or you'll lose your grip on me, and, well, you saw rehearsal." He nodded. "On five, I jump, you lift and the idea is that you lift and push, so I catch a little air. Then, hands back to hips, but you twist me a little, and your left hand goes to my lower back, and lay me down on the floor. I can, uh, take it from there." She stepped away. "Should we mark it once?"
"Do you need to?" he asked.
"Uh, no?" she answered meekly.
"Then let's get on with it," Erik replied impatiently.
Christine went to stand on her mark. "Five, six, seven, eight." She piqued on one, and started towards Erik, who readied his hands. She was just was just with in his grasp when she stopped short, and wrung her hands, flustered. "Sorry, sorry! I get nervous…doing all lifts really, not just this one. It's scary just throwing yourself at someone."
"Indeed," he answered sardonically.
Christine shook her head, rolled her shoulders and pressed her feet onto and off of pointe. Okay, I can do this. I can do this.
And so she began, ran to him, felt his hands connect with her hip, and before she could even react to that sensation, she plied on the count and he tossed her effortlessly into the air. So effortlessly that she went higher than normal, higher than ever really, and before she could help herself, she tensed and broke the position.
Erik must have sensed her fear, because he quickly grabbed for her hip and back, pulling her down to his chest. Her hands went to his shoulders, and the tips of her pointe shoes touched the stage. This… is kind of … nice… Christine thought, feeling oddly safe in the circle of Erik's arms...
"That didn't go well." He spoke, unaware of her thoughts.
She blinked a moment, then spoke, "Yeah… it's… just that… I guess you're stronger than Bobby. I went pretty high. It scared me."
"Don't worry, Christine. I would have caught you. I will always catch you," Erik replied, though she got the sense he was speaking about more then the lift. "Now shall we try again?" he asked.
There wasn't any room for opposition. She nodded nervously, then slowly pushed away from him and headed back to her earlier position. She took a deep breath, and ran at him once more. He tossed and caught her, his left hand slipping to her back. Before she knew it, her back was about one foot off the floor, and she was looking up at Erik's masked face. "Do I lower you to the ground?" he asked almost breathlessly.
I don't mind if you hold me like this for a bit… Christine thought silently, then quickly shook the thought out of her head. "Y-yeah… lower me…" No… please don't…
Erik's cell phone suddenly rang, breaking the moment. He quickly lowered Christine to the floor, then reached to the belt clip and grabbed it, "Yes, what is it?" he answered grumpily. There was a momentary pause, and then "Nadir! Where the hell are you-Nadir? What is all that noise? Are you OK? Nadir? Dammit, old man!" he shouted into the phone. He swore under his breath as he disconnected and placed the handset back on the clip at his belt. He bolted from the auditorium, taking only a moment to grab his duster before he disappeared into the darkness of the wings.
Christine couldn't help but follow…
Ravelle College – Outside the gates
Christine finally caught up to Erik, and saw what had worried him so. The masked man and a much older man were surrounded by unfriendly company. They were obviously outnumbered.
Christine could only watch as Erik was besieged by three vampires at once. Despite that, he managed to use a mix of strength and quickness to hold the monsters at bay. Quickness the other man didn't possess.
Christine wanted to help. But how? An idea came to her. She quickly gathered her wits, took a deep breath, parted her lips… and sang.
Her voice rang clear through the night, and the creatures momentarily stilled, distracted by the strange sound emanating from the unseen girl in the darkness.
She raised her voice stronger, louder. The wordless harmonies echoed in the open space, allowing Erik and his friend the advantage. The older man shot his crossbow at two retreating vampires, easily turning them to dust.
Christine continued to sing. She saw the men work together to converge on the four remaining vampires. She heard two monsters scream their final screams, heard at least one run away.
Erik sensed Christine's presence the moment she had arrived. And now… he sensed her fear. Fear of seeing him harmed by his adversaries.
And then he sensed it. A vampire sneaking up behind him.
"ERIK!" Christine cried out as she ran into the foray before the masked man realized her intentions. Before he could take care of the vampire on his own. Before the girl thought about the consequences.
But then… Christine Daaé had always be driven by emotions, not logic…
She heard Erik shout out to her, but a hard fist from the vampire she had charged at left her head swimming. She lay on the ground, unable to make sense of anything for the moment. Especially not the vampire sliding over her, the feel of his hot breath against her neck, nor the stake that turned him to dust before he'd had a chance to dig his fangs into her soft flesh.
Her blurry eyes turned to see Erik standing a few feet away, his body still in the position of one who had just thrown a dart. The look in his eyes was that of pure animalistic rage… and frightening satisfaction.
Christine saw no more as darkness took over.
