CHAPTER 1

"Easy there sir...easy..." He awoke to a soft female voice as he coughing, his vision blurry as it slowly came into focus.
"Christine?" He asked groggily, feeling a small hand feel his forehead. His very unmasked forehead. He shot up in the bed, groaning at the dizziness he still felt.
"Goodness sir...you gave me quite a scare there for a minute...I was afraid you weren't going to wake." He studied her, glaring at her as she came into focus.
"Who are you girl? And where am I?"He barked, almost an order. Her dark, dark eyes blazed.
"Well you're welcome " She said, folding her arms under her breasts. His eyes moved to the shining gold ring on her left ring finger.
"Does your husband know you are harboring strange men in the house woman?" He asked, scanning the room desperately for his mask.

"No I only save that for when he's away..." She shot back, her black hair flowing down her back. Her skin was a beautiful light amber, telling him she was of mixed heritage.
"What is your name girl?" He asked much softer and she looked a bit surprised but sighed.
"Roxana. And yours?" She asked, staying firm and cool. He looked at his hands, unsure of how to answer.
"It's Erik." He said. She nodded.
"Now we are getting somewhere..." She said, sitting beside him and pressing a cool rag which he didn't even know he had to his forehead.
"You're touching me." He said, almost surprised to hear it. She raised a cool black eyebrow at him.
"Yes...that's generally what you do when you're nursing someone. I found you crumpled outside the opera house just at the Rue Scribe when I was in town two days ago." She said, careful to be more gentle on the marred flesh of his right cheek.

"You'll tell me if I hurt you, won't you?" She asked and he nodded, numbly. "Good, now then...this Christine..." She said, her silky alto voice coming through. He looked into the dark abyss of her eyes.
"I don't want to talk about it..." He said and she bit her lip.
"Fair enough, I won't ask. Past is past and the only way left to go is forward." She said, looking toward the door. "Are you hungry?" She asked and he thought a moment.
"Actually I am." He said and she nodded, getting up and leaving the room he was in. He finally looked around at his surroundings. It was a large estate, very well kept and decorated. He was in an elaborate bedroom with a beautiful vanity, a mirror and a wardrobe. Roxana returned a moment later in the doorway.

"If you come into the kitchen, we can eat." She said, waving for him to follow her. He couldn't help but notice she was dressed in a beautiful long sleeved gown of all black which meant one thing. She was in mourning. He got up, swaying a moment at his dizziness and walked through the door, keeping her full black skirts in his sight. They walked into the kitchen which was just a plain kitchen with a wooden table in it. There were a few maids setting up, one of them started when they saw him standing there until Roxana shot her a look and pointed to the door for her to leave.
"Sit Erik." She said, gesturing to the chair across from her. He did so, and tried to get used to the feeling of not having his face covered by his mask.
"I usually wear a mask." He said apologetically to her and she looked up from her plate.
"Not in this house, you don't." She said, taking a dainty bite of her eggs. "Ana knows that sort of behavior isn't accepted in my household." She said, looking at him again and noticing he was still sitting there.

"Well, aren't you going to eat?" She asked and he looked at the food as if it were repulsive.
"Actually, I'm not as hungry as I thought." He said, beginning to get up. Before he had a chance, however, she had come around the table and pushed him back down by his shoulders.
"I don't think so Monsieur. You will eat or you will not leave this table." She said, seeing his shakiness. He had to eat or he could die. Who knew how long it had been since he'd eaten. His green eyes shot fire up at her but he took the biggest scoop of eggs he could manage and swallowed them whole.
"Woman, if you proceed to order me around, I swear to God I'll..."
"You'll what?" She asked, a gleam in her eye. He stopped and looked down into his food for a minute before glaring up at her again. Never taking the burning green eyes off of her nearly black eyes, he took a huge spoonful of eggs and swallowed them practically whole, washing them down with a large drink of milk. A look of satisfaction came to her exotic face.
"That's better." She said, leaving his side and regally returning to her seat.

He looked at her intently for a moment. She too, like Christine, was but a child. A girl. A young woman aged by the obstacles life had thrown at her.
"What are you looking at?" She asked, annoyed by his stare. He sighed.
"Your skin. It's so...I've never seen anything like it." He said, his eyebrows furrowed. She let out a low laugh.
"My mother was Persian actually. My father was French. She died in childbirth and he raised me on his own. He died about six months before..." She stopped, her eyes darkening before correcting herself. "I mean he died about three years ago." She took a breath, but did not begin to cry.
"What of your husband?" Erik asked, eating some more. Inspired by his will to eat, she nodded.
"Justin. He also passed away...about two and a half years ago." Erik bit his lip.
"Sorry." He said and sat the rest of the meal in silence.

