Disclaimer: I absolutely do NOT own, nor do I gain any monetary subsidies, for this fan fiction story. The characters, setting, names belong to the author that created them (Leroux, Kay), BUT the plot is all mine!
Author's Note: Hello to all, I know that you all enjoy reading my Phantom series—Love of the Deepest Kind-- I have NOT abandoned it, trust me! I have been inspired to write a new POTO story and viola! I came up with this idea after brainstorming for three days! Please review. I hope that you enjoy. It is in third person omniscient, so hopefully, that will be easier to read! Please let me know what you think, how I could make it better, what you would like to see happen. I heart feedback. Now, Chapter one.
Chapter One- Erik's Mystery Begins
Erik Desslar, a masked man with a dark past, walked into his job's headquarters. He was a special agent for the police force of the British MI6. (A/N: MI6 the agency that James Bond works for in movies, but MI6 does exist!) Erik enjoyed his job as a special agent. It always kept him on his toes and challenged him mentally. That is no small feat; he was a highly intelligent man in all aspects of life except for one- the emotional aspect. His face did not allow him to have any personal relationships, much less any woman to love him willingly. You see, he was born with a facial deformity, a severe one at that.
Doctors tried to salvage it; renowned plastic surgeons came to do their special operations on Erik's face to add greatness to their names and failed. Three years, growing from a baby to toddler, were spent in the hospitals with bandages. Unfortunately, a doctor finally had the nerves to tell his widowed mother that Erik's face was not repairable. In fact, should Erik continue with the face surgeries, he would die from infection caused by exposure. Erik had developed a great tissue deterioration that ultraviolet waves could make worse.
Erik found it ironic, later in his teens that he could die from the sunlight. It gave him a vampire quality. He was given a full-face black mask to cover the whole face, leaving the lips and shin exposed. They were the only things to be saved. His mother absolutely loathed him after his depressing diagnosis.
She sold him to a freak show that had been in town previously. There, Erik's life became a living hell. He still had the scars on his entire body to prove the suffering he experienced not only from the gypsies, but also from the other cruel people, he met. He developed a somewhat pessimistic view on man, and felt he was apart from them.
Everywhere he went, a curious stare or a puzzled gaze followed him. He was despised; people mistook him for a cult member or a serial killer wannabe. All Erik had wanted was acceptance and love. No one in the world gave it to him.
Ten years ago, a 20-year-old man, Nadir Khan, who was a police chief for the Iranian prime minister, happened to visit with Erik while on a negotiation deal with a murder suspect. Nadir found Erik locked in a cage and almost dead from a beating. Young as he was, Nadir was always a great man. He undid the bounds from Erik's wrists, checked for a pulse, had his men bring a stretcher, and took Erik to a local hospital to recover.
Nadir never left Erik's side, and grew accustomed to Erik's vicious temper and abhorrent face. Was it pity? Nadir tended to think otherwise.
He had once told Erik, "If I weren't a little stubborn and prideful myself, I doubt that I could have stayed with you."
Erik and Nadir became friends, an odd pair they were. A British agent and a Muslim police chief are not what you would call 'chummy' nowadays.
Nadir returned to Iran after learning his son had died from a disease believed to be cancer. He had definitely helped Erik get a job with MI6. As five years flew by, Erik grew bored with figuring out secret codes and finding secret terrorist locations. He wanted variety, and he found that as a special agent. He not only worked undercover as a spy, but he also traveled the world, able to make decisions on his own, captured terrorists, solve murders overseas, and live on his own. He continued working as such for the next five years.
Nadir still kept in touch, and Erik needed that. However, Erik would let hell freeze over before he would admit such a thing. Erik finally settled in a small chateau in the hills outside London, isolated from the rest of the world. He had developed a passion for architecture in St. Petersburg, Russia and Venice, Italy; grace from watching ballet at the Bolshoi Theater in Moscow; an undying love for music from the Scandinavian region; a liking for the arts from Paris; and a hunger for information from America.
