This is a Phan-Fiction of the Phantom of the Opera. Based off my own imagination that Erik never died from his love of Christine Daae, and what may have happened after.

This my first Phan-Fiction so please be kind.

WARNING ADULT CONTENT -- not for children
VIOLENCE, BLOOD, SENSUAL INUENDOS, 16+ etc.

Just To Be Loved For Himself
That's all he asked of You

Prologue:

A year after the haunting of the Opera Ghost, and the burning and fall of the Opera Populaire. The Opera House stands erect but neglected, it's once clean cobbles littered with debris and beggars use its roof, walk ways, and barn for their shelter. Regardless of the efforts done by French authorities, it has become difficult to keep the mobs of people from the structure. Countless murders have occurred, during the year. But, only to those whom intrude within the Opera House. Amongst the beggars it is rumored that it's cursed, and now Highwaymen ride along the cobbles to get to their destinations. The beggars themselves block the riders, and thieves trying to get for themselves what the beautiful city of Paris has denied them. A home, with a warm hearth, a husband, wife, and children, and most of all love.

PART ONE

"Damn You! You wretch! Out of my way", snarled the thief atop his new spoil which happened to be an large ebony horse. The beast reared, when the thin beggar lunged in front of it and the rider whom at current was attempting to make his way from being caught by the authorities. Instead of moving as directed the grimy, soot, and muck plaster bodied beggar tipped a hand to the man.

"Please Monsieur, a piece or two! One franc! Not even that Monsieur, a crumb of bread", the beggar cried. The thief gritted his teeth, and shoved the boy away. Or so he believed it was a boy, far too young to be one of these older men, but that scar...

"I said out of my way," came his snap spittle rolling down his rugged chin, whirling his horse around to look down at the boy. " Or else I'll slit your throat!" that said he pulled an extremely fine, and elegant rapier from his side, pointing it down to the fallen body.

Instead of taking given warning to heart, the boy stood again and tried begging for something less taxing. Other beggars and ruffians grumbled at the commotion being made, and tucked themselves further into their secluded spaces, ignoring what was to follow.

Dismounting swiftly the thief swung his rapier most inexpertly at the boy. The boy jumped back, and gave a cry of alarm. Why cry? No one is going to help you. Taking a step back he gulped, his eyes wide. A few more swings from the thief had the boy falling on his rump and crawling on hands and feet like some sort of spider away from him. That is until the thief finally hit it's mark, driving his rapier through the torn, stained, and scratchy cloth. Down deeper, until flesh gave beneath the point, then muscle, scraping bone, missing vital organs. Driving further until it exited and hit cobble stones.

Sucking in a gasp of air, or what little he could the boy gave a more than shrill scream that echoed into the night. It was an eerie sound, as it bounced off the buildings and faded away. Said thief having dealt the young boy a wound, removed the blade and smirked gratifyingly and returned to his horse.

Placing a hand to his stomach the boy moaned, and groaned, rolling upon the ground like a beaten dog. He could feel the blood, oozing, warm, and almost calming through his fingers. He managed to his knees where he held himself, tears trickling down pale cheeks, taking some dirt, soot, and grime with them. Well, I guess it's time to die isn't it? I didn't heed his warnings, but…any place is better than this. Lowering his head and gritting teeth, he heard the distinct sound of hooves coming. Lifting his head slowly, and looking beneath the brow of his patched and tattered cap the thief was riding to him to finish the job.

With a husky grunt of pain he managed to his feet, and took flight down the street. How he managed not to slip and fall he didn't know but it was enough. He entered the main square of the Opera House, and looking up at the building…I have no choice…it's either die in there or by him. Looking back to the rider it was an easy decision to make. Pivoting, he stumbled to the stained glass, and pushed once, twice, it gave and he tumbled in.

Face connecting with the hard, cold floor, the boy managed to turn and kick the frame of the stained glass closed. Breath ragged, caressing his side, he looked about the area he'd entered. There, in small picture frames and candle tapers watched someone's late relatives. Smiling bitterly he spoke to them.

"It wont be long now will it? I hope not…life is unbearable", closing his eyes he rest his head back against the floor. " Mon Dio, it wont be long now….". Giving into the pain, and the blood that was slowly pooling beneath him, he welcomed the oblivion that unconsciousness had to offer.

Erik grumbled beneath his breath, while he slipped through the passage ways of this labyrinth that was now his own.

"Why can't they just leave me be? I have gotten rid of so many and still they come to MY opera house. And to what? To pillage! To steal! To lie! ", Just like that lying little Delilah…Christine. No! I cannot think of her. But I do, each waking moment. He mused, making the last few steps to the corridor that slipped into the small make shift chapel. Expecting to see the tapers and photos fallen, with such a loud clashing.

Instead there prone upon the floor was one of those damned beggars, only something ailed this one. Walking closer for inspection, there was nothing wrong with the place, not even the stained glass window. As for his unexpected and uninvited guest, he was currently bleeding all over HIS floor.

"Stupid boy, stupid mindless beings. So trivial, so ignorant of their own animal instincts." He complained, kneeling beside the body, he'd simply dispose of it. Although something stopped him altogether. Erik had never once taken time to view his victims, not once, but something drew him to tip back the scratchy cap. Slowly he lifted the boy up, the blood soaked cloth rasping on the floor as he was moved. His head rolled upon his shoulders, and he surprisingly had fine, ivory teeth. Tipping the cap, and letting it fall to the ground, Erik's lips parted, and worked silently on words that would not come through.

The boy was crowned with long thick hair, and in jet black ringlets it fell. Upon HER shoulders, it was matted of course, but fell like a ravens wing to cascade upon the floor. Erik was stunned, but how could a girl so young perhaps eighteen, or even twenty keep the womanly curves hidden? He answered his own mind's question when he lay her down and lifted the scratchy shirt. She seemed to take on the laboring task of binding a linen about her breasts as tightly as she could in layers. It made her seem a bit bulky but it must've been awkward with such narrow shoulders.

Coming to his senses Erik, slowly lifted the girl into his arms, and began his decent into the darkness. But, he couldn't help but notice the scar that adorned the left side of her face. It made him mentally feel his own deformity, his mind began to wander once more, but he couldn't. He had this little creature to care for now, under his charge that was all that mattered. His own self loathing and pity would have to wait.

A whimper from her lips made him move a bit faster, only keeping his balance to not jar her further. Thick lashes slowly lifted, and he was awe struck by golden eyes that had been kissed by the sun. So wild, and untamed, even in their delirium, before rolling back within her head. His decent would be swift and the tending would begin.

While Erik slipped into the black eternity that was his life, the girl dreamed of mysterious angels. Especially ones, adorned with a white mask.