This is one I started a long time back as a mirror to Phantom Filled Logs of a Toast Loving Teen. Sort of a more serious half if you will. Less humor because this time it's me who gets dumped back in then. A little more scary for the me, and it throws me off. This will NOT be an ErikxOtherWoman. I would not be romantically interested in Erik. He would NOT be romantically interested in me. Christine is his love.


I leaned my head back against the bricks, groaning. I wasn't sure we'd ever go to the park at this point. A simple sleepover, was that so much to ask for? I had slept over at Crystal's house, planned a trip to the park to watch the sun rise and we get caught up in an argument with Shane.

I swung my backpack onto my shoulder and stood, moving over to get between them. This all started when Shane decided to mention Crystal's book. A book of spells written in Latin. As always "You can read Latin?" swiftly fell into a heated shouting match on whether or not spells actually worked. I held Shane's point of view, but I didn't want to deal with this right now.

Besides that, it had gotten to the point where we were probably waking people up. By now Crystal was shouting incantations from the book at Shane, and he looked about to lunge for her throat. I stepped between them, clearing my throat to make my own speech to shut them both up.

What I found happening next though was not what I had hoped. I had hoped for some peace, a nice casual stroll to the park, and to catch the tail end of a beautiful sunrise. What I found was myself six feet above the ground. My mind hardly had time to process this before I hit the ground with significant force. I cried out, curling up against the pain, and rolling to look at my friends.

I wanted to stand, to throw something at whichever one tossed me aside. However, my anger had to be shoved aside for neither friend was in sight. Nor was the quiet neighborhood we had been standing in. I came to face a deserted cobble stone street. The shop signs were in a language I recognized to be French, and the obvious lack of technology had my mind going numb in seconds.

I hadn't yet pieced together what had happened. I was still reeling with the pain of landing so rough, and the facts laid before me were far too crazy to lead to any sort of rational conclusion. I slowly made to pull myself up, tears rolling down my face as I held my arm. It was bleeding, cut on the stone. My leg didn't feel too good either, but as far as I could tell it was neither broken nor bleeding. I limped a few paces, picking up my bag and looking around nervously. I had no idea where I was, and I wasn't inclined to go along with my first and so far only theory.

A hand landed on my shoulder, and I jumped and nearly stumbled on my bad leg. But the stranger caught me. He had dark skin, and looked to me with a questioning expression. He spoke to me, asking me something, and I assumed it was whether or not I was alright. I couldn't understand French though, nor could I speak it. I shook my head, motioning to my mouth as if I were trying to communicate inability to speak with someone without hearing. I knew it was stupid, but he only nodded, motioning to follow him. I shook my head firmly. I wasn't about to follow a strange man wherever he wanted me to go. But he indicated my clothing, and the buildings around there. I knew I had no choice. I would stand out terribly, and he had just effectively pointed this out. Who said language barriers were impassible?

I clutched my bag and followed him, moving as swiftly as my injured leg permitted, my other hand still pressed over the cut. I cursed myself for not having a first aid kit in my bag. God knows I had everything else. I had a pill container with almost every legal medication one could ever find occasion for. I had a flashlight, various tools, and even a space blanked for God's sake! I was the paranoid freak child who was prepared for any disaster. Any disaster but this one of course.

When we reached a modest apartment, I stopped in my tracks outside. This was probably the stupidest thing I had ever done. Was I really going to be led into a strange man's apartment just like that? He seemed to know what I was thinking, and indicated my arm and the door, speaking reassuring words I couldn't understand. I sighed, biting my lip and following him. I tensed though, keeping my wits about me. If he tried anything, I'd be sure to put up a good fight. Probably more than he thought me capable of. I just hoped it didn't come to that.

