Chapter Five

When God closes a door, somewhere he opens a window- The Sound of Music

When One Door Closes, Another Opens

When Alana finally awoke, her first thought when she opened her eyes was that she was alone in the house, until she looked down at the floor. She had to smile at what she saw.

Her rescuer was lying on the floor sound asleep, with a troubled expression on his face, tightly holding something that was on a chain around his neck. Instantly her hands went to the gold locket she wore around her own neck-she'd put it on before she'd tried to go to bed…was it last night? She had lost track of time, not knowing how long she'd been asleep. She looked closer, and saw that Erik was holding a little diamond ring. It looked exactly like the one in the painting of the dark-haired girl on the wall behind him. He must have been the one who painted that picture. And he must have loved that girl very much. It was her ring.

What happened to her? Alana wondered. Maybe she was the reason he was so sad.

Her gaze fell upon the mask that obscured half of his face, and she couldn't help but wonder why he wore it. Curiosity tempted to take it off while he slept so she could see what was underneath. But she didn't. She figured that he wouldn't want her to. Why else would he be wearing a mask anyway? It was as simple as that. It would be better to wait and see if Erik said something about it first, rather than do something that might upset him for all she knew.

She realized now that her back still hurt, but she was feeling better than she had before. Slowly, Alana got out of bed and stepped carefully around Erik's sleeping figure. She wanted to get a breath of fresh air, so she made her way to the door. She turned the knob, and a brilliant ray of warm sunlight lit up the whole house.

"SHUT THE DOOR!"

Alana jumped. Erik, suddenly awake, was crouched in a corner, his hands over his eyes.

"SHUT THE DOOR!" he screamed again. His voice shook the house.

With shaking hands, Alana closed the door. The house grew dark again. She stood, frozen but trembling, her heart pounding. His shouting had frightened her more than anything she had ever heard before. Nothing that is, except her father.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Erik lowed his hands from his eyes and blinked. The light had been so bright. Blinding. It terrified him, seeming to burn through him, right into his soul. He glanced over at the girl. Alana. She was frightened too. But not because of the sunlight. Because of him…he'd frightened her. He cursed himself silently.

He looked over at her again. She was still standing by the door, shaking with fear, like she had been the night he'd rescued her from her drunk, crazed father. He was no better to her than her father was. He had to do something…he hadn't meant to make her afraid. He opened his mouth and found himself saying something he'd never said before.

"I'm…sorry."

Alana no longer trembled, but she still stood like a statue by the door.

Erik rose slowly to his feet and moved toward her. "Forgive me," he said softly. "Please, forgive me." He stretched out his hand to her. "I didn't mean to frighten you."

His heart soared for a moment as he saw the fear leave Alana's deep hazel eyes. She took his hand gently.

"I forgive you." She smiled.

Erik just stared at her small hand in his for a moment, then suddenly pulled his hand back. She flinched and took a step away. Wonderful. He'd startled her again. "Sorry," he said pathetically, searching for other words. "Is…there anything you need?"

"Well…something to eat would be nice," she said a bit hesitantly, looking at him as if he might scare her again.

"Right." How stupid of him to not have offered her something to eat before. He glanced at his stock of food. He didn't usually eat much, and when he did eat, he ate simple foods. He had fruit, bread, cheese, some nuts, and that was about all, though he had just gone to the grocer's two nights ago. He'd left the rest in an alley where he had seen three beggars sleeping amongst piles of garbage. He hadn't needed that much food, but he knew that they did.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Alana took the silver plate from Erik with the food on it and sat down on the floor. She took a bite of the apple first. It was the sweetest, most delicious apple she'd ever tasted, but that could have had something to do with the fact she hadn't eaten in days. Erik took his own food and sat a little ways off.

They ate in silence. Alana wanted to say something, but it was like all her words had gone. Erik seemed to be without words as well, so she was left with her thoughts. Though he was still a stranger, and he sort of frightened her, she did like being with him. There was just something about him. The mask he wore intrigued her, but Erik himself intrigued her more. She found herself wishing she could stay here in this little house of beautiful things…

But she couldn't. She set down her plate and stood up.

"I have to go."

Erik quickly got to his feet too. He said nothing, but looked at her with a forlorn expression on his half-hidden face.

