YES! HA! I AM TRIUMPHANT! Finally I have finished editing this update. Whew, that took a while, wouldn't you agree? Alright, well lets get right to it, shall we?
Disclaimer (I keep forgetting this thing) But like everyone knows, I own nothing from the Phantom Of The Opera. I only own original characters.
And Now For The I LOVE MY REVIEWERS aka A Few Thanks
Juilette Delphe- Lol- yea I know. I loved that line too. I literally laughed out loud when I wrote then that and then continued to laugh for no apparent reason. Yes, and what is with the kill oven Summy? Hmmm? HMMMM?
surf with music- Ooo, good luck with the Drum Major thing dude, that would be awesome. Definitely tell me if you make it. Yea, I really enjoyed the Erik and Ray interaction as well...that is why this part in entirely Erik and Raylan as well... hehehe. Yea, and we learn more about Ethan, at your request. Hope this is just as satisfying of a update.
Dernhelm- Coffins coming, it's coming... and also at your request here is section slapped full of Erik... and the coffin is coming... but good question. Who is the coffins father? Hmmm... -looks accusingly at the organ-.
Rita- Hehe, thanks so much! Well, sorry, no more fics yet, but be patient. Summy and I are coming out with a POTO parody of our own just as soon as we are finished with this story. Should be interesting and I will let you know when we open it so you can check it out. Thanks for reading this though, its awesome that you could finish in a few hours. It would take me days, I'm an incredibly slow reader.
Alright, well thanks everyone, and now here is the update long awaited. Enjoy!
-Olivia N.
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Raylan moved gravely towards her room, once there opening the door as slowly as she could draw the moment out. She felt the cold chill of the dark room blast against her skin as she entered leaving the door open to use the light of a thousand candles in the foyer to see. She didn't want to give him this, never this, but she was in no position to deny him- not yet.
Her room was only slightly larger than Ethan's, and in much better shape. The polished surfaces of the furniture, the neatly pressed sheets and stylish decor of her quarters suggested one of two things. Either he had certainly spent more time on her room than any others, or this room had already been prepared and waiting for someone. Raylan shrugged off the curious thoughts as she shuffled towards the foot of her beautiful mahogany bed. At its polished feet were her two aged suitcases, the larger one in front, guarding the smaller one as always.
She fell to her knees before her largest suitcase and with shaking hands opened the warn leather. There, placed carefully on top of everything, was her precious journal, her blasted life placed in magical words upon paper. She took the red book into her shivering clutches and drew it to her chest, cradling the thing as if it were a child, her own child. Everything, all the precious and horrid moments of her past were in there... even...
Her eyes shot to the book in utter horror, remembering some of the things she had placed within the pages. There were things of him in there, pages upon pages that she had written in her little investigation of the Phantom. There were things she had written, private thoughts, twisted hopes and childish fantasies that she certainly did not want him to find. Stupid accusations she had written before curiosity had caused her to discover the truths of the monster in Hell. So many foolish words, there was no telling what troubles they could form if he was ever to read them.
Raylan turned shifty eyes to the door, making sure he would not see, and then silently she opened the journal. She flipped back to the pages of her first night in the Opera Populaire, the first night were she had written some rather embarrassing thoughts about the so called ghost. From there she ripped the pages out, all of the pages she had written since her first night in the Opera House being swiftly removed and shoved into the confines of her suitcase. She only prayed he wouldn't notice.
Smoothing out the ruffed edges within, she closed the book and the suitcase, clutching her precious journal to her chest and walking solemnly back into the foyer.
His music slowed to a halt as she entered, timing it so that the last noted ended when she stood before him. His green eyes fell upon her expectantly as he questioned, "Is that it?"
"Yes," She said with a solemn sigh and extended the book towards him.
He nodded, "Very well." His black gloved hands left his organ's keys and reached out, his fingertips coming to caress the red leather as one would caress a lover. Eagerness trembled through his fingers, the hunger to know more. His lips had begun to quiver with anticipation as he eased the book from her hands, his voice coming out a gentle murmur of, "Thank you."
Raylan's arms dropped heavily to her sides, her eyes remaining fixed upon the red binding as he lowered it to his lap. "Careful with it," She said swiftly, her voice trembling and sounding almost like a concerned mother, "It's...it's important...to me."
"I would not hurt it for all the world," He reassured her, his eyes still holding to the book placed so carefully over his thighs, "I just wish to enter the pages and dip beneath the words to experience a place far from here," He paused with a sigh, then added bitterly, "Far from these damp dungeons."
Instantly her eyes softened and rose to his strange face, her voice gentle and cautious as she questioned, "Have you never seen the world? Other than this...this place I mean."
