Enchantment (Open) (FINISHED)

[JANE EYRE]

Jane saw the change in Erik, in his posture and in his eyes. The demons he spoke of earlier, the ones that wanted to drag him to hell, were clawing at his heels and Jane could see it. His playing changed and stopped abruptly, as did his conversational tone. The warm, relatively soothing voice that had tried to console her earlier was replaced with a cold, flat tone that Jane remembered hearing once or twice from her Aunt Reed. When Erik stood up, Jane followed suit. She was small enough to feel vulnerable without being in a docile position.

"Et toi, Mademoiselle? Do you have something to live for?"

Jane tilted her head up to look at the man in the eyes. She called on all the times Edward had tried to intimidate, to sway her and planted herself. "I'm a teacher, Monsieur. I live for others," Jane kept her tone steady and didn't rise to whatever bait he was setting. It would be too easy to rise to the challenge, to be afraid of his obvious physical power and apparantly unsteady mindset. It would be too easy and Jane had never been one to take the easy route. It would have been easier not to engage herself to Edward Rochester, knowing what it would do to them both socially, but she did so anyway.

His posture reminded Jane of Pilot, Edward's dog, whenever he was ready to attack a thread. Jane couldn't fathom why Erik would take her for a threat, her puny frame and her emotional state.

[JEAN-PAUL DUBOIS]

Erik laughed loudly. "Others? Do you know who those others are, young Jane? Hmm? Do you know what they'll grow up to become?" He bent down at the waist to reach her eye level, sneering at her with determination. "Any children you teach will grow up to become monsters. They will look normal on the outside, oh yes, but what about when society influences them? There is no stopping what idiocy can do. It can destroy empires at the most haphazard moment very, very easily. You must have hope in your young students, no? Well then, ask them what they think of spooks that go bump in the night or demons haunting their dreams? What will they say? That they enjoy their company? No. Because they do not understand them. It is like the ghosts we speak of that no one will remember, because no one cares to."

His hand shot up and gripped her chin sharply in his hands, the violin bow leaning against his arm as if it was made for it. "Do you know what hell feels like, Mademoiselle? Hehe... I highly doubt it. You're such a pretty picture, aren't you? A little rose encased in a wintery bloom."

His fingers dug themselves into their flesh. "Unfortunately for you, blooms are easily crushed before they mature." He backed her up against the tobmstone, his eyes darkening with hatred. "I wonder if I could crush you like a flower... A beautiful little flower."

[JANE EYRE]

"Others? Do you know who those others are, young Jane? Hmm? Do you know what they'll grow up to become? Any children you teach will grow up to become monsters. They will look normal on the outside, oh yes, but what about when society influences them? There is no stopping what idiocy can do. It can destroy empires at the most haphazard moment very, very easily. You must have hope in your young students, no? Well then, ask them what they think of spooks that go bump in the night or demons haunting their dreams? What will they say? That they enjoy their company? No. Because they do not understand them. It is like the ghosts we speak of that no one will remember, because no one cares to."

Jane steeled herself, glaring up at Erik. How dare he speak about her students like that! He didn't know any of them. He had no idea that they were raised and surrounded by demons and all of them wanted out. So many had the potential to. None of them wanted to become monsters, all of them had a monster in their family to fear. "Your words are ignorant, sir. You know nothing of what my students go through every day, the gauntlet they face just to get to school. They are being suffocated in society's squalor and want nothing more than to get out. Those things that go bump in the night are the gangs and their drunk fathers beating thier wives. The faces they put to those ghouls will keep them from becoming the demons,"

"Do you know what hell feels like, Mademoiselle? Hehe... I highly doubt it. You're such a pretty picture, aren't you? A little rose encased in a wintery bloom."

"Do you?" Jane countered. The Red Room, Lowood's dank, dark, pneumonic hallways, the demons in Bertha. Jane knew Hell, the Hell she was forced to grow up. Only in Hell would your kind relatives haunt you while your living relatives supress you. Only in Hell would daily beatings be administered and punishment handed out when one would try and defend themself. Jane's hand grabbed at Erik's wrist, trying to twist her face away from his grasp but being unable to. Her Hell had left her weak to the world. No man could dominate her in spirit, but Jane knew that she was a meager presence. "Open your eyes Monsieur, I'm not a pretty picture. I've the blessing of a pitifully small form, bland features that people don't even bother to look upon. I'm nothing, Monsieur, not in this world and in this city of glamour. It's my Hell to pass by unnoticed by everyone,"

"Unfortunately for you, blooms are easily crushed before they mature. I wonder if I could crush you like a flower... A beautiful little flower."

Jane's breath left her in a rush when she collided with the tombstone. Both hands now grabbed at Erik, one at his wrist the other at his shirt. "I wonder if you could as well. A musician, an artist such yourself, crushing something you deem beautiful. Why would one crush a blossom rather than gazing upon it, taking inspiration from its nature blessed form?"

