A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir.
Episode 46: Dedication
By: Elektra
Populaire dance studio
"Meg, step forward please."
Meg obeyed and moved to stand in the center of the floor.
"'Bluebird' variation, please. William, press play."
The familiar score pounded through the speakers, and Meg took a deep breath. She stood in B plus, her left leg bent behind her, her wrists crossed in front, her head tilted delicately to the right. Madame Giry taught this variation to her when she was a teenager, and for once Meg was grateful for her mother's strict adherence to traditional pieces.
She kept her ballon light, her feet absolutely stretched with each emboité, and her face set in a mask of ease and delight.
Meg finished to a round a soft clapping, even from Giselle. "Good. Michelle, I'd like for you to do the same." Meg hurried off the floor to stand next to Christine.
To Meg, Michelle's extension was slightly higher, but she lacked the buoyancy of Meg's interpretation. Meg's critical eye followed Michelle's every move, until she found herself clapping softly along with the rest of the class.
"Very good, girls." Giselle smiled proudly. "You're all dismissed."
When the class emptied out, Giselle called over Meg and Michelle before they could leave. "I would say you two are at the same level." She began. "It's a shame the other students don't seem to be following your lead." She looked directly at Christine, who was waiting for Meg just outside the doorway, then brought her gaze back to the two girls before her.
"Of course, you're not perfect yet," Giselle stressed. "But I would say you could both have careers as principals in an established company, provided you steer clear of injuries. It's only a matter of which one of you dedicates the most time and effort to it."
Meg and Michelle both smiled and curtsied to Ms. LeFleur, thanking her for her kind words.
Meg thought over her options as she changed back into her t-shirt and jeans. She wanted to be a dancer. It had been her dream since she was little.
She could return to school in the fall, but that idea no longer appealed to her.
It was then that Meg decided – no matter what the consequences – she would audition for the ballet corps at the Populaire and hopefully start her career.
Air ducts
Erik watched the class exit from below. Meg truly was skillful as far as ballet was concerned. His beloved, on the other hand…
He let out a sigh. He would support Christine in whatever she wished to do, but seeing her stumble on more than one occasion, even he had to admit that perhaps she was just not cut out for ballet.
Christine had a fair amount of grace and could do what needed to be done. The only problem was, she took her time doing it.
Unfortunately, taking one's time was not an option on stage. She could not always remain one step behind the rest of the ballet corps, and while her ballet lessons had given her much needed skills – and a slender little figure - he knew the life of a ballet dancer was not for her.
Yet, his angel would be on stage. She would be the Populaire's star diva. And he would do whatever he had to do to make sure that happened.
Outside the Populaire
Adam watched the class taking place inside the dance studio. The other girl, Michelle, seemed to be competition for his little swan. They were both quick, agile, and graceful, and could do the combinations without hesitation.
Michelle would never outshine his swan, though. Never.
As Ms. LeFleur had said, success was a race between the two girls.
He was determined that his swan would win that race. And Adam would do whatever he had to do to make sure that happened.
Meg and Christine's Apartment – Saturday morning
Erik watched the woman beside him sleep. He studied the look upon her face – sweet and content. Had HE been the cause of such a look?
"Erik?" Christine spoke sleepily as her blue eyes fluttered open. "What's up?"
He ran long slender fingers down her cheek. "Nothing." He spoke softly. "But I think I will always be amazed by you."
"Why?" Christine asked.
He raised a hand to his exposed face, his mask lost on the floor among their discarded clothing. "Because you embraced what no one else could. Some thing that may or may not even be human."
Christine frowned and pulled away from him, rolling over to face the wall and give him the graceful curve of her bare back.
"Christine?" Erik asked, brow furrowed at her sudden mood change. She didn't answer. Erik reached out and traced a finger gently down her spine. "What is wrong?" She remained silent.
Erik slid an arm around her waist, tugging her back. She struggled half-heartedly, but soon allowed herself to relax against his chest.
"Stop talking like that," she answered finally. "Stop calling yourself a thing!"
"I am only being honest."
Christine wiggled in his arms and turned around to meet his eyes. She cupped his face with her hands. "You're being self-deprecating , not honest."
She knew why he considered himself monstrous, but she could not put together what she knew of the Guild's Executioner with the man in whose arms she lay now. She could not comprehend that the son of a creature whose origins no one even knew was the same man with whom she had shared herself last night.
If Erik was anything outside of human, she preferred to think of him as the angel of music.
"I am not going to pretend I am normal, Christine."
