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: That menu bit sounds like it would have been pretty funny. Exactly something I would do. And alas, we have come to the end of The Nightingale Assignment. I am liking the ending of this, and you'll see why once you reach the end of the epilogue. There will also be a slight preview, I guess you could say, of the next installment at the bottom of the epilogue. I hope you all enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. And I hope I don't lose all of you going into the next chapter of the Detective Erik series. It has been a pleasure. So until next time…bows…thank you for your reviews, support, ideas, hypotheses, etc. I remain your obedient servant, D.

Epilogue

Two weeks later…

The music swirled in ribbons around him, filling the closed office and his own mind. It was a pretty, more lively piece than most of the others that he had previously composed. He didn't know if it was this contrast or just the order of the notes, but for some reason he couldn't put his finger on the tune sounded all wrong. And when the musician's intuition about his work was not fully optimistic and proud and assured, there was no way to salvage it. He could only stop and start over again from the beginning until it felt perfect and right.

Erik set down his violin and tore a few sheets of music to the floor so that blank pages were before him. He picked up his instrument again, holding it delicately between his chin and shoulder, and tried another tune. It was less wild than the one before it, and it seemed to flow nicer. Not fully convinced it was fitting, but feeling more confident about it than the last piece, he took time every few seconds to stop and write out the notes that flew from his fingers. And each time he would restart his song.

It had become increasingly harder to produce his symphony. All of the inspiration that had been present weeks before had basically faded into oblivion. It made him angry and coarse. He had turned into a sort of ghoul that would remain locked away in his study all day and night, only emerging to yell at someone to be quiet or to fetch him some nourishment to keep him going. It was a giant reversal of how he had vowed to act after the last case.

But that was also a cause for his troubled state. Whenever there were periods of no work, he would become sour. Perhaps it was because he felt cooped up and slightly claustrophobic within the confines of the house. Perhaps it was because no funds were coming in during the period of stasis. Whatever the case, the master of the house had changed for the worse for the time being. All of the three other occupants knew to stay out of his way and to not do anything to upset him in this state. They also knew that it was temporary and very soon they were sure to have their old boss back.

During a time of his recording the notes, a knock at the front door echoed into Erik's ears. He didn't respond, knowing that Madame Giry was sure to answer it in no time. Without a doubt, the clacking noise of her heels pounded across the floor to the front hall to greet whoever was calling. Believing it to be some messenger or other of the sort, Erik shouldered his violin once more and began to play. He closed his eyes, trying to get into the music, which was not quite working.

He was just reaching a new point in the song when voices drifted into the room, interrupting his concentration. At first he tried to play past this distraction, grasping the instrument harder, but to no avail. He stopped for a moment, letting the violin dangle at his side. Then the voices seemed to diminish just as randomly as they had interrupted. He sighed, picking up the violin again, and starting over in the song.

Again, it wasn't long before the same voices breached his focus. He furrowed his brows and struck the strings harder with the bow, hoping the voices would fade out like before. But he wasn't so lucky, and eventually he gave up with an irritated huff. Rage boiled inside of him. He wasn't going to stand for this in his own house. He needed peace and quiet, and he just needed something to jump start this blasted symphony!

Erik stomped to the office door, flung it open so it banged against the supporting wall, and continued into the hall and to the front door, violin and bow in hand. His mind was worked up. Who could Madame Giry be chattering away with? It wasn't like he had many people just stopping by. He liked the solace of not having to constantly act as host. But for some reason, he now had an unexpected visitor.

"Madame Giry," he began to chide even before he had reached her. His long legs stretched in large strides, moving him quickly forward. "What is the meaning of this commotion?"

Madame Giry stopped talking to whoever lay behind the door. Erik was in such a position where he couldn't see the unwanted guest. There was a smug smile on Madame Giry's face at his approach. She bowed her head in respect, but met his gaze with a hidden defiance.

"My apologies, sir," she said lightly.

"Do not allow it to happen again," he whispered threateningly.

Erik pivoted to go back to his study, but didn't even get one step before Madame Giry continued, "I was just greeting the newest member to our household."

He stopped, hardly believing what he had just heard. He spun back around to face her, his brows in a twist. First, she interrupted his delicate process. Then she informs him of some new arrival that he hadn't even approved of. The woman had gall.

"What?" he questioned. "I never allowed another resident into this house."

"Please, don't be upset," a small feminine voice said from behind the door.

Oddly enough, Erik found it rather familiar. He shuffled Madame Giry out of the way and opened the door wider. To his shock, standing in the doorway with a single carpet bag of belongings, clad in an old design, and grinning from ear to ear, was none other than one of the people he had refused ever to contact again—Christine Daaé. Her mere presence went against the code he had sworn by: to never have contact with clients after the case.

"Can I help you?" he asked, forgetting his anger and not even realizing what had flustered out of his mouth.

"I ran into Mademoiselle Daaé the other day and inquired of her well-being," Madame Giry interrupted. Erik continued to stare, mouth slightly agape, at Christine. "She told me how lonely the house felt now, so I took it upon myself to hire her for extra help. I had a feeling you wouldn't protest. Well, at least not too much."

Erik was speechless. He didn't quite know what else to say. Should he allow it? Could he send her away? It was still rather surprising to him. Christine, though, seemed to have made up her, as well as his, mind. She stepped around him into the house.

"I am a hard and diligent worker. You don't have to worry about noise or my being in the way. You will hardly know I am even here," Christine informed. "Where should I set my things?"

"Up the staircase. I'll be right with you," Madame Giry pointed out.

Christine departed up the steps, allowing Madame Giry to attend to the dumb Erik. He had recovered his composure completely, but he was still void of anything intelligible to say. He was staring after Christine. It wasn't until she was completely out of sight that he even dared open his mouth again.

"How did you know she was the missing girl in the case?" he turned on Madame Giry.

She smiled. "I have my ways, as you have yours." Erik's head turned back up the staircase. "Should I set another place at the table then, sir?" she asked, moving slowly up the steps.

Erik sighed. "I suppose you have no choice, Madame Giry. It looks as if there is an addition to our family." And he closed the front door.

Fin

Next in store for our detective…

After her big debut, Meg mysteriously goes missing. Add in multiple child kidnappings, and Erik is more than concerned. With the aid of his newest resident, he will have to solve the kidnappings and rescue Meg before it is too late.