Erik
12-12-2011, 05:11 PM
Username: Erik
Character: Luc Danier
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Occupation: Technical Director
Personality: Look is in general a surly man. He does not suffer fools gladly, and as Technical Director oversees all of the stage hands and their work. Not an easy task, considering some of the clods he has working for him, but with his right hand woman Phoenix Mercer, he’s able to run the place just fine. When he is with his co-worker/girlfriend he is able to show a more relaxed side of himself, and rumor has it he even smiles sometimes. He usually doesn’t offer his opinion to strangers, preferring to keep conversation with those he is acquainted with. He is generous to those he loves, though they are few and far between, and he is fiercely loyal to those he deems trustworthy, also a very short list. In general he doesn’t trust, and he thinks the worst of people.
Appearance: Tall and slim, Luc generally keeps an unkempt head of hair that his girl calls dirty blond. He has deep brown eyes that are usually thinking deeper, darker thoughts than expected. Generally growing up without parents and what little money he could beg or steal, Luc has gone through life with an odd fashion sense. Now with a little friendly nudging from friends and family, and a much more padded bank account (despite his distrust of institutes), Luc has settled into a jeans and long sleeve shirt style, preferring comfort and practicality to style.
History: Regular little boys go to nursery school. Luc played in dirty, dingy apartments. Regular little boys go to school when they turn five. Luc hit the streets with his father, learning how to pickpocket. Regular little boys grow up with loving parents, and a well balanced life. Problems and trials here and there to be sure, what is life without them? But generally they are well cared for, schooled, and fed. Luc Danier was always a little different. Born to a less than attentive mother and an abusive, alcoholic father, he never really stood a chance. The city of Marseilles, located in southern France, is a beautiful place – or, it can be. But like all places it has a bad part of town too, and that was where Luc grew up. Bouncing from apartment to apartment, sneaking out in the middle of the night with and urgent, rough hand shoving him out a back window. Rent past due, and always hungry, and never able to escape the seemingly endless cycle of drinking and shouting and, eventually, the beatings.
His mother was not a bad person, he had decided a long time ago; just weak. She had never been able to stand up for herself, let alone her son, so when Maurice Danier was in a rage, Luc had no protection. Fiona never did look him in the eyes after the vicious scenes, and it wasn’t until much later that he found out why. When he was ten, Luc packed what meager possessions he had obtained – a few sets of clothes, a map of France, and what food he could find in the cupboards – the young boy hit the streets, looking for a better life.
He didn’t find it. Not immediately, anyway. What he did find was more of the same, just with a liberating air to it. He still had to pick pockets to survive, but this time he kept what he found. He still had to hide out, but so that his father didn’t find him, not landlords. They ran in the same circles still, and Luc was playing a constant evasive game. Picking pockets was a skill learned early and taught well, but it is not enough to live alone on, especially not for a ten year old boy looking for a place to sleep at night. So he made extra cash doing other such shadowy jobs – he became a drug runner. Too young to prosecute, too clever to get caught, and unconcerned about getting his hands dirty, he was the perfect kid for the job. He was eleven when he was first given a gun, and shown how to use it. He was also given drugs for the first time when he started working for dealers. It was a matter of trust. If you did it too, you weren’t looking for anyone to get busted. He didn’t do it often, only in the company of his employers, but enough to know that he didn’t want to lose himself in that life. He snorted a little powder here and there, and sold the rest under their noses – he was fed for another few weeks, and they didn’t know the difference.
It wasn’t until he started working with Nero Marzzone at the age of twelve that real trouble hit. He started dealing in more than cocaine and softer drugs, and started being the go between in buys with pills of all sorts, and primarily heroin. Caught up in the slightly sadistic web of Nero, a man who put a fear in Luc with a lecherous look, he found it hard to resist both the money and the attention, however inappropriate it was. Nero never laid a hand on him… but he didn’t really have to. Uncomfortable was uncomfortable. Despite being starved for affection from his beyond broken home, Luc felt generally uneasy in Nero’s presence, more so when he chose to show control. In a particularly extreme case, he made Luc get a small tattoo on his shoulder blade. It depicts in sharp black lines the shape of a wolf. Reluctant to comply, it was the least offensive one out of the options Nero had insisted he needed. Besides, he enjoyed the clichéd connection between himself and the fierce, lone wolf. Luc worked with him for two years until he turned fourteen, and became officially old enough to prosecute in the juvenile system. It was then that he cut all ties in Marseilles and packed a similar bag to his original one, few clothes and no possessions, and left the drug world behind. He views his tattoo with no shame, just a talisman of a life he left behind a long time ago, a marker to show him how far he has come. He took up in Paris, where he has been ever since. He took odd jobs and worked hard at being an outstanding laborer until he could get a recommendation to take on something handier. He made his way up, and eventually got an in at the opera house as a stage hand.
