Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom. And I can't be bothered to even try to be amusing in these things any more.
A/N: Random Thought #1256: You know I just realised this story has been going on for almost a year? Wow. Thank you to the reviewers and lurkers that have followed me from the beginning, and to all readers.
Chapter 14
The next morning after much deliberation on her (long) walk home to the Opera and all through the night, Leah had decided to take Jack up on his portrait offer.
She had eaten a small breakfast of bread and cheese that Erik had stored in one of his many small compartments around the Lair.
Leah didn't know how she felt anymore. One moment, she decided that she was numb; completely numb to her situation. Then only seconds later she would almost choke on a flood of tears that she tried to prevent.
As she ate her small breakfast, when she looked up from her seat on an oriental chest, she half expected to find those unusual and brilliant green-gold eyes staring back at her unblinkingly as was her masked companion's wont.
Then the crushing truth came back to her; she was alone.
Leah gathered her cloak and Jack Tracey's card and again headed out of the Lair.
She wandered through the streets for quite a few hours, enjoying the pale early morning sunlight and observing the people who scuttled by.
Yet in the corners of the streets and in deep doorframes, there were deep, dark shadows that the dawn light could not penetrate. Occasionally she would glace sharply to behind her or to her sides; she always though she could see gloomy figures pursuing her through those dark patches.
Leah shuddered and pressed on through the brightening streets. Every now and then she would pause to ask a stranger in half-translated words if she was going the right way, or directions to the street printed in neat calligraphy on the card.
Eventually Leah found herself at the bottom of a narrow flight of stairs leading to a second story.
The building was in a fair area, not as dirty as some streets she had seen in Paris, and its bricks were clean and the flowering plants in a window box on the second story were well cared-for and manicured.
Leah took a deep breath, exhaled and made her way carefully up the stairs.
About half-way up the flight, Leah was halted by a feeling in the pit of her gut. It told her to stop, turn around and go home. The odd thing was there was no sense of danger, no bad feeling, but just an unreal urge to go back.
It took all her mental strength to fight the feeling and push on, coming to the landing in front of a strong looking green wooden door.
She took up the heavy golden lions-head knocker, and let it bang lightly a few times on the door.
Almost before the knocker fell a third time, the door opened and Leah found Jack smiling goofily out at her. He was wearing casual pants and an open-necked shirt, a cravat slung carelessly round his shoulders and his hair unkempt.
"Leah!" He cried happily, "I really didn't expect you to come! This is wonderful!" He went to embrace her, but though better of it, and kissed her hand warmly.
"I didn't think I would either, but the loneliness was beginning to eat at me. So here I am," She said honestly. "And I'll admit: You got me curious," She returned his smile.
"Wonderful, wonderful. Please, do come in. I apologise for the mess, I was going to clean up today…" Jack trailed off sheepishly.
"No, that's perfectly fine. My room was always a mess at home." If Jack thought this an odd statement, he said nothing.
Leah stepped into the little room, and looked around. It was not dark; the large window she had seen with the flowers outside it had its curtains thrown back to admit the weak sunlight. The room was not particularly messy, the small dining area to the left had its table set for one with the dirty plate and glass still out, and the sitting area was strewn with art logs and many books. This was no different to the Lair, really.
Again Leah felt the pull of the Opera House, the strong yet unexplainable urge to go back. The strain of fighting it must have shown on her face, because Jack leaned close and asked, "Are you alright? Is there something bothering you?"
Leah put on a smile, and assured him she was alright. "I'm fine. This is a lovely place."
"Thankyou. I rent it from a wealthy landlord. He's fair but tough; he makes sure I keep it well. I sleep through there," He indicated a door off of the sitting room, and then continued, "But if you will just come through here, I can show you my studio."
As the passed into the next room, Jack explained to her that there was an outhouse in the small backyard.
Jack's Studio was gorgeous. The natural light that came through another large window illuminated the walls of the small room. They were almost completely covered in painting and sketches of all manner of things. There were horses, people, families, animals, scenery, buildings and flowers.
They were true works of art; the flowers truly grew on the walls and it looked to Leah as if she could just reach into one of the river scenes and trail her fingers in the water.
"My God…" She murmured, "They're beautiful…"
Jack seemed to grow a few inches taller. "Again, thankyou, you're too kind. I try, and I like to think that people appreciate what I do."
Leah was lost in the pictures; she was examining a full colour painting of a woman from the waist up. The woman was beautiful, her clothes shone, Leah could see every hair in her elaborate style, and her eyes were expressive.
It was like being able to wander in a room of the materialisation of Erik's music; stunning and surprising, vivid and bright with all emotions clear.
She turned to Jack with misted eyes, "Never stop painting," she told him simply and earnestly.
"I think that's the greatest compliment anyone has ever paid me."
Leah looked out the large window, and found a view of a small fenced yard, and Paris sprawled out beyond it. "Terrific view," She said.
