Disclaimer: This is an AU fic in which the Phantom of the Opera is in the same time line as Hunch Back of Notre Dame. All rights belong to Victor Hugo, Disney for various lyrics, and Andrew Lloyd Webber. The pairings are Erik/Meg and Esmeralda/Quasimodo. The song also used is Pet by A Perfect Circle.

Quasimodo was in a deep sleep, dreaming that he was a handsome and suave man from France, with women begging to be with him. Music began to drift into his dream, sounded like...organ music. Slowly, he woke up and stared up at the darkness above him. The music was still playing. He slowly climbed out of bed, his back hunched from his deformity as he lumbered toward the door and let himself out of the bell tower, so he could slink soundlessly down the stairs toward the organ hutch that laid just above the main room of the Church. There was someone playing the organ. Carefully, he crept up the stairs leading to the organ room and stopped near the door, gently pushing it open enough to peer inside. It was really dark, but he could see enough to know that it wasn't the Father playing it, like he sometimes did and the song being played was not any hymn he had ever heard. But it was a beautiful song, sad and mournful. Entranced, he slowly made to step fully into the room but the man at the organ had good hearing and picked up on the shuffling sounds of Quasimodo's feet.

"Who is there?" He said sharply. Quasimodo, in fear and surprise, tripped over his feet and fell backward into the wall.

"I-I-I-I'm s-sorry." Quasimodo shuttered out, hiding in the darkness as he watched the man. "I woke and heard your song. It...It's very beautiful, you don't have to stop."

"Beautiful?" The man gave a bitter laugh. "No, this is nothing but hurt and torment compared to what I used to write." He turned. This man also favored the shadows but only on one half of his face. The side that Quasimodo saw was handsome, covered in the stubble of two days without shaving. "Why do you hide? I don't mean you any harm."

"Why do you hide?" Quasimodo returned, making the man frown. He stayed silent, and as did the Hunchback. "How about I light some candles, and then we can see each other? You'll want to scream, I'm sure, but I ask that you don't. It might wake the Father and he'd be very angry with me." This made Erik stop and think. Why would a man say something like that? If he had something to hide, of course.

"All right, then." The Phantom said slowly. Quasimodo moved heavily around the small room, lighting the few candles that lay about the room. Once they were lit, he kept his back to the man for a moment. Erik looked Quasimodo over from afar, taking in the deformed shape of his back and legs, blinking in surprise. When the young man, probably somewhere between seventeen and twenty from what Erik could tell by his voice, turned and faced him, Erik stared openly. His face looked like a mottled lump of clay, one eye larger then the other and off to one side, while naturally crossed. Quasimodo could also see the Phantom's own deformity, reddened flesh and torn skin that made the skull almost visible through the thin texture of the flesh over the right side of his face. They merely stared at each other for a moment, before Quasimodo spoke first.

"That's not really all that bad, actually. You could wear a mask and hide it, saying you were burned in a fire or something."

"I lost my mask." The Phantom said shortly. He stood up from the organ. "I'm sorry for disturbing you, good monsieur." Quasimodo stayed quiet, watching the man closely. He was dirty and he looked like he hadn't eaten in a couple of days, his clothing tattered and scorched in places. Erik turned to leave but Quasimodo stopped him with a kind word.

"You don't have to leave, either. You look like you could use a small meal. I don't have much but I have enough willing to share with a kindred spirit." Quasimodo smiled, which made him look even uglier if possible but the kindness showed in his clear, blue eyes. "My name is Quasimodo."

"I thank you." The Phantom returned, giving a little nod. "My name is Erik."

"Erik." Quasimodo repeated. "A good, strong name." He smiled again, before turning and leading the way out of the small organ room, toward the stairs that led up to the bell tower.

"You live in the bell tower?" Erik, said mostly to himself as he followed up the stairs. It tickled something in the back of his mind, something he once heard; a rumor of some monster inside Notre dame but this young man wasn't a monster, not any more then Erik was. But you are a monster, said a wicked voice in the Phantom's mind. You've killed, this man has probably not done anything more wicked then masturbate.

"Yes, I have lived there my whole life, all of eighteen years." Quasimodo answered as he climbed the stairs. For someone with such a physical deformity, he looked very limber on his feet. When they reached the small apartment settled amongst the bells, Quasimodo shifted nervously from foot to foot as he smiled shyly. "It's not much, I know." He muttered.