Not exactly where he thought he’d end up, Luc was determined to make the most of a ridiculous situation. He kept to himself and worked hard, certainly not rich from his new job but no longer scraping bottom either. He learned how to stretch a Franc, and then a Euro. He worked tirelessly, and he found an apartment of his own. Well, shared with an obnoxious redhead named Sabrina Winchester. They never had a romantic entanglement, and he Luc never thought he would find a woman that he would stand enough to want to be with. But then he met Adeline, and was blown off his feet. Convinced that he couldn't be in love, Luc tried desperately to pass it off as infatuation, and maybe the need to feel something after being alone his whole life. But not matter what he told himself, he was completely under. The problem was that she didn’t realize he existed. And why should she? A gutter rat with zero class and limited education, only having obtained an equivalency so that he could work, why would she be interested in a lowly stagehand? He, in what he will now in retrospect call a moment of temporary insanity, turned to Frederick Worthington for aid.
Frederick was the kind of man that all the ladies wanted. He was a classy, manner abiding, handsome man, with a charm and air of confidence that Luc lacked. He wanted to be that, or at least a version of that, so that Adeline might be able to look past his current station. He dressed up, learned how to twirl a cape, and was even taught to dance by a blonde of the name Katarina del Castillo, but when he presented himself to Adeline, and confessed his love, he was told that he couldn’t love her. She ran off, and Luc followed, witnessing an odd altercation between her and Rozaliya Donkova, and then becoming crushed when Adeline’s boyfriend Victor Santos showed up.
Stung with rejection and sore over losing something he never even remotely had, Luc reverted back to his surly self, and became rather unpleasant to talk to. He carried a pathetic torch for her, and only after he rescued her from a falling chandelier did she come to see him in a different light, and a romantic one at that.
Shortly after, the earth crumbled beneath Luc’s feet. He never thought he would have to revert to his old ways, but bills were bills and he needed cash. His methods were perfected, and his technique smooth. Any normal man wouldn't even felt his wallet being lifted from his back pocket. But Lady Luck was against him (or was she?) when she made his target Jean Sauveur, a man whom he had never before seen in his life. The problem was that this man was a professional in the pick pocketing, having had previous experience living on the streets as well. And you just can't con a con artist.
Luc was slammed against shelves of books and when he thought that the man would yell for library security to deal with him, something unexpected happened. Luc was 'invited' (and we use this term liberally. It was more like forced) to go to lunch with Jean. Seeing no choice, Luc followed Jean where they had a surprisingly civil meal, and discussed pasts and experiences.
After that Jean showed up at Luc's apartment, and shortly thereafter, Luc returned the favor. The problem for Luc was that he was finding himself becoming attached to the older man alarmingly quick. However in Jean's apartment, enjoying nice company, things took a dramatic turn after a phone call from Jean's father. Luc hurried out the door as Jean started to pack, urgent to get to his home in Marseilles, and to his father, leaving Luc confused and in the dark about Jean's suspicions.
A few days later Luc was working on the catwalk when Jean showed up again, with a grave tone in his voice and important things to be discussed. Jean told Luc the story of his love Esmerelda, and how he had lost her, through pregnancy Jean hadn't known about and her untamable spirit. Questioning the relevance to himself Luc was at that point completely and utterly confused. It wasn’t until Jean made the connection between family, and love beyond bounds. He wanted Luc to understand that even has he hadn’t known of his son for over a year, he had known love without limits for him. And then he dropped the dime. He told Luc about the connection neither of them had known about until Jean had mentioned the name “Danier” to his father. Maurice Danier was an employee of Sauveur Shipping at one time. Fiona Danier had been too, in a clerical position. A broken woman who had struggled to hold it together, she turned to Philippe Sauveur in a state of crisis. Neither intended for her to become his lover. When they parted ways, amicably, he had not known of her pregnancy. Neither had she. When he looked for her later, Maurice had managed to get himself fired, and the dysfunctional-at-best couple had vanished to another hole in the wall, now with a newborn that Maurice knew was not of him.
Overwhelmed by truths and revelations, Luc did something he normally did not allow himself. He trusted Jean. He came to love Jean first as a friend, and then as a brother. They became close, and for a while it seemed like Luc had it all. A new found family, as strange as it was, a love with Adeline, a career that was climbing due to dedication and long hours.
