Down Once More
The following years had been kind to him. The gossip of the times washed away any mention of the incident, and his life was his own once again. He had a quaint little Victorian home a few miles away from the ruins of the opera house, in a quiet little suburb of Paris. He spent his days tending to his roses, writing new scores, painting, and reading. It was a peaceful existence, yes. But it was dull. He longed for the costumes, the music, the applause of the opera. He missed the dancing, the rehearsals, his angel... Thankfully he had stored away half of his salary whenever he'd receive it, which is what allowed him this little Eden, and the tunnel beneath it... The cellar of his home was where he felt the most comfortable. it contained all his art and sewing supplies, his Christine mannequin, and his figurines. Though he was loathe to admit it, he often found himself thinking of Her. His Madonna. His angel.
The mere thought of her, out there somewhere, in the Vicomte's arms, made him sick. Often when these thoughts occurred, he was ashamed. It had been, what, twenty years? He hated her for making him feel this way, and he hated himself for being so weak. But, to his dismay, nothing would purge his love from his mind. He was meant to suffer. It was on one such "Low Day" that he found the perfect cure; in the form of a young Jackal.
He sat in his cellar, painting from memory the one item his missed the most from his opera days, his music box. The summer light filtering through the cellar's single window warmed his soul, and he actually found it within himself to smile. A song occurred to him then, his favorite. He began to sing under his breath, for the first time in years.
"Masquerade... Paper faces on parade... masquerade... hide your face so the world will never find you..." There was a loud sound from the street outside, and he started with a fright. From the safety of his window, he saw her: a young Jackal girl, with eyes the color of the forest, hair as black as the raven, fur as white as a pure snow, with the facial features of a little porcelain doll. She was picking up a bundle of firewood she had apparently dropped. By some stroke of fate or luck, she raised her eyes to the little window and smiled at him sheepishly, as if to say "Oh, there I go, silly Woman, can't even carry wood". He smiled back, waved, and nodded in the direction of the door. She nodded in return, and went to meet him. He pulled on his mask, his cape, and took his first step towards eternity.
"I'm very sorry to have disturbed you, sir. But, would you be willing to assist me? I don't live far. I'm just exhausted, and-"
"Hush. I understand. Why don't you come in and rest? I'll make you something to eat." He waited with bated breath, nervous, wishing, praying...
"...Alright," she answered cautiously. She set down her bundle of wood and stepped inside.
The interior was gorgeous. Reds, purples, blacks... Everything was detailed, everything was ornate. The room was seeped in darkness. He was afraid it would run her off, but her eyes lit up.
"Oh, it's beautiful!" He relaxed.
"May I inquire as to your name. sir?"
"My name... My name is Erik."
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Erik, and thank you for your kindness. My name is Jessica." Jessica...
"You needn't be so formal. I'm merely doing what anyone would do in the situation."
"Then why did no one else stop to help? The street was busy enough. Don't be modest, and I won't be formal. Is that a suitable compromise?" She grinned. She's witty, he thought, and intelligent. How can I go about doing this? Christine was overly trusting. I'm sure this one isn't...
"So why ARE you helping me? I'm just a stranger. and a woman at that..." Jessica suddenly looked startled.
"Rest assured, Monsieur, you'll not be getting anything of THAT sort from me!" She pulled her shawl around herself and turned to leave.
"Stop." He watched with joy as she halted.
"I want nothing of the sort. I merely wish for company. I haven't so much as spoken with anyone in... in many years. I could tell you were tired, and needed assistance. All I ask in payment is conversation." Will she stay? Mon Dieu, I have never asked for anything, please, grant me this one kindness...
"Alright..." He pulled out a chair for her. As she sat, he caught a whiff of her perfume. Erik's heart fluttered.
"Now, please, stay. I'll go make us some dinner, and we may talk after." Once he was out of the room, he sank to the floor. There was something familiar about her... the wave of her hair, her dainty paws, the shape of her eyes... what WAS it? Where had he seen her? He took stock in his mind. She was thick, but it suited her. She was very short, about five feet tall. Her outfit was plain, a black corset, white chemise, a gray shawl, and a black skirt. Her fluffy tail was lush and long. She couldn't be a day over twenty. Why did she have such an effect on him? How was he going to possess her?
He recovered his wits, and went to the kitchen in to cook. He made a simple stew, brewed them some tea, and served their meal.
"So, tell me Jessica, where are you from?"
