Mornings were usually the worst. The smell of dusty old hay, the feel of sleeping on a hard wooden floor, and all that sunlight drifting in through the tent entrance that somehow managed to always get in his eyes.

But…it didn't smell like hay. It smelled like… well honestly Erik had never smelled anything like it. Floral. Perfume. A light dose of perfume, that's it.

And it didn't feel like he'd slept on a wooden floor at all. There was a warm, amazingly soft blanket around him. He doubted his captor would ever allow that.

And no sunlight. It was unlikely he'd awoken before dawn, so why was it so dark?

Even after Erik opened his eyes it was still dark. A kind of darkness you could feel around you; wrapped over you like a protective wing. Though it was heavy and made him feel a bit claustrophobic, it felt...nice.

But still there was the matter of where he was. There were no bars or tent in front of him. He was in a large bed with silky sheets. When he finally stumbled around and found a candle and a match to light it, he was even more amazed.

At first he couldn't believe it. It must have been a dream. The room was huge, with clothes and sheets of paper everywhere, scattered around the floor and covering a roll top writing desk against the wall. Many sculptures and drawings were laying around as well; some only half completed. And many were of a beautiful girl with curly hair.

"Who's room is this?" Erik wondered to himself, holding up a rather large shirt he had just stepped on. It would swallow him if he were to wear it. Whoever lived here was obviously a grown man.

Erik looked down at himself. He was wearing a large shirt just like the one in his hands. It hung off one of his shoulders and came to his knees, falling over him like a sack. He almost laughed at how absurd he must look, then froze.

He was in another mans home, wearing another mans shirt, and he didn't even know how he got here.

Whoever this man was didn't care to be here when he awoke and didn't lock the door, so Erik decided to explore this new place.

It was still unnaturally dark. The entire 'house' seemed to be shrouded in it. Still, Erik didn't feel like he should worry.

After walking down a long hallway he came upon another bedroom of sorts. There were tons of candles and a swan bed with red sheets in the middle, but still no people. When he walked over to the doorway (which seemed to be carved out of the wall), he saw a large, glassy lake, stopping at a platform off in the distance that held another desk, a pipe organ, and many, many candles.

Erik marveled at all these wonderful things. After two years in a cage he'd forgotten what magnificent things lie in the real world. Everything he saw was beautiful.

Whoever lived here really liked music too.

"Monsieur." Erik nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of someones voice. Without really thinking about it, he dove behind on of the many curtains draping the stone walls and didn't dare to see who was coming. Though the voice sounded feminine he didn't want to give them a chance. He'd learned women were just as cruel as men a long time ago.

There were footsteps. Someone was definitely searching for him. Or the man who lived here. Did she know he was here? Would she be angry to find him in his house?

Would she send him back to the circus?

"Erik, you've been gone for a week." He could almost feel her frustration. "You can't live down here forever."

Did she mean he couldn't stay? He didn't want to go back to that cage. Not after discovering this amazing home.

Before he could stop himself, Erik let a muffled cry escape him. He quickly clapped a hand over his mouth and squeezed his eyes shut, making a few tears slip.

Without warning the curtain hiding him was torn to the side, revealing him to a tall, skinny old woman with a sharp no-nonsense face.

She didn't seem to understand what she was seeing. Then after a quick look at the right side of his face she started to get it. "Erik."

When she looked at his face, Erik couldn't help but cover it with his hand and turn away. Despite her calm voice, he still refused to look at her. She would surely send him back now. Now that she saw he was a monster.

He didn't expect a cold hand to stroke back his hair. "Don't be scared, Erik."

"H-how do you know me?" He stuttered, trying to stop crying.

She smiled warmly and helped him stand. "We will discuss things later. Right now…" She looked down at the oversized shirt billowing around his small frame. "We need to get you proper clothes."

He sat in the room he'd awoken in, trying desperately not to hyperventilate. All these new things were starting to frighten him.

It didn't take long for the kind lady -Madame Giry- to return, holding more fitting clothes that were the same style as the ones littering the floor. A white, puffy sleeved shirt, a black vest, and black pants.

"How old are you?" She asked as she helped him pull on the shirt.

Erik tugged it down with a small blush. He wasn't used to people, especially women, touching him or helping him. "Eight?"

She nodded, but he could see she was thinking everything through. He just wanted to know what she planned to do with him. After a moment she looked at the bedside table where a white mask lay. "They will all be much too big for you." She mumbled, then stood. "And you should not stay down here. It s too dangerous if you can't remember anything."

Remember anything? What was he supposed to remember? What was so dangerous about such a beautiful place?

"You cannot stay in the opera house." She nodded to herself. "You will have to stay with someone." She visibly brightened at her own thoughts. "I know just the person."

All the confusion and lack of answers was starting to wear Erik down. He was so nervous and confused that he couldn't even admire all the things around him anymore. Madame Giry was always talking to him (more to herself) about some kind of danger if he stayed and what he needed to know, but so far none of his questions had been answered.

And he was too afraid to ask. He'd learned not to speak without some form of permission.

They sat overlooking the lake for what felt like hours. Who knows. It may have been. He couldn't really tell since they seemed to be underground.