[JEAN-PAUL DUBOIS]

Erik knew he couldn't argue with her about her students. He knew what they would become, but he wouldn't argue with her about that.

He grimaced at her question. "What sort have Hell have you been through to ask me such a question?" He pulled back a little, but kept a firm hold on her. He was much stronger than he looked. "You tell me what kind of hell rivals a person being locked in basement of their own home with little to no food, no love, and constant slews of insults and beatings being hurled at them, their soul diminishing with each passing day until there is no soul? Until there is no emotion and only unfeeling hate?!" He gripped her arm, squeezing tightly.

"Did I mention that it had been going on since I was born? When I was a child?" He shook his head at her. "You have not experienced hell until you've been left in a cellar with no hope for love. No hope for normalcy."

Every comment she made about her beauty, however, drove knives through his heart. He began to shake, his mind reeling in disgust.

He dropped the violin (highly unlike him, but he was furious). He grabbed her neck in a quick jerk and held it against the tombstone, about to strangle her.

"You FOOLISH child. What do you know of your beauty? You think yourself so miserable by having simple features, but when you're as UGLY as I... You would be grateful to have your beautiful face. I COULD CRUSH YOU WITH ALL THE JEALOUSY IN MY BODY. IF ERIK WAS NEARLY HALF AS BEAUTIFUL YOU HE WOULD NOT BE MISERABLE!"

His fingernails clawed at her neck. "You.... BEAUTIFUL WOMAN!"

His lips were a mere centimeter from hers.

[JANE EYRE]

"What sort have Hell have you been through to ask me such a question? You tell me what kind of hell rivals a person being locked in basement of their own home with little to no food, no love, and constant slews of insults and beatings being hurled at them, their soul diminishing with each passing day until there is no soul? Until there is no emotion and only unfeeling hate?!"

"Did I mention that it had been going on since I was born? When I was a child? You have not experienced hell until you've been left in a cellar with no hope for love. No hope for normalcy."

"Just because I do not know your Hell does not mean that I do not know Hell!" Jane spat back. "You're a fool to think that all suffering is measured by your own!" Jane dug her fingernails into Erik's wrist trying to get free. He was starting to hurt her. Jane kicked her legs, trying to regain her footing but failing to do so. Her only stability was against the tombstone pressing into her back. How this situation had turned into this she did now know and she fought to be free. Jane was angry and hurting, but was not quite fearful. She didn't fear him, not yet. She had seen too much to be fearful, she had seen the man she loved surrounded by flames and she did not falter. Not, she could not falter.

"You FOOLISH child. What do you know of your beauty? You think yourself so miserable by having simple features, but when you're as UGLY as I... You would be grateful to have your beautiful face. I COULD CRUSH YOU WITH ALL THE JEALOUSY IN MY BODY. IF ERIK WAS NEARLY HALF AS BEAUTIFUL YOU HE WOULD NOT BE MISERABLE! You.... BEAUTIFUL WOMAN!"


His hand to her neck caused tears to spring to her eyes. It was painful, his nails digging into her neck and the memories his words inspired. "I've spent my life unloved, too plain and too horrid a child to be shown compassion. My aunt discarded me, leaving me to die in a squalid, decrepit excuse of a boarding school where pneumonia was claiming a life an hour. Is that not misery?" Tears ran freely down her face. Falling limp beneath his hand, Jane's chin wobbled as she finished speaking. "This beauty you speak of, Monsieur, you're the only one who sees it. The man I loved, the man who should have looked upon me with the kindest eyes, just saw a mouse of a woman. So this beauty you see does not grant me a reprieve," Jane let her hands fall down, her eyes downcast.

"You, Monsieur, are beautiful. You have beauty in your music," Jane whispered, drained from it all. She was too tired to try to move from him, even though he was so close. Any other time she'd be blushing and a mess, but any other time she wouldn't be pinned with bruises blooming on her neck.

[JEAN-PAUL DUBOIS]

His lips couldn't meet hers. They were so close, but her words stopped him. The moment he realized his mistake, the tension of his hands around her neck slacked, and they fell away all together. His whole body slumped as he staggered back, far away from her.

He began to shake his head, tears beginning to shed. "I'm... I'm sorry... Erik is... so sorry..." He gripped at his hair and covered his ears, swinging his head from side to side like a crazy person. He stumbled and fell away, making himself as small as possible on the ground, cowering away on the other side of the row of headstones.

"Erik didn't mean to! I only wanted to tell you how pretty you were! Silly Erik! Always saying wrong things... I don't mean to! I DON'T!"

He didn't even notice that the tears, the heat, and his constant shielding of his face was melting the makeup covering his deformity.

