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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
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Reviews! Yeah! I am so beyond happy to the point that I’m practically skipping around the room whenever I check my e-mail! I’m so thrilled that we’re this far into the story and you all still seem as happy with it as Erik and I are.
Erik: …I’m ecstatic…
Well almost…Once again I own nothing except any original characters and this fiction based plot! Do not steal and do not sue or else!
Erik/holds Punjab/ Chapter twenty-one
Soft melodies gently filled the house by the lake as Erik continued to compose at the drawing room’s piano. Although when he first started he felt slightly awkward going about his normal business while Mia was still in his home. After asking the European woman if she would be bothered by his reclusiveness she had simply brushed it off, asking if she could borrow some of his stationary while he played. Erik had begun to play glancing over his shoulder occasionally only to find Mia engrossed in her writing. A few hours later when he repeated his checking he found her at his stove preparing dinner as she had the past few days before.
It had taken some adjustments for Erik to get use to eating dinner. For decades he had trained his body so that it only required one meal a day, which he would usually forget about. Erik was quickly learning that Mia’s normal human habits were going to snap him out of his usual wine and cheese snack every two days. Returning his attention to his work Erik noticed the other lady of the household was in agreement with the first. Ayesha was stiffly sitting across the ivory keys, preventing Erik from continuing his composing.
“My jealous darling, are you telling me to take a break?” Erik asked, leaning his bare forehead against the feline’s. Receiving a lick under his sunken eyes the artist scooped up the feline in his arms and carried her with him towards Mia.
“Done composing already?” Mia asked, as she continued chopping up vegetables. From the smell of the boiling water Erik guessed she was making some sort of stu.
“I try to rest every six hours or so, otherwise my hands tend to get numb.” Erik stated cracking his fingers. “Enjoy your letter?”
Mia sighed, starting to chop the vegetables faster. “Not really.”
“A franc to know whom it is for.”
“My mother.” Mia sighed, continuing to chop faster. “Keep your franc.”
“Ah, is she that horrible?”
“That yenta,” Mia muttered. “Takes me a step closer to an institution every time I think of her.” She stated, unaware that she had lapsed back into Russian.
“Then why are you continuing the journey now?” Erik asked, in her native tongue.
“Because.” Mia continued chopping even faster as she spoke. “Chanukah is coming up, in her last letter she wanted to know if I would be coming back to visit. Then she persuaded me with guilt, about had old Baba is getting. How my sister will be disappointed if I don’t come to see my new nephew. She just knows what to say to get me to come, but I hate that I would submit to that-that”
“Mia.” Erik cut in watching how blindly she was chopping the vegetables. “Be careful or you might-“
“Drick!”
“…Do that…”
Watching the dark haired woman take her index finger into mouth, Erik could not help to suppress his chuckle. “You are truly acquainted with the knife my dear. It didn’t take you long to find a target.”
“It’s not funny.” Mia muttered from around her bleeding digit.
“Forgive me.” Erik smirked, walking up to exam the wound. “It’s not deep, thankfully.” He diagnosed, running his finger over the cut.
“Yes, but those just tend to sting more.” Mia winced.
“That they do.” Erik replied taking the digit into his mouth. He gently began sucking on it tasting the coppery liquid of blood. His gold eyes set on Mia’s face, and her pink tinted cheeks.
Catching Erik’s gaze Mia simply shook off her surprise. “Is this one of your gypsy cures, Monsieur?”
Erik stopped his action, tracing Mia’s cheek with his left hand. “Your blushing cheeks, give away your playful tone, my dear.”
Her eyes closed as she gave up her defense. Instead of fighting his hidden advances, she leaned into his hand’s warm touch.
Picking up her cut hand, Erik kissed her palm. Gently he began to pull back the sleeve, stopping to glance at the faint bruising around her wrist. It was his turn to feel pain. He remembered when had been in her room and grabbed her so forcefully. It was his fault that light flesh was covered with the marks of his violence.
“It doesn’t hurt.” Mia whispered, noticing his gaze. “…But maybe you should check.”
Taking the hint, Erik’s lips ghosted over the bruise continuing up the Jewish woman’s arm until his eyes met Mia’s. Closing his lips over her's the two kissed more forcefully than they had before. Mia arm’s wrapped around the tall man’s neck, as Erik’s hands ran themselves through her thick chestnut hair. They embraced themselves tighter as if trying to melt themselves into one body. Mia gasped feeling Erik’s tongue moving inside her mouth; the pink muscle trying to explore his partner’s cavern. One of Erik’s hands moved towards Mia’s dress collar, beginning to play with button.
