I told you I would. It's already here, if you can believe it. Enjoy and please do read Love Never Dies if you already haven't. I promise, it's not about the POTO sequel. Quite the opposite.

Lovest Always, Lady Merridell

Disclaimer: Me no own the Phantom of the Opera or the song "The Call" by Celtic Woman . Comprendo?

July 2, 1864

Chapter 1

Sometimes It In the Sea

Erik had finally done it. It felt wonderful. For the first time, he felt free. He had abandoned that forsaken Opéra house with its proud aboveness and it's cold, unforgiving catacombs below. Somehow, he had the nagging feeling he would return to the Palais Garnier, but he ignored it. For now, he enjoyed his home by the seaside in Sweden.

A cool sea breeze stung his skin and ruffled his dark hair. Erik closed his eyes, tempted to remove his mask to fully enjoy it, but didn't for fear of being seen by an unsuspecting onlooker.

Suddenly there was a cry of panic. Had it not sounded so forlorn and somehow musical, he might have been cross. What creature could possibly dare to interrupt this monster's brief contentment?

He looked around to find the source of the noise. A mass of bobbing chestnut curls and pale flailing limbs caught his eye. The poor creature coughed and spluttered as she tried to beat against the current, but to no avail.

Erik knew very well that the ocean kept those it took. It seemed if no one came to the rescue she would most certainly fall victim to the salty blue waves. Foolish girl, what was she thinking?

Not knowing why he was doing it, Erik splashed into the ocean and quickly pushed against the current to the poor young child. There were a few occasions when he himself had fallen into the lake beneath the Opera Populaire and had to beat against the current. He reached her swiftly and wrapped an arm around her thin waist, pulling her along with ease.

As soon as his feet could touch the sandy floor, he stood and cradled her in his arms. She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing and thanking him. He froze at this, for no one had ever clung to him this way, but he shook it off. The dear child must be freezing.

"Hush, ma enfante," he murmured. He decided it was best to get her to his house. It wasn't far and the child was shivering with cold.

He glanced down at her. She had beautiful chestnut curls that had a slightly red tinge and large green eyes. Her dark, thick lashes were dark and sparkled from the tears. She looked about eleven although she was small enough for ten or nine.

Once he entered his cottage, he set her down and went about drying her. Still she cried, so he did the only thing he knew eased his sorrows. Sing.

As Erik rubbed her hair with a towel he sang a lullaby he had once heard a Persian woman sing to calm her weeping babe. Soon her hiccups subsided as she listened to his song, her eyes wide with wonder. As the song drew to a close she swayed a bit to the tune, then looked up at him, beaming.

"Can you teach me your song?" she asked. "It's very pretty."

Erik watched her a moment, a bit uneasy since most people would run or glare at him with hate. This child just smiled up at him expectantly, the tears from before causing her beautiful emerald eyes to be unusually bright. He slowly nodded.

"What's your name?"

"Erik," he replied, taken back. What could this mean? How could she be so trusting? Especially towards a stranger and monster? She didn't seem at all fazed by his mask.

"That's a beautiful name. It suits you," she answered.

Erik remained silent.

"I'm Christine," she said.

Christine...The name of an angel, Erik thought. When he didn't reply, Christine proceeded.

"Could you please teach me the song, Erik?"

He found his voice and cleared his throat.

"Repeat after me, okay?"

The child nodded obediently. From the moment Christine opened her mouth, he knew she was destined for greatness. True, her voice was less than acceptable, but there was something in it that most people didn't have. Heart, soul, and potential.

As they sang he coaxed her voice to sing higher, louder, gentler. He gently corrected her and soon she sang the tune like an angel. Just as he knew she could. Tears welled at the corners of his eyes and he impatiently wiped them away.

"Dear child, that was very beautiful," he murmured.

"Thank you," she beamed. Suddenly, her expression faltered. "But, um..."

"Yes? I'm listening," he encouraged.

"What about Papa? He's very sick right now and I was supposed to make him supper! He's too ill to walk, you see, and I must be there to help him eat as well."

"Then why, might I ask, were you in the ocean instead of with your ailing father?" he asked.

"My papa asked me to fetch his coat since he left it there the last time we went out. I went to get it, but it was such a nice day so I took off my shoes so I could play in the sand. Then I saw the tide take away my shoes and I tried to swim after them, but I got caught in the current and I thought I was going to get lost and you came." By now the poor child was quite breathless.

Erik was silent, then, "And did you ever find his coat?"

"No and I'm glad I didn't. His coat smells like rotten herring and elderberries," she answered, wrinkling her nose.

Erik laughed and it was not cold with malice. It was a genuine laugh.

"How about I take you home to your dear papa? I'll buy him a new coat myself."

Her eyes widened. "Oh no! I couldn't do that. Isn't that stealing?"

"No, ma enfante, not at all," he promised.

She looked relieved. "Okay. Let's go home."

So Erik allowed the little angel to lead him to her house.

The child's home was a very sorry looking shack set on a hill. It might have once been quaint, but had obviously seen better days. There was a little dying flowerbed out front where someone might have thought would give the house a more cheery look when really it just seemed to add to the sorry condition the shelter was in.

Erik coulnd't help but feel sorry for the little angel and her apparently very sick father, but Christine took no notice. She looked upon the dismal shack as though it were a castle.

"Goodbye," she said, waving from the front door.

"Goodbye," he answered. Erik waited until the little moppet had entered her home and then turned to leave. He had reached the bottom of the hill when suddenly...

"PAPA!"

I will try to post regularly (Mon, Wed, Fri, and Sat). Au revoir! Please do review! They motivate me