First off, I don't own Phantom of the Opera, I only wish I did…(and naturally, characters might be ooc at some point, terribly sorry, just send me a message complaining if that happens and I'll try to fix it.
Secondly, my fic takes place in present day, and the Phantom is immortal (there's more about that to be revealed later…much later). If you don't like that/don't agree with it/don't want to read it, well, you've been warned.
Thirdly, if I make a mistake, be it in history or contradiction with something from the movie/musical and/or book, let me know. I don't mind being told I'm wrong, that way I can fix it and not look like a huge idiot. This bit also applies to French phrases. I will be using them. In most cases, they're very common phrases, or they will be explained shortly after they are said. If it is not explained in the story, I will put a little section at the beginning to tell you what the phrase(s) means (unless it is purposefully meant to be unexplained, which will be a very rare thing).
Lastly, reviews will be much appreciated. They will encourage updates, for as long as I can manage it. (Please please please please write me reviews ppl…I really like to hear from you ppl.) I regret to say that I'm a college student, and when I'm home for summer and other breaks, I can't update as regularly (I may not be able to update at all) due to limited internet access. But I will get your messages over the summer, and will try to reply to everyone. Thank you so much, now on to the story.
Lenore was beginning to hate herself. He must be appalled, I know I'm butchering this piece. She didn't recognize it, and it didn't sound like any of the classical works that she'd heard before. Taking a brief pause to locate the composer's name, she silently cursed herself and reached a new level of self-hatred. Of course I had to be f#cking up his music. Erik must be itching to kill me and put the piece out of its misery. She glared at Erik's name scrawled on the parchment with contempt. Why couldn't he have given her something a bit simpler than this?
"Hey, you're not doing half bad, Lenore," her sister's voice sounded behind her.
"Oh great, hallucinations this year," Lenore grumbled.
"I hope I'm not a hallucination…" Ember replied, coming up beside her sister. "Come on, you gotta change, we're going to the Louvre."
"I'm not going anywhere with a hallucination, thank you very much," Lenore informed her supposed hallucination of her sister. "Least of all the Louvre."
"I was hoping you would enjoy the outing," Erik said behind her.
"Lord, it's getting worse…I'll end up in a psych ward at this rate." Strong hands gripped her upper arms and pulled her up from the bench.
"Am I still just a hallucination, ma chouchoute?"
"Um…you could be, cuz I'm still seeing my sister…"
"Well, if you're going mad, I must be too, for I can see her as clearly as you can," Erik reasoned.
"What's ma chouchoute mean? My what?" Ember inquired curiously.
"I've been asking that since yesterday," Lenore added. "You've stumped both of us, Erik."
"You will know when I wish you to know, now go with your sister and get changed," he said, releasing her. Ember grabbed her sister's hand and dragged her to the bedroom, handing her a floor-length white skirt with a rose print and the accompanying button-up sleeveless blouse.
"This has to be a dream," Lenore said as she changed from the blue dress into the outfit her sister provided.
"Nope, not at all. I found him in the stables, see, and then took him out clothes shopping. Wait till you see him, he's a knockout," Ember assured her sister.
"This is definitely a dream. There's no way you took the Phantom of the Opera out clothes shopping," Lenore contradicted, finishing the last of the buttons on her shirt.
"I must confess, I am rather puzzled as to how she managed to get me out of my Opera House," Erik admitted outside the bedroom, waiting for the girls to be ready.
"My Opera House," Lenore mumbled possessively. Ember sighed and pushed her sister out of the bedroom back into the lair. Erik was leaning against the wall a few feet away, wearing black dress pants and an emerald green tank top with a black, short-sleeved, button up shirt left unbuttoned over the tank top. "Now I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that this is a dream. No man could ever look that good in reality." Erik raised an eyebrow.
"Told you she'd like it," Ember giggled.
Erik offered Lenore his hand and she took it instantly, staring at him transfixed. He led the two girls into a corridor where the horse he had saddled earlier waited. Ember swung up onto it and reached down a hand to help her sister up.
"Mademoiselle, I do not believe that you should ride astride," Erik said, giving her a look that clearly stated disapproval.
