When Erik Met Lizzie

Disclaimer: I do not own "Phantom of the Opera", Erik, or any of its original characters as well as "Dear Frankie" or any of its original characters.

Author's Note: A/U- This is a crossover of modern-day Phantom and Dear Frankie. "Phantom of the Opera" is unfamiliar territory for me, so please bear with me! Yes, many liberties will be taken with this story, as usual. This Erik is a combination of some (ALW, Kay) of the Erik's personalities, but mostly my creation- on the lighter side. Huge thanks to Mrsphan for her helpful feedback and encouragement! Hope you enjoy and please don't forget to let me know what you think!

I hope you enjoy, please read and review!

Chapter One

A sign was posted on the chip shop window.

Musician Wanted

Piano player needed for weekends and some weeknight gigs.

Call 1555 551 212

Do I dream again, for now I find,

the Phantom of the Opera, inside my mind.

It felt like minutes but had been mere seconds as Lizzie looked up into the stranger's face. In front of her doorway, they stood inches apart, his turquoise eyes bore into hers for an eternity, holding her, wanting her, gripping her heart with its bluish green depths. She made no movement and only stood still willing him closer to her. Second after torturous second passed before his handsome face inched its way slowly and uncertainly toward hers. Lizzie's eyes delivered her heart's plea and she moved her chin upward slightly, hoping to close the agonizing gap between their lips.

At last his lips came down on hers, his kiss gripping her like a magnet, pulling her and claiming her; leaving Lizzie helpless to its irresistible force. It was too soon when Lizzie felt the stranger begin to pull away.

Music; a haunting melody wafted through the air.

Lizzie felt possessed by it and reached her arms out to the stranger, around his neck, pulling him back, not letting his lips separate from hers. The music became louder and his arms wrapped tightly around Lizzie's back, enveloping her, gripping and squeezing her with his powerful hands. Locked in an intimate embrace, she could feel the muscles of his chest against her. Her mind was no longer her own as his hands moved to the soft skin of her face, commanding and cherishing her. The kiss deepened; setting her body in flames. His tongue found the bliss of hers, probing, and tempting her into a maelstrom of passion.

The tune filled her ears, mesmerizing her with its alluring resonance. It was like no other she heard before and she found herself intoxicated by the spellbinding orchestration of song and kiss. Into a hypnotic trance she fell deeper and deeper...

A repetitious, beeping sound penetrated her senses, causing her eyes to fly open. As she looked up at the stranger's face she gasped. Piercing blue eyes stared back at her; pleading, tugging at her soul. Separated finally from him she took in the sight of the man before her. Here was not the man Lizzie hired; the man who had melted her heart with his brilliant turquoise eyes. No, this man who looked down at her stood much the same height as the stranger, but his hair was as black as night, one side of his face was achingly beautiful, and the other side a white mask...

Lizzie sat up in her bed with a loud gasp, startling awake and trying to get her bearings. The beeping noise of the alarm clock became increasingly louder and she told herself to calm down, steadying her breathing. She closed her eyes and took a long, deep breath. It was then that those piercing blue eyes appeared in her mind. Her eyes flew open and the beeping from the alarm clock captured her attention again. Rubbing her eyes, she reached over to her nightstand and shut off the alarm, knocking a paper onto the carpeted floor.

She stood up from the bed and grasped Frankie's letter to the stranger and the photo from the floor. Her fingers traced the images, her eyes taking in her son's happy expression and drifting to the stranger's face. It had been two weeks since he'd sailed- Marie's brother. Lizzie kept having that dream about him, reliving that kiss over and over again. This time it was different. It had never ended with a man wearing a mask. An odd feeling washed over her. The image invaded her subconscious, settling there; making itself at home. The dream had been so strange...

...but not unpleasant.

With shaking hands, Lizzie handed the envelope to Marie. It was the right thing to do, wasn't it? After all Frankie had written the letter to the stranger. But the thought still did not quell the butterflies in her stomach.

Marie accepted the envelope from Lizzie with a smile. "Right then, I'll send it out today. Usually takes him about a week to receive his mail."

"Right," Lizzie said nodding her head nervously. As curious as she was Lizzie still could not bring herself to ask Marie his name. Maybe, she thought, it was better if she didn't know.

She pulled the smock over her head and joined Cindy, Marie's other employee, at the front counter. Cindy was tending to the queue wrapped up in a lively conversation with a couple of patrons. Lizzie grabbed a cleaning cloth and a tray and set out to wipe the vacant tables that were littered with dirty napkins and plates.

