When Erik stepped out into the hallway, luggage in hand, he found his daughter staring up at him from her guest bedroom, still fully dressed. It was midnight. He�d wished to wait until Raoul would probably be asleep, to walk through the hallways to the car waiting to bring him to the train station. Another fight would result in someone being harmed, and although Erik was confident it wouldn�t have been him, he didn�t think that it would help his wife or the three �children� to see it. Still, he couldn�t escape the notice of his own daughter. She had apparently been standing in her own doorway for a long time. Behind her, Isabelle had fallen asleep in a chair by a small fireplace where the logs had died down into glowing embers.
�Papa . . . you should take Mama with you.� She murmured quietly, stepping out into the hallway, and closing her door behind you. �She hasn�t been away from you for a single night since you�ve been married. She can�t wake up without you here.�
Erik sighed, shaking his head, and putting down his luggage. Motioning her closer, he put both arms tenderly about her.
�Let her sleep, ma petite.� He told her gently. �This night has been a shock for everyone. Even I hadn�t expected it to get so heated.�
�Why is he being so hateful?� She whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder. Even Allyriane had never been away from her parents for a night � with the single exception of the short stay she had in the hospital. Even then, one of her parents had seemed to be with her the entire time. �Why can�t he let go of something that happened a hundred years ago?�
�I�ve a shady past, Cherie.� He admitted somberly. �I wasn�t always the pleasant businessman you�ve watched your whole life. If I told you everything, perhaps you wouldn�t want me near you either.�
�I don�t care about your past.� She said fiercely. �You never hurt Mama, or me.�
�No.� He smiled gently, taking her by the shoulders to separate them a bit. �I�ve never hurt you. But I haven�t been through . . . certain situations . . . with you or your Mama. With Monsieur le Comte, it�s quite a different matter. I might not have been young, as is stereotypically seen of the hot-blooded, but I did have a temper on me. I suppose being a husband and father has taught me how to control it.�
�Papa, you never once had even a glimmer of a temper, for as long as I�ve known you.� She didn�t pick up on his mentioning being older than the Comte.
�But these past twenty years haven�t been absolutely lonely and miserable. My existence has not once been threatened.� Sighing, he shook his head. �I�m sorry, ma fille pr�cieuse. If I could explain everything to you . . .�
�Maybe some day, in the future.� Allyriane could tell that her fathers� secret, all but bare to her now, was hurting him. She could see he wanted to tell her everything, but was afraid to. She couldn�t say that she blamed him. Some secrets were better left in shadow. Maybe she wasn�t ready to hear it yet. For a man who�d always been very honest with her, and never once lied, she wasn�t certain she suddenly wanted to know the whole truth, which had simply never been spoken.
�Perhaps.� He agreed, amazed at her intellect, the insight she always seemed to have in reading his emotions and thoughts. �Ma petite . . .�
�Mama and I will come home by Saturday.� She said quickly, leaning up to kiss his cheek. �I�ve already spoken with Charles. It�s best if we keep away from Monsieur le Comte. I just don�t want to leave tonight and leave Katherine high and dry with only her brother here to try and explain that this doesn�t mean we�re not going to be part of her family.�
Erik chuckled, shaking his head.
�You should invite her to stay with us some time.� He offered. �I know that Raoul isn�t exactly keen on us being part of his or his daughters family, but still . . . he can�t exactly prevent it.�
�Nothing can prevent me marrying Charles now.� She said strongly.
There was a long, tense silence, and then she abruptly put her arms around him again, holding onto him as though she were once more a small child, frightened of the darkness surrounding her. It startled Erik, but he caught her easily, and caressed her hair gently, his long fingers almost not touching her at all. Slowly, the pressure grew, and he pressed his cheek to the top of her head. One thing she had not inherited from him was height. She was such a tiny creature.
