A/N: As always, thanks to my beta, Le Chat Noir.
Episode 55: The Others
By: Elektra
Martine knelt in the middle of the chalk drawing on the floor in her darkened room. Shay had never seen this here, for she kept it covered with a throw rug.
It was necessary.
She picked up the candle beside her and lit it, then closed her eyes as she held it between her hands and began to chant.
This carried on for half-an-hour, until finally she was exhausted and the candle had burnt down to a nub.
Martine did not mind doing this every night. She had been doing it for the last several months, in fact.
It was what she had been hired for, after all.
Giry's Apartment
Erik looked down at the papers in his hands, a frown upon his lips as his eyes skimmed over the names of former executioners. "Is there any more information, Antoinette?"
"It was enough to get that list," Giry replied with a shrug.
Erik nodded. "I should start looking for them. Ask questions."
"Yes. But you do not need to do that today, do you?" Giry asked. "Meg was telling me she was spending the night at Raoul's house because Christine was expecting you would be with her tonight."
"But this is important for my future with Christine," Erik insisted.
Giry raised an eyebrow, "And your present with Christine is not important?"
"That is not what I meant!" he snapped angrily.
Giry leaned against her couch and grew wistful. "I remember when Michel was still alive, the best times we had were with each other. We went to movies, to the theater, on vacation. When Meg was born, we did more family oriented things.Yes, we worked hard long hours to make ends meet - to do for each other - but it was the time together that mattered most. It is the same now with Firmin ."
She glanced over at Erik. "It is rare that a relationship works when one of the participants insists on keeping a distance, Erik."
"I don't need your lectures," he said, but there was no hostility in his voice. "I am still not used to someone actually wanting me around. Certainly not as much as she does. Usually my presence is tolerated, not encouraged."
"It is a nice feeling, isn't it?" Giry asked.
His voice was soft when he spoke next. "You have no idea." He glanced at the wall across from him, his eyes falling on the calendar pinned to it
"You seem perplexed," Giry said as she studied the tall man before her.
"Is there something special about today that I should know? Something regarding Christine and myself?"
Giry thought for a moment, then glanced over at the calendar herself. She smiled when she saw the date."Ahh ... yes. It was around this time last year, wasn't it?"
"Wasn't WHAT?" Erik asked.
"When the two of you became romantically entwined?"
"We have not been entwined in a mon-" He stopped. "Ahh, you mean... the start of our relationship?"
"Yes, Erik," Giry replied with a frown. "Your other entwinement I prefer not to know about."
"Forgive me. I did not mean to speak of it." He looked at Giry once more, "But... why does it matter that we became involved a year ago?"
Giry's eyes went wide, shocked that he had not thought of such a thing. "It is your one-year anniversary! Your relationship may have hit some turbulence recently, but such a thing is important to a young lady."
"Anniversary?" he mused. "Now that is one thing I never thought I would have."
Beneath the Populaire - that evening
Erik looked across the small table into Christine lovely blue eyes, then turned away to survey their current surroundings.
On a desk to the left sat his television and DVD player. His stereo and laptop were still in a box beside it. On the right sat an old fridge, a hotplate, and a microwave, with the bed in the corner and three cat baskets beside it (currently in use).
The furniture had been moved from his cellar beneath the Ravelle residence, and the washroom behind him had recently undergone new plumbing, unbeknownst to anyone except the managers.
The abandoned dorms below the theater proper were now Erik's new home, and the only thing that seemed out of place in this dark damp world was the beautiful girl who sat before him.
I need to do better by her. As much as I prefer lurking in the darkness, hiding in cellars, I need somewhere that is NOT cold and dark. Somewhere she can visit without need for dusty props and stolen patio furniture.
I can easily afford a house. A nice house. So why am I so reluctant to climb out of the dark? I promised her.
"Forgive me," he finally spoke. "This anniversary dinner is not very romantic."
"Of course it is," Christine smiled. "You've got the candlelight and... erm ..." She looked around and bit her lip. "Well, there's the candlelight... and... well, you've got steak and potatoes!" she offered, indicating the Big Mac and fries in front of her.
"Oh, and fake wine, which is all good," she said as she held up her glass of grape juice. "I don't think I want to drink alcohol ever again."
"I know," he replied with a hint of a smile.
She studied him a moment. "Take off your mask, Erik. It's just us here."
He was about to protest, but realized it would be futile. He took a deep breath and slid the mask from his face.
"Better," she smiled. "Now all we need is music." She glanced longingly over at the unpacked stereo.
The music began almost magically.
Christine looked back at where Erik was sitting and realized he had picked up his violin, the bow sliding over the strings slowly, long fingers pressing upon the neck to bring forth a soft gentle sound.
He looked at her, played the first few sections, and finally began to sing: "I close my eyes the moment I surrender to you. Let love be blind, innocent and tenderly true. So lead me through tonight..."
"Erik..." Christine mouthed, unable to take her eyes from the man before her as he continued to sing.
When he finally finished, she moved over to him and slid into his lap, hugging him as she pressed her cheek against his. "Beautiful..."she whispered hoarsely. "So beautiful..."
"It is not one of my songs," he answered as he laid the instrument in its case on the floor before bringing his arms up around her.
"I don't care. It was still beautiful." She tightened her arms around him. "I wish we could do this more often. Just us. I don't care if we're only eating fast food and drinking grape juice." She met his eyes. "And I prefer you without the mask..."
"Why?" he asked softly.
"Because I don't like it when you hide from me," she answered.