And then Luc Danier was crushed by the chandelier at the Masquerade in an effort to save his fiancée, Adeline Devereaux, from reaching his fate by the hands of the opera ghost Erik. His mangled body was carried away by Pieter, a friend of his and more so of his brother Jean's, who is a doctor of a unique background.
What happened next no one expected, least of all Luc. Everyone thought he was dead, and for good reason, his pulse having slowed an alarming rate and his limp body exerting no signs of life. And so it came as a great shock to Jean when he read this letter written by his dear friend.
Jean--
I feel that I owe you some explanation for my part in this deception. You need to know the how and the why. You need to know that my intention was never to hurt you. We are not the sorts of men to trust stupidly, no matter how often you say I do too easily, and I need you to understand that I never set out to misuse that trust until I thought it was your best interest I was protecting.
When the accident happened I rushed to his side and I'm sorry to say was in that moment more of distressed friend than a doctor. One would think with the particular kind of work I do that I thrive and these situations. But what I do is not the same. Every time you have been my patient you were on my table, we were safe. Remember that I was never there when you gained any of the wounds that brought you too me. And while I have stood next to you in those more precarious situations I have never had your ability to be more than one side of myself at a time. I either inflict the wounds or heal them, not both at once. And in this instance I was either a cold on scene medic or devastated human being.
I unwittingly chose the latter.
That it was an honest mistake is neither here nor there. That it worked out for the best is simply the ends justifying the means. The fact of the matter is that he was so near to death that in my panic I missed his pulse, faint as it was, and his breath too shallow to be detected. It wasn't until later, as I carried him from the Opera House, not wanting you to have to see his broken body, that I discovered my mistake. I attempted to clean some of the blood from his face only to find he was still bleeding.... his heart was still beating, still pumping blood to the wound.
Since arriving here in Paris I have reconnected with some old acquaintances from our other lives. One of them is a man I went to medical school with. He lost his license in Germany and was shamed out of his practice. He now works in Paris under a different name. I took our young friend to him as soon as I realized what I had done wrong. I went to him because he had the proper facilities, the proper skill, and the proper notion of digression.
I'm sure you are wondering why I did not take him to a hospital or call you just then to tell you he was in fact still alive. I did not take him to a formal hospital for the same reason I don't work in one. I don't trust them, they ask too many questions that do not pertain to diagnosis. Besides, how could I explain to them that he was hit by a chandelier dropped by a ghost? And I did not call you because it would have seemed cruel to me to revive your spirits only to have something happen in the process to save him and make you suffer to lose him twice.
Our efforts took many long hours, for he was badly hurt. In fact it was not until the next day that I even began to harbor some hope that our effort was going to be rewarded. I won't lie to you there were moments I thought our task futile, his injuries were severe and numerous. But when he was mended and revived, and I finally began to feel that it was safe to hope again, was when the situation became odd. I thought I was reassuring him to tell him that I was going to call you, but the panic this created nearly did his weakened heart in again. He begged me not to call and made me give him my word that I would not tell your or anyone else that he had survived. Strange as I thought this was... we have both seen stranger, and I had given him my word from which there was no going back.
To be honest I felt more than moderately certain that what was holding him back was going to be predictable. You told me about how you and he first met and I felt certain it would be trouble with the law. So I waited patiently til he was able to talk. Preparing myself to talk him out of whatever foolish thing he had planned.
I feel that I now know this young man almost better than I know you. But then again bedside confessions are often, in my experience, the most telling and you have never been overly willing to divulge yourself. So it broke my heart to hear him talk about how undeserving he felt of his fiancées love, and how he felt it would be impossible for a woman of her grace and stature to love him in his current condition. If this had been his only reasoning you know I would have done all in my power to dissuade him from what he was planning. But there was more that touched me deeper... because it involved you.
You know that in our business developing close relationships and friendships is often only a way of manipulating what you want or a sure way to get killed. I know that you are aware of this cause through the years I have watched you play this game better than most, I don't think even you are aware of how well you draw people to yourself. But perhaps it was the circumstances that we had our first meetings (generally involving you and a significant blood loss) that led to our candor and friendship. But I have always cared for you as a brother and seen the good man that you wish to be. And though it is my godson, Polaris, that I have sworn to look out for I have always felt that my duty extended to protecting his father from himself as well, as it is also in the boys best interest.
