Well, I lied. I said it would be a couple days but I corrected this chapter faster than I thought. Please enjoy! I know it's shorter than the last one but it's a transition. I have no beta!
Keeping to the shadows, Erik snuck through the streets of Paris to the Dirty Piglett. Waves of grim nostalgia invaded his memories each time he turned the corner, a gypsy attraction for one and all. How many times had he made eye contact with a rat, street dog, or a self-important cat, and wished for their freedom to break his chains.
He shook his head, blocking the torturous memories, he had to focus, he had to get to Jane before something horrible befell her.
It wasn't difficult to find the inn once he made it to that part of town. It was the only house on the street that wasn't trashed with filth or vandalism. It stuck out like a rose in a field of briars.
Most of the lights were off since it was later in the night, but one light, the drawing room, blazed like a beacon into the gloomy Parisian street.
He walked over to the window and peered in from the side. Two people inhabited the room, Jane and what he could only presume was the owner. They were having tea by the fire and Piglett was rubbing her tense shoulders while he watched her blissful expression, occasionally flinching with discomfort as he touched a tight spot. Erik's blood boiled at the picture. He was buttering her up before he made his dastardly move, no doubt.
Suddenly, they started talking and he was able to hear them surprisingly well.
"You really shouldn't overwork yourself, darling." Piglett's voice was quiet and full of affection. It made Erik sick to hear such falsity.
"Nonsense, Roger. Working here has been my perfect vacation." She gave him a small smile. 'So, he was making Jane work before he defaced her? How dare he.' Erik could have blasted through the window, instead, he noticed the way they looked at each other. It burned in his chest painfully.
They engaged in a playful banter while Erik stared, mortified, yet he couldn't pinpoint why. Perhaps it was that he hadn't seen that expression on her face in years. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he hadn't noticed that it started raining.
The conversation took a serious turn when Roger moved to kneel in front of Jane. She watched him with curious eyes. Erik's back went rigid. How often had he seen that motion in a play or opera? The implications twisted his stomach.
Roger's voice wavered slightly, "Jane, I know it hasn't been long, but your help around the Inn has been irreplaceable. My tenants say that it feels safer, cleaner, and that it's incredibly helpful to have a woman around."
Her brow furrowed when he paused and nervously clasped and unclasped his hands. She sat a little straighter in the armchair.
Erik felt he would combust if the words he suspected left the innkeeper's mouth.
"Jane…" He looked into her eyes and she saw all the hesitation and determination that warred within him, "Would you take a full position at the Inn? As my partner?"
Erik and Jane gasped at the same time. While not the words either of them were expecting, the request was still… unexpected. Roger knew how devoted Jane was to Erik and the Opera House, but after the nightmare the first night, he knew he needed to get her away from the heartbreak and perhaps help her move on. It was selfish, but Roger cared too much for Jane.
The phantom expected his friend to reject the innkeeper outright, but her hesitation hit him like a slap to the face. He quickly moved to the front of the house, banging on the door, hoping that it would fall on top of the audacious man.
While Erik was distracted with getting inside, Jane explained to Roger, "You know I would want nothing more than that, but…I can't leave him." Her friend hung his head, until her small, yet strong hand lifted his chin to look at her, "He makes me happy Roger, despite the heartache. Besides, I'm sure David would want nothing more than to join you here." At the mention of David Cartright, the suitor that came everyday to ask Roger to dinner, he blushed. Before he could respond, though, there was a loud knock at the door, sounding as though the knocker was trying to break it down, "Excuse me, my dear."
He admitted a tall, shadow figure, "Yes sir, how can I help you?" The figure didn't respond, but pushed past Roger and made a beeline for Jane in the drawing room. He stood, baffled, for a moment before charging in after him.
She refused to look at the intruder, and the blissful expression Erik saw earlier was replaced with a glare that marred her normally peaceful features. He had to remain strong, though, he was her rescuer, after all.
"We're leaving." His voice boomed in the quaint little room.
"Under who's authority?" Roger's voice was just as loud from his place behind Erik. He walked over to Jane, warily scanning the muscular man.
"Mine." It came out as a growl. Jane was his, not for this innkeeper to steal away. Had he been thinking properly, he would have questioned the origin of such a thought. But, alas, there they were.
"And who are you?"Jane finally turned to look at him, irritation and exhaustion aging her soft face. Roger stood behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.