Once inside, he relaxed a bit, and I wondered if he had worried, walking with me. I self consciously looked over my clothing. For my time it was very modest clothing, but from what I had seen so far, this wasn't my time. I probably looked like a rat from the gutters. Not the kind of company an honorable man would want to be seen in the presence of. I blushed terribly, and looked away when he returned with a wet cloth and some gauze bandages. I muttered a quiet thank you, to which he raised an eyebrow. It was the first time I spoke since he saw me. He said a few things, indicating himself and "Nadir Khan". I knew what it was, an introduction, but my face paled considerably.

My head reeled with possibilities and theories of what had actually happened here. My sub conscious covered for me for the time being, introducing myself as Robin. I was in the past, that much was obvious. Was I willing to admit that was actually what happened though? Was it that Latin spell Crystal was screaming about? I got in-between them. But Nadir? Really? France… Paris this must be then. But how? And how did I come to meet him in particular. No, it was far easier to accept that Crystal had slammed me over the head with a hefty leather-bound spell book and this was some comatose fantasy. But then why did everything hurt so much?

I pulled myself out of thought, realizing he had once again begun to speak. He motioned for me to stay there, and put the cloth in my hand, directing it to the wound on my arm. He also indicated the door, and a servant in the next room looking in. "Darius." He spoke. I assumed he meant if I needed anything, I should try to tell Darius what it was. I was worried he was leaving, but my mind was too dizzied with various conclusions to really do anything about it. I merely nodded, and continued to dab away the blood with the cloth.

I tied up my arm, sighing as I then inspected my leg. Just twisted. I didn't even think it was sprained too badly. I knew I was lucky not to have broken anything. It was a decent fall. Why did I fall? I didn't even know how I got to travel back in time. What was it, time slip phenomenon? I remembered hearing something about that, but not much. And it wasn't as if it were considered possible. And more than that, I had not only changed times but entire continents. I had started the day in upstate New York, and here I was. In Nadir Khan's living room. What did he think of me? I had no way of communicating with him.

I thought for a bit, and realized I had no way of doing a lot of things. Supporting myself first of all. Even finding a place to stay. No way of properly dressing. No money. Any money I had was American and wouldn't be printed for decades. Anything in my bag could change history. No, I could change history. If a spell really did send me here, how could I get back? Another spell? I didn't speak Latin. Maybe Crystal would find a reversal… but she didn't speak Latin either. Merely sounded out words in a hopeful attempt at affecting something. How entirely unhelpful that was.

Where had Nadir gone? I sighed, looking at the clock, and up at the now deserted door-way. Darius had gone off somewhere while I wasn't looking, and I didn't mind. I hated being watched. It made me really self-conscious. I heard the door close outside the room, and hoped it was Nadir returning. I stood, looking towards the door and expecting to see the Persian come back. My blood turned cold, and I retreated a few steps at the figure who entered first.

The black mask was unmistakable as it was terrifying. I could imagine it posing some fear to someone who didn't know, but I did. And as much as I always thought of a meeting like this, it was far different in real life. One always reflects upon this as a way to show their true devotion as a phan. A hug or something. Real awe and happiness. But my mind found a way to think more rationally on the situation. Erik was dangerous… a murderer. He held little value on human life, and I found that to be quite an unnerving fact. Of course, to him, he probably thought I was just afraid of the mask.

Nadir entered behind him, which made me feel a little safer. I didn't think Erik would murder me in front of the Daroga. They exchanged a few words, though I don't think they were in French. Probably Persian I figured. Then he turned to me, and crossed his arms. "Nadir here says you pulled quite an extraordinary illusion. Coming into existence from nothing." He addressed me with cool words in flawless English.

My face paled. So Nadir had seen me appear. I thought the street had been deserted, that he had come in later to find me. But he had seen everything. I didn't know how to respond, so I only stared dumbly. I could have even nodded, but I found myself paralyzed.

"Your clothing is strange, and your accent he says is American." He looked at me even more curiously. "I do not believe this is any style found commonly even in America. Would you care to explain your presence here, or how you came to pull such an illusion?"