Jack nodded and indicated to one of the pictures hanging by the window where a pencil sketch hung in a simple frame. It was almost the exact same scene with amazing detail, with the only difference being that on the street directly behind the yard leading away from the house walked a man in a long coat carrying an umbrella.
Jack cleared his throat, capturing Leah attention once again. "If you would just like to sit there," He pointed to an old fashioned couch, "We can get started."
Leah made her way around the desk that was positioned facing the window, and sat down gingerly, below a tiger that was flexing its claws threateningly.
Jack pulled up the chair from the desk about a metre in front of her and took up a pad of clean white paper and his pencil. He looked at her scrutinisingly for a few moments and something in his eyes reminded Leah of Erik.
Again she felt a jolt deep in her stomach, but weaker this time, and she managed to pass it off with nothing but a hard blink.
Then Jack came towards her, but his eyes looked as if he was peering past her.
He lent her gently against the arm of the couch, and placed her left hand on her forehead, with her fingers raking back her hair.
"May I?" He asked softly, and Leah nodded, allowing him to drape her hair around her shoulders just so.
"Perfectionist?" Leah smirked.
"Artist."
Jack studied her again, taking her in as a whole, sat back, satisfied, and took up his pencil.
Leah did not move for the next few hours, she sat with a set expression and watched Jack work his magic over his canvas. He seldom scrubbed out his efforts with a small lump of grey rubber, and considered her from all angles.
Around lunchtime, when Leah had developed a crick in her neck and was busting to go to the bathroom, Jack closed his pad, put it down and stretched in his chair.
"Can I move?" Leah questioned.
"Yes, yes! Of corse," Jack held out his hand to help her up and Leah accepted it gratefully, flexing her legs and rolling her head in circles.
She them hopped on one leg, hurriedly asking him the quickest way to the nearest bathroom.
Jack opened a door on another set of stairs down to the backyard and the outhouse.
When Leah came back, Jack had set out a salad baguette on a plate on his desk. He stood waiting for her.
"It's nothing much, but I will take you out for dinner, if you would permit it," Jack told her. He pulled out her chair and sat himself saying, "I've been told I'm a terrible cook, so please tell me if it is so."
Leah braced herself as she took the first bite, but was pleasantly surprised. She nodded and smiled to him, eating more.
When they had both finished, Leah went back to her couch, falling almost immediately back into her position, and Jack sat back with his pad.
"Can I see yet?"
Jack shook his head vigorously, "Oh no, you must wait until I finish. It will not be much longer."
He was right. About forty minutes passed, and as Jack looked one last time from his picture to Leah, he put down his pencil.
Leah squealed excitedly, murmuring, "Lemmeseelemmesee!" Under her breath.
Jack sighed and turned his paper to show her.
Leah almost recoiled in astonishment at what stared back at her from the page. For a full minute she was speechless, staring into that paper which had been moulded into a mirror by skilled hands.
"I'm beautiful…" She whispered, looking at the woman on the pad.
Leah recalled peering at herself in one of the hundreds of mirrors littered round the Lair that morning, and concluded that this was not exactly her carbon copy.
She remembered the brown bags under her eyes and her lank hair. The girl in the picture did not have dull hair, but it was bouncy and it shone. The girl's face was unblemished but not unreal, no bags adorned her eyes. As Jack had said and as his remarkable talent showed, they were filled with a sad, lost look.
This girl's lips were also tilted up in a small, depressing smile. Leah could state for a fact that she had not been smiling.
"You like?" Jack asked.
"It's beautiful! Words fail to describe it. It's me, but not me. I'm not as attractive as that now…" Leah said.
"I did nothing but bring out what was inside." Jack informed her.
Leah knew it was true. This woman's expression looked on the outside just as Leah felt on the inside. "You are a true artist."
"Thankyou," Jack accepted the compliment humbly.
He took the picture and put it in one of the folders that were arranged on the shelf along one of the walls. "Will you accompany me to afternoon tea?"
Leah rose, "I think I owe it to you after that picture."
"You owe me nothing, but I appreciate your company."
Jack tied his cravat quickly and slung on a coat that hung on a rack by his front door. He led the way down the stairs, and together they made their way at a leisurely pace to a coffee shop on the riverfront.
They passed an acrobat and a juggler on the street, both competing for an audience, and Jack flicked them both a coin.
Leah smiled at this, and looked at her escort. He had a far-away expression in his eyes and a slight smile quirked his lips.
The café Jack chose was on the river front but was not crowded. He pulled out a chair for Leah at a table by the front window, and sat himself down.
"It's a little too early for dinner," Jack admitted a little miserably. "Earlier than I anticipated."
"Oh?" Leah enquired.
"You were just so easy to draw… it seemed as if I had your portrait in me from the beginning, I just needed to see you and have a chance."
Leah was flattered and told him so, which he replied to with, "It is the truth, and nothing but." There was a twinkle in his eyes as he said this, and he reached out to cover her hand with his as it rested on the table.
"It appears as if we will have to settle with afternoon tea today," He said. "What will you have?"
