Hello everyone :D I am in the midst of writing this story, like the rest I have high hopes I will finish this! I think eventually I will, seeing how I have actually completed the introductory part for this and am not writing as I feel like compared to the rest. For this, my writing has improved I think. And it has changed drastically from the past. If you must know, I suffered a tad bit of heartbreak and depression and found music and art again in myself. In the midst of my busy life, writing this is technically a breath of fresh air I force myself to take time and again lol. Thank you for reading this! I hope all my past readers don't have a bad impression of me? Please? /grins at you hopefully and goes off to bake Erik shaped cookies/

I present to you my untitled work~

INCOMPLETE

People are like stained - glass windows. They sparkle and shine when the sun is out, but when the darkness sets in, their true beauty is revealed only if there is a light from within.

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross

Paris. Two weeks after the Opera Fire

Life. It was almost a thing that he could really crush in his fingers, an object like a candle so easily snuffed out. In the gloomy darkness, a tall figure stalked amongst the remains of the place he had called home for almost twenty years of his solitude. Brought there when he was but a mere seven years of age, he had lived his solitary life in tears. Now nearing his thirties, the sprightly figure looked around at the shattered glass and charred remains of disuse and hatred, of the mob that had ravished and ransacked him home coldly in the hours following the fire at the Populaire.

He heaved a heavy sigh, turning his eyes towards the dark portcullis, where he had last lashed that insufferable boy to, only to let him go with his love, his angel who he would never have.

Her name was like gilded honey on his lips as he let out a shaky breath and sat heavily on the swan bed where he had last seen her, and touched her, his goddess of song. And she had pressed the ring he had slipped onto her fingers, back into his calloused palm, almost a rejection of him! No, it certainly was. There was no way such an ethereal creature could love this repulsive beast that he was, never. And yet, the last final look she had thrown him as she stood behind that useless fop…His heart skipped a beat and wrenched itself into endless knots. Damn that boy and his perfect looks and mannerisms, to waltz into his life and steal away his angel! Granted, they probably had a history dating back since her birth, and yet he could not reconcile himself to the fact that Christine, his Christine was gone.

Or was she?

The church bells could be tolling for her death, for all she could care about. All she thought of was the promise she had left him. Would he understand? Would he comprehend, in his rage? Was that smile he left with her a lie? She could see it all again, his rage, the Populaire destroyed. The demons of his soul that haunted him since birth with his "abhorrent face", the weight of a thousand things upon him. And yet… All she could dream of was the fire that burned in his eyes, burned through her soul, saw her clear and pure and whole, and made her ache, so much for a soul long irreparable as the world should perceive him. Heavens above, she was to be married soon! And to her childhood best friend! Raoul had thought it best to protect her as such, claiming it was a promise of sorts made to the Phantom, to protect her from a life on the run with him…

It could not end like this! Already she was miserable with the meeting of his family or what was left of it, seeing that both his father and older brother were deceased and he was but left with a senile old mother that would shriek as she came close, claiming that she reeked of Death.

Perhaps then, she did, having spent so much time being surrounded by it. Perhaps she did, for her heart belonged to the one that they claimed had the mask of death on him.

She shook her head, clearing the thought of those clear, grey-green eyes with their piercing, fiery gaze…Her husband to be exited the priest's room, giving thanks to the priest and God the Abba Father and making small talk to the priest. She wanted to retch, to cry, for her heart, and for this man whom she would never, ever belong to. Silently she bowed her head in reverent prayer, praying to a God she never understood, praying for forgiveness of her heart and soul, and for a man she loved.

Raoul sat in silence in the carriage beside Christine, looking over at the auburn haired female that sat beside him. Of all the females in the country, he had picked her and yet, instead of being the happy, loving fiancée he had expected her to be, she had been sullen, withdrawing from his touches after he had proposed to her. She had accepted, certainly, but he could see the sadness in her eyes, her longing for only one singular man, no, monster.

He could still hear it, the ringing in his ears, the night of the fire, the Populaire crashing down around them in heaps, the pandemonium as it erupted around them and he dashed down into the endless depths of hell…He was sure that that monster had cast a spell over his lovely young bride-to-be, to steal her soul and body whole. He was sure he had ravished her, as from the endless rumors of she being the Phantom's whore, of her spreading her legs like a common ballet rat…He shook the thought away, no, such an innocent creature like Christine would never be swayed by such a dark creature, repulsive and hated.