"Well, I just recently moved to Paris from Marseilles. I came to try and make a living singing... the musical talent runs in my family. But when I arrived, I was told that, well, no one wanted a singer. They wanted dancers. I cannot dance to save my life. So, I settled for assisting at a local inn. The pay isn't much, it isn't very glamorous, but it pays the rent." She sings...
"What do you sing, exactly? Opera?"
"Oh, no." she chuckled. "I'm not nearly good enough for that. Good enough for entertainment, though, I guess." Hm... if she likes music...
"Do you enjoy music, theatre, art?"
"Oh, very much so."
"Have you ever heard the story of L'Opera Populaire?"
"Hm? No, I don't believe I have." C'est parfait...
"Come with me. I have a story for you."
He started towards the cellar hatch. Erik could hear her breath catch, could feel her take a step back, and her hesitation cut him like a dagger.
"Please, mademoiselle, if there's one person in all of Paris you can trust, it's me." She followed him down the ladder, through his maze of artwork, to a mirror in the very back. He placed a gloved palm on the glass, and gently pushed. The one-way pane opened to reveal a long, candle-lit tunnel. It seems I'm destined to have a second chance, he thought, in every aspect of the last. He stepped through the gilded frame, and held out his hand to her. She was startled, but, to his delight, immensely curious. "Come to me, Angel of Marseilles." It was as he had hoped. She responded to the sound of his voice, placing her hand in his and following him blindly. Sometimes, I wonder why I don't do this more often, he thought, with a mental chuckle.
"There was an Opera House, many years ago. Haunted by a lonesome man, misunderstood... it was his throne of night, it was his home. the Phantom of the Opera was there, deep down below. A child came one night, an orphan girl. She sang like an angel, he took pity on her. He trained her voice to soar beyond the light. The phantom of the Opera was proud of his student. She grew to beauty fair, he grew to love. He worshiped every breath she took as God. His spirit held her thrall, she was his life. The phantom of the Opera knew she would be his. He helped her be a star, he brought her fame. The time had come for them to meet at last. He laid a perfect trap, he began to sing... Christine was taken in by the glorious sound. But Phantom scared her off with his devotion. She ran to a childhood love, rich and handsome. The phantom's scarred visage turned her away. SO NOW the Phantom of the Opera, he would make everyone pay. His love betrayed him more, she laid a trap to try and kill the man behind the mask. She sang her love for him, it was a lie. The phantom of the Opera was revealed that night. He burned the opera house, he stole her away. He came prepared that night, to kill her love. But she knew of his vice deep down inside. The Phantom of the Opera was tamed down there that night. She kissed him only once, it was for the ages. he let her and her toy go free that night. And as his tears ran free, and his Opera died, The phantom of the opera escaped, and changed his life..."
Jessica stared, amazed, enraptured. Her hazel eyes found his crystal blues, and she fell to her knees.
"Erik... your voice..." He smiled, and knelt beside her.
"Sing for me..." he whispered, his lips brushing her ear.
"All... Alright..." He helped her to her feet, and they continued their trek down the tunnel.
"When I heard you, your voice opened my eyes. Beauty still and deep within the twilight. Why have you chosen me, this is like a fantasy, I'm amazed at how my soul has taken flight... all because you sang to me this night." Erik halted, and turned to look at this strange creature he had discovered by fate's sly hand.
"Jessica, I've never heard a voice like yours. It's smooth, deep, and dark... Like a velvet caress..." He glanced at the tunnel ahead.
"Come along, we're almost there." he took her hand again, and led her toward the future.
"Erik, where are we?" Jessica pulled closer to him, trembling. The sensation thrilled him.
"Welcome to Opera, ma cherie." He led her through another mirror-frame. There was rubble everywhere: chunks of stone, brick, statuary, ashes... The walls were caked with soot, and the roof was caved in at numerous locations. Erik felt a pang in his heart, for the splendor of his lair had turned into decay. He was looking at the dead shell of his home. He wept freely and silently, turning away from Jessica so she wouldn't see. After a few moments, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
"Why do you wear a mask?" His muscles tensed.
"I do not wish to speak of that just yet."