Lizzie busily tidied up the seating area, shaking her head at Cindy's giggling. The twenty-two year old liked to regularly entertain Marie's patrons with the town's gossip. They could barely resist her pretty blue eyes, lit up with giddiness, her animated face putting on a show for them.

The patrons had gone and Cindy continued laughing, her hands busy flipping the fish in the warmer. Lizzie joined Cindy back at the counter with a smirk when Marie emerged from the back room with a box in her hands.

"Cindy, so what are you on about now?"

A girlish giggle escaped Cindy's lips. "Oh, I was just telling the ladies about the phantom."

Lizzie rolled her eyes, wiping the counter and Marie sniffed as she edged her way in between Lizzie and Cindy.

"Cindy, really, what rubbish is this?" Marie raised an eyebrow, handing Lizzie a box full of cigarette packets to stock.

With wide eyes Cindy stopped what she was doing, set down her spatula, and turned to the two ladies, using her hands to pull their attention to her in true gossip mode. "No, it's true, Marie. There is a phantom right here in town."

Turning back to stocking cigarettes, Lizzie asked, "This isn't like when ya thought Sean Connery was in town, was it?"

Marie joined in, "Or like the time you said John Lennon's ghost was chasing you?"

Cindy shook her head in exasperation. "No! It's not like that. This phantom, well that's what I call him; he's a man, flesh and blood, and he wears a white mask on the right side of his face."

Her words sent a bolt of lightning through Lizzie's body. She hadn't told anyone about her dream the night before. Lizzie felt paralyzed and in her daze all she could do was turn and listen.

"It's a rumor, Cindy. There's no such man, or phantom here. Someone made it up and it's spreading like wildfire, " Marie told her matter-of-factly.

"No, it's true, Marie," Cindy paused to make sure all eyes were on her, noticing Lizzie's wide-eyed stare. "I've seen him."

"Oh, come off it now."

"He only comes out at night, I hear, because he doesn't want to be seen."

"But you've seen him?"

"Aye, I've seen him, Marie," Cindy told her, grabbing Lizzie and Marie into a huddle. Her voice turned low suddenly, "I was closing up shop last night and when I came out he was there looking at the ad that Ally put out."

Marie and Lizzie's brows were furrowed as they watched Cindy's serious expression.

"He was tall, dressed in a long black overcoat. I could only see one side of his face, the other was covered in some sort of white mask. But ladies, I'll tell ya this... and I kid ya not," she paused, her eyes darting back and forth between the two ladies, and continued with a sneaky smile, "this phantom with his sexy blue eyes, was hotter than a blazing fire."

"Bloody hell!" Nell exclaimed, gasping as she entered the small laundry room. As was her routine she'd waited until dark to do laundry when she knew there wouldn't be a fight for the small number of washers and dryers the building's tenants shared. But as she flipped on the light and found a man standing by the machine closest to the wall, she nearly dropped the laundry basket from her hands.

It was the surprise of finding another person there that startled her and not the presence of the white mask the man was wearing, she told herself.

Erik sighed to himself. He was accustomed to women screaming at the sight of him and had hoped that at least here he could do his laundry in peace. Privacy was something he treasured and he was happy to have found a comfortable haven in his new flat.

Apparently the woman who'd just walked in must not have been too frightened, he thought. She hadn't run off and to his dismay proceeded to the first washing machine and set her laundry basket possessively on top. In fact she wore a rather disturbed look.

"You scared the bloody piss out of me," she told him with narrowed eyes, one hand pressed against her thumping heart.

His eyebrow shot up and as they stood a good six feet apart from one another Erik began to feel self-conscious about his mask. He quickly turned his head so that she could see only the left side of his face. Her gaze turned heavy and he cleared his throat.

"I apologize."

Very odd. The man's voice disarmed her. He'd only said two words yet the smooth masculine timbre that gave voice to them cut to the very heart of her anger. It was comforting…and almost hypnotic. She had detected an English accent. Nell's features softened as she considered the man across the small room. Her eyes took in his tall frame, dressed neatly in black slacks, and a white long sleeved button up shirt. His black hair was shiny and slicked back, falling just above his collar. The side of the face she could see was quite handsome. His chiseled features reminded her of someone…

"Right," she replied softly, snapping herself out of his spell. Her attention focused forward and she pulled the basket from the washing machine and placed it onto the one next to it. Her fingers reached for the coin purse inside her basket and deposited some coins into the machine, then opened the lid and adjusted the settings.