Erik's gaze snapped up to hers, and for a moment Raylan was convinced he would strike her. Her body flinched expectantly, but surprisingly he answered instead of raising a fist towards her damned curiosity. "I have been beyond these walls, even beyond the country's boarders," He said simply, only a small twinge of pain in his eyes hinting his dislike of the subject, "But alas what holds me to this dismal hell, forced my leaving of them as well."
Raylan's head tilted curiously to one side, "Is...is it alright for me to ask why?"
"Because my thirst for knowledge was great, my understanding even greater. And my hideousness only aided their decision"
"Your face, you mean?" Her words paused and for a moment she stared curiously at the harsh white mask that hid half of his beautiful face. Memories rolled through her mind, fond recollections of her years of innocence, the few years of peace she had found in those northern plains. Then in a curiously warm voice she continued, "I knew a boy once, when I was still free in America...you'll probably read about him somewhere in the beginning. My mother and I moved to South Dakota when I was about thirteen...after she left my father. Momma had this big dream about owning her own land, with her own rules, with some peace where she could seek solitude. No towns were around because it was technically savage land, perfect to my mother, so we had struck a bargain with the local tribe and they let us stay.
"They, um, they called themselves the Lakota, one part of the Sioux Nation. I... I spent a lot of time with that tribe, seeing as my mother was always occupied...and I met this Lakota boy, about my age. They called him One With Two Souls. He...he was born differently from all the other Lakota... he came out with problems...like he hadn't been fully formed in his mothers womb. I'll admit that at first I was afraid of him, although no one in his tribe showed the slightest sign of fear. They were kind to him, a people capable of seeing beyond imperfections of the body, and after some time I began to see the beauty as well. He...he became my best friend... he became the one light in my world... and I... I miss him," Her voice trailed off, a hint of what dreaded end that story held.
Though the mask hid it extremely well, Raylan could of swore she saw a tear trickle from the Phantom's deformed eye. For a moment Erik could not speak, then very softly he whispered, "That is why I wish to know about America."
She gave a small laugh, "It has its ups and its downs, like everywhere else, but I'll admit that I miss it. It's been almost two years since I've been home...makes me sad to know I can't go back...but if you ever do get the chance to go... I'd suggest California...someplace on the Pacific coast. It's beautiful there."
Erik shook his head in disagreement. He said almost coldly, "I have seen places of great beauty, and have no desire to see anymore. I desire something much harder to find...acceptance."
She nodded, understanding. "Well, if you are willing to accept their ways, I have no doubt the Lakota would take you as one of their own...as they did me," She sighed wishfully, and then added with a playful smile, "You do your share of the work, be kind and accepting of their ways, and who knows...they might even fix you up with a pretty little Sioux girl. It's ritual," She laughed sweetly, "They tried to bind me with a Sioux boy but my mother wouldn't have it."
Erik shrugged, almost considering the thought, "If I get there, I shall decide upon my resting place."
She nodded, "Well, take it into consideration." She stretched then, arching her back and giving a small groan. Her muscles were aching after the rough housing with Ethan, her shoulders tense and stiff. She rolled her shoulders a few times as her mind pondered what else to say to him. It had been a rather pleasant conversation so far, and strangely she didn't desire for it to end, most likely in fear of the next one to have the opposite effect.
He watched her intently, wondering what lay beneath her hard calloused shell. She certainly wouldn't tell him everything, nor would her journal, but it was a start. He suggested, noting the tension in her muscles as she stretched, "There is a bathing room, should you require such amenities."
She nodded, "Sounds pleasant...but not just yet. I... I was um...not exactly ready to leav...if that's alright." She bit her lip, obviously excepting to get the worst of reactions.
The Phantom set the journal aside, interested in this new opportunity. He gestured to a chair sitting to her left, "What is it you desire?"
She grinned and sat in the chair with much gratitude written on her expressions. Her voice came out gentle, a pleasant and friendly tone as she said, "I like talking to you. You actually listen...instead of waiting for me to be finished. It's refreshing really... I've missed being able to talk to someone openly." She added on shakily, "If...if that's alright I mean."
For a moment he was silent, taken aback by the girls wish, then very shakily he nodded, "Few wish to speak to me, so for those who do, I listen."
She laughed, a relieved giggle as if she had finally heard something she had been waiting for years to hear. "Thank you," She said softly, a broad and true smile on her face, "I... I can't tell you how long I've been wanting someone to talk to...someone who could even slightly understand. Understand if I begin to annoy you or you grow tired of me you are most certainly in the right to tell me to shove it...and if you so desire you can talk to me...about anything if you wish... I can be a good listener...when I shut up."
Erik smiled, slightly flattered by the new opportunity she provided. Certainly, it would be a comfort to have someone to speak with, but at the same time... he was not ready to open to another. No, his heart couldn't take letting someone else in... not again... not yet.