"It's very nice, actually." Erik said as he came up to gently tap against the largest bell, making it ring sharply but not enough for it to carry down to the ground. He smiled sadly at Quasimodo. "You're very nice, Quasimodo. It's a shame that you got named such."

"It's not my real name. I am not sure what my real name is." Quasimodo said as he began fixing up a small meal of left over bread and meats, slapping together a sandwich. He normally got fed by Frollo, three times a day but he hadn't eaten very much today, so he had left overs. He brought it to Erik on a small metal plate. "But yes, it is a cruel name." He smiled sadly. "So is my lot in life." Erik smiled half way before turning to the food. He ate quickly. It was a bit stale but it was better then nothing. Quasimodo took a seat across from him.

"Did you get in a fire or something?" Quasimodo asked. He had not yet heard about the Opera Populaire catching fire, nor had he heard about the story of the Phantom of the Opera that was now floating amongst the commoners and the gypsies.

"You could say that." Erik said after swallowing what he had in his mouth, albeit a bit roughly. As he finished off the last of his food, he took a look around. There was various sketches and paintings, but what caught his attention was the little model of the whole city. He even had the Opera Populaire at the edge of the little town, complete with people milling about. "Did you make this?" He said as he stood and walked over to it. Quasimodo hurried after him, smiling.

"Yes, I did. It took me ten years; I started when I was eight." He picked up a small baker man. "This was my first one. See how they have progressed?" He held up the newer one, a small man dressed up like a multicolored jester. "This is Clopin. I have seen him wander around outside the church in his little caravan from time to time, but only here within the last week or so." He shrugged a bit.

"They're all amazing. You have a beautiful craft." Erik said with a smile.

"Not as beautiful as what I heard you playing earlier. I wish I could play the organ, but every time I try, Frollo says that music is the devil's instrument." Quasimodo said sorrowfully. "How could something so beautiful be from the Devil?"

"Well," Erik said with a light half smile. "They say that Lucifer was God's most beautiful angel, but..." He looked off into the starry night sky. "I have seen a more beautiful angel then that."

"Really?" Quasimodo said with a wistful smile, which turned sad. "What happened to her?" Erik gave a stern look in reply, making Quasimodo look away quickly and mutter an apology. The subject obviously hurt Erik, and that had been a tactless question.

"It's late. I should get some sleep." Erik said shortly, before moving to where Quasimodo had set up a small bed. As he laid there, trying to fall into sleep and willing himself to have good dreams, Quasimodo spoke again.

"Are you going to try to go to the festival of fools tomorrow? I am going to sneak down there."

Festival of Fools? It was all ready the sixth of January? He rolled over and looked at Quasimodo, who was looking shy once more. If the young man wanted to go, then that was his business. He shrugged. "I'll probably just hang out here, if it's okay."

"Of course." Quasimodo said with a nod, before moving over to his model and working on another little person. If he had seen the little figurine, then Erik would have recognized it as the small blonde, young woman from the Opera Populaire. Quasimodo had seen her visit the church during Sunday morning mass from time to time within the last month, always with her older mother. She was lovely, but it was taking him a long time to finish this one, since he never got a good look at her. She always sat near the front, and he couldn't get close enough without running the risk of being seen. Unknowing of what he was doing, Erik softly began to sing himself to sleep, like he normally did.

"Think of me, think of me fondly, when we've said goodbye. Remember me, once in a while; please promise me you'll try. Then you find that once again you long to take my heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment; spare a thought for me."

Quasimodo turned, listening to the song briefly as it faded into silence and was replaced by the soft, whispering snores of his strange new companion. The sorrow in his voice when he sang showed that the woman he spoke of did not die but left him, probably for another man. He shook his head sadly, turning his gaze away and muttering a soft prayer under his breath, praying for the serenity of God to come to his new friend.