"I…" I couldn't come up with words. What was I going to tell him? 'Oh, hi, yeah sorry. Just dropped in from the twenty-first century to say hello.' "I didn't mean to…" Yeah, that was informative. I closed my mouth and my face flushed.

He turned from me, and went back to talking with Nadir in a language I didn't understand. Nadir was insistent about something, though I wasn't sure he was arguing for my benefit or against me. I bit my lip sitting on the edge of the chair. It sounded rapidly like Nadir was losing this argument, and I felt with a sinking feeling the phantom might soon leave. I was afraid of him, afraid of everything right now. However, he was the only one who spoke English, and quite possibly my only chance at figuring this all out. I took a chance.

"Erik?" I asked gently, and they both stopped, turning to look at me astonished.

Erik turned to Nadir, his eyes seeming more angry than anything else, and I immediately felt guilt. "Vous lui avez raconté mon nom!?" He hissed, but Nadir threw up his hands in defense. He talked swiftly, and I was pretty sure it was denying he had ever told me the masked man's name.

Erik then turned and advanced on me, and I shrank back into the chair. "How is it you've come across that name and linked it to me, then?" He asked, his tone far from amused.

I was near tears now, and wishing I had just let him go. "I read it. I just know it, I'm sorry!" I said, and he crossed his arms, staring at me.

"You read it? Where?"

I shook my head, knowing I couldn't tell him. Or show him the copy I had in my bag. "I'm not from here, please…"

"No. You aren't." Erik said, his voice a little more even, though I could tell he still suspected my intentions and knowledge were of threat to his existence. I couldn't blame him really. He made sure the world didn't know who he was, and a stranger had waltzed in here knowing his secrets. "So why don't we expel all secrets here. Where did you come from and how did you manage the illusion which brought the Daroga running to my door step?"

"New York." I muttered quietly. I looked down at the ground, unable to meet his gaze. I felt very much like this was an interrogation. And I didn't want to be caught in a lie. Erik was right there, and he looked less than amused with this entire thing. However, I felt even if I spoke the truth next, it would only grant me a one way ticket to my death. Time travel is such an impossible thing to be true, how could it ever be accepted as such? Especially to such a scientific mind as I assumed Erik had. I couldn't yet accept it myself. "I don't know how I got here." I said. Not a lie. "I was… somewhere else one minute, and here another."

"So you magically were transported here." He stated plainly. He was mocking me, and my cheeks blushed again.

"Sort of. I guess." I shook my head. "I don't believe what happened myself." I admitted. "It just did. I'm…" I sighed. I sort of figured this was a dream anyway. Why not just go for the entire truth? "I'm not from this time. I sort of…"

"Go on."

I swallowed, looking at him. "I was born in the year 1992. I was standing with two of my friends in the middle of an argument in 2009 one moment, and I was falling to the ground here and now the next." I said evenly. I stared him straight in the eyes, and he frowned.

"You aren't displaying any of the telltale signs of lying, and yet… If your mind perceives events to be true, one does not…"

"I'm not crazy!" I stated indignantly. "I can prove it!" I said, kicking myself for it the second I said that. I could, but I shouldn't. I shouldn't have even told him this much. Though, I wondered for a moment how much it would matter. Erik made it his mission to be a ghost to the world. To not exist. What, was I afraid he was going to go public with this? It would mean him going to the public, something as far as I knew he readily avoided. Still…

"Your clothing certainly seems to back you up. I know of no manufacturer who produces such strange artifacts, nor any culture brash enough to wear them." He looked to me. "How else do you propose you prove such preposterous facts. Have you with you any items from the future? Something so far beyond our means it must be concrete evidence?"

I sighed, looking at him. Nadir asked him something, and he responded shortly, causing Nadir to look after us in that questioning glance once more. Erik probably just summed up what I had told him. I unzipped the main compartment of my bag, taking out my cell phone. I hit the on button and tossed it to Erik, afraid to get any closer to hand it to him.