"You don't get it!" Christine raised her voice as she pushed herself into a sitting position, not caring that the bed sheet covered absolutely nothing now. "You ARE normal. Normal, every day Erik – and everything 'normal Erik' includes doesn't make you any less of a person!"
Before Erik could respond, a scream erupted from outside the bedroom.
He immediately jumped out of bed, tugging on the leather trousers that had 'mysteriously' ended up on the floor the night before.
He ran out of Christine's room only to be faced with Little Meg Giry, who took one look at him… and proceeded to scream even louder before she finally turned away. "Your mask, Erik!"
Christine ran out in her robe, holding Erik's mask out to him. "Sorry, Meggy - we heard you scream and he got all instinctive."
"Yeah. I figured," Meg replied. "Didn't even know he was here."
Erik quickly grabbed the mask from Christine, covering his face immediately. "My apologies, Little Giry. I imagine that was not the most pleasant sight first thing in the morning."
Taking a deep calming breath, Meg finally turned back to him. "Sorry… it's just-" he held up a hand to silence her, needing no explanation. She had seen his face only once before, and had reacted the same way. He did not hold it against her.
Meg briefly wondered how many times Christine had seen Erik's face before she had grown used to … that.
"Right," Meg cleared her throat. "Um… guess I should tell you why I was screaming before."
"Yes, please do." Erik replied, crossing his arms over his chest.
Meg held out the box in her hands, revealing a dozen flowers of various types and colours. She was practically beaming with joy. "It just came to the door!" She giggled excitedly as she held out the card. "From my secret admirer!"
"Oh Meggy! Maybe they're from Raoul." Christine clapped her hands excitedly.
Meg nodded eagerly. "I was thinking that too! Maybe he's sorry for totally blowing me off this past week." She looked up at Erik. "Um… yeah… so that scream was a HAPPY scream. Well… until I saw you. Er… no offense."
Erik glanced over at Christine. "Funny - I've been told I'm normal. A normal, every day corpse." He shrugged. "Some women find that attractive."
Christine frowned. "I don't find corpses attractive!"
"Really? Were you not trying to convince me otherwise?"
Meg looked back and forth between the two. "Um, guys? This is probably not the best time to-"
"That's NOT what I was referring too!" Christine stomped a little foot angrily, ignoring Meg's protests.
Meg tried to interject again, feeling rather uncomfortable to be witnessing a lover's quarrel. "Maybe you two should go back into the room and-"
"You know, maybe you should buy yourself a casket." Christine interrupted as she continued glaring at Erik. "I mean, if you're so convinced you're death incarnate, then I really shouldn't have let you anywhere near my bed!"
Erik stormed angrily towards Christine. "You like me in your bed! Or have you forgotten the way you-" he stopped suddenly, remembering Meg was still in the room.
Swearing under his breath, Erik turned his scarred back on both of the girls. "Never mind! If you want me away, then I will stay away!" He headed back into Christine's bedroom and slammed the door behind him.
Meg seemed concerned. "Maybe you went too far."
Christine shook her head. "I've been wanting to give him a piece of my mind for a long time about that. We actually started this conversation before we came out here."
She sat on the couch with a sigh, running a hand through her golden curls. "I'm not blind, Meggy. I know what he looks like. I know what he's capable-" she immediately swallowed her words.
Meg still didn't know about the executioner, and Christine did not plan on telling her.
"Despite that," Christine continued quickly. "He makes me feel something I can't explain..." she shook her head, indicating she couldn't find the words. "Every time he looks at me, or touches me, it's there. He doesn't see it in himself, and I really wish he would!"
She massaged her temples. "He can be so sweet, and then… he gets like that." She indicated the closed bedroom door. "Sometimes worse."
Meg sat beside her friend and placed an arm around her shoulder. "You have a high maintenance boyfriend with lots of baggage. You'll probably never know half the shit he went through before he met you - and you know he had to have gone through a lot of shit." Meg pointed out. "You should go back to your room and calm him. In your own special way, of course." She winked.
Meg then stood up and went to the kitchenette, grabbing a tall glass to put the flowers in. "Actions speak louder than words, Chrissy. Go take action."
Christine pouted. "He's too private a person to do thatwith you here. You were practicing late last night … so... " she said no more. "We feel asleep before you came home."
Meg laughed as she arranged the flowers. "You two must have really been exerting yourselves then." She glanced back at Christine. "Tell him I'm going out with Raoul for the day – which I'm going to do as soon as I call him and thank him. Now shoo."
