Disclaimer: Even if I had the entire cast chained up in my basement, I still wouldn't officially own The Phantom of the Opera.

Title: Peccata Mundi

Summary: The history of a man lies behind his white mask and his devotion to those in need. Through the shadows of his past and the light of the future, he seeks to right the wrong.

Assignment 1: The Nightingale

Summary: With his night terrors growing steadily worse, Erik must find the strength to locate a kidnapped woman. Will he be able to discover and protect her before it's too late, and will he be able to correctly distinguish between the past and the present?

Author's Note: Ah, Monsieur Richeleau is finally defeated. Erik did figure out his plan beforehand, but he had wanted to keep Monsieur Richeleau preoccupied and figured that he would be more than willing to share his "genius" plan. He mentions how he knew about it in this chapter. Thank you all for your reviews. It makes me excited to update when I know that people are actually interested in my story. Thanks! .-

Section 13

- Blissful Tidings

After removing themselves from the dreaded scene, a strong silence had fallen between Erik and Christine. The night air felt cool in contrast to the heated event that had just taken place. One could really work up a sweat in a dire situation and not even realize it. Erik was relieved to feel his heartbeat pulsating normally again and his nerves completely relaxing. However, he had decided he would not be satisfied until he saw the girl safely to her front door. He wasn't about to take any chances this late in the game, when it should all be over.

"Thank you," Christine whispered after they had gone about a block or two without a word. "Thank you for rescuing me."

She kept her gaze on the street in front of each step. Erik looked over at her and was finally able to examine her entire figure and the rags she wore. It could have been an awfully nice looking garment at one point, but between the struggle she must have put up and the ill-treatment, it appeared more like a burlap sack altered into a dress than an actual gown. He cursed himself for not noticing earlier, and removed his cape. He swung it around her bony shoulders in a swift motion. She faltered for a single moment in her step when he did this then turned her shimmering eyes toward him.

"I should really be thanking you," Erik replied somewhat loudly, as if to distract from the awkward pause. "If you hadn't been so stubborn and remained in the room after I told you repeatedly to go, who knows where I'd be right now. I could still be in the clutches of Monsieur Richeleau. It might have ended differently." He took a side glance at her, a small smirk coming to his lips. "Perhaps not."

"How were you able to find me?" Christine asked, her expression still solemn.

"You'd find it the strangest thing," Erik brushed off. He shook his head. "Even I do not quite understand it."

"Tell me. There is no way I could possibly think ill of the man who saved my life."

She stopped walking and just stood and stared at him with those big green eyes. He stopped a couple steps ahead of her and turned with an inquiring expression. She looked genuine in her response. What else could he do than acquiesce to her? Facing her, he cleared his throat then placed his hands behind his back. He couldn't bring himself to look at her as he revealed the source of his knowledge.

"You will find it quite silly, really," he began, "but I knew all about Monsieur Richeleau's plan. Of course, it took a little while to completely understand what all of the separate parts were for. It made so much sense, though, when it all came together." She nodded, he noticed, signaling him to continue. "Last night-or was it this night-I fell into a fitful dream. I won't go into detail of it since that is unimportant. It was that dream, though, that made everything dawn on me."

"A dream, really?" probed Christine in a non-pushy manner.

He nodded. "I must say, it has never occurred before where a case is solved by a dream."

"That is very odd, very odd indeed. And very…coincidental," Christine whispered more to herself than to him, picking up a steady pace again.

Erik fell one step behind her, but stared at her in intrigue. Her gaze was strong, focused downward to the ground, but definitely seeing anything except concrete. He figured she must be recapping whatever this coincidence could be. He wasn't about to be left in the dark, though, when he had revealed his own little tale.

"What is coincidental?" he asked trying to sound rather disinterested.

"It's just," she paused for a couple seconds, "I had a curious dream before you arrived, too." Suddenly, she giggled. Her laugh erupted in the night, slicing the silence pleasantly. "It is just so peculiar that we would both experience such strange dreams the same night."

Erik's brows furrowed in wonder, but before he could question further into it, Christine continued. "I don't know if I'll ever be able to get that sight out of my mind. I may be haunted by it forever."