It booted up, and chimed it's unhappy 'no signal' beep, before displaying exactly that on the small screen. I had really done it now. The future was probably overrun with crazy cell phone bots or something. Before he could ask, I figured I'd explain. "It's a phone. A cordless wireless phone that allows me to call and talk to someone from just about anywhere." I shook my head. "But it doesn't work out of it's time. No signal."

Erik inspected the device, leaving no part of it unseen. Then he handed it to a very curious Nadir, who was already requesting a repeat of what I had just said. Erik spoke to him, obviously paraphrasing quite a bit, but he gave a nod to Nadir's next question. I was sure he believed me now. But that didn't help any of my questions.

"Is time travel a common thing in the future? Another of life's mysteries that has been unlocked?" He asked me. I shook my head. "Have you any idea what sent you here, or how to get back?" I shook my head again, averting my eyes. He sighed. "You know who I am?"

I had no choice but to nod. "People… in the future know about you. A story… it… it went around." I said.

"Well, you cannot stay here. Nadir knows not a word of English, and your mannerisms will surely give the neighbors questions. He stated. I looked at him, obvious panic in my eyes. I had no idea what I would do next, but he continued. "While I don't like the idea, I see no other alternative than to house you under the opera for a while. Until we can sort this mess out properly." He said at last.

The moment of rejoicing that I felt should accompany the offer was stifled. I was glad to have a place to stay, but… at the same time, it was rather unnerving. I liked Nadir even after such a short time knowing him. He seemed… safe… but Erik on the other hand… again, it was scary. But I nodded, and whispered another thank you. He turned and explained the situation to Nadir while I stood with my bag.

Nadir seemed concerned about this arrangement, but Erik seemed to assure him it would be alright. Nadir bid me farewell. I could get that much in French. It was strange how often the two seemed to switch between languages. I followed Erik, limping as little as I could manage. He stopped me though, and Nadir brought me a cloak which was much to big for me. But I understood why. I would stand out a lot less with it than my normal clothes. It was bad enough Erik was moving with the mask on (though his low hat helped conceal it), we didn't need the added attention of my 21st century clothing.

"There are quite a few stairs. Nadir informed me you were injured on your landing. Will you be alright on them?" He inquired as we neared the massive building. I nodded, but my mind was more on the incredible sight before us. I had seen plenty of pictures of the Opera before. I was a phan after all. But seeing it was something else. It was strange to be seeing it in this way. A phan always wants to see the opera, but only in dreams do they see the Opera with the opera ghost in 19th century Paris. It was just one more check on the 'this is a comatose fantasy born of a serious Latin-based injury' side of the argument.

I won't say I didn't struggle with the stairs. Seven flights is a long way. I was just glad the Rue Scribe entrance (or what I assumed was the Rue Scribe entrance) went around the lake. There were very few times when I could be considered graceful, and it had crossed my mind more than once on our way, that I would probably end up dumping us both in the lake. I was so glad when we reached his house, that for a few moments I forgot I was nervous.

The main room was beautiful, decorated quite nicely. Six doors were visible from where I was, not counting the one we had just entered through. I assumed one had to lead in some way or another to the torture chamber. One to his room. And another to the way by the lake. That left three. He led me to one, opened the door and stepped in, lighting the gas lamps within it. It was a bedroom. A little sparse, but nice. It had it's own adjoining bathroom, and a bed. He went back to the door. "You may stay here for now."

I nodded, sitting on the bed, and putting down my bag. He left me, and I allowed myself to breathe once more. I opened my bag, and looked at the contents. My mind slowly started to work through things, and as I brought out a sweat shirt my mother had given me, I began to cry. The realization that I might have left behind my family for good was finally starting to sink in.


So. I love reviews. Constructive critizism is welcomed. "That sucked" or "It's just like every other back in the past story ever." isn't. You haven't read it all, how would you know? I have some tricks up in my brain. Just wait and see. Besides. If you hate it. Don't keep reading. -shrug-