"Nonsense," Ember argued. "I'm wearing capris, not a skirt. And anyways, that's old-fashioned."
"Respect your elders and their wishes," Lenore replied.
"Quite right, ma chouchoute," Erik smiled, putting his hands on her waist and hoisting her up onto the horse behind her sister.
"Whatever, I'm not riding like a sissy girl in the 1800s," Ember muttered as her sister wrapped her arms around her waist, noting that her sister was riding side saddle. "Somebody's a whipped lapdog, isn't she?"
"I have to be good so I can hear the music," Lenore told her sister.
Ember was truly amazed at the artwork lining the underground passageways. Why are we even bothering to go to the Louvre when these corridors are so adorned with art? She had the feeling that the Louvre might prove disappointing after the beautiful sculptures and paintings lining the corridor. (It seemed Erik had constructed a tunnel underground leading to several exits throughout the northern half of Paris, one of the exits located in the Louvre.)
Finally reaching their destination, Erik stopped the horse and helped Lenore down, leaving Ember to dismount by herself.
"Bloody wonderful manners, sir," Ember snapped.
"If you ride like a man, I shall treat you as one," Erik informed her.
"See if I ever take you shopping again," Ember threatened.
"That's hardly a punishment," Erik pointed out.
"Why do you men have to be so infuriating?" she grumbled, kicking a small rock into the blackness of the tunnel behind them.
"Because you women are amusing when irritated," he replied smoothly.
Do. Not. Fall. To. Pieces. "Ha! Don't make me laugh," Ember returned coolly. "'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.' Or did you miss that quote while you were wallowing in self-pity in the darkness?"
"Actually, Mademoiselle, the quote is 'Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned, nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.' It comes from the play "The Mourning Bride" of 1697 by William Congreve," Erik said curtly.
"No way," Ember argued stubbornly. She couldn't possibly have said the line wrong…could she?
"It's true; don't worry about it, many people misquote the line. They also attribute it to William Shakespeare."
"Well, I knew it wasn't Shakespeare, I'm not that stupid." A laughing smirk touched the corners of Erik's lips. "I don't know how you stand this man, Lenore, he's positively exasperating."
"You don't know the half of it," Lenore countered.
"Is he treating you badly?"
"Well, not really…but he did wash my mouth out with lye soap for saying the s-word," Lenore whined.
"Aww, you poor thing. He's absolutely cruel to you," Ember said, drawing her sister into a comforting hug and glaring daggers at an unconcerned Phantom. Lenore sniffled into her sister's shoulder.
"If you two are done with your performance, we can continue on our way," he told them, seeing through their charade.
Lenore smiled as she viewed the paintings of Francois Boucher. Erik's hand was clasped tightly in her own. They always say that Paris is the city of love…That, or he just doesn't want to take the chance that I'll try to run away. Especially in a large crowd like this; if I ran and he caught me, I could start yelling 'rape' and people would come to my aid. The police would arrest him, and I could testify against him in court as a murderer…Yeah, let's not look at this hand-holding thing as a sign of love so much as him keeping himself safe.
"Red alert," Ember suddenly hissed, scooting away from Lenore. Before Lenore had a chance to ask what her sister was on about, Erik jerked her into a side hallway, wrapping an arm possessively around her waist, holding her close.
"Vell Patrick, if it isn't your bonnie lass, Ember," Sebastian's voice drifted around the corner.
"Hey guys, how you doing?" Ember greeted jovially.
"Vell, I'd be doing much better if I 'ad 'eard from Lenore," Felix complained.
"I told you, she's really busy. She doesn't really have time for a social life right now," Ember replied.
"Is she in some kind of trouble?" Sebastian inquired. "I mean, ve almost never see 'er."
"Oh, no, she's fine," Ember assured the concerned men.
"Will you 'ave 'er call me tonight?" Felix practically begged.
"I can try, but no guarantees…I may be her big sister, but she doesn't always listen to me."
"Oi, why don't you two go concern yourselves with Lenore somewhere else?" Patrick suggested.
