A/N: I really shouldn't have spent all night writing this, but the story got in my head and it wouldn't get out until I wrote it. I cleaned it up a bit this morning and now I think I'll share it with you.

Though the story of what happened with Christine is taken from Leroux, Erik's personality is based on no version at all.

Further notes after the story.

It was the final evening of summer, and hopefully the final evening of his life.

The night was a beautiful one. The sky was unusually clear and full of stars; autumn's chill had just begun and it mixed with the warmth of a fine summer night, creating the perfect weather for a stroll. Of course, being a man in a mask who did not care for stares, there weren't very many places for him to take a stroll in. After nearly an hour of wandering aimlessly he happened upon an old graveyard. The pale grey, black and graying white headstones were overrun with ivy and other foliage. He could barely get the tall black gate to open for all the plants that had attached themselves to it.

He stepped into the graveyard and breathed a sigh of relief…it was empty as far as he could see. There would be no more stares here.

Erik roamed the graveyard and observed how old, overrun and…perfect it was, in it's imperfection. Ivy, elderberry and thistles grew everywhere, among other strangely beautiful weeds. Most of the gravestones were so old it was impossible to read the names or dates on them. None of the dead had been left flowers or gifts of any sort for quite some time…the dark red roses that looked the most recent must have been dead for four months. The only colors besides green were the purple blossoms on the thistles, and even those were beginning to look a little grey.

It was quiet, lonely…the perfect place to get lost in thoughts and memories; the kind of memories he normally banished, but also the kind that he would allow to comfort him in his last hours.

It wasn't until nearly ten minutes later he noticed another person in his small graveyard sanctuary.

A young woman sat on a bench that had not managed to be overrun with plants yet. In fact, the bench was surrounded by flowers that were oddly alive and vibrant with color. Small bushes of yellow roses, bright purple irises, pale pink lilies, purple-and-white crocus that grew in groups, pale purple violets and blue larkspur blossoms were at her feet. Strange…he didn't think most of those grew in France.

But what were stranger then the flowers or the fact that she was alone, was that the woman seemed almost more then a mere woman…her beauty almost suggested true angelic quality. Her face was youthful, though the word was an understatement. Her face alone made it appear as though she were a girl in a woman's body, very much like his Christine's had looked. In fact, her face held emotions that reminded him very much of Christine. The woman's face showed innocence, though also a quiet misery.

She had a small nose with a small point; her large, exotic and bewitching purple eyes stared up at the night sky, and were lined with dramatic black lashes. Her skin was unusually fair and unblemished, and almost seemed to glow with her youth. Her hair was fiery red and fell in soft curls past her shoulders. Her lips were also very unusual…full and pale pink and set in a soft smile, but stained with a blood red liquid…he was worried until he noticed the pomegranate sitting in her lap.

Erik's eyes drifted from her dazzlingly perfect face to her body. It was willowy and long; her slim legs stretched out in front of her for eternity before ending at dainty bare feet. Her arms were much the same: long, thin and ending with small hands with lengthy fingers which were entwined and held the dark red, open pomegranate. The soft curve of her small breasts (the only thing which confirmed that this was not a child besides her height) was hidden by a very strange dress. She wore what appeared to be a sheet around her thin body, a dark cream one that nearly matched her skin. It wrapped around her twice, and then was pinned to one shoulder with a diamond brooch, the other shoulder left bare.

The brooch was not the only jewelry she wore. For a woman dressed so cheaply, she wore many jewels. A necklace of rubies clung to her throat while one of emeralds and sapphires hung almost low enough to touch her petite waist. Bracelets of diamonds rested on her small wrists, two on each. Emerald clips pinned curls out of her heart-shaped face.

Erik had never in his life seen a stranger sight, and he had seen quite a number of extraordinary things in his long lifetime.

After a minute or two of standing in shock, Erik moved as quietly as he could into the shadows (and his quietest was almost as silent as…well, the grave).

But already the girl's eyes had moved to look into Erik's with detached curiosity.