[JANE EYRE]

Jane breathed a sigh of relief when he moved away from her, her hand going up to touch her tender neck. There would be bruises in a matter of hours, where his nails bit into her already flaring angrily. Trying to catch her breath, Jane watched Erik shrink away. He was so upset by what he did, Jane couldn't be angry to him. Erik wasn't healthy, mentally. Those mood swings...there was something wrong with him that he couldn't control. Her heart swelling with his tears, Jane moved after. Hand shaking, she rested a hand on his shoulder that shook beneath her touch.

"Erik didn't mean to! I only wanted to tell you how pretty you were! Silly Erik! Always saying wrong things... I don't mean to! I DON'T!"

"It's alright," Jane said softly, her voice rough from tears and the residual pain. She rounded in front of him, her maternal instinct kicking in. Jane dropped to her knees in front of his, cupping his face gently. "I'm not upset with you, Erik. Everyone says the wrong things every so often," Something was running beneath her fingers, make up it seemed, and his face seemed different, like it was melting, but Jane disregarded it. "Thank you, no one has ever called me pretty, let alone beautiful before. It means a lot," Jane gave him a small smile and wiped at her cheeks, unknowingly smearing make up over her face.

[JEAN-PAUL DUBOIS]

Erik stopped dead in his tracks. He stared at Jane's cheek in both shock and awe, and proceeded to shake further. His jaw dropped, and he covered his mouth, inching his way up to his fake nose to make sure it was still there. Thank God it was.

But he couldn't take it. For sure she would see him soon! For sure! He pushed her aside by her face and stumbled to his feet, turning. Unfortunately, he couldn't keep his balance, and fell to the ground again. But he tried to run.

Everything had to stop him though. The weight of the idea that she might see his true form was a disturbing thought to behold, and he couldn't outrun it. Not when he could still hear his mother screaming at him. He was suffocating in the stifiling heat that he'd sought refuge in, thinking the heat would alienate people. He was so ignorant to realize that insects were attracted to warm bodies. They festered around them, until they uncovered the bare bones lying underneath the flesh.

That was all he was... Skin and bone. Nothing more. And now she would see, for he couldn't get up in time for anything. Not when the world moved in slow motion like it did in that moment.

"Please, please don't! Just stay away! Don't look at me! Don't see me! I'm invisible! ERIK'S INVISIBLE!"

[JANE EYRE]

"Please, please don't! Just stay away! Don't look at me! Don't see me! I'm invisible! ERIK'S INVISIBLE!"

Jane fell back, her hands catching her fall. She let Erik move away but he didn't move far. Something had scared him, something that Jane didn't know that Jane wish she could have prevented. This man was troubled and it pained Jane to not be able to help him. All she ever wanted was to help others, it was one of the reasons why she became a teacher. Even after the botched wedding, Jane had comforted Edward despite the fact that he had hurt her. She had gone back to her Aunt Reed after all she had done to help her. Erik, even though he had hurt her, warranted her help.

"I won't look, Erik," Jane righted herself on the ground and covered her eyes with a hand. The last thing she wanted to do was set him off again. It was too hot out and Jane wanted to shrug off a layer of clothing but knew that she couldn't. Her undershirt was probably soaked through and transparent. She just resigned herself to the heat, wiping at the sweat trailing down her neck. Erik must be just as hot for he was as covered up as she was.

"Is there anything I can do?" Jane crossed her legs beneath her, keeping her eyes covered.

[JEAN-PAUL DUBOIS]

Erik shook, hiding his face as best he could without ripping off his sliding nose. It would fall of soon, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. He tried to mash it back on without her noticing, but it was to no avail. If anything, he just made it worse.

He shyed away from her touch. "You say you will not look, and yet you can't help but look at Erik's face. It is inevitable, if I do nothing about it... So just leave me be!" He tried to get up and run away again, but his legs were so wobbly that he fell over again.

He gasped, his hand scrapping at a nearby rock. He held it in the other, seeing blood spilling over the cut, dirt and makeup spreading over the wouned. "Dammit!" he cursed, still huddling away from Jane. He wiped his hand on his shirt blindly, and looked over by the other tombstone, where he'd been standing before. His violin sat in a discarded heap, the bow laying in the grass waiting to be picked up.

"Is there anything I can do?"

At this, he sighed, with a few tears escaping. He pointed meakly over to the instrument. "Hand me my violin..." he muttered, knowing the phrase was incomplete. "Please."