That's why I couldn't help but see Luc's reasoning when he told me of your father's illness. He said he wished to go home and help look after the man he had never gotten an adequate chance to know. But he also said that he hoped you would not find out about Philippe's declining health. Surely you must know yourself well enough to know why you had to leave Marseilles to have any chance of a new start. You are known there as someone else entirely and to return for any amount of time would undoubtedly put you back into a position where everything you have worked so hard for since arriving in Paris would be in danger. And we both also knew that if you knew about your father there would be no way of stopping you from returning. Luc understood this, your father knew this, and I couldn't deny it was true. And even more potent for him was the knowledge that even if the woman he loved could understand all of this, though he felt he had no call to ask her too, he couldn't make himself ask her to wait on him... indefinitely.
I won't pretend that I was thrilled with the idea of letting you remain devastated. But it truly was in your best interest we believed. So I agreed to his plan. I nursed him to health as best I could and accompanied him to your home where I did what I could for Philippe before leaving him to tend to his father. I hear now that he is much on the mend, and I am glad for this. I honestly believe that his condition was improved by getting the chance to know that the son he never knew loved him and the son he always loved was safe. That is my professional opinion, though you won't find it in any medical text. And as a father yourself you must have some understanding of why it had to happen the way it did.
I hope that someday you will find a way to forgive me or at the very least to accept.
Pieter
In short, Luc had recovered, he had triumphed against literally all odds. His first actions had not been to find his fiancée and tell her he was alright -- they had been to rush to his father's side and make sure that he too was still alive. He had arrived in Marseilles, seemingly just in time. His father's health had decreased dramatically, and it seemed he would not make it much longer.
Through another miracle of whatever higher power may exist, Phillipe Sauveur rose above his illnesses, though, once he saw his youngest son. He couldn't leave, not yet. Neither of them could. Luc continued to live with his father, and to work in his school. He was first a substitute teacher, but besides talking to his father Luc had nothing to do and he quickly grew bored. He began to study more and more each day, flying through tests with flying colors. His education had been limited when he was a child because of his past, but with a little work Luc found that he excelled in the tests he took during the weeks he stayed with his father. He got an acceptable education, and his father blurred the lines so that Luc could teach full time at his school.
Though happy teaching about history and anthropology, Luc was finding his patience tested by all of his students. There was not one that did not make a genuine effort to get on Luc's bad side, and he saw them for what they were. Spoiled rotten children with zero respect for authority. His cynicism built over the weeks he spent teaching, and his sarcasm was exercised to its maximum potential. His father saw that this, along with the injuries that he still carried from the chandelier, was making Luc become embittered again, and from time to time tried to remind him of his blessings, but to no avail. He suggested to Luc that he should go back to Paris and tie up loose ends, maybe even find that fiancée of his and apologize to her, but Luc wouldn't leave him alone. It was only after Jean arrived that he allowed himself to be persuaded to leave for a bit of an extended vacation.
Promising he would come back soon, though Phillipe told him not to worry about it, Luc begrudgingly agreed. He knew that it would make his father happy to see him attempt to make amends and better his life, and so he agreed to leave. He found himself in Paris again, explaining his reappearance to those who needed to know, and not caring to tell those whom didn’t. A semblance of normalcy had settled over his life, and he was enjoying himself. He had even found a partner in crime, an enchanting and quirky friend who became a lover – Phoenix Mercer. She wasn't just the best stagehand that had ever worked under him, but she was also the only stagehand that he had ever wanted under him, in a very different sense of the word. The two began an unconventional romance, only strengthened by the need to run away together to Spain. He begged her to go, but she wouldn’t leave without him, and he needed her safe. Pearce Rowe was looking for Jean at the time, and had done a number on Luc physically in the search for information. Escaping from the abandoned mansion of which he had been taken prisoner, Luc had urged her to go, and they had fled to Spain using Pieter Lachen’s financial aid, her travel savvy knowledge, and his background on the streets to avoid detection, they managed to turn it into a mini vacation.
Back in town with Pearce gone for good, the two returned to France, stopping to Marseilles to inform his family that Phoenix was expecting. Luc was going to be a father. With her parents immediately travelling to see the couple, Luc has felt crowded since they announced the pregnancy, and the grandparents have been driving him insane. But their baby, Lucille (Lucy) Madryd Danier was born healthy and happy, and that’s all that truly mattered to him. Rosy cheeks, dark hair, and inquisitive brown eyes, she has Luc wrapped around her little finger, and doesn’t even know it – yet. Phoenix and Luc have set sail from Marseilles in their house boat and are back in Paris, though Luc is currently feeling strained and ill equipped for fatherhood.
