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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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Hello everyone! Sorry I did not update as I promised I’ve been a little under the weather since then.
Erik: That’s an understatement.
Shhh! I just wanted to thank those who were kind enough to review! It means so much and helps the next chapters come faster knowing that there are people out there who are waiting to read on! Please remember I own nothing except any original characters and this fiction based plot! Do not steal or sue!
Erik: Why, you just got your paycheck?
…You’re right I don’t need that food on the table, or those silly textbooks!
Erik:…Chapter twenty-seven
“We’re not going to make it there by sunset are we?” Mia asked.
“I believe we’ll make it there on time.” Erik stated, his long brimmed had pulled down as far as it would go. After arriving in Moscow, the two had found transportation, much to Erik’s dismay, on the back of a farm cart. The slow maddening pace of the horse enduring the weight of the two visitor’s, the cart, and fat driver were giving Erik a new definition of uncomfortable. ‘At least it’s better than the train’ the masked man reasoned.
“Ms. I am afraid I can only take you a little past the city. I need to get back soon.” The farmer said trying not to look back at the two passengers. The first time he had, that man in the mask had given him a look that would have brought the devil to his knees.
“That is quite fine Sir. My home is less than a mile from outside the city…I just hope we make it there before sunset.” Mia sighed.
“My dear,” Erik began. “If you are worried about wondering around after dark…” The phantom paused; he didn’t feel the need to bring up the Punjab lasso in his cloak.
“No! That’s not the reason at all! It’s just a house rule you might say.” The Russian smiled. “From childhood I was taught to be home by sunset. At sunset Papa would be home and my mother would have dinner ready. As I grew older and started designing the sets for the opera house here in Russia, I would never be home on time. I would end up waiting until everyone was asleep before sneaking in. Silly thing is it not?”
“No.” Erik shook his head. “It’s not. You do not reach a certain age were you stop following the rules set in your parent’s home.”
Feeling the cart stop Erik threw his bag over his shoulder before stepping down from the cart to help Mia.
“Thank you very much sir!” Mia waved, before leading the French man in the right direction. “It’s this way.” Mia gestured with her bag, before Erik took it from her.
“Such chivalry!” Mia over praised. “You flatter me very much Monsieur!”
“My pleasure, Mademoiselle.” Erik bowed his head. “Forgive me for not taking your hand but mine are rather full at the moment. I hope you will not find it improper!”
“Erik, I can carry my own bag.” Mia stopped receiving a look from her overloaded escort. “Or not. Besides it would not be proper for you to take my hand anyway, seeing as I am the on leading you! Ha!”
“Back to ‘Ha’ again are we?”
“Yes.” Mia smiled, falling in step with her lover.
“My dear, tell me of your family once more?”
“Do not worry about knowing them all, before you can put a name to a face.” Mia soothed.
“I would feel much better, if I knew what is ahead of me.” Erik sighed eyes burning holes into the ground. He was beginning to have a few regrets.
“My mother Nitsee, My father Bernard, My older sister Alexandra, her husband Demetree, they have two daughters Lena and Hali, a new born son mother did not tell me his name, my younger sister Nette, my younger brother Peter, and Baba.” Mia listed.
“What is your grandmother’s name?” Erik asked.
“Oh, just call her Baba.” Mia shrugged.
“I can not do that! She is not my Baba!” Erik hissed.
“No, but she’ll insist you call her Baba anyway.”
“Mia, please her name.”
“…Just a minute.” Mia paused. “…I don’t…know.”
Erik stopped walking. “You don’t know?”
“…No.” Mia admitted.
“How could you not know?” Erik stared.
“I was not brought up to call her by her name! Did you know your grandmother’s name?”
“…I never met my grandmother.”
“Erik-I- I apologize!” Mia stuttered staring at the gold pools behind the white mask.
“…Her name was Claudia, I believe.”
“Beautiful.” Mia whispered. The few people she knew from Erik’s family all seemed to have beautiful names Claudia, Madeleine, and Erik.
The French man continued to stare at the ground until he felt a familiar weight press against his chest. Looking down at the long locks of dark hair, Erik let go of his bag to stroke the silk like threads.
“Forgive me.” Erik sighed. “I was being impatient.”
“…No, I put you in a spot with coming here. You really should not have come just for my sake.” Mia felt the leather-clad fingers tilt her chin up.
“My dear, I choose to come her by my own free will. It is my pleasure.”
Mia smiled and picked up the dropped bag. “If you can say that by tonight after one meal together…it will be a miracle. We’re almost there.”