"Do you have a wife and family I could take you to? I am sure they are horribly worried." He shook his head, solemnly.
"No, someone like me is not meant for a wife and children." He said and she nodded.
"I know the feeling. I have no use for men. Useless horrid creatures they are, well but for my father and Justin." She said, bowing her head slightly at their mention.
"So where do we go from here then dear girl?" He asked formally and she folded her arms.
"Indeed...well you shall need a place to stay...do you have a house?" She asked and again he shook his head.
"Afraid not." He said and she sighed.
"Well...you may stay here...until you get on your feet." She said turning and he grabbed her arm.
"Girl. Do you know what you are getting yourself into?" He asked and she looked up at him.

"What do you mean?" She asked and he looked around to make sure there were no servants.
"Have you ever heard of the Opera Ghost at the Opera Populaire?" He asked and she rolled her eyes.
"Yes the Chagny girls are full of incessant nonsense about that garbage." All color drained from his face.
"The Chagnys?" He asked and she nodded.
"Elisabeth, Alana, Rosaline and Raoul. I grew up with them. Erik! You look so sick." She said and he nodded, clutching his heart and sinking to sit on the stairs.
"Christine...my Christine...she left me for him!" He sobbed, reliving the night again. She gasped, recalling the morning papers.
"You're the Phantom...the ghost." She said, glaring down at him. "You dropped that chandelier..." She said and he sighed.
"I know...did anyone die?" He asked and she scoffed.
"As if you care! No! There were no fatalities but one man lost all use of his legs! Can you imagine Erik, never being able to walk or run again?"

He sobbed into his palms.
"I was drunk, insane with love. I do love her so." He said and she growled.
"Love is pointless!" She spat, "You find it only to lose it!" She cried, pacing, her fury motivating her. He sobbed on.
"Roxana, I want you to turn me in. I do not want you harboring a fugitive and I want to take full responsibility for the crime." He said and she whirled on him.
"No. Are you insane Erik? Do you know what the inmates would do to you? You would be dead within an hour!" She cried and he nodded.
"I know...then again...I wish to die. There is nothing left for me here." He said softly as the door from the salon opened and the middle aged maid walked in.
"Lady Westcliff, young James is home." She said as the pitter patter of small feet resounded through the hall and a small boy ran through the door flying into the full black crepe material of Roxana's skirt. She lifted him up into her arms.

"My darling." She cooed to the child, who was hardly more than a babe, "I want you to meet our houseguest and new friend, Monsieur...Erik, what is your last name?" She asked and he thought a moment, coming out of his self pity as he noticed the child's blue eyes on him.
"Destler." He said softly, almost surprised at how it sounded when spoken.
"Can you say hello to Monsieur Destler?" She asked and the little boy shook his head shyly, hiding his face in the crook of her neck.
"My lady...if it pleases you, I will give the young Lord Westcliff his bath." The maid said and Roxana nodded.
"Very good Carolina...thank you." She said, kissing the boy's fair cheek and setting him down. As the boy ran from the room, Erik looked up at her expectantly, waiting for an explanation.

"My son, James. He is two and a half. He has trouble speaking...He still only says a few words." She said, worry lacing her voice which had been steadily cool until now.
"My brother-in-law says I should send him away to a special school when he is old enough, but I don't think I could bring myself to do it. He now handles all of my finances since Justin is dead. I have no other family..." She said, sighing. Erik stood at the mention of her brother-in-law. A strange feeling crept into the pit of his stomach when he thought of this man handling an innocent child's finances.
"How old are you child?" He asked her and she looked at him confused, but answered anyway.
"I am twenty-one." She said and he held in a gasp. She didn't look a day over sixteen.
"Roxana, let me stay with you." He said, an idea forming in his mind. At her incredulous expression, he thought quickly. James. Of course! "I...I could tutor James. I could help him with his speech. You could show your brother-in-law that he does not need to go to a school."

She stared at him, her eyes glaring again.
"You just want to use me because of my connection to the Chagnys and Raoul's fiancée." He stood, angered.
"No Roxana...believe me I want nothing more to do with that lot or that mess." He said, "She ruined me once, almost killed me. I don't think I could survive her again...I do love her so." He lamented and she sank into an armchair nearby.
"I don't know why...but I believe you have sincere intentions...but I swear to God Destler, if you show any signs of insanity or murderous intent at all, I will have you thrown into prison and laugh hysterically at your execution. Have I made myself perfectly clear?" She asked in her low silk voice. He nodded, satisfied.

"Fair enough." He said, holding his hand out for her to shake. She did, with a surprisingly firm grip. "One more condition though." He added and she looked at him expressionless. He sighed.
"I am someone who cannot reveal himself so easily...it's very hard for me to..." He stopped and sighed, "I want a new mask." She sighed back.
"Yes and I want you to stop babbling on like a jabbering idiot, but it doesn't seem likely does it now?" Surprised, he let out a low chuckle and nodded.
"Do we have a deal then Roxana?" She looked at his hand a moment, before shaking it again.
"So it would seem sir."