Nell tried to keep herself busy by pouring the detergent in and sorting the clothes but the man on the other side of the room was so peculiar to her- so peculiar that she couldn't keep her eyes from constantly darting in his direction. The man, she noticed, was waiting for his machine to finish its last cycle, and since he had nothing else to do he'd become fidgety, checking the settings repeatedly and opening up the lid; checking the clothing inside.

A frown came across her face as she realized that she might be losing her last bit of laundry room privacy to this man. Although, she reasoned, he didn't seem too pleased about her invasion either. She closed the lid and the two stood there in an awkward silence. Her eyes kept glancing back at him and at this point he had his back turned to her, his attention focused on flyers and business cards stapled to the bulletin board on the back wall.

Nell reached into a pocket for her cigarettes and lighter. Cigarette in mouth, she lit up and took a long puff.

The silence was killing her.

"So do ya make a habit of doing yer laundry in the dark then?"

Irritated by the smoke, Erik coughed. Why couldn't this irksome woman leave him alone, he wondered. Eyebrows furrowed, he kept his back to her, trying to hold on to what was left of his patience.

She raised an eyebrow. Puffing on her cigarette Nell leaned against her washing machine, eyeing the man curiously. "Cat got yer tongue?"

In a flash he was behind her, holding her in a deathly grip; one hand tightly covering her nose and mouth, and the other wrapped around her body. Her whimpering noises filled his ears as they pleaded for release from his cruel grip. His fingers moved from her mouth to her throat and excitement filled his veins as he contemplated snapping the woman's neck.

"Don't ya know it's bloody rude not to answer when you're being spoken to?" Nell demanded.

He shook his head, releasing himself from his fantasy. Fortunately for the older woman Erik had long since learned to control his temper and violent deaths were limited solely to his imagination.

"I said, don't you know it's bloody rude not to answer when you're being spoken to?" Nell asked in an accusatory tone.

Erik turned, baring only the left side of his face. His eyebrow shot up and inwardly he growled. "Don't you know, Madam, that smoking is a filthy habit?" he bit out icily.

A smirk overcame Nell's lips and she found a perverse pleasure in taunting the mysterious man. First, he'd invaded her laundry room, scaring the bejesus out of her as she entered, then he'd ignored her innocent queries. Nell would be damned if she was going to let some stuffy English masked man treat her like common trash. She said nothing, but only watched him with narrowed eyes, almost challenging him.

"I think it would be best if we just didn't speak...if it's all the same to you," he told her in regal tone, straightening his shoulders, ready to turn his back to her once again.

Nell's mouth fell open wide and she pursed her lips at the cheeky man. "Fine!"

"Good."

Silence.

Impatiently he lifted the lid to the washing machine once again as though with his mind he could will it to finish faster. Nell put out the last of her cigarette and with another look in the man's direction reached for another one. She lit it up in an exaggerated motion. Out of the corner of his eye he could see what she was doing and let out a sigh. In response to this she took a deep, long puff, exhaling a long stream of smoke in his direction.

Erik coughed as the smoke invaded his air and waved it away with a graceful hand, inwardly cursing the rude older woman. His mind took to fantasizing again. Gun...too quick; knife...too messy; punjab lasso...hmmm. The more he thought about it the more he favored the troublefree technique of simply snapping her neck. He could almost feel her neck in his grip again. Ahhh...the comfort of fantasies.

Silence.

Nell finished off her cigarette. She hated silences, especially awkward ones. The scowl disappeared from her face and was replaced by an expression of morbid curiosity. "So what are ya hiding under that mask?"

He rolled his eyes. "For God's sake!" With a snap of his fingers the lights went out in the laundry room.

Her mouth fell wide open in surprise. In the darkness Nell could feel the vibration from the washer against her back. She looked toward the masked man but could barely make out his figure. "Did you do that?" she demanded. "Turn the bloody lights back on!"

There was only silence as Erik smiled to himself in the darkness, extremely pleased with himself.

Nell blindly made her way to the door, her hands reaching the walls for guidance, and flipped the light switch back to the on position, illuminating the room.

Erik waited until she took her place back in front of her washer and caught her eyes narrowing at him again. He snapped his fingers once more and the room was filled with darkness.

"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed reaching out in the darkness a few feet away to the light switch, flipping it on again, but to her dismay, she found that with a snap of his fingers the light magically turned off again. Nell sighed. She didn't know who this man was or how he could do that but she knew one thing; she hated darkness more than silence.

She focused her eyes on his shadowy figure in the darkness. Grudgingly, she admitted, "You win."

With a victorious smile he stood right where he was, snapping his fingers again. The light came back on.