"I could never deny you anything, beloved," Erik replied as he began to nuzzle her neck, his mouth sliding gently over her pulse before trailing up to her sweet mouth, her lips parting eagerly.
With a soft little sound, she slid her fingers into his hair, her nails pressing against his scalp as the kiss grew more intense, her body shuddering as his hands slid beneath her shirt, fingers trailing their way up her sides and down her spine.
Christine broke the kiss and let out a startled gasp as Erik tightened one arm around her waist and slid another beneath her legs, lifting her up as he pushed to his feet. "Erik? Where are you-"
"Time for bed..." he whispered softly as his lips brushed over her ear.
Nothing more needed to be said.
287 Corner St
Giry looked at the clean-shaven well-kempt man who opened the door, then glanced down at the list in her hand.
"Are you Darin Ulren?" She asked.
"He was my father. I'm David." The man answered.
"Oh... forgive me. I was looking for Darin ."
"He passed on last year," David replied. "May I ask why you were looking for him?"
"I was an associate of his, Antoinette Giry. Please, may I come in? I would very much like to know about him."
David shrugged but invited Giry in regardless. "Not much to tell," he said as he offered her a chair in the living room and sat across from her. "He was ill, and he died."
"Ill how?"
"I'd rather not say, Madame," David answered.
"I must ask - did your father ever speak of an Executioner before he passed?" she asked.
David narrowed his eyes. "What game are you playing here?
"Does that mean 'yes'?"
"My dad talked about a lot of things that didn't make sense. We believe he was showing signs of dementia."
"Did he speak of demons?" Giry asked. "Or vampires?"
David stood up abruptly. "I think I'd like it if you left now!"
"Please, tell me what happened." She begged.
"My dad was a crazy old man who hung himself from the rafters! Left a note saying it was time for HIS execution. Does that answer your question? Leave!"
Giry stood up with a deep breath. "I'm sorry for your loss. Thank you." She then turned her back on the man and headed out the door.
Laramie Dr
Shay lay down upon his bed and looked up at the ceiling with a sigh. He was feeling tired. He wasn't sure why, but he realized it had started the night Erik had pushed him out of his mind when he had been trying to glean images of Christine from him.
It still surprised him. How had his son been able to do that? Was the boy becoming more powerful? Did he have more of Shay's strength in him than originally thought?
He closed his eyes and tried to reach into Erik's mind, but he found himself unable to find it. Surely the boy couldn't repel him so easily... could he?
When had this happened?
Shay could not even ask Martine about his shift in power, for it would mean admitting his weakness, and he was not about to do that.
He may have pushed me away once, but next time I will be better prepared. It is this mortal form that is tired, not ME. Perhaps I should get more sleep.
Shay closed his eyes and allowed himself to fall into a blissful dream state.
His son would not overpower him again.
Preston Hospital for the Criminally Insane- Two days later
Erik stepped carefully into the padded cell currently holding the man he needed to speak with. The man was tied up in a straightjacket and looked ready to run and hide- as if there was a place to hide in such a room.
Cowering in a corner, Jon studied the masked man carefully, not quite sure what to make of him.
"I would like to talk to you about your life as an executioner," Erik began unemotionally.
"No no... not me... wasn't me..." he muttered quietly, shaking his head. "Wasn't me... wasn't."
"Are you Jon Goren ?"
"Was... once... but... not the Executioner... not... not always... not near the end..."
"You were a former hit man hired by one Gus Leroux to deal with certain people, were you not?" Erik pointed out, ignoring the man's denials.
Jon nodded. "Maybe. Maybe once. Killed the ones I was told to kill. The ones they couldn't stop." He paused, "Until he took over."
"Who?" Erik asked suspiciously.
"Him!" Jon answered as if that simple word should explain it. "He took over. Made me hurt innocents. Liked the pain. Liked the control. He was the first. He wanted his job back!"
"The first what?" Erik asked.
"The first one! Before me... before any of us. When the Guild started. The FIRST one!" he insisted. "He hated them! Said they turned on him," Jon leaned forward as if informing Erik of a secret. "They sent him back eventually, you know. He didn't want to go back."
Jon's eyes suddenly grew wide. "But he returned! A few years ago," he then glanced around fearfully. "He won't find me though... won't take control again. I'm hiding. Hiding so he can't get me... good place to hide...here... they're hiding me."
Erik was growing impatient. "Who is this man? Is there a name? A description?"
"Evil eyes!" Jon informed Erik. "Cold, demon eyes! Every night! They haunt me every night." Jon stepped closer to Erik, then screamed and stumbled back, hitting the padded wall. "No! Get away! Get AWAY from me!"
"I assure you I mean you no harm!" Erik was quickly losing patience.
The man began to hit his head against the white padded wall. "Go away! GO AWAY GO AWAY!" he screeched out, pounding his head harder and faster.
The door to the cell was immediately opened by two guards and Erik was asked, not the least bit politely, to leave lest Goren continue to cause himself bodily harm.
Erik protested. He didn't have his answers yet. At least, nothing that made any sense. The guards didn't seem to care and were not above grabbing him to toss him out.
Erik knew if they tried, he would instinctively fight back and things would end badly. He reluctantly left Jon Goren's cell as the guards attempted to calm the unstable man and stop his current head-bashing.
There was only one thing Erik was sure of - he could NOT let himself end up like that.
Ever.
END OF EPISODE 55
Extra A/N: The song Erik sings to Christine is "Every Time I Look at You" by Il Divo .