~X~

Three months after the Opera fire

She had returned to the cemetery, now ablaze in the deepest hues of red and orange while tinged in green. Holding the same roses, as she always had to place at her father's grave, she regretted his presence. The last time she had come, he had taken the place of the driver. She had known, but had said nothing, wanting him nearby her as she had taken the long walk to her father's grave.

She had felt calm, knowing her Angel was near. Now that he was not around, Christine felt the chill of the autumn seeping into the very core of her bones, almost wanting to break down and cry. She said a silent prayer as she walked, for her Angel and for her father, and for Mamma Valerius, recently deceased. She thought of the three angels that had left her, sobbing softly for her Angel, her masked Angel and the Phantom, after she had received news in the Époque that he was dead. Trying to curb the feeling surging in her heart, she pressed forth, lying at the foot of her father's grave to silently sob.

"Father, I am so sorry!" Tears coursed down her alabaster smooth cheeks, the leaves rustling beneath her skirts. "The Angel you sent me…and I killed him…I killed him, and now I shall kill another with…with my fickle senseless heart! Oh Father, if only, if only you would give me a second chance! Hear my cry, for I truly loved him! If only, if only…"

The black cloaked figure standing behind the coffin in her father's crypt shifted. Did he just hear Christine admit her love for him?

No!

It had to be a lie. She couldn't love him! Not after what he had done! He shook his head violently; holding back as she continued in pleading that she may see her Angel again. What lies he had published in the papers was for her sake. She would be better with the Vicomte, her insufferable lover and fop. He would care for her and treat her as the Princess she had always wanted to be, a life full of glitz and glamour and being preened and pimped and showed off at parties like his prized possession…He gritted his teeth in frustration and got up, intending to leave before Christine could even enter the crypt to rearrange the objects inside…

Too late.

For she was staring at him with her wide doe-like eyes, stifling a gasp as she rushed forth to embrace him, tears streaming down her cheeks. He looked down at her slim fingers, and found himself puzzled. Was she not yet that insufferable fop's wife? He had painstakingly procured a copy of the Époque day by day, and as such, had discovered of that boy's impending marriage to her. As to when, he never really found out, save for that it was sometime soon. As such, he had made plans to leave, but now…he couldn't! Yet he must. He steeled himself and pushed a very puzzled Christine Daae aside, whipping his cloak around him as he escaped into the night and away from her, melting easily into the shadows as he had always done.

~X~

Christine awoke at the Opera Populaire residences, which had been rebuilt in record time due to an unnamed lump sum of money suddenly entering the scene, although she and Madame Giry had a clear inkling of where such finances had come from. Erik! She suddenly recalled the events of the day before. And he had fled! She scrambled out of bed to find a long stemmed red rose, tied in his customary black ribbon. Beside it was a note, written in elegant script.

Dear Christine Daae,

I fear for you, and your reputation. It is for the best, and for everything, that I have decided to leave you. However, I promise that I will continue to watch over you. Trust me, this is for the best. Make no attempt to see me again, for I assure you, ma Cherie, all your attempts will be in vain.

I apologize for the horror that all my mannerisms has been thus far, and I apologize for the trouble I have caused you and your lover. As such, I will leave you in peace.

Farwell, my dearest Angel.

Yours,

Erik.

The simple scrawl brought tears to her eyes, pricking at her eyelids. Erik, so that was his name! Mon dieu, Erik, Erik, she wanted to scream, you lovable thing, I love you! Instead, bringing the parchment to her nose, she breathed in his spicy, exotic scent, clutching the paper to her breast as she fainted dead away.

~X~

Three months had passed since the chandelier disaster, and Christine still lingered in his heart like a barb embedded into his flesh eternally. He would never be rid of his love for her, even as he rode his horse across the wild mountains of Switzerland. The horse was jet black, aptly named Cesar as the horse he had originally procured for Christine the first day he had brought her to his lair. He passed through the wild ruins of the mountains, meeting with traveling fairs few and far wide, of which he assumed them to be gypsies. Fearing for him to be exhibited again or worse, turned into the authorities, he had dismounted upon catching wind of them, instead preferring to slink around in the darkness with the gangly beast he had stolen.

~X~

Christine knocked gently on the door to Madame Giry's apartments, feeling that she would go insane if she held in her feelings a moment longer. She was about to burst, and when the elderly, motherly ballet mistress opened the door, she collapsed in an undignified heap in her arms.

"Whatever can be the matter child, collect yourself!" Giry rebuked in a gentle yet stern tone.

Christine shook her head, her wild ringlets falling around her face.

"Madame, I can hold it no longer. I…killed Raoul de Changy."

