The wall slides back into place almost soundlessly and Erik smiled grimly, pleased that the mechanism still worked; he hadn't been certain it would. He held up one finger to indicate silence.
Faintly illuminated by the small lantern he'd brought, he glanced down. Meg's brown eyes were round with fear, the rest of her face cast in shadow or hidden beneath his gloved hand. Her chest heaved with the great effort of catching her breath; and, a split second later, her eyes rolled upward and she slumped against him, unconscious.
Erik pushed away the flicker of concern.
"Just as well." He muttered darkly, staring at the sealed wall. Desjardins had finally caught up to Meg's location and the stuffy air in the passageway felt heavy with his confusion; with Meg unconscious, their presence would go unnoticed.
"Not that he can get through from that side, even if he knew I was here."
Wisps of Meg's hair tickled his chin and Erik tensed, struggling to maintain focus. He tightened his grip on her and ruminated on his options. The most obvious course of action was returning Meg to the safety of home and leaving Desjardins alone. One might even consider it the most responsible course of action.
"But what if he follows her there? Madame Giry seemed rather taken in by him that one time.. and besides, when have I ever taken the responsible path"
What he wanted most was to tuck Meg away in some safe cupboard and hurry back to begin the haunting game he excelled at and had been dying to properly play: complete with disembodied voices, dangerous accidents, and stalking that piece of slime until Desjardins went insane. That pompous toad would beg Erik for the end.
"I'd be only too happy to oblige." A smile twitched at the corners of Erik's mouth. "Make up your mind, fool, before she wakes up and complicates matters."
Desjardins thundered toward them, unaware that his death waited at the end of the hallway, seething in the darkness, waiting for the perfect moment.
"Would Cricket shed any tears for that fat manager?" The still, small voice tried to push through the red clouds of rage swirling around his mind. That quiet voice was a newer development and another thing Erik was very not used to. What had Meg called it during one of their midnight assignations?
"Your conscience." The small voice supplied. It was an inconvenient time to make an appearance; Erik shifted Meg's weight in his arms. He smiled, relishing the sound of Desjardins's growing frustration as he violently rattled the locked doors Meg had just tried to find refuge in.
"Pompous ass." Erik clenched his jaw, imagining all the ways he would punish Desjardins for the terror he had caused Cricket, for what Erik assumed he had intended to do to her. Instead of action, Erik waited, grinding his teeth into powder. It wasn't long before he could hear Desjardins's footsteps receding.
"How easily he gave up, but I won't be so easily deterred. There is nowhere safe from me. "
Erik's indecision melted away and he spun on his heel, back the way he had come, careful of knocking Meg into the walls. He wound his way expertly down the levels, through trap doors only he knew, to the house on the lake. He would leave Meg in the guest room and return to the theatre for a spot of fun.
"Well, fun for me."
Erik slowed as he approached the lakes edge, pausing to fill his lungs with the cold damp air, letting it invigorate him before the trip across the water. He tucked Meg into the bow and, hopping in behind her, slowly poled the boat to the other side.
Once inside, Erik swept through the sitting room and down the dim corridor into the guest suite. He hovered in the doorway for a moment, debating whether he should leave her here or out in the sitting room. The last occupant of the suite had been Christine.
"What would she think if she awoke in here?" She didn't know it was Christine's room and, what Meg didn't know wouldn't come back to bite Erik.
"I'm not sure that's how that works."
His arms were aching from hauling Meg's dead weight the length of the opera house. Awkwardly, he pulled back the covers with one hand and lay Meg down and tucked her in. Meg's breathing was slow and steady and Erik was certain she was no longer unconscious, just sleeping. Dark shadows clung beneath her eyes and sadness seemed to tug at the corners of her mouth. Erik sat down on the edge of the bed and took her hands in his.
"Cricket has been sad too often." Erik rubbed his thumb across her chilly skin. "And whose fault is that, you devil?"He sighed and of the rage pounding in his blood had fled; Erik sagged, suddenly feeling very old and tired. The game would have to wait until later.
Erik placed her hands by her sides and pulled the blankets up to her chin. He ached to touch her, to brush her cheek or wrap her in his arms. But what if that woke her up? Meg would scream the house down and Erik would not contemplate that.
"You should leave." The monster whispered. "The manager awaits his torment." Erik slowly rose to his feet, trying to harness the rage that had been within reach just a moment ago. "Go." The monster commanded but Erik glanced down the peaceful sleeping Cricket, finally safe from the wretched Desjardins.
"Not safe from you, though. Go, Erik. Go!"
And he wanted to go; at least, he thought he had. "Cricket should not wake up alone in Erik's tomb. That is – she would be -..no, Erik could not bear it." He explained to the monster, to no one at all; and, to his surprise, the monster acquiesced, retreating to whatever dark corners it festered in. Erik wrapped his cloak around him and lay down near Meg, clinging to the very edge of the mattress.
"Erik will lay here until Cricket wakes up, then he will take her home." He stifled a yawn. "It cannot be long."
And then he fell asleep.
