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Portrait of the Soul	By : sirenofsaturn Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 2723 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
Sorry! I was very ill, when I planned on following up the story. My dear friend Ashley had to drive me to the ER that night! Ever sense then I have felt slightly off, I think it’s the time change. Anyway, I am back and hope that this awaited chapter isn’t a disappointment to you all. Thank so much for helping this story reach over 130 reviews! It means so much. I would also like to dedicate this chapter to two very dear people.
To Ashley thank you for being my sister and showing me how to “Take pain like a woman”, when I threw up in your car.
To Erik, you have inspired me, and I pray this chapter does not disappoint. To my muse please guide me till the end.
Chapter 18
Opening night at the Garnier was filled with happy faces and gay emotions. Men and patrons paraded their wives or mistresses on a proud arm. Couples continued to sip champagne and gossip on the latest Paris affairs as if no one had a care in the world. Perhaps in a way Mia was rebelling. She walked through the gala hall with eyes closed and ears plugged from the happiness. Erik. That was all that was on her mind. She had not seen him sense last week during that horrible episode.
The Russian woman didn’t know what she could have done to cause such an up roar in him. She said something wrong. He was trying to end their ordeal, and she wouldn’t give him a word in going on about her stupid designs. Had she really driven him to a breaking point, causing him to lash out and act violent towards her? Deep in her soul Mia knew these weren’t the reasons. Something was deeply wrong within Erik himself. Why wouldn’t he tell her? He had looked horrible; maybe he hadn’t come back because he wasn’t able. Memories of the strong man a shaking mess on her floor drove her mad. What if he’s…
“Ah, Mademoiselle Sclar!”
Mia turned around quickly to meet face to face with her managers. “Good evening Monsieur Richard, Monsieur Moncharmin. I trust you both are well.”
“Quite and may we assume the same for you?” Monsieur Richard asked.
“Quite.” Mia lied. “Are the sets with your approval?”
“More than we could have ever imagined!” Moncharmin praised. “I just personally wanted to thank you for all your hard work!” The manager smiled grabbing Mia’s hand to kiss it, the same hand Erik had grabbed.
Mia winced, pulling back her hand.
“Is everything alright?”
“Sorry,” Mia breathed. “I just over used my drawing hand is all, it’s a little sore.”
“Best to take it easy then, we wouldn’t want it to interfere with you talent, would we?”
“No,” Mia paused, spotting a familiar face across the room. “In fact I best go wrap it now, so it wont get sore. Excuse me Monsieurs!” The artist apologized swiftly leaving their presence.
With all of the decent manners Mia was taught she rudely pushed her way through. I can’t let him get away. Pushing past the last couple mumbling an apology, she approached her target.
“Monsieur Khan? May I ask how your relationship is with him?”
“Mademoiselle Sclar? How are you this evening?” The oriental questioned.
“It’s…as good as can be expected. I was not aware that you attend the opera.” Mia stated.
Nadir smiled, “Erik raved about it so much in Persia. Since I have been in Paris I now hold a season ticket.” The Daroga could have sworn the color drained out of Mia’s face when he brought up his old friend.
“Monsieur,” Mia begged. “You must tell me how he is. The last time Erik approached me he was in such a state. He was almost…fragile. I will go mad if I do not know of his health. Please Nadir is he well?” Mia asked, forgetting all the formality of her current environment.
“He is…”The Daroga stopped. When he gave Erik his final dosage of the morphine he was in a horrible state. The Persian dared say it was worse than after Christine Daae had left. Erik spoke of something between Mia and himself, but Nadir could not make out what the masked man was saying. The sobbing and yelling combined had muddled his anguished words. After a few minutes of that Erik had told Nadir to leave and not return until he was dead.
“Leave me! Do not return until I am dead!”
Nadir did not know if Erik really would go through with death. Surely he was not that foolish.
“He is…?” Mia repeated, wanting Nadir to snap out of his thoughts and tell her of Erik’s condition.
“He has not told you then.” The Persian stated. “He should have from the beginning.”
“Told me what?” The artist asked.
“I can not say.”
Mia just nodded. “I understand.” She whispered.