"Alright," she said, "when you're ready." When I'm ready? Will she stay that long? I can sense something on the edge of my consciousness, at the rim of my perception's reach... Has something happened? Why do I feel different? Why does she feel different to me? Have I brought ruin yet again? He turned to her, only to find she was exploring on her own. She had discovered his organ, and was running her fingers over the cracked, dusty keys. The candelabra were mostly gone, he noted, probably due to looters. Erik sighed. His various rooms and sections were still intact, with only a few items missing... anything shiny, it seems, was taken. Jessica strode around his little underground island, taking everything in. She stumbled across the greatest treasure of them all: His music box. He watched her kneel down and pick something up off the floor. He shrugged it off, until he heard the tinkling tune and the pinging of the little cymbals. Masquerade.... paper faces on parade... He ran to her, then, taking it as a sign. This is the woman. This is the one. She has treated me with respect, awe, and admiration. She did not flee when I brought her to these ruins. She is patient, she is beautiful... and she found the only thing that ever truly made me happy.
"Erik? Look what I found. It's adorable!" she exclaimed, smiling broadly.
"Who lived here?" She walked over and sat down on the slowly-decaying sheets of his former bed.
"Jessica..." She was perfect. Could he trust her with this, his biggest secret? If he told her, she might leave. but if he kept it secret from her, it would eat him up inside. They had only just met, was he moving to fast? He worked on Christine for years, but, a day? Erik's yes met the woman's, and he knew what he must do... He knelt before his goddess, and he grasped her hand.
"I have brought you, to seat of the Phantom's throne, to this kingdom where once he paid homage to music... The phantom of the opera is here, beside you now..." Jessica's breath caught, she tensed, but, quickly, she regained composure. She had never heard of his murders, she had never heard of his insanity, all she knew was what he had sang her, and the adoration of the man before her.
"You... trust me enough to be honest..." it was a statement, not a question. She stood up and placed her hand on his head.
"We all have our Secrets, Erik. I have been searching for you for ten years."
"Believe me or not, that is your choice. My mother always spoke of you, and when I was 7 I left home. I wanted to meet you. Her stories of The Angel in Hell moved my heart to bursting. To me, you were beautiful, deadly, talented, perfect... I actually WAS carrying firewood home today, I stumbled. And I saw you looking at me. Half your face covered. Surrounded with your art. It was a childish notion, but, my heart fluttered. 'Could it be?' I asked myself, 'this man I've been searching for? Has fate taken pity on me? Is my journey over at last?' And then I heard you mention the Opera. And I knew. I'm sorry for playing ignorant, but, it felt so GOOD to hear you sing your story... To forget all I've known and drown in the history... I was taken with you when you opened the door. I was scared, at first. But only that when you find out who I was, you'd hate me..."
"Who are you, Jessica?"
"My name, monsieur, is Jessica Renee Daee."
Erik went rigid. Daee... Daee... Christine... Mon Dieu...
"You are... Christine's daughter?"
"Yes, Erik... I am." The waves of her hair, her beautiful eyes, her voice a mixture of her parents', the strange feeling of a memory on the brink of consciousness... This was why.
"Please, don't hate me. It's been my dream to find you, to be with you, to sing with you... I asked Madame Giry, but she did not know where to find you. It's been hell. And I found you, after all this time, all this searching, all this pain... and I refuse to leave. So, accept me for who I am, or kill me. Just know I have loved you since I was a child. And I mean this." God help me, I love her more than her mother....
"Please, I... I don't want you to go. Your mother showed me an immense kindness when I was younger, and yes, I loved her. But it took years. Today... I don't know what it is. Your eyes or your voice, your kindness or your adoration, your beauty or my loneliness, but, God help me, I think I could love you." Her smile melted the ice of ages from his soul, and he smiled back. For the first time in two decades, the world smiled with him.
"Sing with me, my angel?"
"Come, Erik, let us see if we can frighten away the opera ghosts." They joined hands, gazed into each others' eyes, and began to sing.
"Past all thought of past romance, we've crossed the threshold, that ship has sailed and now, we shall be one. We write our own stories, it's true, and this dark chapter's called for two, and now the flames of fate consume us... Past the point of tears, and hate, we've found our equals, so now let's wait and see what lies in store beyond the point of no return..."
They drew ever closer as they sang, and as their voices trailed off into a respectful, awed silence, she brushed his face with her fingertips.
"I will not do to you what my mother did. I ask your permission. May I remove your mask, Erik? Am I worthy to gaze upon the face of my idol?" Should I let her? Ah, but her fingers are so soft... She is genuine, I know this... But, I am hideous... If she can stand the sight of me, let her gaze upon my twisted face. Let her see the truth...