Mostly he sat still, sneaking glances at the creepy old woman, then looking out over the lake. This all seemed so surreal, but terrifying all the same.

"We should get going." The woman stood and held out her hand for Erik to take. He did so hesitantly, afraid of the quick motion. She noticed, but kept it firm. "My carriage is outside. I will take you to where you will be staying until we get this all figured out."

He didn't say anything or resist her tugging him through a hidden hallway out into the bleak beginnings of sunlight. It was almost dawn. Before he could fret about someone seeing his face, Giry already had him safely seated in a carriage that started moving as soon as they were inside.

Erik sat, staring at his hands and shaking with fear. None of this made sense. He was too confused to even know what he should be questioning.

In a matter of minutes they stopped and Erik was quickly pulled out of the carriage into the sunlight yet again. He didn't bother covering his face. Not only was he in too much shock to react, they were in a rather secluded area. A large mansion loomed above them, screaming of the owners wealth and taste.

Giry knocked on the door, telling the maid who answered it that she needed to speak with the masters of the house. The young miss scurried back inside and returned with a tall blonde man with wispy locks tied back in a girlish ponytail and green overcoat standing next to a young woman with a mass of curly brown hair pulled back to reveal a lovely face. They both looked at Madame Giry, then down at Erik.

The man recoiled in a fairly non-graceful way, sneering at the boy, though Erik didn't know what he'd done wrong. Of course, that was the reaction he usually got and he was surprised it didn't bother him as much as it should. The woman, on the other hand just looked shocked and saddened by what she saw. Not a reaction he'd gotten before but something told him it wasn't because of his face. She didn't look at him as if this was the first time. Had they known each other? Was she part of what he needed to remember?

"Monsieur and Madame De Chagney, I have a favor to ask of you."

They sat in the library on beautiful, plush couches. Erik was too jittery and nervous to sit still, so he took his time roaming the titles of the books that lined the walls. The man never took his eyes off him and it made Erik even more cautious.

"What happened?" The woman whispered to Giry in hopes that Erik wouldn't hear her. That was nearly impossible, since the room was so quiet and everyone was waiting to hear what Giry had to say.

"Im not sure. He's been missing for a week and now I find him like this." She flicked her gaze over to the boy. "He has no memory of any of us or the opera house."

"Does he remember anything?" The man asked. His tone was questioning and curious, but also hostile. Erik decided he really didn't like this man.

Giry shook her head. "Only up to the age of eight, which is where he's at now." She sighed. "It is all very strange. But until we find out what happened and can get him back to normal he needs a place to stay."

"He can't stay here." The man stated, leaving no room for questions. The woman lightly took hold of his arm and tried to soothe him, but he shook his head. "I don't care if he can't remember what he is. That doesn't change him."

Erik, who had previously been frozen to the spot by his tone, suddenly sagged and lightly touched the scarred side of his face. How could he ever forget what he was?

"He cannot stay in the opera house. Someone will find him." Giry never changed her own tone, but she did seem a bit more confident. "No one else knows of him. Please, Raoul. Show him mercy."

"After all the things he's done?" Raoul asked in disbelief. "All the people he has ki-"

"There is nowhere else for him." Giry stated. "Unless you wish for him to return to the only life he remembers."

Eriks eyes widened. It was up to this man to keep him away from the circus? He couldn't help but to look over at him fearfully. What had he done to deserve this mans anger and resentment? What justification could he find to force him into that kind of life?

Raoul was about to restate that he didn't care, but he made the mistake of looking over at the boy. He looked so terrified. In that moment all his anger melted and he felt a deep pang of guilt, though he wasn't sure why.

He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Just until we find somewhere else for him. I don't want him here for too long." The woman whispered her thanks and Giry even seemed relieved at this answer.

She stood and faced Erik, who was now a bit less frightened. "Erik, these two will be taking care of you for a while. Do what they tell you to and be respectful of their home."

Erik nodded silently. He'd do anything if it meant staying out of the circus.

Giry left, leaving Erik with the two people who were to be his new caretakers. He couldn't hold their gaze but they had no trouble staring him down. Only when he started shifting uncomfortably did the woman notice that she was staring.

"Oh um, I suppose we should find you a room." She brushed off her skirt and motioned for him to follow. As he was walking past the man, he stood, making Erik jump and retreat a few steps away. The man seemed taken back by this, then just shook his head and glared.

The house was beautiful, his room was large and comfortable and everything smelled clean. But it was nothing like the home he'd awoken in and for that he hated it.

Not that he wasn't grateful, but he wanted to go back and explore that wonderful place. Maybe even live there.

He didn't want to leave his room. Everything was so confusing outside and this room felt almost protective.

But apparently it didn't work like that. Not if he wanted to eat at least.

"It's alright, Erik." Christine cooed, trying to coax him out. "We aren't going to hurt you."

After a few moments of patient silence Erik slowly came out, trying to keep the scarred side of his face out of her line of vision.

"There is nothing to be afraid of." She murmured, crouching down to be eye level. To Eriks shock and amazement, she gently turned his head to look at her. She didn't even look at his deformed face; just at his eyes. "You don't remember me, but please know that I would never hurt you."