Erik slept most of the morning, but when he heard the audible sound of someone sliding down a rope, he woke and was just in time to see Quasimodo's hunched form disappear down a thick rope into the crowd. He frowned heavily, climbing out of the blankets and moving to the large window, looking down into the town square outside the church. This was a wonderful view, and much better then being stuck in those damned catacombs, where Erik couldn't see the moon or stars. This man is lucky to have such a scene to look upon every morning, he thought to himself. He had good eyes, so he could see the interaction between the people even from afar but not enough to satisfy his curiosity. So he stopped and moved away from the window. He almost made it to the table that held the little model city when a knock came on the door.

"Quasimodo? Let me in, lad. It's time for your breakfast, and scripture reading." An older man's voice said from the other side. Erik's eyes widened in shock, before he hurried to the door; mimicking the shuffling footsteps of the Hunchback as he came to the door. When he spoke, it was in a good enough imitation of Quasimodo that Frollo did not notice a difference.

"I'm not feeling very well today, if it is all right."

Frollo nodded slowly. "I understand. I'll just leave the food here, then. You still need to eat." He then left. He had to hurry or he'd be late to the damned festival. He didn't know why he bothered going, but it was one of his duties as Archdeacon. Once he was sure that Frollo was gone, Erik opened the door and pulled the small basket inside. It had a little metal pot of oatmeal, a small loaf of bread, and, to his surprise, a small bunch of grapes. He set the food aside, frowning a bit. There was only enough for Quasimodo when he got back. He looked around the room again and spotted a small, brown fabric sack. He needed to venture out to get some food, possibly enough for both him and Quasimodo for a little while. Cutting open two eye holes, he slipped the mask over his head. It smelt, but nothing too horrid. He climbed into the window and slid down the rope just as Quasimodo had done, landing in a heap next to a small tent. He was just in time to see Quasimodo leave the tent, looking horrified. He was followed by a stately looking gypsy beauty, dark skin and dark hair with vivid green eyes. Erik was struck dumb for a moment.

"By the way, great mask." She said as she winked at Quasimodo, whose hood had gotten knocked back to show his face. She spotted Erik next, taking in his form and smirking a bit. "Keep an eye on this one," She said as she gestured to Quasimodo. "He could get slapped if he keeps falling into people's tents on accident." She winked once more at the Hunchback before disappearing in her tent once more. Erik turned and glared at Quasimodo, moving forward and pulling his hood up again, then arranged his hair around his face.

"You're a fool for doing this." Erik said, sounding much like a scolding older brother. Quasimodo frowned.

"I know. I'm sorry. I was just...so tired of just watching." He said sadly, his eyes turning to look around at the milling people. He spotted the blonde girl he had been watching and smiled. "Look." He said softly, pointing to her. Erik turned and looked, his eyes widening in the burlap sack as he stared. He recognized her by the shape of her toned body, her long curly blonde hair, and her bright brown eyes but what she was wearing what was what shocked him the most.

Her lean body was clad in the suit of a man, complete with red cravat and red waist coat. But it held in places that accented her body and on her face, standing out against the black of her garb, was the white half mask. She looked impressive, and it struck him how lovely she really was. She was watching Clopin dance around, laughing but she had not noticed either of them. A wicked desire crept into his heart, and he whispered to Quasimodo. "I'll be back." Then he disappeared into the crowd, coming up behind Meg and singing softly into her ear.

"Don't fret, precious. I'm here. Step away from the window, and go...back to sleep."

Her body tensed, recognizing the voice instantly but when she turned to look, there was no one there. Erik had been far too quick. She breathed in deeply, shaking her head. She was being silly. Clopin was now on a stage, projecting his voice to get everyone's attention.

"Come one, come all! Hurry, hurry, here's your chance! See the myst'ry and romance! Come one, come all See the finest girl in France!" He winked at Quasimodo and Erik as they came up to the stage, Quasimodo hanging back a little more then Erik was. "Make an entrance to entrance! Dance la Esmeralda! Dance!" Then he threw a large handful of red dust, making a loud explosion and when the smoke cleared, the stately gypsy was standing there and dancing around on stage. Her lean body was clad in a tight fitting red dress, accented with gold in places. Everyone cheered, even Quasimodo but Erik was distracted again by Meg, who was standing not far away. She was dancing too, trying to copy what the gypsy, Esmeralda, was doing. It was different for the ballerina, but she was doing well enough.

