A/N: Thanks to those of you who are reading. More of you need to review! Please let me know your thoughts. :) I just want to say that I hope none of you feel that Erik is OOC. I am trying to show other sides of him with this story...to me, he is a hardened man because of his past and his pain. He has killed because of it, and at other times (as I am attempting to show in this fiction) he surely must weep because of it as well. Of course, I believe I must thank ALW, Joel Schumacher, and Gerard Butler here for portraying the Phantom/Erik in such a beautiful and moving way. It is THIS Phantom on which I am primarily basing this story. Read on!

Chapter Seven

Erik shook his head in disbelief. "What did you just tell me?" he nearly shouted at the priest.

"I said that they are aware of your deformity, Erik," the priest replied rather nonchalantly.

Erik was fuming. "How could you betray me like this?" He roared. The old man looked terrified as Erik nearly tried to stand inside the moving carriage. "Turn this carriage around NOW!"

"Calm yourself and listen to me!" the priest shouted back. "Erik, I was honest with them. They understand about birth defects—as I told you, their daughter…"

"Their daughter does not have the devil's face!" Erik bellowed. He clenched his fists and had to fight everything within him not to strangle the old man right then and there.

"You are correct, Erik," Father Michel said, more calmly now. "She does not have the 'devil's face' and neither do you."

Erik's mind was racing. I have to get out of here, he thought, cursing. Unfortunately, it was too late. The carriage came to a halt and the head servant of the house strode to the carriage door, opening it for Erik and Father Michel. "Good morning, Monsieur. Father," he nodded.

"Good morning to you," Father Michel answered the servant. What is his name? Oh, I cannot recall. Gilles? Gerard? No, no…Guillaume! That's it! "How are you, Guillaume?"

"I am well, Father," the butler looked slightly surprised at the question. "And you?"

"Very well, thank you." Father Michel began to follow Guillaume into the house but turned to look over his shoulder at Erik. If the priest hadn't known better, he would have sworn that a dark thundercloud was actually stalking behind him. "Erik, my boy, everything will be fine," he whispered to him. Erik straightened his cravat and tilted his fedora further downward over his mask, scowling all the while.

The butler opened the door for the men, and they entered a large foyer with a domed ceiling. Erik was slightly impressed with the architecture. He glanced around him. To his right, he noticed a large set of double doors, which were closed. The dining room, perhaps? he wondered. In front of him was a large, curving staircase leading to the upper floor. The walls were a creamy eggshell color, very pleasing to the eye. A few tapestries hung here and there, and there was an understated elegance to the place. Well, he thought, at least these people have enough sense to not be gaudy. To his left there were opened double pocket doors, which led into a lovely sitting parlor. The butler motioned to the men to be seated there. "I will inform Monsieur Laurent that you have arrived," he smiled.

Erik seated himself on the settee, removing his hat and nervously turning it about in his hands. Father Michel was watching him closely. "Erik, I am sorry if I gave them more information than you would have liked…I just thought that it would be easier for you in the long run—to be honest with them beforehand about your…deformity. They know it isn't your fault, and that it is a birth defect of sorts. If anyone should understand, it should be this family, Erik. They have had to deal with much pain and scorn and prying eyes as well, because of their daughter."

"Indeed we have," a deep voice spoke from the doorway. A tall, blond gentleman stood there, smiling at Father Michel. "Father, so nice to see you. How are you?" He entered the room, hand outstretched toward the priest.

"Fine, fine," the priest stood and shook his hand. "Uh…Monsieur Laurent, this is my friend, Erik," he spoke nervously. Erik stood, remembering his manners, and nodded his head at the slender man before him. Monsieur Laurent extended his hand to Erik. "Monsieur Erik, a pleasure to meet you."

"You as well," Erik grumbled, briefly grasping the man's hand before looking away. Erik noted that the man was as tall as he, but would in no way be a match for his own strength and speed. He is no threat…and he had best not become one.

The priest glanced over at Erik. "Monsieur Laurent, I'm afraid that my friend here is a bit uncomfortable with this arrangement…he believes that I've given you too much information about him." Erik snapped his head up and glared at the priest.

"Yes, and you are still talking too much, Father," Erik said through clenched teeth.

Monsieur Laurent chuckled heartily. "Oh, well, he's a priest, what do you expect?" he answered Erik. "Monsieur, I assure you, you are very welcome here. We are glad to have you. I hear that you are quite musically talented. Perhaps once you feel more comfortable here, you would grace us with a piece on our grand piano?"

Erik's face lit up visibly at the words grand piano. "Uh…yes…perhaps," he stammered.

"Wonderful," Monsieur Laurent replied. "Now, let's just get this out of the way, shall we? Yes, my family and I are aware that you have a birth defect beneath your mask. And yes, I can see why you would be uncomfortable with our knowing this information…but I want you to know that from our perspective, it is not what is outside that makes the man, but what is inside. Don't you agree?" He smiled at Erik.