If looks could kill, his hands would have burned off.
The two of them made quite the duo, Jane, standing tall (although she only came to his chin), and Roger, pudgy with easy living, just an inch taller but standing as though he was Erik's equal. Two little people trying to stand up to his much taller figure. The thought would have made him laugh if he wasn't so furious.
"Yes, who are you?" Although Jane's question had a different meaning than how Roger interpreted it, his support helped.
Erik paused, 'What am I to Jane?'
He shook the feeling away and found anger, an easy emotion for him, "That does not matter. Jane has an obligation to the Opera Populaire and she's been neglecting her responsibilities."
Her eyes met his and for a moment, they stared each other down, trying to dominate. Roger started to fidget as the seconds stretched where neither spoke. Finally, Jane sighed heavily and touched her friend's hand as he opened his mouth to retort, "No, Roger dear, it's fine. Erik's right, I've been neglecting my cleaning duties."
Erik added, without thinking, "And your care for Christine."
Jane flinched and in her anger, a dark cloud seemed to fall over her face. The nightmare from her first night played in her mind like a broken music box. To keep quiet, she bit her cheek so hard, she started to bleed in her mouth. A comforting squeeze from Roger helped ground her.
"Of course," Was all she could get out.
Reluctantly, Roger started to walk away, "I'll go get your cloak then. I'll send for your suitcase on the morrow." Roger didn't want to leave Jane alone with Erik but he wanted to keep himself from saying something he'd regret.
After the innkeeper left the room, Erik snapped his head back to Jane, "Why didn't you come back?"
"I have my reasons." She wasn't looking at him and a hand covered her mouth. Without another word, she sat back down to watch the fire.
Rage flared in the back of his skull and he snatched her out of the chair, holding her by the shoulders as he shook her, "Why?!"
Of all the things he expected from Jane, tears was not one of them. They coursed down her pale face, her eyes glared out at him with such anger, and yet such sadness, that all he could do was stare back.
Panic started to set in when he noticed blood seeping out of the corner of Jane's mouth.
"Jane?" His voice was quiet, vulnerable.
Roger's voice screeched behind him, "You're hurting her!" Startled, he let go of Jane who landed in a heap on the faded rug.
The innkeeper pushed past the shocked Phantom to the prone body of his friend on the floor.
"Jane, mon ami, look at me!" A stained handkerchief was hastily pulled out of Roger's worn vest to dap at the blood on her exchange pulled at Erik's chest in a painful way, as though he had been punched without the violence, only it hurt just as much, perhaps more. There were things he still didn't know about Jane, even after all these years.
Her voice was shaky, "I'm alright, Roger, I'm alright. Just help me up please." Holding her waist in a way that made Erik's chest squeeze tighter than he thought possible, Roger helped her stand and put on the previously discarded cloak. She started speaking without looking at him.
"How are we returning?" She couldn't call it home just yet.
Suddenly, Erik was embarrassed, as he hadn't thought of a carriage and he noticed the puddles he was creating on the rug.
Clearing his throat, he looked at the fire, "We walk." She nodded her response.
"Are you sure you don't want me to call you a carriage?" Roger was now glaring at Erik who refused to look at either of them.
The smallest smile, one Erik thought was just for him, graced her face while facing the small, pudgy man. His chest squeezed again.
"No Roger, dear," Erik flinched at the endearment, "I'll be alright."
They embraced in front of the door and kissed cheeks, Erik had to look away. "I'll be waiting outside."
Jane shook her head wearily before turning once more to her friend, "Promise me you'll write. I want to hear about David, you know." Roger simply blushed in response.
—
The walk to the Opera Populaire was silent, Jane frustrated with Erik, and Erik not knowing what to say. He couldn't understand why she was angry, he had rescued her, right? He glanced at her every so often, but her expression didn't change from one of weary disappointment.
Things were still quiet when they reached their home, if she could call it that anymore. The rain and Erik's rude "rescue" had soured her mood and she tended to the dramatic when she was angry.
She didn't protest when he removed her cloak, but instead went right to her bedroom and closed the door. She had never closed the door except to change, and he had a sinking feeling she wasn't going to come out in a new frock.
Nevertheless, now that the pieces of his life were back together, he could focus on composing. He went to sit at his organ, but his head started to swim and candlelight danced like snakes on the crooked walls of the caves. He heard Jane's voice before his mind and body gave into darkness.