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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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I’m back! How did everyone like the last chapter? Hopefully I did not scare too many of you off, with such a scene. I’m happy to say that there are only three major events that stand in the ready for this story. Two of them you might have already guessed. As for the remainder all I can say is it begins at the end of this chapter.
Erik: She does love a good cliffhanger.
Yes, I do. Please remember that I own nothing except this fiction based plot, and any original characters.
Erik: Anyone found guilty of flaming, stealing, or suing will be punjabbed.
Chapter 23
Sleep was something that very rarely came easily or comfortably for Erik. There for it was perfectly understandable that having a good sleep interrupted would be most irritating. That was how Erik was feeling now; irritated. Something had been brushing across his cheek for over five minutes and it was really beginning to anger the phantom, whom had been sleeping fine until the infernal brushing began.
Snapping open his eyes, Erik was quickly able to determine the source of the brushing sensation. The crossed blue eyes of Ayesha seemed to burn holes right through him. The infernal swishing of her tail, the real culprit, was her subtle way of asking ‘Who is this woman in my place?’
“My dearest little lady, are you jealous?” The unmasked man inquired. Removing his left hand from around Mia’s waist Erik reached to pet the Siamese. “You do know you are my first and only gift of heaven.”
“…Of course she is…Just as Brian will forever be the first male I ever loved.”
“My dear, how is your cat? You have been here for several days.”
“He’s fine.” Mia stretched, before curling herself back against Erik’s side. “I left him enough salted pork to last over two weeks. My greatest fear is that he would have consumed the whole thing in two days…I could return to find my poor darling suffering from a horrible case of feline indigestion.”
“I would not worry,” Erik sighed, placing his arms around the artist. “I do not think he would eat it all so fast unless he was spoiled.”
“…Darling? What do you feed your dear Ayesha?” Mia questioned.
“Caviar and cream, why?”
“It’s just a miracle that she isn’t fatter.” Mia stated, running a finger across the diamond collar.
Gently taking hold of Mia’s wrist, Erik rolled the two of them over, until the Russian was pinned underneath him. “Is there something wrong with me wanting to spoil the women I love?”
“…There is nothing wrong with wanting to spoil Ayesha. Cats always think of themselves as superior no matter what. Why not help them live out the fantasy?” She smiled.
“And as for you?”
The smile disappeared. “I do not terribly care to be spoiled like some child. I grew up without some things that some people take for granted. However, that has helped shape me into the person I am. I take pride in my career as a set designer. I want no special treatment. The greatest reward is the satisfaction that my work helps to contribute to something that is enjoyable to others…And now you are staring at me very funny. Have I offended you?”
“No!” Erik shook his head. “I just, know exactly what you mean.”
“I’m glad.” Mia stated. “Then you wont be terribly upset when tomorrow I must see the managers to find out what they will require for December’s events.”
“Why tomorrow? The managers will not do business on Sunday.” Erik sighed leaning his head across Mia’s bosom.
“Tomorrow is Monday. Although it may still be before dawn, today is Sunday.”
Erik’s eyes widened and his head shot up. “Sunday? The first Sunday of the month?”
“Yes, of December.” Mia answered. “You have a calendar.”
He did, but he had been neglectful of marking it off since Mia first arrived. “True. My dear if you will excuse me for an hour at the most!”
“Where are you going?” Mia asked, wrapping the sheet around her as she sat up. “It is not even light outside.”
“I realize that.” Erik stated as he tugged on the trousers that had been flung on the floor. “I must meet with Jules. I always meet him on the first Sunday of the month, an hour before daybreak. He is the one who, shall we say, does my shopping.”
“So this Jules.” Mia guessed. “Is the one who buys your food? Your clothing?”
“Right.” Erik confirmed, walking towards his room to fetch a clean shirt. ‘And this visit, I must ask him for some rather important favors.’
Pinning his cravat in place, Erik headed for the second bedroom to retrieve his mask.
“My dear, do not feel the need to be up and dressed on my account.” The Frenchman reasoned, watching the Jewish girl pick up her clothing. “I will be back in less than an hour, I promise”
“If I were to lay down until then, will you join me once you return?”
“I hope to.” The unmasked man replied before kissing her.
After three short pecks Mia pulled away. “Keep that up, and you’ll be late.” She scolded playfully.
Erik shrugged. “It would have been a noble excuse to be tardy.” Placing the mask on his face, he brought her hand to his lips. “Until we meet again.”
