Chapter 2 A door closes
She hadn't screamed in horror. Not even one single gaze of terror or pain in her eyes when she looked at him straight in the eye. She even had smiled at him! An honest and warm smile which made his stomach twirl. He was surprised that after all the damage he had caused , after destroying the only home he had known, after leaving to ashes the Opera House, he was now having the opportunity to run away, with none other than little Marguerite Giry herself.
What had he been thinking of when he let obsession possess him? He was stronger than that, and he knew that. But apparently his desire for human companionship and love were even stronger. He was the Phantom of the Opera! Well…probably not anymore, because he had decided that if he was to start a new life, he must put his past behind him. He would let the memory of the Phantom burn into ashes, just like the Populaire did. He was now granted a new beginning, freedom which he probably didn't deserve. He heard soft footsteps in the hallway and leaned closer to the door. Even when she was trying to be silent, he could still hear her. His savior. He would not deny that at first he was surprised to find Little Giry following him, but his surprise was bigger when she told him that she would run away with him.
He was now wondering what Antoinette's plans were for them both, for they hadn't exchanged words since last night. He walked towards the dusty window and laid one hand over the cold glass. The sun hadn't risen yet, which he thought would be the best time if they were going to scape. Suddenly the smell of coffee invaded his senses and made his stomach growl. She was preparing breakfast? A warm feeling filled his chest, but as quickly as it had come, it had gone.
Slowly, he opened the door and the scent of coffee intensified. He stopped in his actions when he saw on a little table in the hallway something familiar. His mask. Slowly, he approached the table; did Meg put it there for him? He touched the delicate material and took it, not placing it on his face. He made his way down to the kitchen silently and stepped inside. He was not wearing his mask, so he hoped that she would act like she had last night. She had made him feel a little bit more human.
She was there, her back turned to him. Her hair was up in a graceful bun, which left some strands of her golden hair fall freely. She wore a simple light blue dress, which looked better than the man trousers she had been wearing last night. As if sensing his presence, she turned around abruptly, surprise in her eyes, quickly being replaced with a warm smile.
He admired the way the faint sunlight from dawn that entered through the window made her golden hair look. Her face was lovely, especially in the light and not the darkness of last night. Her skin was soft looking, with a faint hint of pink in her cheeks. The fragrance which was uniquely hers invaded his senses, unbalancing him. Probably lilies with peach. The pink color of her full lips made her look even more beautiful; the look she gave him with her warm chocolate eyes caused a shiver along his spine.
"Good morning, Erik" she greeted with a soft smile "I trust you slept well?"
The way she said his name with her soft husky voice caused another shiver across his spine. She turned completely around and carried a plate filled with pastries in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other.
"Very well, thank you" he answered quietly, still standing at the door, feeling a little bit out of place.
"Oh, but please do take a seat, we have a very busy agenda for today" she motioned toward one of the chairs. He sat down and watched her turn around for another cup "Do you like coffee?"
He nodded "Very much, it smells wonderful." She smiled at his compliment and poured very dark coffee into the cup.
"Would you like cream and sugar?" she continued, turning to grab two little cups.
"Yes, but not too much sugar, thank you" she handed the cup to him and he lifted it to inhale the strong fragrance which awakened him even more. He couldn't help but notice that she was limping a little bit. He mentally scolded himself for forgetting to ask her if she was better.
"How are you feeling?" he asked "About your ankle, I mean"
She gave him a warm smile "Much better, thank you for taking care of it" She sat in front of him and began preparing her own coffee, her smile faltered a bit "I believe I owe you an explanation"
He nodded silently and gazed intently at her "I would be very grateful"
She leaned back into her chair and let out a tired sigh. He listened patiently as she narrated the evening from her own experience, how she had tried to go down to his lair, Antoinette giving her confusing instructions. Her way down, finding the tunnel and falling into his trap. When she finished, a thick silence filled the kitchen, leaving them both with their own thoughts. She was tracing the border of her cup with her lean fingers, waiting for him to say something. He put his elbows on the table and leaned a little bit to her.
"Was I the only one who didn't knew how it was going to end?" he asked with a dark chuckle.
She lifted her gaze quickly and lifted her brows in confusion "What do you mean?"
"I don't deserve this, I am a condemned man, Marguerite…I must return and face the consequences of my actions,"
"Don't say that!" she said with fear in her eyes "I won't let you do such a thing!"