As they resumed walking Erik caught sight of the building Mia called home. After first laying eyes on structure the architect was amazed that Mia’s designs for a home had been created at all. The two stories of wooden planks nailed directly onto each other would have made Erik’s nose crinkle, if he had one. A few feet away in equally disgusting wood planks stood an equally inbuilt barn.
“What poor creatures live in there?”
“A cow, and a horse my father carts everyday to take him to his shop.”
It had surprised Erik greatly, that a simple mother and butcher could produce a child with talent beyond either parent’s knowledge.
“This is it.” Mia gestured, once arriving at the front door. Pausing to smooth over her skirts the Jewish woman paused before giving any sign of announcing their presence.
“Perhaps if we turn back now, we could make it back to the train station before sunset?”
Mia turned to look at Erik wide-eyed.
“A joke, I assure you my dear.”
“Is it wrong then, that I was actually considering the idea.” Taking a breath, Mia raised a gentle fist on the door to knock.
From inside the house, the laughter of small children could be heard. Laughter, Erik assumed belonged Mia’s nieces. Expecting the girls to answer the door, the guest was surprised when a much older woman opened it. Her face was careworn and framed by wisps of her long gray hair. The woman was a few inches shorter than Mia, causing the artist to lean forward with her greeting.
“Baba. It’s so good to see you!” Mia embraced giving her a small squeeze before pulling away.
“It’s good to see you too.” The old woman smiled, patting Mia’s cheek with affection.
“…Who are you?”
“…It’s Mia, Baba…Your granddaughter, remember?”
“It was not being serious Mia-la!” The old woman laughed. “Pretending to be mashugina drives your mother up the wall! I was just having some fun, may I ask who this is?”
“Baba, this is someone very dear to me.” Mia smiled, placing her hand on her lover’s arm. “This is Erik.”
The introduced man carefully, without much contact, took the withered woman’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you madam.”
“Enchante Monsieur.” She replied in near perfect French. “You can just call me Baba.”
It was perhaps one of the few times in his life Erik felt speechless. He did not know if he should reply or decline to her informal hospitality. Before he knew it Mia and he both had been ushered in when a new voice asked them to leave their bags at the door.
“We can worry about sleeping arrangements when the time comes.”
After hearing that voice Erik knew immediately who the owner was.
“Hello mother.” Mia greeted. “You are looking well.”
“Mia-la.” Nitsee greeted, hugging her daughter. Although from a distance the hug would seem affectionate Erik could tell by the tense body language the gesture was as formal for the two as a handshake.
“Perhaps you would care to introduce your gentleman friend- I assume?”
“Yes,” Mia pulled back, “Mother, this is someone very dear to me, Mother this is Erik.”
“A pleasure to meet you Madam.” Erik bowed his head.
“The pleasure is mine. Erik? Nitsee is fine.”
Erik could feel his fingers twitch in anxiety as those eyes, just as brown as Mia’s, continued to run over him head to foot. Though he knew she was observing him, taking him in, he did not once feel her eyes stay on his mask longer than they did the rest of his body.
“Mama.” Nitsee turned to her mother. “Please help our guest feel welcome. Mia-la, would it be too much to ask you for a little help in the kitchen before your father and brothers get back.”
“No…I suppose not.” Mia paused, casting a glance at Erik. In all truth she felt better leaving him alone with her grandmother than in a group with her mother.
“If you’ll excuse us then.” The middle-aged woman smiled, taking Mia along with her into the kitchen.
Feeling a faint tugging at his sleeve, Erik looked down to see the old Baba looking up at him. “Please sit down and make yourself at home. I’ll read your palm, it’s a hobby.”
Erik allowed the old woman to led him into the sitting area, when he heard the argument being held in the other room.
“Mother what is wrong with you!”
“What is wrong with me Mia? What is wrong with you? I think it is wonderful you brought someone ‘very dear to you’ home, but why this stick!”
“Mother! Be quiet! What are you even talking about?”
“What am I talking about? That man out there I can see, I have two eyes Mia! He’s not Jewish!”
Fooled you with that last line didn’t I? Sad but true, a Jewish mother would be fine if her son in law was the phantom of the opera…as long as he was Jewish. Please remember the disclaimer from above. Thank you so much for the reviews guys, please keep them coming! They help me so much! Now I fear I must say till next chapter.
Erik: Nyquil is kicking in?
Oh yeah…getting dizzy…
Erik: Please review so she’ll have something to look forward to when she wakes up from her green coma of insanity.
Hi Mr. Ukki!
Erik: Dear God she’s talking to the plant again…
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Portrait of the Soul