"Thank you for all you've done for me. It's time for me to go back…home. Now." She turned to go.

"You can't." Erik said.

Alana spun around. "What?"

"You can't go back." He paused. "That man who beat you…"

"That man was my father. I have to back and make sure he's all right." Alana headed for the door again, but Erik seized her wrist. She turned to look at him.

"He would have killed you…"

"My father loves me! He would never…please, just let go, I have to…" she tried to pull herself free from his strong grip but couldn't. She stared at his large hand on her wrist and trembled.

"I can't stay here, I…" she began, still staring at his hand, tightly holding her small wrist. She gazed up at him. "I don't trust you…"

Erik looked very hurt at her words, and let go of her wrist, but he held her gaze and Alana found it impossible to look away. His very presence demanded her full attention.

"You have to trust me," he said. "If you go back, you know he will hurt you again."

Alana couldn't deny the feelings of doubt she had about ever being safe with her father, but Erik didn't have to know she felt that way. Someone had to protect her father.

"No! No, he won't do it again! I know…now let me go!"

"If you try to leave, I will let you go, but first, listen to me," he said firmly. "He will beat you again. Trust me. I know." He sighed. "Men like him…they never stop." He closed his eyes and seemed to wince at some inner pain.

What is going on inside his mind? Alana wondered.

Erik opened his eyes; a shadow had fallen across his countenance. "You can't go back. Is there…is there anywhere else you can go?" His own words seemed to hurt him.

Alana shook her head. "It's just my father and I." Then she remembered something else. "Wait…there is my father's half brother. He lives in Paris."

Erik froze. A thousand emotions flashed across his face, but most of all, Alana saw sadness. Powerful sorrow and deep despair, as well as fear.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

Erik seemed to recover himself, but didn't acknowledge her question. "Is that the only other place you can go?" Clearly he didn't want to talk to her about how he felt.

Alana nodded. "He and his wife are the only other family I have."

At the mention of the word "family", Alana saw more pain in Erik's eyes. He closed them and was silent for a long moment. Then he sighed and opened them again.

"I will take you to Paris. Tomorrow night. Where…where in Paris does your uncle live?"

"Not too far from the northern edge of Paris. Not that far away from here. It shouldn't take more than a few days to get there, at least by carriage. But I need to go home, not to Paris! Someone has got to look out for my father!"

"Not you! He'll hurt you again!"

"If I don't take care of him, then who will?"

Erik thought. "Write a note to someone in town, instructing them to tell all the businesses not to sell any alcohol to your father. He's too dangerous when he's drunk. Tell them to find him a doctor as well."

"How can I afford to pay the doctor?" Alana was indignant.

"I'll put a few hundred francs in the envelope. That should be enough for quite a while."

"You would do that?"

"To keep him from being able to hurt you again? Yes, I would." Erik's tone was firm sincerity. "Now, do you have someone you can write to?"

Alana hesitated.

"Do you? This is the best way!"

She nodded reluctantly. "Yes. My employers will know what to do. They've always tried to look out for me but I've never really let them."

Erik sighed. "I understand how you feel."

Alana could tell he meant those words. Her back hurt again, and she craned her neck to look at the ugly cuts through the tatters of her nightgown. Her nightgown? She realized with extreme embarrassment that that was all she'd been wearing this whole time, and even that was ripped up at the top of her back! "Um, I will have to stop at the house to get some…other clothes though."

Erik held up a hand. "I'll take care of that for you. When night falls, I will go to the town and get some supplies for our journey. And tomorrow night, we leave."

Alana nodded reluctantly. She still didn't want to leave, but she also didn't feel like arguing with Erik. It seemed to be pretty difficult to win an argument with him.

"So it's settled, then." Erik said authoritatively.

"I guess so."

Alana spent the rest of the day looking through piles of drawings, songs, and poems Erik had written. It had taken quite a while to get his permission, but once Alana made the point that she had been willing to let him take her to Paris instead of going back home, letting her look at his work hadn't seemed quite so terrible to Erik. He still cringed visibly every time she picked up a new song or poem, though. Most of his work she noticed, was wonderful, but unfinished, set aside for yet another unfinished piece.