Character: Luc Danier
Age: 28
Gender: Male
Occupation: Technical Director
Personality: Look is in general a surly man. He does not suffer fools gladly, and as Technical Director oversees all of the stage hands and their work. Not an easy task, considering some of the clods he has working for him, but with his right hand woman Phoenix Mercer, he’s able to run the place just fine. When he is with his co-worker/girlfriend he is able to show a more relaxed side of himself, and rumor has it he even smiles sometimes. He usually doesn’t offer his opinion to strangers, preferring to keep conversation with those he is acquainted with. He is generous to those he loves, though they are few and far between, and he is fiercely loyal to those he deems trustworthy, also a very short list. In general he doesn’t trust, and he thinks the worst of people.
Appearance: Tall and slim, Luc generally keeps an unkempt head of hair that his girl calls dirty blond. He has deep brown eyes that are usually thinking deeper, darker thoughts than expected. Generally growing up without parents and what little money he could beg or steal, Luc has gone through life with an odd fashion sense. Now with a little friendly nudging from friends and family, and a much more padded bank account (despite his distrust of institutes), Luc has settled into a jeans and long sleeve shirt style, preferring comfort and practicality to style.
History: Regular little boys go to nursery school. Luc played in dirty, dingy apartments. Regular little boys go to school when they turn five. Luc hit the streets with his father, learning how to pickpocket. Regular little boys grow up with loving parents, and a well balanced life. Problems and trials here and there to be sure, what is life without them? But generally they are well cared for, schooled, and fed. Luc Danier was always a little different. Born to a less than attentive mother and an abusive, alcoholic father, he never really stood a chance. The city of Marseilles, located in southern France, is a beautiful place – or, it can be. But like all places it has a bad part of town too, and that was where Luc grew up. Bouncing from apartment to apartment, sneaking out in the middle of the night with and urgent, rough hand shoving him out a back window. Rent past due, and always hungry, and never able to escape the seemingly endless cycle of drinking and shouting and, eventually, the beatings.
His mother was not a bad person, he had decided a long time ago; just weak. She had never been able to stand up for herself, let alone her son, so when Maurice Danier was in a rage, Luc had no protection. Fiona never did look him in the eyes after the vicious scenes, and it wasn’t until much later that he found out why. When he was ten, Luc packed what meager possessions he had obtained – a few sets of clothes, a map of France, and what food he could find in the cupboards – the young boy hit the streets, looking for a better life.
He didn’t find it. Not immediately, anyway. What he did find was more of the same, just with a liberating air to it. He still had to pick pockets to survive, but this time he kept what he found. He still had to hide out, but so that his father didn’t find him, not landlords. They ran in the same circles still, and Luc was playing a constant evasive game. Picking pockets was a skill learned early and taught well, but it is not enough to live alone on, especially not for a ten year old boy looking for a place to sleep at night. So he made extra cash doing other such shadowy jobs – he became a drug runner. Too young to prosecute, too clever to get caught, and unconcerned about getting his hands dirty, he was the perfect kid for the job. He was eleven when he was first given a gun, and shown how to use it. He was also given drugs for the first time when he started working for dealers. It was a matter of trust. If you did it too, you weren’t looking for anyone to get busted. He didn’t do it often, only in the company of his employers, but enough to know that he didn’t want to lose himself in that life. He snorted a little powder here and there, and sold the rest under their noses – he was fed for another few weeks, and they didn’t know the difference.
It wasn’t until he started working with Nero Marzzone at the age of twelve that real trouble hit. He started dealing in more than cocaine and softer drugs, and started being the go between in buys with pills of all sorts, and primarily heroin. Caught up in the slightly sadistic web of Nero, a man who put a fear in Luc with a lecherous look, he found it hard to resist both the money and the attention, however inappropriate it was. Nero never laid a hand on him… but he didn’t really have to. Uncomfortable was uncomfortable. Despite being starved for affection from his beyond broken home, Luc felt generally uneasy in Nero’s presence, more so when he chose to show control. In a particularly extreme case, he made Luc get a small tattoo on his shoulder blade. It depicts in sharp black lines the shape of a wolf. Reluctant to comply, it was the least offensive one out of the options Nero had insisted he needed. Besides, he enjoyed the clichéd connection between himself and the fierce, lone wolf. Luc worked with him for two years until he turned fourteen, and became officially old enough to prosecute in the juvenile system. It was then that he cut all ties in Marseilles and packed a similar bag to his original one, few clothes and no possessions, and left the drug world behind. He views his tattoo with no shame, just a talisman of a life he left behind a long time ago, a marker to show him how far he has come. He took up in Paris, where he has been ever since. He took odd jobs and worked hard at being an outstanding laborer until he could get a recommendation to take on something handier. He made his way up, and eventually got an in at the opera house as a stage hand.
