WARNING:
The FADA (Fanfiction Addiction Detection Agency) has come to the conclusion that this story can be highly addicting. The Author cannot be held responsible for drops in the reader's grades due to new chapters. Large doeses of Requiem can lead to dependence. The Author is not responsible for withdrawal symptoms which can occur when author fails to update speedily enough.
Liber scripcus profererur means The written book will be brought forth
I swear, this chapter is cursed. I wrote it once, soon after posting the last chapter and it was complete and perfect and really, really good. Our power cut out.
I wrote it again and it wasn't as good, or maybe I just thought that because obviously the one you can't have is always best. Anyway, that one, just vanished, I have no idea where it went. Then I had to pack and like six times I almost packed my little notebook where I write my ideas.
Then I got this version and I uploaded it and typed all my notes to you people and it was all great and I added a bunch of stuff and then...boop your connection has been timed out!
...I'm not even on aol. I'm on Firefox. How...?
So let's hope this one, saved EVERY FIVE MINUTES, works and as always I hope you enjoy it.
Oh! Important note, my friend sent me an early housewarming gift of a book of the most famous operas, their stories, some bits about their scores and why the author wrote them. Also the time when it was first performed. So I'm really excited. Hence why this Opera, in this chapter "The magic flute" is suddenly becoming kind of important. I don't think I will be able to include much about it, but I do want to mention what I say in relation to it and Reyer.
Okay, my Gradfather, the coolest human being on earth, was a freemason. He actually achieved the highest honor that you can in the Masons, Pastmaster. Anyway, so I'm real big on Pride for the Masons and all that and I have his Masonic ring. Anyway, "The Magic Flute" is supposed to have huge Masonic overtones. I'm researching this more but I just thought I'd mention that so that the comment Erik makes about Reyer makes sense.
Megan shifted slightly in the soft chair. She sat at the fancy table in Erik's house, in a chair that probably cost more than her dress. There was china on the table and shimmering silverware to match the china. Megan brushed her fingers over the soft tablecloth and smiled. She looked at the meal before her, utterly splendid and while she did wonder where he always got his food from that was not the question currently plaguing her. She was wondering why she had ever asked to stay here.
No, no that was not quite what was plaguing her, because she knew, at least in part, why she had asked to stay with him, it was because she didn't want to be alone. Another part that she was less sure off was of course her feelings towards Erik. Sometimes she was sure that it had to be love but others, when he shouted, she wondered how she could love someone who had no hope of returning her love, because in all the stories she had heard, that was not how love turned out. From her knowledge people did not love people who could not love them in return.
Well people other than Erik. Erik had loved Christine despite her love for another man. But Erik wasn't like anyone else that she knew, he was like no man, no woman, no person she had ever met in her whole life. She would never understand him so she could not compare herself to him, she could only compare herself to people she could understand, or at least the people she thought she understood. And they did not fall in love with people who wouldn't love them back.
She sighed heavily and stood, assuring herself that he would kick her out rather than kill her and being kicked out she could handle. The thought that he might not be angry at all did not enter her mind but still this was something she had to do, she couldn't stand things as they were so she had to try to fix them.
So she stood and walked slowly to the door to Erik's room. While she was not scared to go anywhere in the house she knew better than to just barge in without knocking. After all their time together he was afraid to remove his mask, even if she had seen him without it while he was sick. She didn't question though, it was his choice and she would respect it, even if it annoyed her. She could understand it at least, understand that Erik didn't trust her completely, because Christine had hurt him so, Meg just let it go.
"Erik?" She asked as she knocked. She didn't hear anything but the organ did stop so at least he had heard her, she hoped. "Erik please come out I've seen you maybe twice since you said I could stay here and the whole reason I'm here is so I'm not all alone." She said, trying not to sound like one of the ballerinas who could pout and get their way. The door swung open and he stood there, his shirt open and rumpled, ink staining his fingers and cuffs, and his hair rumpled. She stepped back thrusting the plate out before her. "I just wanted you to join me." She said suddenly not so sure that he would kick her out rather than kill her.
Her neck started hurting again in remembrance of the time he had used his lasso on her. "What?"
"Well I asked to stay here because I didn't want to be in my mother and me's home all alone. I don't like being alone. I've grown up here in this crowded noisy place. I just thought, maybe, you would like to stop working on your Opera and eat with me." She said quickly. "Chr—"She stopped quickly and paused looking around for a moment. She changed her mind, dropped the sentence and started it anew, started it differently. "I heard from other people that you work on that Opera for days and days without rest. So I thought maybe you should try eating more and…I know you think that everyone thinks you're a monster but it really isn't true and maybe if you just spent time with other people you could see that not all people would be—le--…" She sighed heavily and held out the plate, offering it to him like it was some virgin on an alter. "I would really like it if you didn't kick me out and send me home but from the foolish things I'm saying I wouldn't blame you if you did." She announced, bowing her head. She stared at her feet, hidden in part by her skirt's fraying edge.