Alana had tried to talk to him about what he'd written or drawn or painted, but he was a man of very few words to begin with, and he clearly didn't want to talk about any of his work. It was mostly melancholy and sad, like him, but it was still beautiful. Everything he made was beautiful, but twisted and dark and full of grief in some way. Alana just wished he could show some happiness. What was wrong with the poor man? It had to have something to do with the mask he wore, the diamond ring, and the dark-haired girl she'd now learned was named Christine. Her name appeared in so many of his sad songs. Where was she now? She wanted to know but was afraid to ask Erik about it.

When the sun began to set, Erik took Alana outside to see Raven, his horse.

"She's beautiful!" Alana patted the horse's black neck. "I just love horses…we had them when I was younger. And you don't even have to tie her up? She just stays here all on her own?"

Erik nodded and stroked Raven's face.

"She must really love you, then."

He kept stroking Raven's face gently, and Alana could see in his eyes how much he loved the horse.

There was silence for a while, then Alana said, "Um, I haven't thanked you enough for what you've done for me. I really see now that you're right about everything. I know, somewhere deep down…my father still loves me, but you're right. He wouldn't have stopped." Her eyes filled with tears. "He's not himself anymore. If it weren't for you, I might be dead now. And what you say is true…I can't go back there again." Her throat hurt. "I just wish he would go back to the way he was before…before my mother died."

Erik looked at her compassionately. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

"Maybe someday I can come back. Maybe someday we'll be a family again."

"Maybe," Erik said.

Alana dried her eyes. "Do you have some paper? I need to write that note for Marguerite…she's always been there for me. She can watch over my father."

"Where should I deliver the letter?" he asked her.

"The apartment above the grocer's."

"I'll leave it for her when I go into town."

"You don't expect to go now, do you? All the shops will be closed soon!"

Erik didn't answer.

"Oh, that's right. You must be the one who breaks into all the shops at night and leaves money for the things you take. How on earth do you do that without anyone catching you? Come to think of it, why don't you just shop during store hours like everyone else does?'

Erik ignored the question and motioned for her to follow him back into the house, where he took a sheet of paper and a pen and handed it to her. Alana wrote:

To Madame Marguerite:

I can no longer stay here in Détente. It's not safe. It hasn't been for a long time, but now I've finally come to my senses. I'm going to Paris, to stay with my uncle and his wife. You have been so good to me, before and after my mother died, and now I must ask a final favor of you. Please watch over my father for me. Tell any business that sells liquor not to sell any to him, and tell every person not to give him any alcohol no matter what. He needs to get well. If he doesn't get well in time, then please find help for him. Included is some money for the special care he needs. When I get to Paris, I will write to you so you will know my new address. Once again, I thank you for your kindness. Send my thanks to Monsieur Jean-Paul as well.

Much love and gratitude,

Alana Valjean.

Alana put the note in an envelope, and placed it in Erik's black-gloved hand. He added a few hundred francs to the envelope like they were nothing, and put the letter in a pocket of his cloak. Then he left for town on foot, without a word. Alana opened the door to watch him go, but he was already gone. No wonder the townspeople thought he was a ghost, she thought to herself.

It was now twilight. The rising moon cast eerie shadows in the forest. Alana shivered and hurried back inside. She relit any candles that had died, and replaced any that had been melted down, but all alone in the house, she was still afraid. She could hear the wind, and strange noises from time to time. There was no lock on the door; anyone or anything could come in at any moment. What if her father tracked her down and found her? What if he walked through the door right now? Terrified, she got into bed and closed her eyes to shut out the shadows.

She wasn't sure how much time passed. Suddenly she heard the door open. She dared to open her eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief. Erik was back. He carried bags full of food and supplies on his back, and in his hands he held a fairly large, flat box.

"Here." He came over and set the box on the bed.

Alana lifted the lid, and gasped. She pulled out a beautiful blue dress. It was as smooth as silk…then she realized it was silk! It was absolutely exquisite…and expensive! Then she recognized it. It was the dress that had been displayed in the town boutique window for months. All the women in Détente, herself included, had come to look in the shop window at the dress many times, but no one had bought it because it was so expensive and extravagant.

"Is…is this for me?" Alana couldn't believe it. She hadn't even seen a dress so nice since…before her mother died.

Erik nodded. He'd also thought to get her some adorable white slippers as well, since she had left her house two nights before without wearing shoes and had been barefoot all this time.