Antoinette Giry let out a soft gasp. Christine, a gentle lamb, and killing? It could hardly be perceived in a sentence and yet this child had stated it so purely, so directly, like the day itself. The young girl in her arms began to sob again, and began to tell her tale.

"It was a stormy night, and two nights before my wedding. Raoul had entered the house drunk as a sailor, with his own set of wandering hands and foul mouths. He had almost forced himself on me, and I pushed him off me, setting off his fury. He set himself on me then, screaming about Erik and how he would kill him. In fear, I pushed him aside, and out of the house, Maman don't interrupt, I am not even sure of myself how I had performed such a feat. And the next day I found that he had died, the coroner claiming he had an aneurysm and a carriage had run him over…oh Madame, it was so horrifying…"

Christine had been reduced to a sobbing pile by this time, in hysterics as she clawed at the black skirt of Madame Giry, repeating over and over again how, if she had never been so fickle, Raoul would still be alive now…

Madame Giry sighed, and rang the bell for the maid, to get her two cups of tea. She settled the child before her, setting the tea before the other. In a hushed voice, she comforted her, before sliding a cream white envelope over the table to Christine.

The auburn haired girl opened the letter with trembling fingers. Another letter to her? What the hell could he be thinking?

Dear Madame,

I leave Christine care of you. I am leaving Paris, France, and all my past transgressions. If you must know, I am heading to Salzburg to hone myself and forget the past.

Thank you once more for your kindness these past years.

Erik.

Christine looked at Madame Giry in shock, catching the twinkle in the older woman's eyes. "Maman…what could you be implying?"

"Go child, he is awaiting."

Erik had hoisted up the horse and tied it securely to the pole by the stables, before he wrapped his cowl around his neck and pulled the hood low over his eyes. He slid into the dark, enjoying the cold way it wrapped around him with reckless abandon, beckoning him to kill and slaughter without a thought again. A single line rang in his head, Christine's voice, filled of fear of him.

Damn it.

Cursing his weaker self, he stalked into the tavern at the side of the road, deserted and with but a single bartender inside, napping soundly. The man took one look at his strange guest as the bell chimed, and started at the dark figure looming in his doorway. Erik didn't flinch at the man's startled face, accustomed to the surprised look of men at his imposing, dark figure. He crossed the threshold with ease; his body sleek like a feral cat stalking its prey. Sliding a small moneybag across the counter, he requested supplies for a journey.

Blankets, food, water and basic necessities. The man, fumbling with the tie of the drawstring pouch, blinked at him out of his eyes, sunken into his pudgy face and hidden behind an unkempt handlebar moustache, nodding hurriedly as his greedy eyes flashed at the sight of the money in the bag. He returned soon with a bag of supplies, and Erik muttered a low thank you before stepping out of the door.

The poor man blinked, never coming to terms with what he had just witnessed, save for the fact that this strange customer of his was abnormally rich.

~X~

A man seated atop a crate in the dark alley leered at the prey below, his teeth set in a dark grin, hair unkempt and matted. He had been stalking this boy for the past few days, and finally had got his hands on him. That fateful night of rain and carriages, he had sent another of his brothers to hell, and probably would get much richer from this man alone. Said man coughed and rolled over in his slumber, crying out brokenly.

"Christine…Christine forgive me!"

The young blonde could hear the voice of her childhood friend in the sitting room. For unstated reasons, her mother had explicitly expressed a reason for her not to enter, instead to stay at the Populaire for ballet practice and for Christine not to see her. She blinked, peeking around the wall. Her mother had left, and she crept out to see her old friend again.

The girl herself was startled to see her long time friend, Meg, as she exited the room into the sitting room. Tucking her into a tight embrace, the girls shared a longing hug before they separated, Christine's eyes shining with slight tears. Meg noticed, and with a concerned gaze, she proceeded to extract the same story she had heard from eavesdropping from the auburn haired girl herself. With a resigned sigh as they heard the key in the lock and Madame Giry's return, Christine picked up the letter she had dropped on the floor as Meg rushed out of the back door and back to the Populaire. Madame's cane could be heard tapping on the floor, the smooth black cane Christine had known in her many years of being at the Populaire since her young age. That cane had struck fear in many hearts of the young ballet girls, training them into utter perfection of form and figure.

She rose from her seat to greet the elder, giving a wane smile, as she was about to leave.

"Maman, I can never thank you enough. I have made my decision."

Christine gave a confident smile, as the elderly Giry clutched the crucifix in her dress close to her, saying a silent prayer for the child leaving her to find her Angel.

:'D Thank you for reading up til this point! Comments please~ Reviews make me happy.