Hey there! Thanks so much for even clicking on my story. I'm super excited because this is my very first fanfic so I'm going to see how this goes, if you guys like it or not. If yes, then this story will be my baby :D My phantom and Christine are none other than the Emmy Rossum and Gerard Butler duo. Partly because I can't imagine my story another way. So basically everyone from the 2004 movie version will my characters. We begin our story not in 1870 (like in the movie) but in 1862 eight years prior.

In 1862:

Christine will be 8

Our phantom will be 17

Madame Giry will be 28

Meg will be 7

Raoul will be 13

I know that the ages don't exactly match up but I need them this way. I will keep Erik's gypsy backstory the same from the movie. But in my world Madame Giry saved Erik when he was 8 and she 19. I hope you like it! I apologize for any spelling errors in advance. And please feel free to leave any comment/concern/compliment etc. or you can PM me. I would love to know what you guys think! I do not own the phantom or anything with it.

Summary:

Eight years before the events that occurred at the Opera Populaire. A young Erik witnesses a freak accident which robs Christine's father and her sight. Will she lose herself in her grief? Or will they find each other in the darkness? E/C

Chapter 1

1862

It was a rather normal night, no different from the usual darkness my soul was accustomed to. However, I still do not know what compelled me that evening to emerge from my domain. My body must have secretly known of the events that would transpire, which ultimately changed my life forever.

I exited the opera house from a hidden door on the Rue Scribe. After my many months of seclusion I quickly found my way to the shadows of the street. I never did like being around people. They were all rotten in their own way, yet I could not help but stare and watch them from afar. No matter how cruel they can be I always found it very intriguing how they interact with one another. My eyes came across a brother and sister over the age of no more than eleven or twelve it seemed. A pale curly red headed boy pulling at his sister's equally curly red hair. How quaint.

I turned the corner and walked over to the front of the Opera Populaire. My eyes then wandered to an elderly woman carrying a basket full of bread. Her motherly nature reminds me of Madame Giry and how protective she is of her daughter. Whose name surprisingly escapes me at the mome-ah yes I believe it is Meg. All I know from what Antoninette has shared with me is that her husband died some time ago. And that is why she returned to the opera house after she had left to start a family years back.

Back to my current predicament, I pulled my collar up and tipped my hat over the right side of my face in hopes to conceal as much of my mask as I could. I stayed there for hours upon hours, watching. Before I knew it the owner of the cafe Populaire closed up his shop. Soon I was the only one standing before the architectural beauty that was the opera house, I, a mere ant compared to it. I assume it is a beautiful sight to behold during the day, however I prefer the glorious monstrosity it projects at nighttime (for the most part because I can not simply walk out in the middle of the square and announce my hideous presence in the sunlight). Why give these people a free show? Why- I was immediately stopped from my train of thought when I was met with the sound of hooves over my right shoulder. I quickly hid behind a bush not too far away. I peered over the bush to find that it was indeed a horse (a stallion none the less) lead by a rather heavy set looking man.

Is he riding bareback?

What a peculiar sight this was. What is a man doing in front of the opera house at this hour? He must have known that surely there would be no one around. This is very odd.

"Christine. Christine, my darling wake up."

Christine? Who was he talking to? Before I knew it a little head popped out from the front of the man's coat.

"Are we there yet papa?"

"Yes my dear we are here, look."

She turned her head, "Oh papa it's beautiful!"

"I told you we would make it. See how the grand lights illuminate the opera house? And look here...it seems we have the whole square to ourselves."

"Papa can we stay until dawn? I want to watch the sun rise."

"Anything you want darling."

"Poor Cesar" said the little child patting the stallions long mane, "he must be tired too."

"Well let's bring him around to that post shall we?" said the man as he lead the horse into a trot to a nearby lamppost.

That's when it happened. It was rather quick yet that very moment would change my fate in the blink of an eye. Something must have spooked the horse because it started to jump around as if it were a frog. The poor man tried to settle it down but his attempts were in vain. The horse succeeded in throwing off the man from it's back onto the floor where it continued and began trampling the man. All the while the little girl held onto the stallion's mane, clutching at any handfuls of strands she could manage. Any sort of happiness that was previously on her face turned into terrifying realization of what was happening. She looked around screaming for help but not long after she too was thrown off the horse. The screaming stopped as soon as her skull made contact with the ground.

After checking the surrounding to make sure that we were indeed the only ones in the square I quickly made my way to their side. I went to settle the horse first to make sure that it would no longer be a danger to the man it was crushing.

Once I tied up the horse I went over to the small silent girl who was laying on her stomach. I turned her over and felt for any sign of life. Other than a cut she received under the curve of her head she seemed to be alright, just unconscious from the blow. She was breathing so that was a good sign. After examining the girl I made my way over to her father. He, however, was not so lucky. The man was almost unrecognizable, the horse seemed to have crushed his entire face. His lips were busted and looked a shade of dark plum, his nose off to the right and both eyes were swollen shut. I searched for his breath, a pulse, anything but I was not as fortunate as I was with his daughter. As I placed his head down I touched the back of his neck and felt a bump. I turn the man on his side to further inspect it but found that the man had broken his neck. He was most certainly dead.

After my discovery I simply say next to the dead man. What am I to do now? I can't just leave them here. I looked over the the young girl still unconscious. She looked so peaceful. Yet here she was, a few feet away from the corpse of her father.

Why me?! I looked up the sky waiting for some divine answer. But when none came I made my way over to the black stallion and brought him before the two strangers on the ground. I grabbed the man and (with extreme difficulty) threw him onto the back of the horse. After securing that he was well enough on the horse, and that his body wouldn't fall I brought the stallion and the deceased over to the girl. I grabbed the small child and carried her in my arms. Just as I was about to throw her too onto the back of the horse I looked down at her face. She looked so innocent, so pure. If she only knew what type of demon was looking back at her she wouldn't be as quiet. Nonetheless I could not compel myself to lay her next to her dead father. So I threw her over my left shoulder and made my way to the one place I could call home.

I would love to know what you think. Thanks a million!