"Hello," she greeted. Her voice was smooth and soft and light, and musical. The girl was quite obviously a singer, for no one else could have a voice so perfectly pitched with a single word. It also had a little girl's innocence about it, with a touch of sadness; her voice matched her face perfectly. "What are you doing here?"

Her French was flawless but held the slightest accent, and one which he couldn't place. Italian almost, and strangely warm, if an accent could have a temperature.

Erik felt the urge to turn and run, but he had never once run from a fight, and this was simply a woman. Besides, he was intrigued. He wanted – had – to know what this enigma of a woman was.

"Good evening," he greeted, his voice cold in comparison to her warmth but infinitely more beautiful. "I am on a walk. And you, mademoiselle?"

"I am watching the stars…particularly Callisto," the girl-woman answered and returned her gaze to the night sky.

Erik followed her gaze, but was not familiar with the constellation she had named. "Callisto?"

The girl-woman looked back at him briefly before looking back up to the stars. "Ah, my apologies. I mean Ursula Major, of course."

"Of course." Erik looked at the girl-woman in confusion. In which language did 'Callisto' translate to 'ursula major'?

His attention was suddenly drawn to her violet eyes, which reflected the stars in unshed tears.

"Monsieur." Her voice now held a slight tremor. She turned to him, and her obvious sorrow drew him forward until he stood beside her. Something about the child-like sadness in her face made him feel safe, and the look of a woman with a broken heart made him feel sympathetic. Some part of him wanted to reach out and comfort her.

"Monsieur," she said again. "Have you ever fallen in love?"

The urge to comfort had quickly become an urge to kill, as though choking the life out of this girl would destroy the pain caused by the question that had fallen from her pale lips. But a minute of deep breaths restored his calm…he did not need the murder of an innocent girl on his conscience before going on to heaven, or to hell, or wherever it was he would go.

"Yes," he finally answered.

"What did you do?" she asked. "Did you ask to marry her?"

Erik quickly sat beside the girl before his legs gave out.

"Yes," he choked out, his angelic voice cracking.

The girl didn't seem to notice his distress.

"And? Did she say yes?" When he didn't answer, she continued. "Did she say no? Were you angry? What did you do? Please, tell me!"

She seemed desperate for his story. She let the fruit fall from her hands and it fell beside her feet. She used her hands to grip the sleeve of his coat and she stared into his eyes with her captivating lavender ones.

Of all the strange things about her, this desperation to know about him was certainly the strangest.

"I…you really want to know?"

"Yes!" she exclaimed.

"Truly?"

"Yes."

Erik sighed and glanced around the graveyard before meeting her lilac eyes.

"Her name was Christine, and she was sweet, and pure, and sad. I comforted her with lies, but I eventually told her the truth and took her to my home. Unfortunately, due to circumstances I would rather not discuss, I had to keep her there. When she left, I thought she loved me. But there was another man, one she had known in her childhood, and she loved him. I was very angry, and I abducted her and put her…into a terrible situation. I made her choose between…well, ultimately, between myself and her boy…however…" he did not want to share the fact that if she had chosen the boy he would have killed a great many people, but it was important to his story.

What did it matter, though, really? He would be dead soon. If she was frightened, then she had brought it upon herself. Besides, he had already told this girl he had kidnapped Christine, and she didn't seem the slightest bit disturbed.

"I told her that if she did not choose me, I would kill her, myself, and many other people…" he paused to observe the girl's face, but there was not a trace of fear. It was almost as though a man who abducted women and threatened to kill them while claiming to love them was an ordinary thing to her.

The girl had calmed down; well, she had released her grip on him, at any rate. Her iris-colored eyes were filled with more tears, though, some of which had spilled over onto her pale cheeks. He handed her a handkerchief he had placed in his jacket pocket for decoration, though he wasn't sure why he bothered.

"Strange…" she whispered, her voice making her sound…broken. "I wonder if all men act that way?"

Erik almost laughed at her naivety.

"No, I expect they do not. Why do you ask such a thing?"

"You are very much like…"

"Very much like who?"

"My husband."

Erik stared at her in surprise. She wore no ring at all, and she was alone in a graveyard at night…what man would let his wife be in such a dangerous situation?