�Avez-vous peur d'�tre sans votre p�re?� He crooned, voice half-teasing. �You know that you�ll never be without me, Mon petite.�
�Quand j'�pouse Charles, il sera diff�rent.� She responded.�
�Ah, but when you marry Charles, then he will be your protector.� He chuckled again. �Don�t be afraid of being without your father, because I�m always going to be there. Even when it seems that I�m not. And I trust Charles. I trust him enough to place you in his care. You will have two of us to watch over you.�
�Papa, stay.� She breathed. �Monsieur Raoul needn�t know you were here the whole night. He sleeps in so late; that you can leave at the time you had planned to in the morning. He�d never know.�
�That�s not true.� Erik replied gently. �Please, Lyre. I�m just going to stay in the hotel in the city, until my train leaves. I won�t be far until then. It won�t be any different. You�ll see. A few hours will make no difference at all.�
�Yes it will. Charles� father has made you leave early. I can�t forget the difference.�
�Lyre, be calm.� Erik ordered in one of his trance-inducing voices. She stared up at him blankly for a moment, and then blinked in confusion. Smiling, he touched her cheek. �It�s only a few days. Charles is here to take care of you, and your mother. Besides, I want you to stay. I�m sure Raoul will poison your ear with all the things you want to know about my sordid past. Just know that you�ll hear my side when you come home. I want you to hear both of our stories.�
�You want me to hear his lies?�
�Not lies.� Erik admitted gently. �His views, and a few misconceptions, but not lies.�
�Then why does he hate you so much? What did you do to one another?�
�He hates me because I loved the same woman he did. He hates me because I was insane with jealousy and bitterness; literally insane. Perhaps it isn�t even hatred. Maybe it is fear that I can still cause just as much damage as I did back then. I was the type of man that took what I wanted, destroying anything and anyone that got in my way. Charles� father was one of those obstacles, but the woman we shared love for saved his life, and she saved me from my insanity. He doesn�t know how I�ve healed these past years.�
�Papa, I don�t ��
�I know you don�t understand.� He soothed. �Please, Lyre, go into your room, and go to bed. Take care of your mother until you come home later this week. Whatever you do, all I ask is that you remember to come back home so that you can hear my side. I�m sure he�ll manage to convince you about what a beast I was.�
�That is past tense.� She stated. �You are no beast.�
Laughing, he kissed her temple, and leaned down to pick up his luggage.
�Lyre . . . Go to bed.�
�Bonne nuit, Papa.� She sighed, hugging him again briefly. Then, before tears overwhelmed her, she slipped into her room, and locked the door behind her.
�Bonne nuit . . .� He whispered to the closed door, and walked down the hall.
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When Charles moved into his fathers� study, the Comte was already sipping at a strong brandy. He�d never been a drunk of any sort in the past, but he looked like it in the early morning sunshine. The light reflected through the crystal glass, making the amber liquid shine like the sun right into Charles� eyes.
�If I�d spoken to you last night, I may have resorted to blows.� Charles said quietly. �Isabelle and Lyre were inconsolable after the way you behaved. Tell me what exactly happened last night.�
Raoul looked up at his son, then to his glass of brandy. He stared at it for a long moment, watching the light change as she turned the crystal slightly in his hand. Finally, he took one more sip, sighed, and stood. Placing the glass aside, he moved over to a hidden safe that Charles had always assumed held small treasures, like the deed to the house, and perhaps his mothers� wedding ring.
His father surprised him by pulling out two books. One was a large, square book bound by burgundy leather. The other was of smaller, rectangular shape, but it was thicker. Bound in blue, there was no title on the spine or covers. He opened it to see a strange title written in French. Translating to English in his head, he glanced to his father.
�Phantom of the Opera?� He echoed.
�It was written by some silly author.� Raoul said, waving one hand dismissively. �The book is rubbish, mostly. But there are a great many facts entwined in the little ghost story; things that really happened. Read all of this, son. In the articles you read in my scrap book, change the names of the Opera Ghost and Phantom of the Opera to the name Erik.�
�You have to be joking.� Charles laughed nervously. His father, however, had never looked more serious in his life.
Charles was a very fast reader. Sitting down behind the desk to his fathers study, he first shifted through the articles in the scrapbook. They were all articles from Paris newspapers, but Charles was, of course, fluent in French. One of the articles stood out to him.
TWO HUNDRED KILOS ON THE HEAD OF A CONCIERGE
The article told about the disaster that had occurred in the Opera House. Apparently, the chandelier had fallen, and the staff at the Opera blamed someone called �The Opera Ghost�. More than just a concierge had died. More than sixty people had either died or been badly injured. Others were left traumatized. It seemed preposterous to Charles that they could blame a fairy tale on such accidents . . . But then he skimmed briefly through the novel. His father was right; most of the story was utter rubbish. Still, names stood out. The names of Christine Daa�, Raoul Vicomte de Chagney were constantly mentioned. Apparently, they were the main characters. Then, of course, the name Erik popped up to the surface as well.
The only part of the book he read straight through was the narrative of the Persian, as the author Gaston Leroux had written it. The book seemed almost brand new to him. Yet the date of the publication was some seven years old. When he had finished, he looked up at his father, who had come in and out over the past couple of hours. It seemed that Isabelle and Allyriane had not come down from their rooms yet.
�This has got to be some sort of elaborate hoax.� Charles insisted almost immediately.
�Everything you have read happened, at least to some extent.� Raoul stated. �Sometimes it was even worse. Erik G�nie is the Phantom of the Opera. He changed his face somehow. I don�t know how . . . but he did. Charles, listen to me. This man does not deny who he is. He confessed it to me last night!�
�All right.� Charles sighed. �So the man did horrible things in his past. He didn�t deny that last night, either. Apparently he changed his ways. For heaven�s sake, Father, you yourself told me that Christine was very good friends with him after the whole tragic affair. Why hate him now?�
Raoul came across the room, sitting down with a heavy sigh across from his son.