“However,” The Daroga continued. “He can…and he will.”
Before Mia could question him, he held up his hand. “There are too many people about to go now, the curtain rises in ten minutes…Do you know the Rue Scribe? Meet me there in twenty minutes.”
Mia nodded without a second thought. “Thank you!” She almost smiled, quickly making her way back to her room.
Meeting Mia at the gate by Rue Scribe, Nadir noticed all she seemed to carry was a scroll case. Nodding his greeting the Persian pulled out a small key to unlock the gate.
“Is this a short cut?” Mia whispered.
“This is the way I get to Erik’s home, whether or not it’s short is debatable.” Unlocking the door he led Mia along the secret passageways to were the boat was kept.
Arriving at the house Nadir did not even bother to knock as he opened the door. Mia followed him closely behind. Giving a quick gaze around the drawing room, Nadir realized the only occupant was Ayehsa who was oddly circling Mia’s feet.
Mia’s lips gave a faint smile as she reached down and to let the cat smell her hand. After a while the picky Siamese allowed the Jewish woman to pet her.
“I’ll go see if Erik is…decent.” Nadir paused choosing his words carefully. Going on into Erik’s chamber first he noticed the coffin was open and empty. Giving a sigh of relief the Daroga went for the second bedroom. The place Erik laid the last time he wanted to die.
Nadir couldn’t help but sigh; he was getting too old for this. His hunch was right as he found the unmasked man resting in his mother’s old bed.
Yes, Erik was resting. The smallest movement of his chest rising and falling told the Persian that much. Without evening the slightest bit of warning the resting body sighed.
“Why are you here Daroga?” The yellow eyes slowly opened, now making contact with Nadir’s.
“You didn’t tell Mademoiselle Sclar.”
“You are disturbing me for that?” Erik shouted, sitting up. “Perhaps if I were to draw open a vein you would care to pour some salt into the open wound? I know that! It’s too late to tell her!”
“Draw open a vein Erik! At least if I poured salt into it, it would be salt not morphine!” Nadir’s remark was cut short. He barely noticed Erik had stood up, and now his hand was wrapped around the Persian’s neck.
“E-erik! Get a hold of yourself!” He barely managed to choke out before the grip loosened.
Yellow eyes widened in shock. Erik’s eyes focused on his hand, the very hand that seconds ago had tried to strangle his best friend.
“My God what is wrong with me?” Erik collapsed. “I hurt Mia and then I almost try to murder you? Forgive me Daroga! Please! One person dear to me will not forgive, I could not stand it if you felt that way too!”
“But I did forgive you…”
Erik’s gasping stopped. He felt as if he could no longer breath. His gaze fell to the doorway to see if it was true…it was her.
“Mia?”
“I have forgiven you Erik. Now it is time for you to forget. Their is no need to pour salt into an open wound.” The Russian said.
“…You know of what is going on?” Erik asked.
“I’m not sure what is going.” Mia confessed. “I think I do, but I could be wrong…if you would like to tell me though Erik…I will be more than willing to listen…Perhaps we should wait, you look like you could use some rest…Would you mind if I borrowed your samovar to make tea?” The artist asked managing a weak smile.
“That’s fine…” Erik whispered. “That’s fine…”
Mia was about to leave the room when Erik stopped her.
“Mia! Perhaps after you finish the tea…you would honor me by showing me your sketches?”
Her eyes closed, refusing to allow the tears to fall. “The honor Erik,” She whispered, not looking back, “would be mine.”
Oh my…you guys will have to tell me how that chapter affected you…I was crying during some parts while I was writing it. If you didn’t find it that emotional we’ll say I was crying because I’m happy to be back! Thank you for the reviews! Please keep them up maybe by this chapter or the next we’ll hit 140! No pressure of course…I own nothing except or any original characters and this fiction based plot.
Now on a very IMPORTANT note. I want to say this. /Holds up an egg/
Erik: Oh God…
This is your brain! Erik a pan!
Erik/Sigh/ Hands her a frying pan
This is your brain on drugs/Smacks the hell out of the egg/ Any questions?
Erik: None… Please review
- 17
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- 19
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Portrait of the Soul