"Of course, Patrick, if you wanted to be alone with Ember, all you 'ad to do was say so," Sebastian laughed as they began to leave the two lovers to their own devices. Dread flooded Lenore; their footsteps were headed straight towards her and Erik.
"Felix, does Lenore have your number?" Ember said suddenly. The sound of footsteps lessened, which indicated that Felix had stopped. But Sebastian had not.
"Well, Mademoiselle Devlin was supposed to give it to her. But it's possible that she forgot," Felix reasoned, his footsteps retreating from the corner.
Sebastian, turn around! If you want to live, turn around! Damnit, there's no where for me and Erik to hide. This is bad, very bad. Somebody's gonna die today…
Sebastian came into view, eyes on the opposite wall of art before they gazed around the corridor, stopping on Lenore in surprise. "Lenore?" he said in shock.
"I can explain everything!" Lenore replied in a panic. It was only then that she noted Erik was no longer holding her; she'd been so worried about what was going to happen to Felix and Sebastian that she had failed to notice when he let go of her. "My meetings got cancelled, you see, and I knew Ember was coming here today, so I'm looking for her."
"Vell, you're in luck; she's just around zee corner," Sebastian said, taking her hand and gently tugging her back the way he had come. "Felix, look who I found," he said when Felix, Ember, and Patrick were in sight.
"Lenore?" Ember said, raising an eyebrow in question to Erik's whereabouts.
"My meetings got cancelled, and I thought it'd be nice to join you here and see a bit more of Paris," Lenore explained.
"It must be my lucky day," Felix grinned, coming over and putting an arm around her shoulder.
Erik was standing far enough away so as not to be noticed, but close enough to hear the conversation. Lucky day, indeed. What a shame that luck is bad. The arrogant boy had put his arm around Lenore's shoulders, pulling her closer in a silent claim of possession. You'll not have her as long as I breathe, Monsieur Deville, I can assure you of that.
"Why don't I take you for lunch, ma chérie?" Felix suggested, already leading her to the exit without waiting for her consent.
Insolent boy, you have no place to call her that. You've known her for only a few brief hours; that is not long enough to be on affectionate terms with the woman. If you ever have the audacity to set foot in my Opera House again, it shall be your tomb.
Lenore ended up being dragged around Paris all day by Felix. She would've found it very enjoyable if she hadn't felt Erik's eyes on the two of them the whole time. At first, she wasn't all too concerned about Felix's safety; when Felix decided they should have a chance to be alone and separated from Sebastian, Patrick, and Ember, Lenore became horridly jumpy.
After dining at a small café that evening, Felix took her to a dance club called La Java, which turned out to be about 2 miles from the Opera House. She prayed that Erik would just go back and wait for her, but she felt his eyes upon her as Felix led her onto the dance floor. Erik, this is awkward enough without you watching me; please, please, please, please go back and wait for me.
"Ma chérie, you've been tense all day," Felix whispered softly to her, pulling her body close to his. "You are overworked."
"Well, gotta make a living somehow," Lenore replied, trying to ignore his roaming hands as he began to grind against her in time with the music. "Oh, I know this song," Lenore commented when the next song that came on was 'Don't Cha' by the Pussycat Dolls.
"They play music from all over zee world here. When they play zis song, everyone has to switch partners," Felix informed her, letting another man whisk her away. Lenore quickly lost count of how often people switched partners during the song, and each man she ended up with seemed to enjoy groping her as much as Felix had. Such a shame I can't get out of here; Felix will come looking for me if I leave without him.
Lenore danced for hours, never managing to get off the dance floor for more than a few minutes every hour. She finally managed to catch a glimpse at Felix's watch and found it was past one in the morning. Damn, no wonder I'm exhausted. Maybe I can get him to take me home now…
"Felix," Lenore began, "I think I should be getting back to"-
"Just a few more minutes," Felix insisted, pulling her close and tilting her chin up. He leaned down and gently touched his lips to hers, and her eyes fluttered closed instinctively. Lenore realized she was disappointed; it was horribly mundane compared to the kiss Erik had given her. She didn't feel like she was being consumed, didn't feel the welcoming flames. Needless to say, she was overjoyed when Felix pulled away – until she found out why.