Not exactly where he thought he’d end up, Luc was determined to make the most of a ridiculous situation. He kept to himself and worked hard, certainly not rich from his new job but no longer scraping bottom either. He learned how to stretch a Franc, and then a Euro. He worked tirelessly, and he found an apartment of his own. Well, shared with an obnoxious redhead named Sabrina Winchester. They never had a romantic entanglement, and he Luc never thought he would find a woman that he would stand enough to want to be with. But then he met Adeline, and was blown off his feet. Convinced that he couldn't be in love, Luc tried desperately to pass it off as infatuation, and maybe the need to feel something after being alone his whole life. But not matter what he told himself, he was completely under. The problem was that she didn’t realize he existed. And why should she? A gutter rat with zero class and limited education, only having obtained an equivalency so that he could work, why would she be interested in a lowly stagehand? He, in what he will now in retrospect call a moment of temporary insanity, turned to Frederick Worthington for aid.
Frederick was the kind of man that all the ladies wanted. He was a classy, manner abiding, handsome man, with a charm and air of confidence that Luc lacked. He wanted to be that, or at least a version of that, so that Adeline might be able to look past his current station. He dressed up, learned how to twirl a cape, and was even taught to dance by a blonde of the name Katarina del Castillo, but when he presented himself to Adeline, and confessed his love, he was told that he couldn’t love her. She ran off, and Luc followed, witnessing an odd altercation between her and Rozaliya Donkova, and then becoming crushed when Adeline’s boyfriend Victor Santos showed up.
Stung with rejection and sore over losing something he never even remotely had, Luc reverted back to his surly self, and became rather unpleasant to talk to. He carried a pathetic torch for her, and only after he rescued her from a falling chandelier did she come to see him in a different light, and a romantic one at that.
Shortly after, the earth crumbled beneath Luc’s feet. He never thought he would have to revert to his old ways, but bills were bills and he needed cash. His methods were perfected, and his technique smooth. Any normal man wouldn't even felt his wallet being lifted from his back pocket. But Lady Luck was against him (or was she?) when she made his target Jean Sauveur, a man whom he had never before seen in his life. The problem was that this man was a professional in the pick pocketing, having had previous experience living on the streets as well. And you just can't con a con artist.
Luc was slammed against shelves of books and when he thought that the man would yell for library security to deal with him, something unexpected happened. Luc was 'invited' (and we use this term liberally. It was more like forced) to go to lunch with Jean. Seeing no choice, Luc followed Jean where they had a surprisingly civil meal, and discussed pasts and experiences.
After that Jean showed up at Luc's apartment, and shortly thereafter, Luc returned the favor. The problem for Luc was that he was finding himself becoming attached to the older man alarmingly quick. However in Jean's apartment, enjoying nice company, things took a dramatic turn after a phone call from Jean's father. Luc hurried out the door as Jean started to pack, urgent to get to his home in Marseilles, and to his father, leaving Luc confused and in the dark about Jean's suspicions.
A few days later Luc was working on the catwalk when Jean showed up again, with a grave tone in his voice and important things to be discussed. Jean told Luc the story of his love Esmerelda, and how he had lost her, through pregnancy Jean hadn't known about and her untamable spirit. Questioning the relevance to himself Luc was at that point completely and utterly confused. It wasn’t until Jean made the connection between family, and love beyond bounds. He wanted Luc to understand that even has he hadn’t known of his son for over a year, he had known love without limits for him. And then he dropped the dime. He told Luc about the connection neither of them had known about until Jean had mentioned the name “Danier” to his father. Maurice Danier was an employee of Sauveur Shipping at one time. Fiona Danier had been too, in a clerical position. A broken woman who had struggled to hold it together, she turned to Philippe Sauveur in a state of crisis. Neither intended for her to become his lover. When they parted ways, amicably, he had not known of her pregnancy. Neither had she. When he looked for her later, Maurice had managed to get himself fired, and the dysfunctional-at-best couple had vanished to another hole in the wall, now with a newborn that Maurice knew was not of him.
Overwhelmed by truths and revelations, Luc did something he normally did not allow himself. He trusted Jean. He came to love Jean first as a friend, and then as a brother. They became close, and for a while it seemed like Luc had it all. A new found family, as strange as it was, a love with Adeline, a career that was climbing due to dedication and long hours.
