A/N: Hey guys hope you like this story. If you don't please let me know why and not in a I-am-going-to-bash-you-up-coz-your-story-sucks way. Lol

Disclaimer: I'm going to get so rich coz of this story...wait...pardon?...Bugger. That was my lawyer informing me that between Leroux and Andrew Lloyd Webber I don't make any any profit. Rats. Oh well. Hats off to those two brilliant people who came up with the idea! And now my story:

Erik Durrante rubbed his eyes wearily as he stood up from his seat. Eight hours ago he had departed from France and despite flying first class, hadn't managed to get a wink of sleep. It was because of the music. Music permeated every aspect of Erik's life. It surrounded him. Anything he did or felt was accompanied by a melody that seemed to present itself from somewhere in the depths of his mind. While this was somewhat unusual, it was very helpful in his line of work. Erik was and had been a composer for the French Opera Company since he was twenty years old. The two men who currently owned the company, Firmin and Andre, were happy to let Erik run the rehearsals in his own unusual way. Why would they mind? Erik's operas were incredibly successful and brought in a huge amount of money. Not bad for a thirty year old. Those within the company had grown accustomed to Erik's strange ways. Erik did not run the rehearsals but had chosen an older lady, Madame Giry, to carry out his instructions during rehearsals. Madame Giry had originally overseen the ballet dancers of the company, but her arthritis prevented her from fully participating in the instruction of the dancers. She had handed the reins over to her daughter Meg Giry, and accomplished ballet dancer in her own right. Madame Giry would stay on the ground during rehearsals while Erik floated above in the rafters, occasionally allowing his voice to carry down to the stage below if he wasn't satisfied. Erik had temporarily left all of that behind in France; he was now disembarking from the plane in Cleveland, Ohio. As he walked into the arrivals lounge, a security officer approached him.

'Mr. Durrante?' he asked.

'That's me,' Erik replied.

'Sir, if you could please come with me to the security centre, we would appreciate it.' Erik frowned. The man was addressing him in a polite manner, but his vice contained a verbal sneer and his smile was more of a smirk.

'Of course,' Erik said. 'May I ask what this is about?'

'As soon as we get to the office, Mr. Durrante.' The man began arrogantly walking away, not bothering to check that Erik was following him. The man walked to the other side of the room and entered a pin code, leading Erik into what appeared to be the main security centre at the airport and then into a smaller room that resembled the type of police interrogation rooms that you saw on crime shows on the TV. The man gestured at one of the chairs.

'If you would please take a seat, sir, Christine will be here in just a moment to deal with this.' He left with one last smirk, closing the door behind him. Erik frowned. He did not like being referred to something that needed to be dealt with. He was more confused than ever. What is going on and who on earth is Christine? About thirty seconds later, the door opened again. In walked a beautiful woman with dark long flowing hair, green eyes, porcelain skin, and a sparkling smile. She looked to be in her mid-twenties. Erik automatically rose from his seat as the woman walked in.

'Monsieur Durrante, it's lovely to meet you. My name is Christine and I'm a security officer at this airport.'

'Pleasure to meet you, Miss Christine. What can I do for you?' he replied. His deep baritone voice sent shivers down Christine's spine.

'I must apologise ahead of time about what I have to ask you to do. As you know, security at all airports has been increased since the event of September 11, and this means we have to be very careful about who is coming into this country. As a result of this, I'm afraid I have to ask you to remove your mask in order to confirm your identity.' Erik froze. His white half mask was the only thing that shielded him from the mockery of the cruel world. Christine continued.

'I am really sorry, sir, but this is a direct order so I can't disobey it.'

Erik was still trying to comprehend the situation. They wanted him to remove his mask and expose himself? And on top of that they had to send in a gorgeous woman who would probably faint at the sight of him. Looking up he saw that Christine's eyes were full of sympathy. He sighed. It wasn't her fault. She had sounded upset, even angry that her superiors were forcing her to do this. Of course she'd be upset. She doesn't want to look at my horrible face, he thought bitterly.

'Very well,' he said. Erik planned to take his mask of, allow her a glimpse of his face, and then put the mask back on again as quickly as possible. He removed his mask with his eyes closed, unwilling to watch the woman's expression change from one of sympathy to revulsion. Erik waited for the disgusted gasp. When he heard nothing, he opened his eyes to see Christine leaning closer to him in order to get a better look. Erik was so shocked that he forgot to rush to put his mask back on. Christine didn't look revolted or as if she was going to throw up; the only expression on her face was one of curiosity.

'Acid burns,' she muttered. Erik gaped, even more shocked. How the hell did she know that?

'Excuse me?' he said. Christine blushed.

'I'm sorry. I just said they were acid burns. I shouldn't have commented.'

'No, don't worry about that. I mean how do you know? Do you have a file on me?' Erik demanded.

'No, sir. I work two jobs and one of them is at the Daae Home which is retirement home as well as what I guess you would call a community of disabled...but not exactly. It's a place where those who could live and survive in the real world but chose not to because of a condition or deformity. There are currently five burns victims in the Home; two with third degree burns, two with electrical burns, and one with acid burns. That's how I recognised the type of burns you have. I'm really sorry, I shouldn't have said anything,' Christine said with a downcast expression. So that's why she didn't react.

'It's quite alright. If that's all you need, then I should be going,' he said.

'Of course. Thank you for your time and cooperation.' Erik stood and put his mask back on. Christine escorted him out of the security centre. Erik collected his baggage and left the airport more rattled and exhausted than when he arrived.