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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 phans/Does happy jig/ So close to 230! So close to 230!
Erik: I see spring break has made you active…
Of course! Thank you to all those who have reviewed, let it be known that my disclaimer from the previous chapters still stands! Also I have been getting a lot of questions about the whole GerryErik thing. I stated the description at the beginning of the story to help people who had not read the Kay version, get a better understanding…but I think all I did was confuse people. So from now on just think KayErik. For those of you who have not read Susan Kay’s book use your imagination. Here’s a hint full facial deformity, no nose, tall, skinny, left-handed! If you want any Gerry aspects…you can have the voice.
Erik: Traitor!
Sorry! I do not have the financial ability to see Michael Crawford himself! I can’t even afford the bloody CD!
Erik: You’d think you were a poor college student…
/Glares/ I am! Thank you for the reviews, remember the disclaimer and without further delay I give you the next chapter!
Chapter Thirty-three
The normal gray Russian sky was painted with abnormal purple hues signaling the end of the day. It was around this time of dusk that Erik and the old grandmother arrived back home.
“I was beginning to wonder about you two.” Mia smiled as the two came in through the door. “I hope you were not too offended by such a crude manner.”
“Mia-la.” The Baba smiled. “Shame on you for thinking such things. Erik is a wonderful gentleman!”
“Actually Baba I was referring to you…” Mia smiled embracing the elderly woman. “Just teasing of course.”
“Not to worry, I suffered no permanent damage.” Erik assured.
“If you two are going to lounge about by the door,” Nitsee said poking her head out of the kitchen. “Would you mind going out to the barn and getting an extra lantern for the dinner table?”
“What happened to the lanterns we used last night?” Mia asked.
“Your mashugina nieces put them away and now one has disappeared.”
“Not a problem Mother. Erik? Would you accompany me to the barn? I believe you have not seen it yet?” Mia smiled, walking outside.
“So…How was the market with Baba?”
“Your grandmother is a very…unique woman. I see a lot of her in you…now that I think about it.” Erik commented choosing his words carefully.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“Of course.”
“This is our barn.” Mia smiled pulling back the old wooden door.
“…I hope you’re not expecting me to gasp in aw at the amazing architecture…” Erik sighed observing the poor structure.
“You should know by now Monsieur, not to judge a book by its cover.” Mia smiled.
Erik entered the barn observing every odd and end. The structure seemed more like a cluttered attic than a place to keep farm equipment. Aside from the brown cow in the small stable Erik could not spy any other thing that made a barn a barn. Lanterns and other house hold items were littered around the perimeter. Along the floor stacked were trunks and trunks covered in straw and dust.
“Your grandmother’s things I presume?”
“And her mother’s and her’s.” Mia clarified, choosing a lamp from a shelf. “We have all sorts of things out here, don’t we?”
“Yes, however, the piano my dear is most intriguing.” Erik spotted walking up to the instrument.
“It used to be in sitting room.” Mia sighed. “But after grandfather died we moved it out here.”
“So your grandfather was a contractor and a musician?”
“Oh-no!” Mia waved. “My father’s father was the one who played. I always found it strange.”
“What is?” Erik asked, his black-gloved hands gently stroking the ivory keys.
“My grandfather died only a few weeks before Peter was born. And yet, Peter took to music just as if grandfather had taught him, himself.”
“I do not find that strange at all.” Erik shrugged, his fingers playing a few light scales before jumping into Mozart. The musician was half way through the introduction of the melody before he felt Mia embrace him from behind. “Thank you.” She whispered into his shoulder.
“What ever for, my dear.” Erik paused, turning his masked face to see her better.
“Putting your music on hold. You endured a lengthy worth of horrible travel just to spend a few days with complete strangers and I. The day after tomorrow…we will again endure the horrible travel back to Paris. You have done me a favor so unheard of, and you put the things you love on hold without a second thought.”
“Mon Deiu, Mia! Do you not realize that you are among ‘the things I love’ as you put it? What can I do to get that into your mind?” Erik inquired turning around to rest his hands on her shoulders.
“I would answer, but I’m afraid you’ve again rendered me speechless.”