Erik could only stare, openly, at the little ballerina. She was wearing a thread-bare dress that didn't fit her well, and her hair was bound back with a worn ribbon that might have been red once. Now it was just a hazy, watery pink color that looked old and worn. She looked like the sort of women who were married by sixteen, and mothers by seventeen, and dead by thirty, forgotten by everyone but a crying child in the night. Yet she alone had the courage to stand up to him. She alone stood before him trying to make him eat. He took the plate from her and swished past her, dropping into a seat across from the one she had vacated.
"If it will stop you from interrupting me while I work I will eat with you." The words sounded hollow even to him but she smiled and dropped into the seat across from him. He had to say something though, if he didn't Megan would ask questions until he said something. So he would rather explain himself with half-truths and hollow words rather than listen to her question his actions for the rest of the night. Questions even he couldn't answer. Wouldn't would be a more appropriate termOf course, once they started eating she started talking.
"When I was little I used practically live here. My father was the assistant to the managers then and he used to bring me here with him so maman could have a break from me. I was a little…" She grinned at her own memories. "I liked to cause trouble. So Papa would drop me off in the backstage world and I would get passed around from the costume makers to the sceneshifters, everyone took turns watching me. I learned a lot and I heard lots of stories about you." She laughed. "I heard things like you could walk through walls and fly. You ate small children who didn't listen to their mothers." He scoffed and she looked up at him and shrugged. "And you were anywhere because you had everywhere and nowhere to be all at once. So after having heard enough stories to get me more than slightly interested I went off in search of you. I got farther than I had thought and eventually got horribly lost." She swirled her wine for a moment and took a bite from a wedge of cheese. She glanced up at him and met his eyes for a moment, and then continued. "I dropped through one of your trapdoors. Or really what I thought was one of yours. I've heard that you build this whole place yourself and that you just arrived here one day so maybe none of them are really yours. Either way I think you rule this place a great deal more than the managers." Erik was startled, though he tried not to show it, he rarely missed someone using one of his doors, especially a child like Megan. He remembered her of course, loud and always asking questions. "I fell into this dark room and there were things all around me, things I quickly realized were alive." She laughed nervously and shivered. "I still have nightmares about that moment when I realized that I was surrounded by rats. More rats than I could count. They were screeching and clawing and crawling all over me and I was too terrified to even scream. I could only cry silently."
Erik almost dropped his wineglass, it clattered against the table and the liquid sloshed noisily, but did not spill.
"I was sure that I was going to die and they were going to eat me. All of a sudden in the dark there was this light and this man in a big cloak came up. He lifted me onto one of his big shoulders and just walked through the sea of rats like they were nothing at all. Like Moses parting the Red Sea. He carried me all the way to the lobby floor and set me in the room where they stored the costumes from past operas. He told me not to be afraid, that they wouldn't hurt me if I didn't poke my nose into their home." She smiled at her plate. "He told me that it was much the same with the Phantom. You wouldn't hurt me if I didn't bother you. But I'm glad that I did. I know you probably will always be angry at me for it but I'm grateful I did it." She sighed heavily and squished a grape between her fingers. "Thank you for paying for my mother's doctors." She whispered, wiping her fingers on her skirt.
"I didn't…" He started.
"Yes you did, the Baron doesn't know that she's in the hospital, and Jammes is very obviously not my friend after all the lies she's told me. So you're the only one who could afford it at all." She smiled weakly and shrugged. "I won't say anymore about it since you obviously didn't want me to know, but I just wanted to say thank you, at least once." She told him, picking up the small fork—meant for fish he did not have—and poked at a ripe date, a delicacy he loved enough to managed to procure even here in France.
He watched her, not knowing what to say next. He wanted to tell her that it was just for Christine. He had helped her because Christine would have wanted him to, would have helped if she could. Something caught in his throat though, stopped him from speaking and kept his lips pressed tight together. The two lapsed into silence and in silence they ate for a long while, until Megan opened her mouth again. "We're doing Mozart now." She said. Her voice was not a whisper but it was as soft as the summer breeze, as delicate as a flower, as fragile as…
…trust.
"The Magic Flute" She laughed into her wine and sighed. "Reyer has been pestering the Managers and everyone who will listen to perform it. He wants me to try out for the part of one of the Three Maidens." Unnoticed by the world Erik's eyebrows rose, he would never have guessed it of Reyer. "Sorelli is playing the head girl already, of course." She sighed and bobbed her head to the side, smiling with only half her face as her fork swirled in the mashed grape.