Name a country. He had been there, and yet, he was oddly empty inside. Erik was a man of talents, but had no one to show the talents. In essence, he was extremely lonely. No woman had ever looked upon him with love, but hey, he had never fallen in love with a woman. He had a good life. MI6 salary kept his life above middle-class into the life of a wealthy man.
Erik had received an interesting next assignment about two months ago, involving the English prime minister's daughter. He always got the top pick of MI6 agendas; he was their best agent in the field.
He mastered the art of disappearing and appearing when necessary. Having been called the term several times, he enjoyed the term 'ghost.' Erik smirked every time his 'pet name' was used to strike fear into the hearts of evil men. He lived for justice; he had nothing else, namely, no one else to live for.
What his superiors didn't know was that they gave a case that would give meaning to Erik's life. They also didn't know that many lives would be hurt, healed, broken, and mended in the process, but that's later.
Luciana Blaine was a beautifully bright 8 year old who enjoyed what all girls love: horses, fairy tales, princesses, and games. Her world was darkened one day, unbeknownst to her, when she witnessed bribery between a judge and a convicted murderer to get his conviction overturned during a music festival in London about two weeks ago.
Erik was hired and sent to be her bodyguard, after threats were sent to Prime Minister Blaine that his daughter would be killed. Until the men were caught, Erik was to be her 'guardian angel.'
Erik may have been cold and indifferent, but this little girl could melt the hardest heart of the meanest man. She had touched his heart, whatever a heart remained.
Once Erik retrieved his assignments, he drove to the prime minister's estate near Brighton, a town outside of Sussex. Upon his arrival, he heard small footsteps approach. Luciana ran into his arms with glee.
"Erik! Erik! I have waited for you to come! Please, play with me. I am tired of the guards. They are so boring."
"Luciana, I promise I will play with you, but I must meet with your father. Do you know where he is right now?"
Luciana pouted with disappointment, but responded, "He went to a meeting at Hastings. I'm s'posed to have a class on manners!" She wriggled her nose with disdain.
"I hate that lady!"
Erik smiled and walked with her down the pathway that led to the estate on the sea cliff's edge. Erik breathed the earthy sea scent as Luciana prattled about her adventures until he had come.
While walking along the beaten path, she suddenly fell over on her chest. Erik's heart skipped two beats as he picked her up.
"Luciana! Luciana! Wake-up!"
Her eyes fluttered open and a broad smile widened on her face as she exclaimed, "I'm fine, Erik! I just tripped. That's all!"
Not quite believing that, Erik nodded and they continued on their way. Luciana stopped him at a gazebo on the side of the immense manor.
"Erik, tell me the story about the nightingale and the rose! It's my favorite story!"
Erik had heard many versions of the story, but Oscar Wilde's version was his favorite. He had told Luciana the story the last time he was here. She had been sick with a strange flu.
As he began the memorized short story of Oscar Wilde, he quoted a passage from the work,
"But the
Nightingale's voice grew fainter, and her little wings
began to
beat, and a film came over her eyes. Fainter and fainter
grew her
song, and she felt something choking her in her throat.
Then she gave
one last burst of music. The white Moon heard it,
and she forgot
the dawn, and lingered on in the sky. The red rose
heard it, and
it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its
petals to the
cold morning air. Echo bore it to her purple cavern
in the hills,
and woke the sleeping shepherds from their dreams.
It floated
through the reeds of the river, and they carried its
message to
the sea."
Luciana would always close her eyes at this part and envision the descriptions. She did not quite understand the love story, but she loved the descriptive setting and the musings from plant-life. Erik, however, understood it much more personally.
He constantly felt his heart was in that thorn, wishing to find love, and each painful throng was a reminder he would never find it.
With a sad recognition, Erik finished the tale with a slight solemn wistfulness.
" '"What
I a silly thing Love is," said the Student as he walked
away.
"It is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not
prove anything,
and it is always telling one of things that are
not going to
happen, and making one believe things that are not
true. In fact,
it is quite unpractical, and, as in this age to be
practical is
everything, I shall go back to Philosophy and study
Metaphysics."
So he
returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and
began
to read.'"