"If you really wish to..." She stood on the tips of her toes and lifted the mask from his face. Here it comes... please, stay...
"Much better," she said with a smile, "than that bothersome mask." She placed her hands on his face, they were cool and calming against his flesh.
"Jessica, I-"
"Shhh. Don't bother trying to warn me off. You won't be rid of me so easy." The next thing he knew, her lips were on his. They were like silk, so soft and warm... Her body pressed against his, and she tossed off her shawl.
"Erik... you're crying." she kissed away his tears on his scarred cheek, and smiled.
"Beauty is deeper than skin, my love. Don't look so startled." He wanted nothing more in that moment than to make her his, but, he was afraid.
"Jessica, I've never... I've always... My face..." Her pure smile made his heart leap into his throat.
"And neither have I. I've been waiting. For you. I've not felt passion like this. it's better to dwell on it after the fact, don't you think? I'm afraid it might hurt, but I know the ends justify the means as well. Please, Erik..." She leaned in, and kissed his ear.
"Love me, that's all I ask of you..." He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, powerfully. With her free arm, she worked his jacket off. He released her, and his fingers occupied themselves with untying the binding of her corset. When she was free of it, he kissed her shoulders and lifted her chemise off. she slipped out of her skirt and unclasped his cape, followed by his boots. He slipped off his shirt and pants, and they stood their, gazing at each other.
"I'm hideous..." It was barely a whisper, but he heard it all the same.
"Jessica?" Tears fell silently from her long lashes, and she turned away.
"Erik, I'm hideous... Look at me. These claws, these scars, this fat..."
"Jessica... Beauty is beyond skin, is it not? And I find you beautiful. That's all that matters." She turned her wet eyes to him, and he smiled down at her. In an instant, she was kissing his neck, his collarbone, his chest... She ran her hands over every inch of him. Her fragile fingertips caressed the powerful muscles of his thighs- he was surprisingly fit for someone of his age. She traced the contours of his biceps; her hungry lips followed the luscious trail down his abdomen, lingering near the elegant material that concealed his precious gifts before gently pushing him down on his timeworn bed. The dust swirled in the faint candlelight, making beautiful, ethereal patterns in the air. Erik grasped her leg and drew her on top of him, kissing every tender inch of skin his lips could find. She tasted of nutmeg and desire, sweat and eternity.
Jessica crawled along his muscular body, rubbing her virginal fur against him, savoring the silken feel of his skin against her. He throbbed beneath her, longing to be sated, feverish with lust and passion. Erik slid out from beneath and laid her back against the darkened sheets. He kissed her navel, her hips, the downy hair innocently concealing her sex... With trembling hands, he parted her legs and leaned down, hungry, eager. His velvet tongue lapped at her exquisite juices, twirling and massaging her most secret of extremities. The sound of her pleasure-dripping moans filled him with such powerful lust as he had never experienced before. He mounted her, hungry, eager. She lifted her hips to him, and he drove himself into her with amazing force. She cried out in pain and clutched at his shoulder.
"Jessica, are you alright? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you.."
"It's alright." she said, smiling, flushed. "It doesn't hurt anymore... please... go on.." Thankfully, he was oblivious to the slight trickle of blood; Jessica was rather embarrassed by her inexperience. She rocked her strong hips back and forth, arching her back, pressing herself down, down, forcing all of him inside. She bit her lip from the pain. Erik kissed her shapely breasts, ran his hands along her curves, and thrusted his yearning erection deeper inside her. Jessica leaned up and wrapped her arms around him, still rocking her pelvis. He moaned in ecstasy. Nothing compared to this, nothing... He began to move more powerfully, goaded on by the feel of her nails on his back, her teeth on his neck... he felt warm all over. She squeezed her legs together, and the most amazing sensation came over him.... he came. He felt her lips on his, and kissed back with all his might. Never in the span of his life had he felt this peace, this joy, this... light. He wrapped Jessica in his arms and lay beside her, kissing her brow. She smiled at him, and snuggled closer.
"God, I need you ever waking moment... You have saved me from my solitude... Let me stay with you for all our lifetime, you alone have shown me how to fly... Jessi, with all my soul, I love you..." She kissed his forehead, and they drifted into sleep. For the first time in twenty years, the ghosts were silent... in reverence to this beautiful couple's tryst in the ruins of the Opera House.