She waved Christine back to her bedroom and waited until the door was closed and she heard a muttering of voices – loudly at first, then slowly growing softer… until they were altogether silenced. Meg knew there was only one way Christine could have shut Erik up.
Meg smiled and sat down at the small kitchen table. She dialed the DeChagny residence and waited eagerly for Raoul to pick up after the maid put her on hold.
Meg strummed her fingers on the table, wondering why Raoul was taking so long to answer. He finally did – and sounded like he hadn't slept in a week.
"Raoul? You ok?" She asked worriedly.
"What is it, Meg?" he replied shakily.
Meg was taken aback. Raoul sounded downright nervous. "Well, I … I just wanted to thank you for the flowers."
"What flowers?" He sounded confused.
"The ones you sent to the apartment." Meg explained.
"I didn't send flowers, Meg."
Meg looked at the card, her hopes falling. "You didn't?"
"Why would I?"
Meg opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again. Why would he, indeed? I really AM nothing to him, just like Sorelli said.
"Never mind. Sorry for the mix up. Go … go back to sleep, Raoul. You sound really tired."
"I am. Goodbye." The line quickly went dead, leaving Meg staring at the handset and trying her hardest not to cry.
Perhaps if she had been in a clearer state of mind, she would have thought to find out who HAD sent the flowers.
Laramie Drive
Sitting before his X-Box, Adam thought back to the look on Megan Giry's face when she had accepted his flowers at her door. He had been watching her from around the corner, waiting.
She smiled as if she had just received the greatest gift in the world, her green eyes wide with hope.
"Megan Megan Megan..." he muttered the name to himself like a mantra. "Magnificent Megan..." He turned to glance in the mirror, noting the lack of a mask upon his face.
Father said he'd make it all better, and he kept his word... but Father also said I would still have to wear a mask at night. Bad things would happen if I didn't.
Adam ran his fingers over his face. Was this what a 'normal' man looked like?
Father truly had found him a wonderful surgeon. He would forever be in his debt.
Now, there was one last thing to take care of - his swan need not worry about her competition much longer.
Sytri's Study
"Tell me, Shay," Martine Robichaux began after informing Sytri of the latest assignment Adam had given her. "Adam's face was always normal, wasn't it?"
Sytri chuckled. "Of course it was. I was simply having some fun, that is all."
"Mind control then?" Martine asked.
Sytri nodded proudly. "Quite a job I did. Why, the boy even believes I found him a plastic surgeon to make him 'normal' again. He will forever OWE me."
"Impressive." Martine replied. "Is this murderous rampage your idea too?"
Sytri laughed. "Oh no, Ms. Robichaux. That was his alone. Sadistic boy. He would have followed that path whether or not I had made contact with him."
Martine raised an eyebrow. "And what about your son - your REAL son. Erik Garner."
He narrowed his eyes. "How do you know that I only have ONE real son?"
Martine laughed. "The same way I know your real name is not Shay. You are nothing even remotely close to human, despite your handsome exterior." She leaned forward. "But Erik now... he is not so handsome, is he?"
"Erik's face is 100 percent hideous," Sytri answered. "He truly DOES need that mask." He shrugged. "I suppose that was to be expected when I tried to mate with a human."
"No doubt," Martine answered. "Yet ERIK does not go around killing pretty girls on a regular basis."
Sytri frowned. "No. He does not. It is a bit of a disappointment, to be honest."
"Well, he has caused his fair share of death. That should make you somewhat proud." She smirked at Sytri's surprise. "Oh, I know all about the Guild's executioner. I've done my homework."
Sytri sighed. "Yes. It is a shame he chose to betray me. I will have to take my revenge on him for that."
Martine chuckled. "You talk of revenge. But you and I both know that is not going to happen." She leaned back against the wall smugly. "I hear something in your voice. Something I never thought I would hear from one of Hell's inhabitants."
He glared at her angrily. "And WHAT, exactly, do you think you hear, Ms. Robichaux?"
Her smile grew wider. "Fear, Sytri. Undeniable fear."
Alley behind the Populaire – the next night
Nadir looked at the female body propped up against the wall. The usual MO was there – strangulation, hack job on her hair, and the disfiguring of her face.
Erik had found the body upon one of his many visits to the Populaire, and had immediately called Nadir and informed the detective that he had recognized the girl as a student taking the summer workshop with Christine.
From what Erik had understood, this girl – Michelle Lamond – was one of the top two students in the workshop.
The other top student was Meg Giry.
With that knowledge fresh in Nadir's mind, the sight before him was even more chilling – for above the girl's head was a dedication written in her own blood:
For Megan.
END OF EPISODE 46