"He abducted me, too," the girl informed him. "He fell in love with me while he watched me picking flowers, and he kidnapped me and took me to his…home. My father arranged a marriage between us. I did not love him then and do not love him still, but I have grown to understand him a little."

Erik stared at her in shock. He had thought his situation unique, and finding that it wasn't, and that in another man's life it hadworked…! What a forgiving woman, and what a handsome man he must be to be able to win such forgiveness.

Erik observed the jewels on her again. He also must be very rich. Perhaps he was aristocracy as well as good-looking. He felt a strong urge to meet this man.

"And where is your husband, madame?"

She gave him a small, sad smile. "Oh, he will be here soon."

"May I ask why you are waiting for him in a graveyard, alone, at such a late hour?"

She wiped the tears from her face and laughed. "You will see."

"Will I? Well,-"

At that moment he began to have a coughing fit. The girl-woman handed him the handkerchief and he quickly covered his mouth. When he pulled it away minutes later, there was blood staining it. He had been right after all…this was his last night alive.

He glanced to the girl who was staring the blood droplets with some wonder, but no horror. What a curious girl she was.

"Are you dying?" She asked with enough morbid interest that she could have been a grave-digger.

"Yes," Erik answered her. She nodded sagely.

"I see," she said simply.

They sat for a moment in silence, and then the girl-woman sighed.

"I am sure your Christine will never forget you, and will mourn your passing."

She had answered his worst fear as though she were reciting fact.

"No offense, Madame, but you do not know her."

"If she is as sweet as you say, I know her well enough."

The woman spoke the truth, Erik knew. Christine was too sweet and kind-hearted to not mourn the passing of her angel, her poor Erik.

He looked into her aster eyes and tried to give her a smile through the mask. He thought she saw it in his eyes…she gave him a smile as well.

Suddenly the earth began to shake. Erik looked around in alarm as headstones cracked and trees shook, but the girl sat calmly, though perhaps looking a little sadder.

The shaking only lasted a moment, and when it was over there was the sound of horses not far off. The girl-woman slowly stood, and then faced Erik and gave a small curtsey.

"I thank you for your companionship these past minutes," she said. "My husband is here now…I must go."

Then two woman appeared by the girl-woman's side. One was old, the other young, but both were transparent. Erik slowly stood and stared at them in fear, but they did not seem to notice him at all.

"My Lady Queen, your husband waits with his chariot to take you home," the older spirit said.

"Queen?" Erik asked in surprise.

The girl-woman smiled at him, and he thought for a moment that she might have winked.

"Yes," she said. "Kore is my true name - and Queen is my title - but you should call me Persephone."

And then she turned and walked with her spirit escorts to the back gate. As she walked Erik saw her vibrant red hair fade until it was almost white, and her slight figure somehow became even smaller. The younger spirit opened the gate for her, but she hesitated. She turned back to Erik, and he saw her eyes had turned from purple to silver. She reached into a pocket he had not noticed before, and pulled something small out. She it to him and he quickly caught it and held it in his fist, and she gave him another sweet smile.

"You will need that. Keep it in your pocket," she said, and then she turned and disappeared.

Erik watched the open gate in shock, and then looked back to where she had sat. The flowers that had surrounded her were quickly turning brown with death.

He opened his palm to look at the object she had thrown him.

A single gold coin.

A/N: Persephone is, of course, the Queen of the Underworld in Greek Mythology. With the similarities between her story and Phantom, I've always wondered what might happen should she and Erik meet. Originally I wanted to write a full-length story but I really don't have the time. If anyone else has written/will write one then please let me know. I'd love to read it!

The title of this one-shot is the meaning of Persephone's original name 'Kore', for those of you who don't know.

She gave him a gold coin, since Charon the ferryman won't take anyone across the river Styx and into Hades unless paid.

Yes, I realize that Persephone's eye color kept changing. I used names of different purple flowers to describe them, since if she hadn't been kidnapped by Hades, she probably would have become the Goddess of Spring, or flowers, or something.

The flowers that were growing at her feet are supposed to have been in the bouquet she was gathering when Hades abducted her.

Thanks for reading, and please review.