Walking down the moon lit streets of the Rue Scribe is where the Phantom found Jules. He was waiting as usual as far away from street or lamppost as he could. ‘Just as you always have, just as I have always asked you.’
“Monsieur!” Jules spotted with relief. “I was beginning to wonder if you were being delayed.”
“I apologize for my tardiness. I was asleep for once.”
“Quite fine! So…am I to continue to not buy anymore morphine?”
“Yes.” Erik nodded. “Until one of us is dead. I also have a few favors I must ask of you.”
“Anything Monsieur.” Jules insisted looking up at the masked man.
“I have included extra money in the envelop for my supplies. I need you to make travel arrangements, for two, by train to Moscow, Russia.”
“Russia? Monsieur.”
“Yes, I will of course need arrangements back for two. Here is the other shoe; I need the arrangements to be by mid-December. I apologize for it being on such short notice. But-“ Erik admitted, “I have faith in your abilities to get such a task done.”
“I will have it taken care of Monsieur!” Jules declared. “Think nothing of it.”
“Very good, I also need you to take a letter to the Post. It’s just a notice to an investment banker in Rouen.”
“Bank?”
“Yes, One of the few to survive from the Revolution. Thankfully.” With that said, Erik handed the Belgian three envelops; The letter to Rouen, Money for next month’s expenses, and payment of twelve thousand francs. ‘Two thousand extra for two extra arrangements.’ Erik told himself. The man really did have a large family to feed.
Picking up the boxes of supplies Erik was about to turn to leave when the timid voice paused him. “Monsieur…I just wanted to tell you that…you stopped asking for the morphine…it’s nice to know the Lord finally answered some of my prayers.”
Erik pivoted on his heal, to look Jules in the eye. “You should not waste prayers on my well being. You have more than enough to pray for. Your eldest son still has tuition to be taken care of does he not?”
“No Monsieur.” Jules smiled. “No more. He is finally a doctor.”
“…Very good.” Erik congratulated. “Now I am afraid I must say good morning.”
Just as Erik loaded the last of the boxes into the rowboat, he stood and turned around. “If you were going to follow me all the way from Rue Scribe you could have at least helped me with the boxes Daroga.”
“So you did know I was following you?” Nadir asked stepping out of the shadows.
“Always and forever.” Erik sighed stepping into the boat. “If you have come to inquire about my supplies I assure you there is no morphine among them. Not that you trust me.”
“I do trust you Erik.” Nadir confessed. “About the morphine at least.”
“Then you are not a complete fool. If you are looking to be welcomed into my home, I must tell you, you are not invited. It is still rather early.”
“I find that understandable.” The Persian nodded. “I’m sure Mademoiselle Sclar would not be pleased at company during this hour.”
“Yes, and I can assure you Daroga. I know for a fact that she is currently indecent. Good morning.” Erik closed, rowing the boat away from his friend. He was just a little over two feet away from the shore when he heard it. The same sound he had heard when he first offered to show the man how to pick pockets in Russia; Nadir Khan’s laugh.
After hanging up his cloak, Erik headed straight for the second bedroom. He was, however, a little disappointed to find Mia sitting at the vanity instead of in bed.
“I told you, you did not have to get up, my dear.” Erik reminded from the doorway.
Mia’s eyes remained fixed on the mirror. “I was afraid I would fall asleep, I wanted to wait for you. So I was preoccupying myself by just tidying up.” Mia frowned looking down at her hands.
“You do not have to do that sort of thing. You are my guest, not my maid.”
“So…I am just a guest.”
“I would like to think of you as more than that.” Erik confessed, walking up to the vanity. “…What is that you’re holding?”
“Nothing.” Mia sighed. “I should not pry.”
“Do not hold back any inquires for my well being Mia. I would prefer you to be honest about anything that I have done to put you into a state of such...melancholia?”
Sighing the artist placed the item in her hands onto the vanity. A handkerchief. Softly she traced her fingers over the embroidery. “…Was Christine your mother’s name?”
I think I’ll leave it there. I love cliffhangers, I find it encourages the reader to continue and perhaps…review? We’re up to 175; the very idea of 180 thrills me beyond belief.
Erik: If you dare to dream of such self confidence.
…Now I’m back to being depressed.
Erik: Your welcome.
/Sigh/ Please remember the disclaimers from above! Please read and review! No Flames!
Erik/Swings lasso/ Until next chapter.
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Portrait of the Soul