'You could bring your lady-friend.' Meg's nose curled and she rapped her fork against the plate. Say it! Tell him 'You could bring your lady-friend.' Megan fought her face, trying to keep control of it before Erik realized the battle which raged inside her.
I don't want to know. I don't want to hear about her. I don't want him to have a lady in his life. She assured the small, rebellious voice which curled it's dark fingers around her mind and tried to confuse her, tried to make her doubt. It was always there, it just seemed louder around Erik, especially when he looked at her with those gold cat eyes.
Ask him, find out about that lady, it's certainly not Christine. Find out who else is better than you. It could be Jammes. She swallowed a noise and tore a piece of bread in half, shoving part of it in her mouth without realizing how odd she must look.
Jammes. That fat cow couldn't keep a secret if her life depended on it, it wouldn't be her. There is no way Erik would choose her—
What? Over you? And how would you know? He doesn't share anything with you. And he certainly isn't going to choose you, not now, not ever. You know that Meg,
Shut up.
You know that. You knew that then and you know it now. You knew it getting into this whole mess you're in now.
She wished that she could take all her doubt and ball it up and bury it somewhere far, far away. The only time she didn't have this monster eating away at her was when she danced, then she was too busy to doubt, and the sound of her heart pounding in her ears deafened her to the beast. That was another reason she so loved to dance.
"Megan?" Erik's voice interrupted her thoughts and she looked up. "Are you alright?" He asked, and she suddenly realized that she had been tearing large chunks rather violently from the loaf of bread and shoving them into her mouth. She swallowed hard and took a delicate sip of wine.
"I'm just---" She wracked her mind for an answer, "I'm just nervous about my mother, and about auditions. I'm going to bed now." She babbled quickly, standing as she slammed both her hands down onto the table a little harder than she had intended. "Thank you for a lovely dinner, and thank you for eating with me, and letting me stay here…" She ran her nails through her hair, "And everything you do for me." The words came out in a great, rushing sigh. "But, I'm tired. Goodnight." Her chair clattered a little as she stood and she pressed her hands tight to it, just to be sure it didn't tip over. Once she was sure it wasn't shaking any longer she darted away like a scared rabbit desperate to escape those eyes and the knowledge that while some woman had been better than Christine—or Christine had been better than some woman—she, her, Megan Giry, would never, ever be good enough. Not for Erik at least and sadly, it seemed Erik was the only one she wanted to be good enough for.
She had to use every last bit of her self-control not to slam the door to her room. Her's only because Christine hadn't wanted it. Once the door was closed she threw herself dramatically onto the bed and found that she was in too much pain to cry. So instead she just lay there, the covers pulled together and bunched up to act as a pillow; and then she slept, albeit fitfully.
Erik, left with the forgotten dinner and guttering candles, could only stare at the door Megan had disappeared behind.
Not for the first time with Megan he was left completely speechless and quiet unsure of what exactly had happened. She had been the one who asked him to come out here, she had been the one who had pulled him away from his Opera, the only thing that mattered.
She had bothered him to come here, she had bothered him to stay, she had done everything and he had only just complied no matter how unlike him that was, and still she seemed angry with him. How dare she be angry with him. He had done nothing but what she asked of him and she dared be angry with him, for something he didn't even understand!
Then again, she had met the Ratcatcher without fear and even he had never gotten that close to that particular man. She was the only person he knew who had even gotten within feet of the dark figure.
Of course, no one wanted to get near him. That was where he and Erik were similar. They both knew the Opera like it was an extension of their own bodies, they both were alone, mysteries even by those who knew all there was to know about the Opera. Even those who had been around the Opera House for as long as either of the two shadows looked upon the men as secrets, as tales to be told to scare children.
Not to say that Erik or the Ratcatcher knew about the other. He knew only that the dark man was very large, and kept the rats where they were, so they didn't eat the costumes or scare the patrons. He didn't know what the Ratcatcher knew of him but Erik imagined that it wasn't much more than anyone else around the Opera knew.
With the obvious exception of Megan.
She seemed to be the general exception to the rule. She didn't follow any of the rules that people within the Opera set down, but she managed to get away with it all. Had any of the other ballet rats come down he would have killed them. Of course, if any ballet rat was caught in his lasso they wouldn't have cursed and spit and fought back.
Not like Megan had. And that had surprised him. Surprised him and intrigued him and it seemed that Megan was like a burr caught in the blanket under a saddle. The more you struggled to just brush her off and away…The tighter she twisted into the soft fabric. The deeper she burrowed into his life no matter what he wanted. The more he tried to get her out of his life the more integral a part she seemed to become.