"I will always be there for you, when you need me most," He assured her gently, but then added on a subliminal warning as he said, "For now, I will be content to listen to you talk... and only listen."
With that the Phantom of the Opera looked away from his guest, his gaze running across his stone prison, a prison which he built, which he designed and knew so well. Even though it was extremely spacious the walls always seemed to close in on him, always leaving him yearning for something more... something more alive than the dead life he lead here.
His private thoughts then escaped his lips as he uttered, "Perchance America will over look the misdeeds of my past and allow me rest in their lands, as a free man. My soul needs a salvation after so many years in a Hell's prison."
Naturally, Raylan responded, giving a small shrug as she sighed, "Perhaps, for a foreigner who has made no real crime against them, maybe, but they don't easily forgive... at least that's how it was with me."
He raised a questioning eyebrow and returned his gaze to hers, "But you are only accused. Surely they see a difference in accusation and guilt."
Raylan gave a obviously guilty grin as she began to nervously chew on her lip once more. "I'm guilty for most of it," She muttered through her childish nibbling, "The armed robbery was entirely my choice and I take full responsibility for it. The deaths however... I am technically only responsible for one... but one was enough I suppose, although truly it was much more a loss to me than it was to them."
"You must have had a good reason. You are not the type of person who kills for pleasure,"
"No, I'm not," She agreed solemnly, "But sometimes I'm not sure if my reasons were good enough. He had done nothing to me, he had not harmed me like he did them, but it was justice you see... an eye for an eye, and I just happened to be the only one who could get close enough to him to do it."
Erik nodded, piecing together what he had learned of the girls past and trying his best to understand, "I believe that his actions against others hurt you deeper than any action against you could have."
Raylan's eyes fell heavily upon her lap, her head tilting forward as if waiting for the axe to fall and end her there. Her shoulders slumped weakly and her voice was no stronger as she muttered barely above a whisper, "It wasn't supposed to be like that though, it wasn't supposed to end like that. It was supposed to be just a normal run, just another heist. You know, the whole run in, guns blazing, don't hurt no one but scare 'em just enough to make them do what you want.
'We'd done it a thousand times before and never been caught; were nearly the States most wanted criminals. They had thousands, almost millions, on our heads or for our capture. Dead or alive, they didn't really care. He though... Arron I mean, he had a way with escape." Her voice faded for a moment, her eyes seeming to be looking somewhere beyond her knees, to someplace she could no longer be. After almost a minute passed, she finally shook out of it, giving a nervous laugh as she jolted her eyes back to his face, "It's all in the journal though- I'm sure you'd rather prefer to read it than hear it come from my blubbering' mouth."
To her surprise he gave a defiant shake of the head and leaned eagerly forward. "Paper shows little feeling. The voice, however, tells all," He said, softly urging her on.
"Ain't it the truth," She laughed humorlessly, "Oh well- isn't much else to figure out. You're a smart man, I'm pretty sure you can figure out how the game was played... and how it was ended. The major piece's though, the reason it all went bad, was technically because of Ethan... or at least the woman he had been associating with. See, Arron and I had never worked with Ethan and Melanie before, but we were short a few hands and Arron knew Melanie's father well enough for him to be able to help us out.
'Before us, Ethan had done nothing like this. He was a good, wholesome little Northerner...and yes Ethan is not from the South...and he isn't my brother. He was actually engaged to Melanie, and in dire need to impress Melanie's father in hopes for her pops blessing. Melanie's pop however was a piece of scum, and used Ethan to his advantage, recruited him to help us with our 'job'. Melanie didn't like it one bit, had always been against the whole heist thing. She threatened to call the police on her own father if he ever did it again... so as you can imagine we found it odd that she wanted to come along when we recruited Ethan.
'Stupidly, we accepted Ethan, and let his little bitch come along too. Arron thought Melanie might come in handy as a good look out while Ethan would be the extra muscle. We should have known better really, Arron should have known, but he was the type of man that when he got his mind set on something, nothing else could distract him from his goal... not even common sense."
Erik nodded, "So Melanie alerted the police?"
"Alerted?" Raylan laughed harshly, "More like served us to them on a silver platter. Wanted the money on our heads, she did, and god help me I even trusted the little bitch for a time... I... I was so foolish back then. I was always so blind."
Erik listened intently to every word, and when her voice had faded away he let the silence hang between them. He allowed her time to gather her composure then, to raise her internal walls so no memory could hurt her anymore. It was an effective method at times, locking yourself away, and oh how well he knew this method. After sufficient time Erik asked gently, "Have you exacted your revenge?"