He nodded his head, but he didn't understand. Everyone wanted to hurt him. That's all anyone ever did.

They entered the dining hall where Raoul was waiting. As soon as he caught his eye, Raoul glared and pointedly stared at the wall straight ahead, dutifully ignoring him.

The meal was quiet and dull. Everyone kept to themselves, though Raoul sent a few sharp looks at Erik. The hostility clung to the air like a parasite.

After the meal, Erik was taken into a lounge with a beautiful piano. He sat in front of it uncomfortably, not knowing what to do with it.

"Whats the last thing you remember?" Christine asked, leaning behind him to adjust a sheet of music for him to see.

Erik looked down at the keys. "The circus was near Paris. They said we'd stay for a couple of weeks until the 'money-bags' lost interest." He tensed slightly before looking up at her. "What's a money-bag?"

Christine was confused by this memory. What was this talk of a circus? "Nothing for you to be concerned about." Erik visibly deflated at the lack of understanding. "Well, do you remember anything about music?"

Erik would have liked to tell her he didn't know what he was supposed to remember, but decided against it and merely shook his head. She sighed and told him the basics, starting with what each note meant and where they were on the keyboard.

"Madame De Chagney, your husband wishes to speak with you." A maid, who kept her eyes focused on Erik as if he would attack her, said as she entered the room. Christine thanked her and hurriedly left Erik with the piano.

"What is it?" Christine sounded worried, but she was actually mildly annoyed at the interruption.

Raoul was sitting calmly on his favorite couch, drinking a glass of something sweet while holding a book about the mountains of Greece in his other hand. He looked up with a dry glare; all hints of calm tranquility gone. "I don't want him getting used to living here."

"Raoul…"

"Im serious, Christine. And I would be more comfortable if you didn't spend too much time alone with him."

For a moment Christine didn't understand, then she gasped. "He's a child!"

"He's a criminal!" Raoul stood, setting his drink and book aside. "It was by your wishes that he stay here, but he will follow my rules! As should you."

Christine stood still, silently fuming. She couldn't believe Raoul would think such a thing of Erik! Even when he'd been older he'd never laid a hand on her!

"you're being cruel, Raoul. He's just a boy."

"And you…" Raoul quickly stood beside her, brushing her hair back tenderly. "are my wife, for whom I'd do anything to protect." He kissed her softly. "I've already fought him for you. I don't want to have to do it again."

Despite her anger at his unreasonable attitude, she couldn't help but smile at his kinder side. "And you won't." She took his hand in hers. "He's practicing the piano right now if you care to join us."

Raoul returned her smile, kissing the hand that held his. "Anything for you."

By the time they reached the doorway, they heard a soft melody carrying through the hall. They both looked at each other questioningly. He'd only been left alone for a few minutes.

But that was all the time he'd needed to learn his first song. His fingers danced across the keyboard as he studied the music in front of him, not even looking down at his fingers. Though it was a simple song, it was still impressive.

The couple sat on a far sofa, staring at his back in bewildered astonishment. When he finished the song, he fidgeted for a moment before turning to face them. "Do you have any more music?"

Once Erik was told he could make up his own songs, the house was never quiet. Hundreds of streams of music came from the lounge at all times, the only times he stopped was to write some of it down and those moments brought great relief to everyone.

It sounded beautiful. Most of the time. It was all just to experiment with different sounds and on occasion it sounded dreadful.

After about a week of this, the music came in smaller increments and the short tunes were more thought out and composed; more like the music Christine was used to hearing from him.

"Miss chagney?" Christine stopped and looked inside the lounge where Erik was always found, playing the piano. "Can you sing?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?" She stepped inside, feeling silly just standing in the doorway.

Erik shrugged and nervously fiddled with the sleeve of his shirt. "I just…..you seem like a singer to me." He bit his lip. "Do you think you could teach me?"

It almost made her sad to see her gifted and beautiful tutor asking for help in something he was once so skilled at. He had lost so much of himself with his memory.

She nodded, trying not to let her emotions show too clearly. "Of course." She walked over to him and pointed to a note. "That's a C. All you have to do is match your voice to these pitches." Her fingers swept over the row of words beneath the music.

"Can you show me?"

"Uh…sure." Christine cleared her throat and began the song slowly and softly, then gradually grew more confident. In Eriks absence, she had gotten rusty.

"Wait." Erik choked, hating to stop her. She sounded wonderful.

"What is it?" She flushed. Did he notice that she hadn't done this in a while?

Erik grumbled something softly to himself, looking over the music carefully. "That note is the same as this one and it's a G. But you sang an A sharp." He looked back up at her, a little less nervous because he was now absolutely sure. "Do it again."

Christine was startled by his tone, but only because it was how he used to talk to her. She hadn't expected him to resume his teachings so quickly. Just to make sure, she looked over the music and found that he was right. She'd sung it wrong.

"Sorry." She tried again, this time without him stopping her. He nodded and played it on the piano, asking her to sing it with the song. They continued this with two more songs before Erik stopped and headed to his room. It had been a long week and he needed sleep.

Christine couldn't help but smile. This would surely be interesting.