Megan sighed and ran both hands over her hair. She would have wiggled her toes to see if they hurt or worse sloshed in her toe shoes but she couldn't even do that. Everything ached. Jammes had been intent on making Megan miserable today. Every time Megan had leapt Jammes had appeared right where the other was trying to land, leading to Meg on the floor in a heap and in pain. So now she sat on the bench in the changing room, girls all around her. A'Marie smiled at Megan kindly and her long fingers brushed against Meg's back in a pat. Meg winced and arched her back but she did appreciate the gesture and offered a smile to A'Marie.
"You did good today." She offered weakly. Megan was trying not to pant, but she was so tired. Even without Jammes practice had been hard today.
"Thank you Megan. You're doing amazing considering everything you're going through." A'Marie had lost both her parents and danced only because she had a rich aunt who could care for her. A rich aunt who was only letting A'Marie dance until she was eighteen and then the girl had to marry, marry well, and produce many happy little grandchildren with rosy cheeks. The young woman didn't seem to mind her lot in life though, and Megan admired her for that.
"I have wonderful friends helping me through it." Megan said before she could control herself. She bit her tongue and wished she hadn't said that.
"Oh yes, the Baron!" A'Marie exclaimed excitedly. "You're so lucky to have someone who loves you so much Meg. I'm so happy for you." The younger woman gushed.
It wasn't true but it was better than having to explain or lie about her time with Erik. So Megan just nodded and smiled, standing on shaking legs and hobbling away. She just wanted to go and take a bath—Bath's in Erik's realm were especially nice since she got hot water and lots of soap and oils and fluffy towels—and then sleep. She didn't know why Jammes was so angry with her, nor did she know to what lengths that girl would go to just to hurt Megan.
Sadly enough though, she would soon find out just what the green-eyed monster could accomplish when it set its mind to something.
Forensic Photographer711: I'm so happy that you liked that line, I liked it too so it's great when I hear my readers like it. I love hearing from you so you're reviews can be as long as you like. I would insert a smiley face but fanfiction seems to cut them out whenever I put them in anyway. I agree that Erik was a little...out there, but it is part of who he is, out there. I'm also glad you like and continue to like Meg's character. I'm almost as scared of messing her up as Erik. I've seen so many authors write EM fics and then they just become Erik and other woman romances because Megan might as well be a Mary Sue. It's just sad, so I'm trying to show what I think Meg is like and give her that human side as well. Thanks again then, it's compliments like those that make this SO MUCH FUN to write.
Nikkyou Hiryuu: I'm impressed you did so well at NaNoWriMo! I hope that someday you finish those couple more chapters and should you ever publish it I hope to be informed so I can beg for a signed copy and tell people I knew you when! That would really be awesome, I'm glad you noticed Erik was like a child, because I mean at least emotionally, he is. So I was trying to make him seem like a child and I'm glad when people notice things like that that I try to stick in there. Also, when it comes to looking at colleges, have fun. I was so not excited about that at first and then I found one I liked in UIowa and it was like w00t! So have fun with it.
Quixotic-Feline: You sound like me when the stories I keep an eye on update so just that alone is this super amazing compliment. So thanks a million billion times over. All your questions will be answered eventually but I know you don't want me to spoil the surprise. (Flying wambats come and kill them all.) As for the French accent thing, that was a little bit of me forgetting that while I'm American they are all French and sometimes I forget so I just wrote like an American hearing a French person speak English. But part of it just is that their language is so pretty and everything flows...it's like music or something. So it was just meant to be a compliment but yeah probably not the best thing to put in.
Almost Funny: Firstly, worship the idea of a green plot bunny. Very much. Secondly, I want to write the cute fluffy stuff too, but I also want you guys to be happy with the story so I know I can't just rush into it. At least for all the waiting you're doing I hope that, in the end, it is worth the wait and I don't disappoint you. Especially when you say such amazing things about my writing. Things that make me smile.
Alexis: Wait-a-minute...I make writing Erik look easy? Aww! Best compliment ever! I love you to death for saying that. I'm always so nervous when I write him because he's such an awesomely complex character. I spend way too much time going over and over what I had him say or do, thinking that there is no way he would ever do that and obsessing over everything. It's just such a great compliment, thanks.
phicaddictedpiratephantomprsnnya, texasgrrl, Mademoiselle Justica, and Audra-The-strange: I swear, you guys say all these nice things about my story and I think that my story can't possibly be that good, so then I try to write better so that I am more deserving of your praise and you just give me more...Really, I'm not just saying this or being cheesy, without you guys cheering me on this story would not have turned out like this. I would probably have gotten depressed or something and stopped after seven or eight chapters. You guys are what makes this story what it is and I love all of you for that so very much.