Just as the phantom was about to unfasten the binding, the shrill ring of the bell to the lake went off.
“Damn Daroga.” Erik cursed, pulling away.
Mia muttered something as well; thought Erik didn’t understand the Yiddish term. Watching her smooth over her dress, Erik leaned down to gently kiss her forehead, before going to retrieve his mask.
A few minutes later, Erik showed Nadir in, after giving his traditional greetings.
“Mademoiselle Sclar, I trust you are well?”
“I am, thank you. May I assume the same for you?” Mia smiled.
“Yes you may.”
“Perhaps then, I might interest you in some vegetable stu?” The artist offered.
“That would be lovely…assuming everyone is not opposed?” Nadir questioned, looking at Erik.
“No, we are not. Shall I take your coat then old friend?” Erik asked. ‘I’ll choke you with it later.’
Through out dinner and afterwards Erik was beginning to feel like an old painting being studied in a museum. Every move, gesture, and word that took place between Mia and him Nadir watched like a scientist would an experiment. He was very much aware that the Persian’s other motive, besides checking on Erik’s health, was to learn or spy on he and Mia’s relations.
At first Erik was near furious at the idea of Nadir acting as some chaperone in his home. However, after careful consideration, Erik was beginning to have fun with the idea. After dinner in the drawing room Erik sat directly next to Mia his arm around her shoulder. It was nothing shocking to them in any way. This was a position they had been in the previous night; Only Erik had been reading as Mia sketched. The previous action repeated itself when Mia gently leaned her head on Erik’s shoulder, listening to the conversation taking place.
Although Erik slightly enjoyed the slight stare of Nadir’s gaze, or the first initial shock that caused his eyes to widen, this performer, for once, was not showing off. Erik did not mean to pride Mia around like a trinket to be shown off. He was just being as subtly as he could think of trying to pass his message to Nadir. ‘We are fine my friend. There is nothing to worry about for once, you nosey Persian dolt.’
A few hours later, after Nadir’s dispatcher, found the two in the second bedroom. Erik had initially walked Mia in to bid her good night. He, however, ended up taking a seat on the bed with her when she showed no sign of fatigue. He simply watched her now; Her fingers playing absently with a strand of her hair as she reread her letter for the twelfth time.
“I’m not sending it.” Mia sighed crumpling up the parchment and lying down.
“Why not?”
“…I don’t want to go back to Russia. Not now.”
“…It will only be for a few days.” Erik reasoned. “…She will eventually begin to worry about you…or so it sounds.”
“I know.” Mia sighed, rolling over onto her side, mumbling something into the pillow.
“What was that?”
“…Come with me.”
“Pardon?” Erik asked looking down at her.
“Are you going deaf, love?” Mia yawned, putting a hand to her mouth.
Erik sighed, “I believe congratulations are in order, you just caught me off guard.” Looking down at Mia once again, Erik noticed her expression wasn’t as mirthful as his.
“You would really wish for me to meet your mother.”
“Not just mother.” Mia spoke closing her eyes. “My father, Baba, Alexandra, Demetree, Netee-“ She yawned. “And Peter…my whole family lives under one roof…not too much privacy. If just my mother met you-“ She yawned again. “The rest would know you were there before dinner.”
“That is what I’m concerned about.” Erik sighed. “Wont your family be the least bit concerned and horrified about your involvement with a monster like me? A strange French man who wears a mask? Or would you simply prefer I go over there with you, hand your mother bouquet, and show her my face. Just think after she faints and splits her head open, you wont have to worry about her bothering you anymore. Then maybe before the rest of your family can get an explanation you and I could simply hop back onto the train and be back in Paris before New Year’s Eve. Is that alright for you my dear?”
When Erik looked down the only response he received was Mia’s gentle breathing from her deep slumber.
Sighing Erik removed his mask, and placed it on the nightstand before lying down next to her. “How someone as patient as you could come into my life and tolerate my cynicism is a mystery that I can not solve. How do you put up with an old monster like me?”
Kissing her forehead as a silent goodnight, Erik closed his eyes letting sleep take him as well.
Yea! Done! Chapter Twenty-one! Please remember the disclaimer from above. Now all I can do is ask you lovely readers to keep reviewing! Yes even you ghost phan fiction readers!
Erik: That was a horrible pun.
I know…Please read and review!
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Portrait of the Soul