�Charles . . . do you remember when your mother died?�
�Vaguely . . .� He admitted uncertainly. �After mama gave birth to Kat, she had some fever.�
�It was an illness that progressed through her pregnancy.� Raoul corrected. �Yet she did have an infection after the birth, and it caused a fever. She was delirious right up until the point when she died.� He was slowly curling his hands into fists. �Would you like to know the man she was calling for on her death bed? Would you like to know the man she spoke to? It wasn�t me! Not her own husband!�
Charles stared at him for a long moment, and then sighed, shaking his head.
�Father, you can�t really think she was calling for him as if she wanted him there because she was dying.� He chuckled. �She was delirious, Papa. Maybe she was reliving those days. Maybe . . . maybe she felt guilty for what happened back then, even though they�d become friends afterwards. Hell, maybe she even loved him to some extent that she wouldn�t admit so that she couldn�t hurt you. But it certainly isn�t his fault.�
Raoul ground his teeth together.
�You don�t understand. Anything could have happened between them. He is a master manipulator. I saw him work his magic on her while he was still the Opera Ghost.�
�Father, enough!� Charles stood, angry now. �The man is going to be my father-in-law. His daughter is going to be Katherine�s sister-in-law. His daughter is going to be my wife! They are my family! Now I�m not asking you to like Erik. I�m not even asking you to get along with him � except on our wedding day, for I want all of you there, just as Lyre will. I am only asking you to accept it.�
Raoul stood as well, his own temper flaring.
�If I don�t?� He challenged. Charles sighed.
�Then to Hell with you.� He stated. �I don�t need you to be happy, father. I�ve spent enough of my lifetime away from you, even avoiding you. Why should I need you now? Understand this, though, father. Katherine loves them dearly. I shall not let you rob her of them.�
Walking around the desk, he paused to pick up the ridiculous novel he�d just skimmed, and walked out of the study with it, leaving his father behind.
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When Allyriane opened the door to the room she�d been staying in, she looked out at Charles as he stood in the doorway. She was wide-awake, yet she�d yet to dress or comb her hair. She blushed in embarrassment to be seen in such a state, and started to slam the door.
�Just a moment!� She entreated just before the door nearly clipped off his nose. Charles chuckled, shaking his head, and waited patiently until she came out ten minutes later, dressed, with her hair hastily combed through.
�Did you sleep all right?� He asked in concern, seeing the slight blotches under her eyes. �Last night was not pretty.�
�Oh, I stayed up most of the night trying to make sure mama slept.� She admitted. �I also waited up to say good-bye to my father when he left.�
�I want to apologize for everything that happened.� Charles began. Yet she held up her hand.
�Never mind it.� She assured him. �I spoke to my father about the � about your fathers� behavior. I think I understand. Men feuding over the same woman can be hectic. We saw what it was like for a woman wanting to harm another for want of a man.�
She was speaking, of course, about how she�d been attacked through the influence of the little wench who had wanted Charles so badly. Still, this wasn�t about that. This was about their fathers. Charles was astonished to find out that she already knew vaguely what had happened in the past. Still . . . He looked down at the book in his hand, and held it up to her.
�I thought this might interest you.� He said softly. �This is fictionalized, but my father says it�s about what happened all those years ago. The Erik in this book is your father.�
�Someone actually wrote about a love triangle?� She chuckled.
�No.� He contradicted quickly. �This is a horror story, my dear. Now I don�t expect you to believe a shred of this. I don�t believe much of it. Yet your father made no attempt last night to deny who and what he once was.�
Allyriane reached out to take the book, but he pulled it out of her grasp briefly. She stared up at him, their eyes meeting squarely.
�This doesn�t affect anything.� He told her sternly. �I still love you. I still respect and care about your father. My father is the only one with changed views about your family.�
Slowly nodding, she took the book at last.
�I�ll read this later.� She promised. �Right now, perhaps I should get my mother out of bed.�
�I�ll have a maid bring her some tea.� Charles offered quickly. Allyriane smiled in thanks. �Are . . . are you still leaving at the end of the week?�
�Yes.� She announced. �I promised Papa that we would, when he left last night. You�re welcome to join us. You and Katherine are both more than welcome to visit whenever you please.�
�I�ll consider that, and speak to my sister about it.� He smiled.
�I need to speak to her about what happened.� She sighed. �I hope she can understand.�
�Lyre �� He reached out, stopping the door from closing completely. She peeked back out at him. �Read the book before you speak to her. Please?�
Not understanding, she blinked several times. Yet finally, she nodded.
�Alright.� She promised. �Thank you, Charles. I�ll come down before lunch.