Erik's Angel

Hi all! I'm Flare Conlon and this is my first PotO ficcy. I really like the play and the book, so I though, why not?! I might want to continue on with this, but I'm not sure. Please read and tell me if I should. Luv u all! MWA!

Flare

The Phantom of the Opera. Monster. The only things he had ever been known as... And now, he would surely die, for without Christine, what was there to live for?

"I am old." Erik, the Phantom, sighed to himself. "I am alone. All I wanted was freedom from Solitude..." He turned his head and placed his hand upon his mask, the cold, unfeeling thing that had held him captive for so long.

He sulked through the opera basement, across his lake, far from his home when a small sound caught his attention. A child crying.

A child? He thought Down here? What ignorant parent would loose a child here? And how did she, it is a young girl I believe, find her way down here?

Determined to get a better look, he moved silently to the edge of the lake, where a small girl of about 4 sat, holding herself and crying softly. Erik's heart tugged at the pitiful child, scared and alone. He moved to stand just behind her.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded roughly, trying to frighten the girl into running. She turned to look at him.

"I'm sorry..." the girl sniffed. "I'm lost." He glared menacingly at the child.

"Go. Leave this place. It will give you no help."

The girl looked up at him shyly, her blonde hair falling into her clear blue eyes.

"Will you help me?" she asked, looking at him with pure innocence. Erik glared coldly at her.

"Go home my beauty, your mother must miss you." The child looked to the ground again and whispered in a soft voice,

"My mother is dead... My father too. I have no one..." Erik was silent as he looked to the child's sad face and recalled his own childhood.

"Where then, do you reside my dear child?" he asked, his voice taking on a kinder gentler tone. Once again he met her soft blue eyes.

"In the alley behind the opera house sir." Erik swiftly looked away from the girl's blue eyes and noticed for the first time, her attire.

She was clad in a rough dress, a bit too small for her and wore old, tattered shoes. Around her shoulders was a tattered shawl and her hair which should have gleamed golden, had probably not been washed for weeks. The child continued.

"Please don't throw me out sir. This is the first time I've been warm in so very long... I only wanted warmth and perhaps some bread." Erik looked at her again.

"You have no other family?"

"No sir..." Erik knelt down and gathered her up.

"Would you like to stay with me my dear? I have food and even a warm bath for you if you'd like." The girl's eyes brightened.

"Really?! May I?!" Erik smiled for the first time since Christine had left him.

"Of course my child, my dear girl." He laughed. The girl giggled, her voice like music.

"Ok! My name's Éowess."

"And I am Erik, my dear child." The child giggled and snuggled close to his shirt.

"No you're not..." she sighed sleepily, "You're my new father, and my Angel..." The child moved to his mask and touched it, then, lovingly planted a kiss on his cheek before falling into a deep sleep.