Raylan growled, a clear answer, and looked away, muttering spitefully, "No. The police are protecting her now." Again, she went silent and then suddenly she laughed viciously, somewhat alarming the Phantom as she spat, "Can you believe it? She is actually traveling with those damned so called 'law enforcers', helping them follow our trail. She...she wants Ethan back."
"I disagree with modern society's attempt at law enforcement. It's pathetic, and often quite wrong," He mulled that openly, and then continued on track with a question of, "She has a claim on Ethan?" His curiosity sparked, his mind wandering back to wondering about the noises he had heard from the boy's room earlier.
"I'm not sure if claim is the correct word," She paused, think it over, and then shrugged, "Like I said, Ethan was practically dragged into this. He was her fiance, and apparently she agreed to help the police if they let Ethan go free, or at least that was the initial plan. Whether its changed or not, I don't know. Melanie was never one for letting go though. I suppose she is still in love with Ethan though, and somehow still believes Ethan loves her."
"Did he love her?"
"I believe so," She looked back at the dark tunnel, almost checking to make sure they were not being heard, and then continued, "But I think his feelings have died over the years, beginning with when she betrayed us."
Erik nodded, leaving his thoughts to himself. "It is hard to keep feelings of love through betrayal," Oh how those words stung, and stung true
"No kidding," Raylan scoffed, slumping back into the chair. Silence lingered between them for some time again, nothing but the soft rhythm of their own breathing filling the space between. It was obvious through their gazes and denial to elaborate that neither wished to continue that conversation.
Finally Raylan changed to a happier subject. It was an entirely random and slightly childish question but it certainly broke the silence as she inquired, "So- chicken or beef?"
He looked at her questioningly, "For what? Breakfast?"
She shrugged, "Any meal. What do you prefer more?"
"Depends," He thought, "Chicken has more variety of meals. Beef has a bolder flavor."
She nodded, "Indeed. I prefer beef myself. I truly am a Southerner, and beef is our specialty. I know so many different ways to serve it that its not even funny."
Erik gave a short, amused chuckle, "Perhaps you should prepare a meal sometime, though you would be hard pressed to beat Vits. I forced her to cook me dinner when I caught her down here once... she is a fine chef." He smiled inwardly at the memory.
Raylan laughed, "Well, I will gladly cook for you sometime Monsieur, but only when the time is right and when I choose to. Forced to cook and I might not do real well."
Erik's eyes suddenly snapped to hers, anger momentarily seething beneath them. There was her resistance again, her damn backbone. Her stubbornness never seemed to falter, even in the depths of Hell, before the Devil's Child. For a moment Erik though of correcting this behavior, but her humored laughter all but diminished the fire that had so rapidly exploded inside him. His gaze slowly returning to the controlled smooth look, Erik nodded and said strongly, "Very well. Inform me ahead of time so I can go to the market and acquire what you will need."
"Alright," She grinned sweetly, flashing her traditional calming affect, before she continued with her little question game, "Next question- potato or peas?"
"Potatoes,"
She laughed, "Yes, I like them too, but truth be told I am a pea addict. I love peas...I have no idea why."
Erik chuckled, his body becoming somewhat relaxed again as he leaned back against the organ, "Peas are good too."
"Yes," She grinned and laughed at herself, "My brothers and I used to fight over them at the dinner table when I was young. We'd steal them off each others plates. Momma hated that."
He chuckled. "I'm sure you gave them a run for their money... or should I say peas?"
Raylan laughed whole heartedly, "Oh, they learned to fear my skills with a fork."
"A fork is a formidable weapon,"
She laughed and then attempted to look serious as she joked, "Not nearly as formidable as the spoon."
He looked her over, withholding a laugh as he commented, "Entirely possible, though I have never tried to defend myself solely with a spoon."
She laughed, "Clearly you didn't grow up with four brothers."
"No, I was an only child,"
"Oh?" Her brows raised in curiosity, obviously enthralled to hear something remotely about his past, "Did you mother only want one?"
"I don't remember. I only know that I am alone," A soft pain carried through his voice, his momentarily cheerful gaze once again slipping into the distant and solemn gaze he so constantly bared.
Raylan immediately picked up on the pain and instinctively began to comfort, saying warmly and with gentle humor, "Well... you aren't anymore. We're here now...even if we may be unwanted, it's still company, right?"
Erik's eyes sought hers, searching for the truth within them. He wasn't sure how to answer. A slow and hesitant "true" slipped through his lips, and lingered weakly in the air between them, filled with the fear and doubt his mind held towards this.
Again Raylan smiled, that sweet and comforting Southern grin. She allowed for their eyes to connect, allowing him to gaze through the window of her soul without any hint of fear or reconsideration. She wanted to let him know she was not afraid, not afraid of him and certainly not afraid to become a friend. Still watching him with those large, chocolate eyes, she responded with a simple nod of reassurance. An unspoken promise.