"Look at that disgusting display." Sneered Frollo, making Erik look in that direction. The Archdeacon was sitting in a large chair across from the gypsy, but she noticed his sneer and smirking, she leaped across the stage and climbed into the older man's lap, bringing his face close to hers briefly before slapping his hat down over his face. Everyone laughed and Erik smirked. Served the old bastard right.

The rest of the day went on well, but when it came to choosing the King of Fools, Erik made himself scarce and quickly. There was no way he was going to have someone rip off the burlap sack from his face. In his distress, he had forgotten completely about Quasimodo. He spotted Meg again and smirking, came up behind her to tease her again. He put his sack covered mouth directly against her ear this time.

"Why I see her dancing there, why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul?"

This time, however, she was quick enough to turn and grab hold of the sack covering his face, pulling him to her and speaking in a growl of anger. "What the hell do you think you're doing here?"

"Enjoying a festival. What about you?" He returned calmly, reaching up to grab her hand and pull it away from his face.

"Isn't it obvious?" Meg replied with a smirk. "Or has madness made you stupid too?"

What a god damned brat! He had an urge to strike her for that, but he stilled his reflex. His attention turned to the stage, where they were removing masks and his eyes widened when he saw Quasimodo up there. Quickly, he left Meg and she called after him, but he ignored her. He would not let his friend be humiliated like that, if he could help it. Meg hurried after him, wondering why he seemed so frantic to get on stage. However, the Phantom was too late. When Esmeralda came to Quasimodo, she pulled at his face and gasped when nothing came off. There was then a surge of activity, shuffling Meg and Erik around until they were all but shoved into each other. "I have got to stop this!" He growled, grabbing hold of her shoulders. They were hauling Quasimodo into a chair, dancing and parading around him. Quasimodo was overwhelmed, thinking they really meant all their praise and chanting. Meg stared at Quasimodo for a moment, before looking into the sack covered face of Erik, the Phantom. She could see the distress in his eyes, the mismatched gaze flickering as he watched Meg.

"Come on." She said as she took his hand and hurried through the crowd, trying to get to where they had finally stopped; next to a circle of wood that had shackles strapped to it. They were stopped briefly by two drunken men.

"Where are you going? Stay for the fun!" The first one slurred while the other eyed Meg lustily. She glared but stayed silent as Erik menaced toward them and said in a low growl.

"Get out of my way or you'll really see a monster."

"Make me, old man!" The other replied. Erik shoved the man to the crowd, just in time to see people start pelting Quasimodo with tomatoes and the like, jeering at him. Erik jumped onto the stage.

"You call him ugly, you call him a monster but you don't know what a MONSTER IS!" He screamed the last words, making them echo over the crowd as he ripped off the sack and there was shrieks of horror at the sight of his deformity, his eyes flashing like a demon's as he jumped into the crowd and began scattering the people. Quasimodo's deformity was extreme, but it was not as horrid looking as Erik's, which made him look like a living skull on one half of his face. Being so distracted by scaring the crowd, he did not notice as Esmeralda jumped onto stage too and began unshackling Quasimodo. Meg hurried forward to where Erik was, once the crowd had been scared away and Quasimodo left, leaving the gypsy watching sadly after him. If I had known, she thought as she moved away and started to head away, I would not have brought him on stage. I'm such a fool.

Meg stayed quiet as she watched the back of the Phantom, his shoulders heaving with rage. She removed the mask from her face and slowly stepped closer to him, gently touching his shoulder. He turned those fiery eyes to her and she backed away at first, but then steeled herself and stood still. "Well? Is this crazy enough for you, Miss Giry?" He snarled.

"I...I guess I deserve that." She said softly. She went silent, looking down at the mask briefly before holding it out to him. "Would you like this back?" Erik looked down at it for a moment before he reached out and took it from her, slapping it to his face. He breathed in deeply, smelling the faint musk of her flesh on the mask's surface. It was nice and tempting, making him want to lean forward and breathe it in from the source, but he resisted. "You...you should go check on him." She said softly as she gestured to the church. "I would, but...he doesn't know me." She smiled sadly but started when she heard a stern voice. She turned and looked to see her mother making her way toward her. She looked to where Erik was, meaning to tell him to leave, but he was all ready gone, his departing figure seen disappearing into the church.

As she watched him leave, she sang softly under her breath.

"He's here, the Phantom of the Opera."