Opening her eyes, she saw Erik knock Felix unconscious before Felix could turn around and see who had a hold of him. As Felix's body crumpled to the floor, Erik grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the exit. Just as they were leaving, Ember and Patrick came in on their left.
"Hey, Leno- Erik?" Ember began.
Without turning to look at the two of them, Erik addressed Patrick first. "You may tell Monsieur Deville that he is far too forward with a woman he has known for less than twenty four hours. And you, Mademoiselle Parker, are out far too late for a respectable woman. Have her back to the Opera House within the hour, Monsieur O'Malley," Erik instructed.
"Oi, as you wish guv," Patrick replied obediently.
"You picked the wrong lass, mate," Patrick informed Felix as he sat at a table, holding an ice bag to his throbbing skull.
"Was I to know she was seeing another man?" Felix bit back, irritated.
"Well, um, they're not 'seeing' each other," Ember ventured timidly. "That was our co-owner, and he's very conservative. I got a call from him on my cell, asking where we were…he thinks only prostitutes stay out past eleven, and was worried that maybe we'd been hurt or raped or something and that's why we weren't back. So I told him that Patrick said Lenore was probably here at La Java. If I'd known he was going to deck you, I wouldn't've told him," Ember lied. "What were you doing with Lenore that made him hit you anyway?"
"I kissed 'er," Felix replied.
"That's being 'too forward'?" Patrick laughed.
"Like I said, he's very conservative," Ember returned.
"Um, I can't feel my hand anymore," Lenore whispered timidly as Erik pulled her into the Opera House by her wrist. She knew she was in trouble; she could practically see steam coming out of his ears. If he heard her complaint, he chose to ignore it.
"You should be ashamed of yourself, Mademoiselle," he said sharply.
"I didn't do anything wrong, per say," she muttered.
"You were dancing with that boy like a common harlot!" he hissed angrily as they descended into his dark underground. "You were out with him at an unreasonable hour, which could tarnish your reputation."
"One o'clock is not an unreasonable hour!" Lenore argued. "If you're out after three, that's getting a bit iffy, but not one! And I wasn't dancing with him like a slut, everyone dances like that these days! That's hardly whorish, it's not like I was stripping for him or something. But why should you care how late I'm out or how I dance with a man? You know, I think what's really upset you is that he kissed me."
There was a sharp pain at the back of her head, and it took her a moment to realize he'd flung her into the wall. That's the fourth time in the past seven days. Is he trying to give me a concussion or something? Obviously I touched a sore spot though…he's jealous, so that means he does like me! The Phantom of the Opera likes me…maybe I should worry about surviving this altercation before I jump to conclusions and start planning the wedding…
"Could you please stop throwing me into walls? It really hurts," she informed him.
"Did you enjoy it, Mademoiselle?" he snapped fiercely, referring to Felix's kiss. "Did you feel that 'spark' you've always been waiting for?"
"First off, stay out of my head, especially the part that dreams about romance! Secondly, no, I didn't enjoy it, for your information!" she snarkily notified him. "Not that it's really any of your business, but it was extremely dull. You did me a favor by knocking him out, I was close to dying of extreme boredom."
Erik was struck speechless by her answer. He had expected her to be like Christine, to beg to be released so she could be with some idiotic boy that didn't truly love or deserve her.
"It's not like it really matters…he wouldn't have wanted me when he found out," she whispered so softly he almost didn't catch it. What is it that makes you think you are undesirable, ma chérie? A man would have to be a fool not to want you. "Erik, can you carry me? I've been on my feet almost all day, and my legs are killing me."
Erik swept her feet out from under her, not at all sure what to say to her. It was awkward, having been so angry and jealous, only to find out that she didn't want to be with that boy. As he carried her through the underground, he realized the gondola was back in the lair; he'd have to take the long way around the lake. It's a blessing this girl is so light; under one hundred pounds if I'm not mistaken. When they finally reached the lair, Lenore was fast asleep, too exhausted from the day to have her usual troubling dreams. After laying her in bed, he retrieved his sketchbook and returned to the bedroom; this would be a good night to sketch her, as she was at peace for once.