Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera or Il Trovatore or any of the Operas/ Musicals/ Lyrics that I may add into the story. As much as I may want them, they don't belong to me.tear.

A/N- I imagined this after just seeing the movie, so I thought of Gerard Butler as the Phantom in this story. I'm sorry if it angers a few of you, but its how I thought of it.

Chapter One: Lost in the Darkness

Erik stared at the candle that was placed right in front of him on the table. The flame danced in all directions, casting eerie shadows against the walls and added a little light to the Phantom's dark lair. He closed his eyes and put his hands to his face, feeling the side that was disfigured and looked as if he had been burnt. No one would ever love him and no one ever had. The only woman he had ever known to show compassion was Christine Daae. But, Christine was lost from his life forever after she'd fallen in love with the viscount, Raoul de Chagny and ran away with him. She was the only one pure enough to not cast a glance of horror and disgust at poor Erik. No woman would ever truly love a man who was once caged in a freak-show and called a living corpse…

Erik sobbed at the memories of his childhood. He tore at the table and grabbed the candle. He flung it into the lake and watched as the dark waters devoured it. Tears shone in his eyes and he thrashed at the wall in hatred. His legs gave way and he fell to the floor, weeping and begging God to let him die. He didn't want to be alone any longer…

"All chorus members onstage for Miserere!" Shouted Marco, the stagehand. The company groaned as they slumped onto the stage, taking their positions. The new manager, as they had found out, was a bit of a perfectionist- he would pound scenes into the company's heads until they got it down pat.

"Again?" Little Annette whined, wiping sweat from her forehead. The few who heard her grumbled in agreement as a few ballerinas were arguing about which spot was theirs. The leading soprano, Cornelia Bizet tried to help resolve the conflict between the two, only to create a bigger uproar.

"Ladies and gentlemen! Please settle down!"

The chorus fell silent and stared at the owner of the booming command; the new manager, William Poulenc.

"Now, I know we've worked quite hard today," he admitted. Annette clicked her tongue but was elbowed by a fellow cast member into silence. Her mother, the dance instructor, glared at her through the curtains and Annette bit her lip. Poulenc sighed and continued.

"But, can we run Miserere one more time?" He waited for a positive response which he did not receive. "For the Patron?" He added, quickly.

The women's faces brightened immediately as they forced their lips into overexcited smiles. The men were unhappy at this, knowing the patron was fierce competition.

Almost on cue, the Patron bust through the doors of the theatre and strode down the isles, casting a bright smile at the women onstage. They twirled their hair and waved to him, bashfully. His name was Robert Gounod. And he was all any woman could ask for…He was incredibly young and handsome with his long jet black hair and dark eyes. He was also unbelievably wealthy and powerful being the mayor of a distant city in France. Any woman would freely give into him.

But he had his eyes on a particular girl in the chorus…

The music started as he took his seat and the women in the choir shot him one last smile before forcing gloomy looks on their faces that were appropriate for the scene. Heads bowed, the chorus marched on the stage, singing of sadness and regret as Cornelia stood at center, eyes glued to the Heavens.

There was a moment of utter majesty…

Suddenly, there was a raucous on the stage, causing all the chorus members around the incident to gasp- one of the chorus girls had fainted and was now sprawled out across the floor, motionless. The dance instructor ran over to the fallen girl as the manager and patron joined the crowd onstage. The dance instructor fumbled through her pockets and pulled out some smelling salts. She placed them under the girl's nose as some cast members made attempts to fan the girl back into consciousness.

The girl shot up at once, coughing and sputtering for air as one of the dancers swept a cloth across the girl's forehead. The manager stood over her with his arms crossed in annoyance. She stared at him for a moment, petrified with fear.

"Pardon me monsieur," she said, meekly as she was helped to her feet by fellow cast members. "The lights were too bright and my costume was not fitted well. I will fix it up myself after…"

"No!" Shrieked a ballerina, glancing to make sure the patron was looking. "It's that mangled leg of yours!"

A few of the cast members burst into laugher while some frowned in displeasure as the ballerina hopped around like a toad, emitting croaks. Annette looked to her mother who bowed her head in silence. The mortified girl looked to the manager for defense, only to find him chuckling as well.

She buried her face in her hands and fled from the stage, horrified with her fellow cast members. Robert ran after her, leaving the women of the chorus pouting.

"Mademoiselle Leonora!" He called to her. "Mademoiselle!" He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards him, roughly.

"Please monsieur," she sobbed. "What do you want?"

He tucked a loose hair behind her ear. She shivered at his cold touch that sent icy chills down her spine as she stared into his eyes. They were like two deep, cold emotionless holes that went on forever. They made her shake with fear as his hands caressed her arms.

"A girl like you doesn't deserve that sort of behavior towards her," he cooed. There was a slimy hint in his voice as if he were mocking her. "I could have that girl hung for that."

Leonora shoved him away in horror and disgust. He clutched her arm and pulled her closer, pressing his chest against her.

"You know noting of what I need," she whispered angrily and struggled to get free. He laughed softly and lowered his face towards hers, his eyes focused on her lips.

"Oh, but I think I do," he breathed. "You need a man to protect her from a cruel world." His eyes met hers. "A man like me."

She let out a small yelp and pushed him away. His eyes flashed with anger as she slowly regained composure.

"I am sorry, Monsieur Gounod," she said, calmly. "I have already lost my pride. I am not in the mood for this ridiculous blabber which you call charm."

She strode away and into the dormitories, leaving the Patron dumbstruck with his thoughts. He turned on his heel and walked swiftly back to the stage, frustrated with Leonora's dislike for him.

That girl is quite difficult, he thought to himself, angrily. If she doesn't love me then what man could she possibly want?


The dark chanting of Miserere still lingered in Erik's ears as well as the loud disruption that ruined the moment. He struggled to his feet and began to wade in the water towards the gate. He grasped the cold metal bars and stared into the darkness of the caverns, longingly. Anger welled up inside of him and he suddenly thrust his head into the bars with all of his suicidal regret. He slammed his head again and again but not to kill…only to bruise…to make stronger…

He had heard a young girl's tears through the cavern. It had convinced him that not all hope was gone and he remained, waiting…but for what?

He was certain that the absurd thought that crossed his mind had been done by the bars, but he was not sure. He stood there in deep thought for a moment before removing the thought from his mind. He pushed himself away from the bars and walked back towards the shore, seating himself at his organ. Erik sat there, staring at the sheet music for Don Juan Triumphant. All that glorious work wasted…over love.

No woman would love me, he thought, closing his eyes and sinking back into shadows. Not then…not now…not ever…