Erik met her waiting gaze "I am guilty of horrible things…"
She extended a trembling hand and put it over his own. He marveled at how soft her hands were, and how such a simple gesture like that made his heart start pounding loudly. Her hand was delicate and small, looking really fragile over his massive one.
"Everyone deserves second chances, Erik," was her soft answer.
He kept watching their hands, fighting with the urge to turn his palm against hers and lace their fingers together "You know you are throwing your life away by helping me, right?"
"I'm not doing any such thing," she watched him intently "Besides I was just waiting for the opportunity to get out of Paris, and it seemed you were my only option available at the moment"
"Is that so?" he lifted a brow with mock surprise "And where are we supposed to go?"
She leaned back into her chair again and sighed "I honestly don't know…"
When she took her hand off he found the room to grow cold again "Marguerite, I can't leave Paris"
"What? Why?" she asked surprised, suddenly alarmed.
"Whether we travel by train or boat, I don't have my papers" He knew it was too good to be true, running away with Meg? What was he thinking of? And to think that he had really considered her plan…
A playful smile appeared on her delicate lips, erasing the trace of anxiety that had been there a few seconds ago "Oh, but you do, Erik"
It was his turn to looked surprised and Meg rejoiced watching his confused look "But I thought they were at the Populaire-"
"What do you think Maman asked me to do?"
The corner of his mouth turned up in half a smile as he watched in awe the girl sitting in front of him. When did the little blonde girl who used to run in the Populaire became such a strong and iron-willed woman? Together they enjoyed in comfortable silence their breakfast, and when they finished, he went up to his room to prepare his bag, while she did the same in her room. Erik was already in the living room, sitting on the old couch; in one hand he held his white porcelain mask. Should he put it on? Meg didn't seem uncomfortable with his bare face, and he was thankful for that. No one had ever acted that way towards his face…like if it was just a face and not the disgusting thing he had instead.
Meg balanced herself as she made her way down with her enormous bag. She didn't know if she would return here someday. Memories of her childhood assaulted her, and making a great effort she tried to swallow the painful lump in her throat and tried to stop the tears forming in her eyes. She was now leaving the only place she could call home, besides the Opera House; she was going to a faraway place, with none other than the Opera Ghost himself. Her ankle throbbed a little bit, but she could already walk more properly than she had last night. As she descended the stairs, she could spot Erik in the living room, sitting on their old couch.
He was dressed formally, wearing his black velvet jacket, under it he wore a white dress shirt that contrasted elegantly with his dark suit, the sleeves of which had a slightly ruffled cuff. He also had a waistcoat, black pants, and black shiny shoes. She observed his long jacket and up over his well-muscled arms. His sculpted jaw was clean shaven, and his sideburns complemented his high cheekbone. His hair was not as she remembered, beeing combed backwards tightly. But now she believed he had worn a wig. His natural hair was also black, not as shiny as the wig had been, but it looked rather soft and her fingers itched to touch it, how would it feel to run her fingers through it? There was not a hint of the man she had seen last night. In her living room was the impressive man she knew as the Phantom.
Suddenly he turned and met her gaze, causing her to falter a bit. His eyes softened and the tension in his expression vanished. But he said nothing. In a blink of an eye, he was standing next to her, stretching his hand to help her descend the rest of the stairs and with the other taking her huge bag.
"Thank you, "she mumbled, overwhelmed by the feeling of his strong hand holding hers. His fingers were soft, a musician fingers for sure, but at the same time strong, holding her tightly to prevent her from losing balance.
He let go of her hand when she stepped the last stair, walking to the door while he held his bag and hers with one hand, holding the door open silently. She walked to the door, limping a bit. Trying to resist the urge to throw herself on the couch and cry, she kept walking, not looking back until she was on the threshold. There, she turned around, gave her home one last glance, and walked quickly out, wiping the tears that managed to spill from her eyes. Erik watched this silently, feeling guilty for taking Meg's future and making it as uncertain as his.
They walked out of the Giry's house, the sun rising slowly. The sky had a tint of pink and orange, and birds could already be heard. Meg held her shawl even more tightly against the cold breeze of morning.
Their way to Gare du Lyon was silent. They took a carriage to the train station, all the while Meg wondering which train they would take. It must be a place out of France, for all the authorities would be looking for Erik, the man who destroyed the grand Opera Populaire. What would happen with her mother? Would she be alright? Oh how she wished to be helping her right now! But her mother had given her clear instructions to not worry for her and help Erik instead.