“Then if you would pardon me Mademoiselle, I wish to take advantage of that.” Lifting up the bottom of his mask, Erik freed his lips to catch Mia’s. Wanting more of the contact, the artist’s fingers slid up about to remove the rest of the mask when-
“Pardon me?”
Erik turned around, pulling his mask down so fast he almost hit Mia’s nose.
“I’m sorry,” Peter said sticking his head in the door entrance. “…I didn’t see. I just need to put the horse up.”
“It’s alright Peter.” Mia smiled at her brother while smoothing down her skirts. “I guess I better get that lantern back to Mother.” Mia picked up the object and began heading out the barn when she noticed Erik was not following. Turning around she noticed her lover was standing next to the piano no intention of moving showing on him.
The artist smiled, continuing out the barn, only stopping to ruffle her sibling’s hair.
“You must see something in her that the rest of my family doesn’t.” Peter sighed, leading the animal into the empty stable.
“As far as your family goes, I believe your grandmother sees it, as well as you.”
“Yes. You’re right.” The dark haired youth smiled tending to the horse.
Erik approached the stable, extending a hand to the animal to pet its long face. “You keep the cart he pulls outside, I presume?”
“Yes. Not enough room to keep it in here. Besides we use the cart six days out of the week, it doesn’t have time to rust.”
“I’m sure it would after your father retirees. You after all have no intention of becoming a butcher…”Erik stated, petting the horse’s neck.
“I guess I did make quite a display at dinner last night, Monsieur. I apologize.” Peter sighed, bowing his head.
“Don’t. I see no reason for you to be sorry. You just clearly stated that you have no intention to do something you loath. You should have some pride in that.”
“Should I?”
“Of course!” Erik insisted. “Lots of it! All artists have to be prideful to some degree. Otherwise they cannot accept criticism that they will eventually have to endure. Speaking of criticism. Play.” Erik demanded pointing to the piano.
“I-I beg your pardon?” The young man stuttered.
“You heard me boy, I want to hear you play. I hardly have time to stand around while you regain your composer. Your sister and I leave the day after tomorrow, I am running out of time you see.” Erik clarified walking over to stand by the piano.
Seeing the boy not move a muscle Erik sighed. “If it pleases you to know, I have been playing since I was much younger than you. I was also a music teacher…for a short time…before I met Mia.”
“No! I did not doubt you Monsieur! I just…” The brown head bobbed, as Peter surrendered himself to Erik’s will. Walking over to the piano, the young boy sat gently on the old wooden stool. “I haven’t played in a while…”
“You’re lying. This piano is in very great condition and is well tuned. I also heard you playing last night after you walked out…Now play.”
“What should I play?”
“The question is; what can you play?” Erik corrected.
“I have become very good with Mozart.”
“Yes, it is always Mozart. Do not get me wrong! I am fond of his music myself! It is also true any Parisian employer would want you to play Mozart, but do not play what can come so easily. Play me what you have trouble with.”
The young adult nodded, cracking his fingers before beginning the melody.
Erik immediately recognized the piece as Bach’s Fugue in G minor. The artist waited patiently yet sternly until the boy had finished the entire piece before speaking.
“That is what I meant by being prideful in your work. You were so afraid of my criticism that your fingers shook. Do not be afraid, boy. Also you’ll be a hunchback by thirty if you keep up that sort of posture. You played that entirely to fast, which I am going to assume was because of your nerves. I want you to practice that piece until dinner. First, however, play your G minor scale thirty times. You were missing the key. I expect improvement when I come to hear it after the meal. Happy practicing.” Erik nodded his farewell heading back towards the house. He was already half way outside the barn when he heard the familiar G minor scale being played.
Personally I thought my old band director was horrid, however I can only imagine what it would be like to have Erik as a music tutor!
Erik: Dare to imagine?
/Shudders/ For once I pity Christine. Thank you so much for the reviews! We are so close to 230! I just want to think everyone this story would not have made it so far without you guys! Thank you! See you guys sometime next weekend after spring break! Erik and I are hitting St. Augustine!
Erik: The first drunken college moron I encounter gets punjabbed.
Then it’s a shame my room mates will not be present…

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Portrait of the Soul