[JANE EYRE]

Jane winced. She could hear Erik struggling mightily with something inside himself. True to her word, Jane kept her hand over her eyes, shaking her head. "Erik, I'm not looking. Look at me and you'll see that," Jane said calmly. If she got emotional or worked up the whole situation would dissolve into whatever had happened earlier and Jane didn't want that to happen again. Jane's hand once again found her neck, touching the bruises. Jane didn't know what would happen if that started up again. She had already felt the physical threat he posed, her neck, chin, and body aching from where he slammed her into the stone. Jane hadn't feared for her person since moving to New York but there was such an obvious danger so close that Jane had to proceed gently.

When asked to hand him his violin Jane smiled softly. "You'll have to direct me to it. I'm rather blind right now," Jane motioned to the hand covering her eyes. Remembering vaguely where it had dropped, Jane crawled in that direction on her knees. "Am I close?" She asked, extending a hand. She only felt grass beneath her fingers, then the smooth texture of a polished headstone. it was difficult to balance while keeping one hand over her eyes but Jane managed. Jane combed her hand through the grass, trying to find the violin that was actually a few feet to her left, unbeknownst to her.

[JEAN-PAUL DUBOIS]

Erik stared at the girl feeling for the violin. He could hardly move, let alone speak any more. He looked down to his split hand, flinching when he closed the hand. It was still bleeding, but less than it was before. It was of little consequence to him, of course, as pain was hardly new to him.

He looked back at her, and wanted to say something. But he still couldn't. His voice was shot, and even if he had, it would have sounded utterly defeated. And Erik was far too proud for him to admit that.

He knew he could be completely silent if he moved at all. He glided across any floor like a ghost. In order to feel useful, he stood up slightly and slowly, walking quickly and quietly toward the violin. He smiled vaguely, and lifted it it lightly, setting it on the ground near where Jane was searching without a sound. He set the bow next to it, and hurried back to where he was sitting before.

He grunted in an affirmation at her question, looking away and repositioning his nose on his face.

[JANE EYRE]

Jane continued feeling through the grass, unaware that Erik had moved at all. Her fingers found the smooth wood of the violin. "Aha!" Jane dropped her hand but kept her eyes squeezed tightly shut, Jane picked up the violin with both hands, almost craddling it like a child. She didn't know much about instruments but she did know that they could break easily. Not wanting to be guilty of that, Jane Holding it to her chest, Jane sought out the bow. She held the bow gingerly and shuffled over to where Erik was sitting on her knees. Jane held the bow out first, then the violin. "There you are!"

When she handed off the violin Jane felt something wet on Erik's hand. It was a bit thicker than sweat and, not knowing what else it could be, Jane assumed it was blood. "Are you bleeding?" Jane blindly groped for his hand. "Here, let me see it," Jane reached back with one hand for her purse, reaching inside for the first aid pouch she kept in there. She always had gauze, bandaids, alcohol swabs, and other such materials on hand. It was a necessity considering how clumsy she was.

[JEAN-PAUL DUBOIS]

Erik moved back, afraid that she might see him. He covered his face with one hand, but the other hurt far to much to even close, and every time he tried, he flinched and gasped. Surely she could hear that, even with her eyes closed.

"I-I'm fine, Mademoiselle Jane. It is just a scratch. I can manage," he stumbled out. He moved to pick up his violin again, and tried to move away even more. But... Jane was so determined. He wondered why, why would she do all this for a man who tried to strangle her, and then kiss her? Was she just as crazy as he was? Or was she just oblivious to hatred and fury?

He was much too proud to be tended to by a woman more than half his age, but the wound hurt terribly, and it didn't help that he'd accidentally smeared his makeup in it.

He sighed, turning his head to the side and holding out his hand. He brushed her arm with the backs of his fingers to show he'd comply, but as soon as she fixed the cut, he would be leaving. He told himself that as he tried not to sweat too much, as the makeup was running into his eyes and mouth.

"It is so hot... Mademoiselle, wouldn't you be more comfortable with out your cardigan?" He blushed the moment he said it. "I mean... Ah... That is to say... You just seem a bit flustered is all, and..." he stuttered and sighed. "Ah cher..."

His shoulders slumped in defeat by his own inadequate words.

[JANE EYRE]

When Erik conceeded to her cleaning the cut she let herself open her eyes. He was turned away from her, dead set on not letting her see his face. Looking down at his hand, Jane winced. It was quite a gash and it was dirty. Tsking under her breath, Jane opened an alcohol swab and began to clean the wound. "Just a scratch indeed," Jane muttered under her breath, going through three alcohol swabs cleaning the wound. Once it was clean to her approval, Jane let it air dry before pressing a guaze swatch into it and taping it on. "There you go, good as new. Well, at least it will be with some time,"

At his question about her cardigan, Jane couldn't help but blush red. What he was asking was indecent. "Oh, no. I'm fine. Thank you for your concern," Jane pulled the cardigan a little closer around her. Logically she knew that she was more than covered up but she couldn't remove the outer layer. It was her last bit of protection, it felt. Protection from the outside world.