Erik's room
When Christine awoke, she noticed she was on Erik's bed, the masked man hovering over her with a cold compress, his velvet duster covering her like a blanket, still warm from his body. "Are you a complete and utter FOOL?" He hissed angrily. "Do you know what could have happened? What they could have DONE to you! What on Earth possessed your little mind to get involved in something you had NO RIGHT to get involved in?"
"Ah… Erik…" The older man, who had thus far been standing several feet away, finally spoke. "Perhaps you should let me speak to the girl, hmm?" Erik swore under his breath and handed the other man the compress as he stood up and went to sit on the floor in a dark corner of the room. "You'll have to excuse Erik. He has yet to learn his manners. You'd think at his age he would know how to talk to a lady." The man let out a dramatic sigh. "But alas, he believes everyone should be as miserable as him." The man then smiled a kind warm smile, and held his free hand out to Christine. "My name is Nadir Khan, my dear. And I suppose you are Erik's new friend? Christine Daaé, yes?"
Christine wanted to ask Nadir how he knew about the vampires, how he knew what Erik did at night, how he seemed rather practiced in such matters himself… but she couldn't find the nerve.
Instead, she simply shook the man's hand. "Is he really angry?" she asked softly.
Nadir shrugged. "I think you gave him quite a fright… and Erik is not one to frighten easily." The two heard Erik scoff from his dark little corner. Nadir sighed, "…the boy carried you all the way back here on his own. Wouldn't even let me near you."
"Your feeble arms would have dropped her," Erik muttered.
Nadir rolled his eyes. "As you can see, Erik is a rather pleasant fellow…" Christine giggled at that. "Oh, but you do have a precious little smile."
"I think you're done here, Nadir!" Erik stood up, arms crossed, eyes glowering angrily.
"Excuse me just a moment, Miss Daaé," Nadir handed Christine the compress to hold against her own head, and stood up to walk over to Erik, talking softly so the girl couldn't overhear, "She has no idea how you feel, does she?" Nadir asked.
Erik frowned. "Not now. Not ever."
"And why not?" Nadir asked, "For goodness sake, the girl lunged at a vampire for you."
"Because I am her friend, Nadir. She would do the same for Little Giry. It means nothing more than that."
"And how would you know?" Nadir asked with a raised eyebrow.
"Look at her, Nadir!" Erik explained, "She's beautiful," he glanced away, his voice growing soft. "And I am not."
Nadir opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by a soft voice. "Erik?" The two men turned to see Christine walking towards them. Erik wondered if she had she heard his discussion with Nadir. Christine studied the masked hunter for a moment, biting her lip nervously. "I'm sorry … for getting involved. I… I was just-" she stopped and looked down at the floor. "I didn't want to see you get hurt, that's all."
"And I'm sure Erik appreciates that, my dear," Nadir replied. "Oh… and now I must leave you! I'll see you later then." Without another word, Nadir quickly left the room.
He left a little too quickly, Erik thought, and realized he was now left alone to face Christine. "You'll probably have a headache in the morning," was all he could muster as the lovely girl stood there looking up at him. He reached out and gently touched the bump on her forehead, which was now turning a rather interesting shade of purple. "How will you explain this?" he asked.
She shrugged. "I'll say that I fell trying to practice on my own,"
Erik nodded, then brushed his long graceful fingers down Christine's cheek, so very lovely… he thought, his gesture receiving a comely blush. Erik quickly pulled his hand away, immediately turning his back to the girl. He had no right to taint her with his touch. "You should go back to your room. Get some sleep." His voice was cold. Even. Not once betraying the emotions that twisted painfully inside him.
"Erik…" Christine reached her arms out hesitantly before dropping them back to her side. He seemed to be suffering from some inner turmoil. With his earlier anger at her interference, she did not think a hug would have been welcomed. Christine let out a slow shaky breath as she studied his tense back. "Ok, Erik. I'll go. I'm sorry I angered you so much…"
Erik finally turned back to face her, but she had already started gathering her purse and coat. She turned to him briefly, and met his eyes. Those golden depths looked warm, and painfully sad. "Christine…" he began, suddenly summoning the courage to tell her what Nadir had suggested, "I was worried because I-"
The ringing of Christine's cell phone broke the moment. She apologized as she clumsily reached into her purse and pulled it out, "Hello?" a pause, then the girl's eyes went wide. "Raoul! Finally! I wanted to talk to you… about what happened between us-" another pause. "Tomorrow night? Ok. I'll meet you then," she disconnected, then turned her attention back to Erik, only to see that his eyes, which had been warm moments ago, now turned to ice. "Erik?"
"Go back to your dorm, Christine."
"But-"
"LEAVE!" he interrupted.
She frowned angrily. "You're still mad. Fine. Be that way! Remind me not to try and help you again."
He stepped closer to her, golden eyes aflame. "I did not need your help! I have never needed anyone's help! Not now. Not when I was a child. Not ever!"