Suddenly she realized that she had been knotting the fringes of her shawl. Not wanting him to notice her nerves, she stilled her hands, but felt the weight of his gaze on her.
He took her hand in his, putting it over his thigh. The innocent gesture affected her more than she had expected, she swallowed and kept her gaze somewhere out the window of the carriage. She watched the little houses turn into great mansions as they approached the more luxurious side of Paris and closer to the train station.
"Having second thoughts?" he asked, pulling her out of her own thoughts.
"What? No, not at all" she said stuttering "It's just…Maman told me that she would be alright, but she's going to be all alone, I've never left her since I was born and now—"
"Meg, your mother is a strong woman; she is capable of great things. I admire her like no one I've ever met before. And you are just like her, so do not worry for her, I'm sure she'll return the Opera to its former glory" he squeezed her hand gently and gave her a reassuring smile.
Her heart began pounding loudly and she prayed that this would be unnoticed by him. She had never seen him smile before; she believed it was something that looked beautiful in him and made him look even more handsome than ever.
He kept hold of her hand until the impressive Gare du Lyon came into view. He tensed a bit and released her hand, only to look for something inside his coat. She observed him curiously, until the white mask emerged. She had forgotten all about it!
She placed a hand atop his shoulder, stopping him in the process of putting it back on. He gave her a confused look "You cannot wear that, Erik, they'll know who you are"
She smiled wider, which made him even more confused. Lifting herself, she stretched one of her arms towards her bag that was in the opposite seat and dug into its contents, until with a triumphal exclamation she took out clean bandages.
"I thought that maybe we could pretend that you are hurt or something…" she explained nervously, hoping that he wouldn't take it the wrong way. But how big was her surprise when he smiled and nodded, turning to face the side of the carriage so that she could work on the bandages.
Meg wound the bandage around Erik's head, specially his right side so he could still see out his left eye. She worked silently lost in her own thoughts. She was surprised that he did not flinched at her touch, for she supposed that no one had ever touched his face…maybe Christine had. Oh Christine, why had she done such thing like embarrassing him in public? She wondered where her childhood friend was at that precise moment, probably in some beautiful place, in a mansion on the outskirts of Paris, or maybe on her way to another city, being comforted by the Vicomte. She still did not know why she hadn't accepted Erik…
Erik sat quietly while she worked over him, still trying to accept the sensation of having another person touch his face. Her hands were gentle as a soft caress, bringing emotions out of him that he couldn't describe. He trusted her. That thought scared him; he had never trusted anyone, not to come closer, let alone to touch his face, not even Christine. She had not ran away from him or showed any fear when she saw his face, and now she was touching him. Her hands were firm as she worked without hesitation. She finished the bandage, fastening the end behind his neck. She moved back and touched his shoulder gently.
"Done" she declared with a smile. He turned around to face her with a questioning look. He looked like he had just been out of hospital.
"Does it look good?"
"Pretty good to be honest, no one would suspect who you really are" she answered with a giggle.
The carriage stopped with a jolt in front of the Gare du Lyon, and Erik stepped out first and helped her down. He paid the driver and took their bags with one hand. The sun was already out and the streets were filled with persons on their way to work. Meg began walking slowly towards the grand entrance, and he reached her quickly, realizing that she was struggling to keep his pace. He slowed down and positioned himself at her side.
"Sorry, my ankle is giving me some troubles" she glanced up at him with an apologetically look. Feeling compassion for the little dancer, he took her arm and cautiously put it in the crook of his arm. She looked up into his face with surprise but gave him a warm smile. He looked down at her and returned the smile.
Erik looked up to see the impressive building better. He had never been there before. Actually, he had never been that far from the Populaire, so everything was breathtaking for him. The stunning clock tower gave 7 am and began to chime loudly, shaking them both to their inner cores. Meg covered her ear with her free hand in an attempt to muffle the sound and Erik laughed at her lovely action. It was a warm, deeply masculine laugh. The sound startled Meg and turned her gaze to question him. His eyes were on her, sparkling mischievously. Not realizing why he had laughed, she only smiled back and laughed.
Together they crossed the grand entrance and stepped into the train station still laughing. When they finally stopped, Meg lifted her head and gazed curiously at him.
"Why were you laughing?" This only made Erik laugh harder. It remains to say that Meg never knew the answer.