Luciana giggled with glee, "I love that story!"
Erik swelled on the inside, delighted to make someone else happy. Luciana rushed over to her small dollhouse to play with the puppets and games that Erik had brought back for her. He had brought it back from Italy where he met with some officials there on business.
When she tired of her childish games, Luciana returned to Erik who sat in a wooden swing, reading paperwork.
"Erik, please sing me a song!"
Erik set his papers aside and pulled Luciana to his lap. With his beautiful entrancing melodic voice, he sang a song from Moby.
"So
we in sleep in beds we never made The morning sun is sweet and soft on your eyes And oh how it rains And oh how it rains So we take some time
and slip away The evening sun is
sweet and soft in your face And
oh how it rains And oh how it rains
Holding close to love, when love
should fade
Holding on to this is the best thing we'll ever
do
Oh my
love, you always leave me surprised
I feel my heart start to
burst
With all my love for you
And
oh how it pours
I never could feel this way
For anyone but
you
And oh how it pours
I never
could feel this way
For anyone but you
Holding on to love, when love should stay
Holding
on to you is the best thing I'll ever do
Oh I'll never, ever leave this place
I
feel my heart start to burst
With all my love for you
And oh how it pours
I never could feel this
way
For anyone but you
And oh how it
pours
I never could feel this way
For anyone but you"
Luciana now slept in his arms. Erik sighed, knowing he would never share this love song with another. He took Luciana and set her in her bed for a nap.
As he passed the guards on his way out, Erik ordered, "Don't let her out of your sight. I have to meet with the Prime Minister. He expects me in three hours."
They nodded.
Erik rode the Amtrak in silence, pondering his meaningless existence. His past was a much darker one. He did not want to return to being that man; a man afraid to live in the sunlight. He touched his satin mask in contempt. He could have been famous, a singer, architect, writer, composer, and musician, but he must stay in the shadows. No one would understand his face. No one.
Erik finally met up with Prime Minister Blaine at the Hastings conference center at the Embassy building.
As they sat down, Erik tried to ignore the leader's unblinking stare at his face. Erik finally glared viciously at him to make him stop.
"So, Mister Desslar, have you found any evidence to tell us who is sending the threats?"
"Nothing concrete, but MI6 is currently sending out operatives in disguise throughout the Wales and Northern Ireland areas. We hope to gain some insight from the public."
"This means that you have done absolutely nothing…"
"Except keep your daughter ALIVE!" Erik yelled forcefully. He loathed it whenever some ungrateful jerk unjustifiably criticized his job.
Prime Minister Blaine suddenly and wisely shut his mouth as Erik went over all the paperwork accumulated over the past two weeks, including a possible witness/suspect…Joseph Buquet…
"Just do whatever you can to keep my little girl safe."
"What do think I have been doing?" Erik questioned venomously.
He and the leader rode returned to the estate on Sussex in Brighton. However, to their dismay, ambulances and police cars polluted the front yard.
Erik and Luciana's father jumped out of the car and raced over, dreading to hear the inevitable news.
Erik shouted to a police officer, "What happened!"
The police officer, with remorse in his face that only agitated Erik more, answered, "The little girl was found dead in her bed. No marks or gunshots were anywhere. It's as if she died in her sleep."
Erik bolted to the ambulance in time to see Rowland Blaine scream in anguish as the officials closed the body bag to Luciana's pale and eerily peaceful face. Erik felt the world crumble beneath his feet as his heart stopped.
How could this have happened? How could such a lively girl who loved him suddenly die?
Erik then felt his temper flare. He hurried to his car and began to smash it with a crowbar to beat out his anger at the death. The guards and others refused to stop him. They knew better, a good thing to, because Erik would have smashed their heads in if they tried to stop him. Once he calmed down, he collapsed as fresh hot tears claimed his masked face.
Erik hated to show weakness, but at that point, he did not care.
Author's Note: Yay! Chapter one is finished! Please review and let me know what you think! So now I shall await them at my computer. Christine enters the picture in the next chapter! (I told you it would be original!)
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