Leah pulled back her hand, making a show of reaching for a menu, knowing she couldn't read any of it. "What do you recommend? I'm not really up with what's good in little cafes in France."
Jack smiled and called a waitress over. They conversed in quick French that Leah failed miserably to catch any of, and then the girl hurried off.
Leah cleared her throat, "Please tell me you didn't order snails."
Jack leaned back in his chair and laughed. "No, no. Not yet, anyway. Now, what brings you to the fair city of Paris in this wretched winter? It's not exactly the most favoured tourist destination at the moment."
Leah fumbled with her napkin, thinking quickly. "Uh… It was a family issue. My uncle passed away a few months ago, and… we had to come here to sort out his estate."
"Ah. You have lost two people within a short time. My condolences, I've been lucky enough not to suffer the loss of anyone yet," Jack returned.
Leah shifted in her seat, looking out the window at the river, moving slowly south. People stopped at the sides to talk, fish and kiss. Lovers stood in dark corners of the bridges and embraced, and Leah looked down, hiding her moist eyes.
"Could we please move to a brighter subject?" She asked softly, still not meeting Jack's eyes.
"Of corse!" Jack gushed, and he looked around the café quickly. "Er… Do you sing?"
Leah gulped. She didn't know if she could stand to be around this man for much longer, it was too painful. He seemed to be able to hone in on the most difficult subjects for her. But he had been sweet and kind, a friendly face for her when she had no one.
"No, I can't sing."
Jack cocked his head to the side. "It's just you said you liked theatre," He said.
Leah shook her head and forced a laugh. "I couldn't sing to save my life. How about you?"
"No, I don't sing either, though I enjoy music very much. God only smiled on me with a talent for painting, nothing else," He chuckled, "I was short changed, if you will."
Leah almost choked on her sudden anger. Erik had a beautiful talent for music, but nothing else in his life had ever gone in his favour, and this man said he was short changed?
"But your talent is breathtaking! More than enough for two people," Leah said, trying to sound cheerful.
Jack nodded, and then noticed the waitress making her way over, weaving her way between the scattered tables with two tall glasses and a plate in her hand.
He waitress announced the order and placed one glass in front of each of them, and put the plate in the middle.
Leah smiled up at the girl as she turned to go.
"Mocha late," Jack explained, "Wonderful."
Leah noticed Jack loved the word 'wonderful'. Then the plate in the centre of the table caught her eye.
It was a lavishly huge slice of a dark cake, its icing thick and chocolaty. That was just what she needed; chocolate.
She picked up her fork and asked Jack with her eyes. He motioned her to go ahead, and she took a generous forkful. It was… wonderful. She stifled a giggle.
Their afternoon tea was tasty, and passed punctuated by small talk and conversation that Leah only half-participated in.
The overwhelming feeling of needing to go back to the Opera faded into a dull wanting, and Leah relaxed as the pale sun sank to the horizon. She felt more comfortable with Jack, he had made no further advances on her, and Leah was grateful.
As lamplights on the waterfront began to burst into flame, Jack drew their meeting to a close, paying the bill and thanking the waitress.
Leah followed him out onto the pavement in front of the café, and looked out onto the river, seeing boats passing at a leisurely pace.
"I will see you again."
It was not a question, but more of a statement; Jack looked at her hard with his brown eyes. Leah was a little taken aback, and drew her cloak more tightly about her shoulders.
"Yes, you will. I'll come to visit you again. Today was enjoyable." Her hand was given the customary kiss, and Jack said his last goodbye.
By this time Leah was itching to leave, the dull wanting had flared up again, and she was almost edging away from him as he dropped her hand and nodded to her.
She cast a hurried smile in his direction and drew hastily out of the pool of light the streetlamp threw on the cobbles. Leah could feel his eyes on her back, and walked more quickly, rounding a corner and plunging into the thinning crowds.
This time she had taken note of the way, and couldn't wait to reach her destination.
As she came onto more quiet streets, she broke into a run, trying not to snag the hem of her whitish dress on her shoes. The hard heels of her boots clicked in a quick rhythm on the uneven cobles as she dashed along.
Several times she almost tripped, and righting herself, rushed on. It was as if she was a fish hooked on some huge line, and she was being reeled in faster and faster all the time.
Eventually she turned into the Opera House square and panting hard, she made her way indirectly to the back door.
As it snapped closed, Leah slumped against the cool wood for a moment. She closed her eyes and sighed, appreciating for a moment the disappearance of the overwhelming homesick feeling.
The silence then began to sink in, and Leah had to move, she didn't feel like facing it now. The large bunch of keys she had kept in her cloak pocket clanked in her hand and she looked at the rough floor of the passage and concentrated on not stumbling.
The warm glow of the Lair brought her head up, and she breathed in its familiar musty and slightly stale smell. She looked around, and began to bend to retrieve a book that had fallen from a table.
Her eyes caught something, and the cluster of eyes slid to the hard stone floor from her nerveless fingers with a clatter.