Everyone Loves a Hero

Chapter One - Learn to be Lonely

I've often heard people say, 'when you are in love, time means nothing.' Of course, none of these people have ever said it to my face. I've just heard it. I just know. When I hear them speak that, I cannot help but wonder... what if it were the opposite? What if you are heart broken, and lonely? What does time mean then? Freedom? Happiness? Emptiness? As I look back over the shattered remnants of my past, only one word comes to mind. Agony. Time wears and tears at you quicker than any cliffs by the sea. Time slips into infinity, like water through closed hands, always finding a way out… Time is nothing. Time is Hell.

I can still feel the ashes, choking my lungs, filling my mouth. The air is stifling. But I feel no pain. I feel no need for air, no need for water. I am numb. Cold. No heat can touch me. Even the mob, whose cries continue to echo through my head, are nothing. Their torches let nothing escape the hungry flames. I cannot see this, but I can hear it. The darkness around me is empty. Something warm and sticky slides down my chest; I must be bleeding… But I don't feel it. All I feel is my exhaustion, weighing me down into nothing. Wearily, I close my eyes, and let the fight end. For I am sick of fighting, and sick of myself. I am done. I am nothing. I am nobody.

"Erik?" No, I already told you, I am nobody. Who is this 'Erik' you speak of? "Erik Destler?" Ouch. Something collided with my cheek. I suppose, since I can't actually feel it, it is more of a natural reaction to say "ouch", just as is it natural to say "yeuch" or to scream. Light is trying to pierce my closed eyes. My feeble arm lifts, shielding my poor face from the torch light. "Erik." It isn't a question anymore. This man does not know I am a nobody yet, then. But my former name never stops, so I do the one thing I can think of. "What?" The man on his knees beside me starts. I hear a pause, a hesitance to go on… My dry tongue licks at my chapped lips, responding to the ash and the filth that covers them.

"Erik, what happened?" Well, obviously this person had not been around long. Do I even know them? My mind decides to play it safe. "I fell asleep."

The quiet scoff from beside me does not anger me. My 'story' is weak. He had every right to laugh. "You fell asleep? Did the Opera House go crashing down when it's puppeteer finally slept?"

Who was this man? Something hot licks faintly at my heart. My anger. It was then that I realize how vulnerable I am. An inhuman snarl tears it's way past my chapped lips, and I scramble away from the torch light, my eyes opening along with my mouth. He laughs. "Always the same." My mind beings to whir. He is Persian. His voice and face say that. He is not part of the mob - he would have killed me by now. He sees my struggle for recognition.

"You do not forget me already, Erik? Have you forgotten your-" Angel.

The word slips into my mind. Poison fills my mouth, and I turn away to retch harshly, clutching at the dry walls for support.

"Nadir Khan."

How hoarse my voice is! My manipulative, dangerous tool sounds ugly, like a toad… Like Carlotta. Desperately, I suck down air, hissing much of it back out when the same hand that slapped me touches my shoulder briefly. "Why are you here?" Again, the pause, as though he doesn't know why he is there either.

"I came to find you… after all these years. I came to see what life has made of you. It isn't easy finding you, you know. I-" He stops when I bunch my shoulders, as though his words are angry.

"Are you happy with what you find?" I asked quietly, too afraid to turn and look at him. Coward. "Are you satisfied to see that I have lived up to everyone's expectations of being a freak? A monster?"

Nadir is at a loss for words. Exhaustion pulls me to the floor again, though I am careful to avoid my pool of vomit. "I have been a fool, Nadir. I have been a mad fool in love. And look what it has done for me! Look what happens to fools like me!" I drop my head into my hands, my knees pressed tightly to my chest as though to protect me from the demons of the dark. Of my own dark. "And now… I have nothing."

I can hear Nadir's obvious lack of encouragement. No matter. I don't want any, anyways. There is a short silence, filled only with the crackles of flames from around the burning Opera House, and the crashes of wood as it trembled and buckled beneath it's own weight far above us. Before too long, it would be in just ashes. Like me. And eventually, some crazy fool would rebuild it, like a phoenix rising from death. Would anyone rebuild me? Could I rebuild myself? 'No,' I reflect bitterly. 'I am damned for all time.'

Nadir's hand is on my bicep now, yanking me up to stand on two wobbly, unsteady legs. His eyes are averted from my uncovered face. For the first time this evening, reason strikes me. Modestly, I reach into my pocket and withdraw a large, full, black mask, that reveals only my jaw and lips. I slip it on in silence, trying not to get ill all over the place again. "Come now, Erik. This is no place for you anymore." Nadir turns, the torch that he holds roaring faintly as it is swung through the air.

I don't remember how long it took us to get into his carriage. I don't remember arriving at the large manor that was now my own. I don't remember Nadir shoving me into a bathroom, forcing me to clean myself up. I don't remember taking a seat with him at the fire in the library and calmly spilling the whole story of Christine and Raoul and my life at the opera to him. I don't even remember going to bed. All I do remember are the gentle words I said to myself as I lay staring at the canopied ceiling of my new bed.

'I must learn to be lonely.'

I think I fell to a restless sleep after that.

End chapter one! Good evening, my fellow Phantom phans! I'm a terrible person, for not finishing my other story, but the idea ran out on me. Just a few days ago, I was hit with two kinds of bugs. A story writing bug, and the stomach bug. As I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, an idea began to weave it's way into my head.

It is a redemption story, one of love and passion. Christine and Erik DO get together again, but I must warn you, it's not going to be easy. This time, I am prepared with a full plot which I plan to work upon. The more hits my story gets, the better.

Thanks for taking your time to read this! Drop a quick one if you feel the urge to. Flames are accepted.

- PhantomPhreak