"It will leave you, eventually," Erik reassured.

"How are you so certain?"

"You still have a lot ahead of you. There will be many joyous moments to replace this incident. As long as you do not dwell on this and let this run the rest of your life, it will pass."

Christine nodded, smiling. "I suppose you are right." She sighed. "But how ironic."

"You are correct in that, Mademoiselle," Erik said. "Monsieur Richeleau received exactly what he was going to bestow. You didn't happen to plan that, did you?"

"Any means of escape appealed to me. I wasn't about to rule anything out," Christine said quietly, but somewhat proudly.

Erik was impressed. It was strange having such a light-hearted, fun conversation after what they just underwent. But walking next to her just seemed so calming and enjoyable. He couldn't help feeling his spirits rise despite everything and himself.

"It really takes a…unique mind to arrive at such intentions," Christine whispered, shivering from the thought.

"Well it was his desire to preserve everything beautiful that really betrayed him," Erik commented lightly.

"How do you mean?" questioned Christine.

"You see," Erik stated looking over at her, "it is impossible to capture beauty and maintain it for all eternity, like he tried to accomplish. He never could have achieved his goal." He paused, mainly for dramatics. He became serious, though, and a small untraceable glint came to his hazel eyes. "Beauty is only beautiful because it is temporary. It is due to the fact that it will eventually wither that makes beauty."

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It was another block before their steps gradually slowed and they came to a halt in front of the familiar apartment. The darkness seemed to mask the hideous details of the shabby building. Previous viewing of it would be the only way to tell just how bad off it was. Despite this special knowledge, Christine looked upon the sight in admiration and comfort. It gave the place the feel of a palace instead of a shack.

"Well here we are," Erik confirmed.

Christine nodded and gazed toward him. It seemed difficult for her to pull her eyes off of the small apartment. Her face shone even brighter than he had ever seen it. He swore it would have been able to light up the entire night it she was somehow wired to a bulb. Her expression made him feel warm and at ease.

"Thank you," she breathed handing back his cloak. "Thank you for helping me and seeing me home. Thank you for everything, Monsieur…"

She just realized that she had never gotten his name. Her face screwed up on behalf of her loss of a name. She would have tried to prevent it if she had known, but the thought struck her so suddenly that she didn't have time to properly control her composure. It dawned on Erik, too. How strange it must have been that he knew her name, but she did not know his.

Quickly, he chimed in, "Erik. Just call me Erik. No formalities are needed."

The smile returned to Christine's face, and she echoed, "Erik."

"And there is no need to thank me, Mademoiselle. It was my pleasure. You're father is a very caring gentleman."

Tears came to the edges of Christine's eyes. It was like that was all she had ever wanted to hear. She was so proud of her father, and it was obvious she loved him immensely. Erik was astounded at how close and rich the rather underprivileged family was compared to some other wealthier families. It was just another example of money meaning nothing in happiness.

"I will tell him you said so," she said. "Goodbye then."

She seemed to hesitate briefly before taking the steps slowly. She opened the door, glanced back one last time at Erik, then shut up safely inside the house.

Erik watched the front door for a minute more. He crept in closer until he was face to face with the dirty glass of the window. Carefully, he peered inside to where a single candle flickered strongly. The old man Daaé was alone and resting. The blankets heaved up and down with every difficult breath. But then the bedroom door opened. He watched Christine creep softly in and sit on the side of the bed. She ran her hand over her father's forehead. He stirred, and it seemed as if he had been replaced by a younger man, for he nearly shot out of bed at the sight of her. He was so excited and relieved. Tears flowed and they were caught in a long embrace.

Erik smiled to himself. Was this the best part about his work? Probably. It always overjoyed him to see those reunited who actually appreciated life. Despite all of the odds against them, this family had learned to survive and be grateful for what they had. Erik stepped back onto the sidewalk and looked up into the sky. It was slowly getting lighter. The shadows were being chased back into their hiding places by the rising sun.

So as the sun steadily took its position, Erik walked back to his home.