Christine froze for a moment. In his voice, she heard pain. Intense pain disguised as anger. She opened her mouth to speak, but realized any words she could have said would have proven futile.
In the following silence, the petite dancer turned gracefully on her heel and headed out of Erik's room.
Pareau Women's Prison
"I have no son," 261 snorted at Anotinette Giry, "What would possibly give you that idea?"
Giry held a piece of paper up to the glass, "Is this not your signature? Madeline Renau? I tried looking for his father, but it seems the man whose name you put here does not exist."
Madeline looked away from the birth certificate that mocked her, "A fake name."
"Charles Garner - a play on the great architect. Did you have any idea your son would follow in the fake man's footsteps?"
Madeline's eyes went wide, a brief look of pride came over her face. "Erik is an architect?"
"Among other things," Giry replied, then arched an eyebrow, "So you are admitting Erik is your son then?"
Madeline frowned, "Yes, Madame Giry. I have a bastard son named Erik! What of it?"
"Who was his father?"
"What business is it of yours?" she asked.
"I am concerned about Erik and I just wish to know more about the man who fathered him," Giry replied. If the Guild wasn't going to give her answers about Erik's background, then she would find out herself.
"He didn't look like Erik, that's for sure!" she snorted. "He was beautiful, muscular, tall. He looked like a Greek god! The kind any woman would lust for," she then narrowed her eyes. "And my son is not your concern!"
"Apparently, he wasn't your concern either," Giry replied coolly, her voice disapproving.
"Are you here to tell me what a horrible mother I was? Social Services made that abundantly clear when they took him away from me when he was ten! Then they LOST him when he was fifteen!" She snapped. "I haven't laid eyes on him in twenty years," she relaxed a little, "Of course, he's free to visit, though I doubt he even knows I'm locked up here."
Giry studied the woman before her. "You'd be surprised at what Erik knows," she replied. "He is quite aware his mother is in jail for running a whore house and pushing drugs."
"A woman's gotta make a living somehow. Don't forget I was charged with petty theft too," Madeline then smirked. "Petty theft was the one thing I taught Erik at a young age. He was good at it, you know. He was very skillful at not being seen."
"He still is," Giry answered. "It's a talent."
Madeline nodded, "He has several talents," she said. "I remember how he used to sing for me with the voice of an angel. I guess he was hoping for some kind of emotional response," she shrugged. "He even taught himself how to play piano," she took a deep breath and put a hand to her eyes. "He was a brilliant boy. Far beyond his years," she stopped, and Giry could hear a quiet sob escape her throat. "I was too caught up in drinking, drugs, and men to notice how much he tried to love me. Probably the only one who ever did love me, and I treated him like he carried the plague. Just rejected him outright."
Giry's voice was quiet when she spoke again. "And his father?"
Madeline shook her head, "I was only nineteen, maybe twenty. Lost. Confused. I didn't know what to do. He was there the day Erik was born. He said he'd be watching him... but the next day, he disappeared from our lives!" She looked up at Giry, a bitter frown on her lips. "He obviously couldn't stand the sight of his son's face."
"What else can you tell me about him?" Giry pressed.
Madeline thought a moment, then allowed a small smile to come to her lips. "There was a dark charisma about him that I couldn't refuse. I wanted him like I had wanted no other man. It was as if he placed a spell on me, drawing me in. It was his eyes - something in those eyes could make a person do things they wouldn't otherwise do. I often thought he was beyond any normal man," she then snapped out of her reverie, her voice growing icy, "But of course, leaving us flat made it clear he WAS a normal man! I have no idea where he is now, or where he disappeared too. If I'm lucky, he's dead," she sighed softly. "I don't see why any of this matters."
"Did he have a temper?" Giry asked.
Madeline met Giry's eyes. "Yes. A fearsome temper. He took it out on me several times... and yet, I always went back to him," she bit her lip. "Don't tell me Erik has inherited that," she looked horrified. "Don't tell me he's turned into a heartless beast!"
"Erik can be cold, even dangerous... but he can also be very kind and gentle," her voice then grew quiet. "As he is with her."
"Her?" Madeline leaned forward, curious now. "There's a her?"
Giry looked up, not meaning to say her last words aloud. "A friend, nothing more."
"Is she pretty?" Madeline asked.
"Beautiful," Giry replied. "A nineteen-year old dancer he is currently teaching music to."
"A girl like that won't be anything more then a friend to someone like him," Madeline replied. "And I imagine Erik is smart enough to know that."
"Time's up, 261!" A voice interrupted their conversation, a burly female guard coming up to Madeline and Giry. "Time to head back to your cell."
"Wait," Giry got to her feet and turned to the guard who stood beside her. "Give this to Madeline. She should have it," she handed the guard Erik's birth certificate. "And she should never again forget that she has a son…"
END OF EPISODE 11