And then Luc Danier was crushed by the chandelier at the Masquerade in an effort to save his fiancée, Adeline Devereaux, from reaching his fate by the hands of the opera ghost Erik. His mangled body was carried away by Pieter, a friend of his and more so of his brother Jean's, who is a doctor of a unique background.
What happened next no one expected, least of all Luc. Everyone thought he was dead, and for good reason, his pulse having slowed an alarming rate and his limp body exerting no signs of life. And so it came as a great shock to Jean when he read this letter written by his dear friend.
Jean--
I feel that I owe you some explanation for my part in this deception. You need to know the how and the why. You need to know that my intention was never to hurt you. We are not the sorts of men to trust stupidly, no matter how often you say I do too easily, and I need you to understand that I never set out to misuse that trust until I thought it was your best interest I was protecting.
When the accident happened I rushed to his side and I'm sorry to say was in that moment more of distressed friend than a doctor. One would think with the particular kind of work I do that I thrive and these situations. But what I do is not the same. Every time you have been my patient you were on my table, we were safe. Remember that I was never there when you gained any of the wounds that brought you too me. And while I have stood next to you in those more precarious situations I have never had your ability to be more than one side of myself at a time. I either inflict the wounds or heal them, not both at once. And in this instance I was either a cold on scene medic or devastated human being.
I unwittingly chose the latter.
That it was an honest mistake is neither here nor there. That it worked out for the best is simply the ends justifying the means. The fact of the matter is that he was so near to death that in my panic I missed his pulse, faint as it was, and his breath too shallow to be detected. It wasn't until later, as I carried him from the Opera House, not wanting you to have to see his broken body, that I discovered my mistake. I attempted to clean some of the blood from his face only to find he was still bleeding.... his heart was still beating, still pumping blood to the wound.
Since arriving here in Paris I have reconnected with some old acquaintances from our other lives. One of them is a man I went to medical school with. He lost his license in Germany and was shamed out of his practice. He now works in Paris under a different name. I took our young friend to him as soon as I realized what I had done wrong. I went to him because he had the proper facilities, the proper skill, and the proper notion of digression.
I'm sure you are wondering why I did not take him to a hospital or call you just then to tell you he was in fact still alive. I did not take him to a formal hospital for the same reason I don't work in one. I don't trust them, they ask too many questions that do not pertain to diagnosis. Besides, how could I explain to them that he was hit by a chandelier dropped by a ghost? And I did not call you because it would have seemed cruel to me to revive your spirits only to have something happen in the process to save him and make you suffer to lose him twice.
Our efforts took many long hours, for he was badly hurt. In fact it was not until the next day that I even began to harbor some hope that our effort was going to be rewarded. I won't lie to you there were moments I thought our task futile, his injuries were severe and numerous. But when he was mended and revived, and I finally began to feel that it was safe to hope again, was when the situation became odd. I thought I was reassuring him to tell him that I was going to call you, but the panic this created nearly did his weakened heart in again. He begged me not to call and made me give him my word that I would not tell your or anyone else that he had survived. Strange as I thought this was... we have both seen stranger, and I had given him my word from which there was no going back.
To be honest I felt more than moderately certain that what was holding him back was going to be predictable. You told me about how you and he first met and I felt certain it would be trouble with the law. So I waited patiently til he was able to talk. Preparing myself to talk him out of whatever foolish thing he had planned.
I feel that I now know this young man almost better than I know you. But then again bedside confessions are often, in my experience, the most telling and you have never been overly willing to divulge yourself. So it broke my heart to hear him talk about how undeserving he felt of his fiancées love, and how he felt it would be impossible for a woman of her grace and stature to love him in his current condition. If this had been his only reasoning you know I would have done all in my power to dissuade him from what he was planning. But there was more that touched me deeper... because it involved you.
You know that in our business developing close relationships and friendships is often only a way of manipulating what you want or a sure way to get killed. I know that you are aware of this cause through the years I have watched you play this game better than most, I don't think even you are aware of how well you draw people to yourself. But perhaps it was the circumstances that we had our first meetings (generally involving you and a significant blood loss) that led to our candor and friendship. But I have always cared for you as a brother and seen the good man that you wish to be. And though it is my godson, Polaris, that I have sworn to look out for I have always felt that my duty extended to protecting his father from himself as well, as it is also in the boys best interest.