"Erik…these are wonderful! Thank you…how did you know what sizes to get?"

He just shrugged. "I'm good at this sort of thing."

He certainly knew a lot about a lot of things, Alana thought. He was impeccably dressed himself, in a very well-fitting black shirt and vest, along with black trousers and boots. And that cape, of course. He began packing some more clothes and supplies for himself, putting them in large bags. Alana offered to help but he shook his head, saying he didn't need any help. He soon finished packing, and went outside to load everything up.

While Erik was outside, Alana changed into her new dress and shoes. There was a single mirror in the house, mostly covered by a heavy curtain. Alana drew the curtain away and looked at her reflection. The dress was beautiful, but she did not look so fine. She was horrified to see that her hair was all loose and out of place. How embarrassing to be around Erik looking like this! She was busy trying to smooth her hair and put it up when he came back in the house. He held a hairbrush in his hand, with something like a smile but more like a smirk on his face.

"Here," he said, almost looking like he was trying not to laugh.

"Thank you," she replied, "you really thought of everything, didn't you?"

He shrugged. "I'm ready to leave whenever you are."

Once Alana was finished, they both went outside, where she found Raven hitched up to a small wooden cart. She gasped and ran closer to get a better look at it.

"Something wrong?" Erik asked.

Alana looked at him in astonishment. "This…this was our cart!" She ran her hands over the wood. "We used it whenever we went to town. Until my father crashed it one night a few years ago. Our horse ran off that night, too. Where did you find this?"

"Off in the woods somewhere. It was in a bad state but I was able to repair it. Once we get to Paris, you may keep it. I can make do without it. It's yours."

Alana smiled. "Are you sure you don't need it?"

Erik nodded. "May I help you?" he asked, gesturing at the cart.

"Oh, no thank you," Alana said. "I can manage." She climbed up into the front seat.

She noticed Erik looked mildly irritated, or maybe flustered. He was hard to read a lot of the time. "Is there a problem?"

"No," Erik said. "I had just anticipated you would ride in the back, where it is more comfortable."

"Oh no, I'm quite all right," Alana assured him. "I would always ride up front when I was younger."

"Very well then," he said, climbing up and sitting down next to her. Alana noticed, however, that he sat as far away from her on the seat as he possibly could. Did I do something wrong?

"Walk on," he said to Raven, and they set off silently into the night.

They drove for what seemed like forever, with neither of them speaking a word. Finally, Alana dared to say something.

"Erik, why do you wait until it's dark to come outside?"

He didn't answer right away, but finally he replied, "I like the dark better."

"But why? And why don't you ever talk to anyone from the town? With the way you've been acting, you have most of the town convinced you're a ghost."

Erik flinched a little, but didn't answer.

"Are you afraid to talk to people? Is that it?"

"I prefer to be alone," he said evenly.

"But I'm sure everyone in town would like you," she said. "You're smart, and talented and…"

"I said, I prefer to be alone." Erik's tone indicated that he would also prefer for her to stop talking, but Alana didn't want to spend the entire ride to Paris in silence.

"Are you sure?" Alana asked. "Because if you don't mind my saying so, I think you would be much happier if you had someone to talk to more often."

"I highly doubt that," he said coldly. His icy tone was enough to shut Alana up for a little while. After a long silence she decided to risk asking another question.

"Erik…that night, before my father…started hitting me, I'd come outside because I'd heard you singing."

Erik didn't respond; he just stared straight ahead at the forest road they were driving on.

"That was you, wasn't it?"

He gave a barely noticeable nod, which Alana interpreted as a yes.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you how beautiful the song was, the one you were singing. I've never heard it before…what was it?"

Erik sighed. "Nothing. Just a song someone used to sing to me."

"Oh. Well, what's your favorite song then?"

Erik's expression grew pained. "There are so many wonderful pieces of music in this world, some that are heard, and many that go unheard."

"So you can't choose a favorite song?" Now that she had him talking a little, Alana was determined to keep it that way.

"No." Erik said darkly. "Not anymore."

"So you used to have a favorite, but you don't anymore?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Will you just leave me alone?" he shouted, his voice thundering in the quiet night. Startled, Raven jerked to a stop, sending Alana lurching forward.