AN: This is my first stab at Phantom fanfiction. The idea sprung to my head yesterday and I had to write it. Keep in mind that this Phantom universe is a mixture of Susan Kay and the movie/musical. I decided to make my Erik have the white half mask, however. Reviews would be wonderful and would give me an incentive to continue. Constructive Criticism is also welcome!

Prologue

The streets of Paris were unseasonably cold that night. The rain from earlier in the day collected in the various crevices of the streets, puddles no matter where one stepped. A very light drizzle fell upon his cloak as he walked through the dingy back alleyways. He was driven to this darkness, trying to not catch attention from others in the light of street lamps. The cold dampness of the night reminded him of his home underneath the Paris Opera House. But the cool breeze was infinitely more enjoyable than the stillness of his caved home.

All the stage makeup in France couldn't ever completely conceal the horror of his deformity. So he made for himself a human-looking mask to conceal the rotted half of his face. With his cloak and hat, as well as the darkness of Paris' back alleys, he could wander virtually unnoticed. These constitutionals he occasionally took were as much for his enjoyment as for necessity. He needed more staff lined paper, fountain pens, and tools for a small project he had the desire to work on. He was to meet Jules at his home for the items he needed.

Jules had been Erik's "agent" in the outside world, for supplies he needed to live underneath the opera house. Food, clothing, and other various items were purchased by Jules, with the money Erik left him; funds which he received from the managers of his opera house. Jules would often have the items delivered to Erik, but this week he decided to get them from Jules himself. He hadn't been outside in quite sometime, he needed the exercise. In exchange for his services, Erik made sure that Jules' family was well taken care of, that they always had enough food, and that his children would receive a good education when they were older. If there was anything that he could thank his mother for before he ran away from home, it was that she tried to give him a good education.

Erik arrived at Jules' home, softly knocking on the door. The door slowly opened, allowing Erik passage inside.

"Monsieur..." Jules responded, with a bow of his head, as Erik entered. "I acquired all the items you asked for, Monsieur." He said closing the door.

"Very good." Erik answered, staring at the timid little man. Erik found it amusing that after all the years under his employment, Jules was still not comfortable around him. Though Jules' fear of him meant that Erik would never have to worry about Jules abusing his trust.

"I purchased your tools at the clock shoppe, and the clerk even offered to give me some gears and other mechanisms from pieces that were broken beyond repair at no extra cost." Jules continued, leading Erik into the next room where his purchases were laying, bundled in brown paper. Erik smiled slightly, Jules knew him well. Erik sat down at the table, making himself comfortable. Jules did the same, internally scolding himself for not offering him a seat.

"How is Madame Bernard and the rest of your family, Jules?" Erik asked cooly, crossing his legs.

"Oh! We, we are doing quite well Monsieur!" Jules exclaimed, shooting up from his chair. "Would you like a drink Monsieur?" Erik waved his hand and shook his head slightly.

"No, that won't be necessary. I don't plan to stay long." Jules slowly sunk back into his chair. "There has been an illness going around. You've been keeping the children well-clothed? It has been unusually cold lately."

"Oh yes Monsieur! The children are quite healthy, I assure you. Annette and I have been making them stay inside throughout most of the day."

"Very good." Erik said, standing up, Jules followed. "Well I shall take my leave of you now." He said, taking the brown package from the table. Jules quickly lead the way to the door, holding it open for Erik to exit.

"Before I leave!" Erik said, swiftly turning back to Jules. "Here is your payment for this week." He said, pulling a small bag from his pocket. "Be sure to use a bit of it for some sweets for your children." Erik smiled, turning and walking back out into the cold.

"I will, Monsieur, thank you." Jules shouted, before closing the door.

Erik made his way back to the opera house. The rain had become heavy again and the wind blew harder. Erik quickened his pace through the dark streets. He noticed a couple walking down an alley he was about to take. In order to not be noticed he opted to take the longer route back. 'No one should be around there.' he thought to himself.

It was one of Paris' poorest neighborhoods. A stark contrast to the clean, upper class neighborhood where the Opera was located. The smell was ungodly and the rain made it no better. Trash and sludge from the sewers polluted the streets. Rats feasted on what little scraps were left on the streets. Erik passed one dilapidated house after another; some were nearly burned to the ground. 'There must have been a fire', he theorized. He was about to make the turn to towards the street which ran to the back of the opera house when he heard the small sound of despair. He paused and turned, it sounded like something in pain. He slowly walked down to the next street, the sounded becoming more recognizable with each step. It was the sound of crying.

Erik went towards the source of the sound. A small house, barely standing due to the recent fire. He entered, cautiously, hoping no one else was there. The rain from outside was just as strong inside the house, making the wood even more prone to the inevitable collapse. He looked through the darkness, trying to find what he was looking for. He heard the sound again, yet it was still faint. He looked against the corner of a wall, and saw something move. Walking over, he knelt next to the bundle. It was a child, probably less than two years old. He carefully lifted the child into his arms, putting his hand on it's chest. The child was barely alive.

Erik looked at the child. The child had nothing visibly wrong with it, though it was quite small. It was obvious that the house he found it in wasn't it's original home. 'Someone must have abandoned you here.' he thought, putting the child close to his chest to keep it warm.

He knew the feeling of abandonment, infanticide wasn't uncommon in Paris. It was something Erik's mother had no doubt tried to do to him when he was born, she ignored him enough when he was a toddler. He and the child had a similar fate, parents who cursed them to darkness, to death. He could have just as easily left the child to die, as was intended, but his conscience would not allow him to destroy such innocence. Erik knew he would have to hurry back if he were to save this orphan's life.