That's why I couldn't help but see Luc's reasoning when he told me of your father's illness. He said he wished to go home and help look after the man he had never gotten an adequate chance to know. But he also said that he hoped you would not find out about Philippe's declining health. Surely you must know yourself well enough to know why you had to leave Marseilles to have any chance of a new start. You are known there as someone else entirely and to return for any amount of time would undoubtedly put you back into a position where everything you have worked so hard for since arriving in Paris would be in danger. And we both also knew that if you knew about your father there would be no way of stopping you from returning. Luc understood this, your father knew this, and I couldn't deny it was true. And even more potent for him was the knowledge that even if the woman he loved could understand all of this, though he felt he had no call to ask her too, he couldn't make himself ask her to wait on him... indefinitely.
I won't pretend that I was thrilled with the idea of letting you remain devastated. But it truly was in your best interest we believed. So I agreed to his plan. I nursed him to health as best I could and accompanied him to your home where I did what I could for Philippe before leaving him to tend to his father. I hear now that he is much on the mend, and I am glad for this. I honestly believe that his condition was improved by getting the chance to know that the son he never knew loved him and the son he always loved was safe. That is my professional opinion, though you won't find it in any medical text. And as a father yourself you must have some understanding of why it had to happen the way it did.
I hope that someday you will find a way to forgive me or at the very least to accept.
Pieter
In short, Luc had recovered, he had triumphed against literally all odds. His first actions had not been to find his fiancée and tell her he was alright -- they had been to rush to his father's side and make sure that he too was still alive. He had arrived in Marseilles, seemingly just in time. His father's health had decreased dramatically, and it seemed he would not make it much longer.
Through another miracle of whatever higher power may exist, Phillipe Sauveur rose above his illnesses, though, once he saw his youngest son. He couldn't leave, not yet. Neither of them could. Luc continued to live with his father, and to work in his school. He was first a substitute teacher, but besides talking to his father Luc had nothing to do and he quickly grew bored. He began to study more and more each day, flying through tests with flying colors. His education had been limited when he was a child because of his past, but with a little work Luc found that he excelled in the tests he took during the weeks he stayed with his father. He got an acceptable education, and his father blurred the lines so that Luc could teach full time at his school.
Though happy teaching about history and anthropology, Luc was finding his patience tested by all of his students. There was not one that did not make a genuine effort to get on Luc's bad side, and he saw them for what they were. Spoiled rotten children with zero respect for authority. His cynicism built over the weeks he spent teaching, and his sarcasm was exercised to its maximum potential. His father saw that this, along with the injuries that he still carried from the chandelier, was making Luc become embittered again, and from time to time tried to remind him of his blessings, but to no avail. He suggested to Luc that he should go back to Paris and tie up loose ends, maybe even find that fiancée of his and apologize to her, but Luc wouldn't leave him alone. It was only after Jean arrived that he allowed himself to be persuaded to leave for a bit of an extended vacation.
Promising he would come back soon, though Phillipe told him not to worry about it, Luc begrudgingly agreed. He knew that it would make his father happy to see him attempt to make amends and better his life, and so he agreed to leave. He found himself in Paris again, explaining his reappearance to those who needed to know, and not caring to tell those whom didn’t. A semblance of normalcy had settled over his life, and he was enjoying himself. He had even found a partner in crime, an enchanting and quirky friend who became a lover – Phoenix Mercer. She wasn't just the best stagehand that had ever worked under him, but she was also the only stagehand that he had ever wanted under him, in a very different sense of the word. The two began an unconventional romance, only strengthened by the need to run away together to Spain. He begged her to go, but she wouldn’t leave without him, and he needed her safe. Pearce Rowe was looking for Jean at the time, and had done a number on Luc physically in the search for information. Escaping from the abandoned mansion of which he had been taken prisoner, Luc had urged her to go, and they had fled to Spain using Pieter Lachen’s financial aid, her travel savvy knowledge, and his background on the streets to avoid detection, they managed to turn it into a mini vacation.
Back in town with Pearce gone for good, the two returned to France, stopping to Marseilles to inform his family that Phoenix was expecting. Luc was going to be a father. With her parents immediately travelling to see the couple, Luc has felt crowded since they announced the pregnancy, and the grandparents have been driving him insane. But their baby, Lucille (Lucy) Madryd Danier was born healthy and happy, and that’s all that truly mattered to him. Rosy cheeks, dark hair, and inquisitive brown eyes, she has Luc wrapped around her little finger, and doesn’t even know it – yet. Phoenix and Luc have set sail from Marseilles in their house boat and are back in Paris, though Luc is currently feeling strained and ill equipped for fatherhood.