Erik sneered. "Perhaps if you were unfortunate enough to see my exposed face for yourselves, you would not think such naïve thoughts." He narrowed his eyes at the man. "And I assure you…what is inside of me is no more attractive."

Monsieur Laurent appeared to be taken aback. He turned his head away from Erik and addressed the priest. "He certainly is an honest one, isn't he?"

"Yes, I am, and I am standing right here, so you will kindly address me!" Erik spat.

Monsieur Laurent turned his gaze to Erik again. "I apologize, Monsieur. That was extremely rude of me. You must understand…I have become used to the pointless banter which comes with being a member of 'high society.' It isn't very often that I hear such brutal honesty…and I do appreciate your honesty. But please do not insult me, Monsieur, by asserting that my views on humanity are somehow naïve. I have encountered hardships as well because of my daughter's defect, and I know firsthand that a person's heart is not determined by his or her appearance or ability."

Erik felt as though he had been thoroughly chastised, though he was still indignant. "And you must understand, Monsieur, that I have heard nothing but the horrified screams of women and children all of my life…so forgive me for insulting you based upon what I have experienced of humanity."

"Very well, then. It seems at least that we understand one another. I am very sorry to hear of what you've endured. But please know that there will be none of that here, Monsieur. We will treat you with the respect that you deserve, and we shall expect to be treated with that respect in return. Agreed?" Monsieur Laurent gave Erik a determined yet kind look.

"Agreed," Erik replied darkly.

"Well, then, it's settled!" the priest chimed in cheerily. "Good, good. Uh…Erik, would you like me to stay and help you settle in a bit? I should be glad to help you unpack or simply…keep you company?"

"That won't be necessary," Erik replied.

The priest looked slightly disappointed. He sighed, "Alright, then. Have it your way. I suppose I shall just go back to my drafty little church…all alone…." He grinned.

Erik shook his head. "Stay if it suits you. Far be it from me to send an old man such as yourself back to his hermit's cave."

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The priest accompanied Erik to the smaller house on the estate and helped him to unpack. He seemed genuinely pleased that Erik had let him stay. He was humming an incessant tune about the house, thoroughly annoying Erik.

"Must you do that?" Erik sighed.

"Do what?" Father Michel asked innocently.

"Butcher a perfectly decent tune in such a manner! Perhaps you should try whistling instead of humming…you may find that you can actually stay on key." Erik tilted his head to the side slightly, raising his chin. "Or perhaps you are just tone deaf."

The priest was somewhat disturbed by Erik's rude behavior, but he chalked it up to nervousness on Erik's part. He must be feeling even more tense than usual, being in these new surroundings. "Well! Have you never heard that one must 'make a joyful noise unto the Lord'? Really, Erik, we cannot all be perfect musicians such as yourself, now can we?"

"No, I suppose not," Erik replied cockily as he hung his clothing in the bedroom wardrobe.

Father Michel stopped unpacking Erik's things and stood up straight, placing his hands on his hips. "My boy, something is bothering you. Please, I would like to know what is wrong."

Erik turned toward the old man. "If you must know, I am quite bothered by this whole situation! Several days ago, I thought that I would have the woman I love in my arms forever, but she left me…." He paused and bowed his head slightly. "Then I watched as my home burned from a fire which I caused, and now here I am, moving into a house on some unfamiliar aristocratic estate. I should say that something is very, very wrong with this picture!" He was clearly frustrated and his anger was beginning to surface again.

"Or perhaps there is something very right about it," Father Michel said firmly.

"Right? Father, nothing has ever gone right in my life, as I've told you. How on earth could you be so foolish to think that these horrible things were supposed to happen?" Erik asked incredulously.

"I have seen it many times, my boy. Just because things do not happen the way we believe they should happen, does not mean that those aren't the right things for our lives. God has a greater plan for each of us…greater than we could ever imagine. So, even though you made some woeful choices in your life, God is still sovereign and He can direct your steps even when you have no knowledge of it." Father Michel smiled at Erik. "Where might you be right now if you hadn't hidden inside my little church?"

"If God is in control of all these things, then why would he take the one thing I loved away from me?" Erik felt despondent and angry at the same moment. "She was all that I had that was good in this world!" He trembled and lowered his gaze to the floor. "Christine…Christine…why? Why would He take her away from me?" Erik's shoulders had stiffened and his fists were clenched at his sides.

Father Michel approached Erik slowly. "Erik, only He can answer that for certain. But perhaps there are other things that you are to come to terms with before you are truly ready to have that kind of love in your life…I do not know. I am sorry, my boy." He laid a hand on Erik's shoulder and silently prayed for him as Erik released tears of pain and anger. And again there was an awkward silence.

Finally, after several moments of tension, Father Michel spoke. "We mustn't forget that we have been invited to dinner this evening at the main house. Perhaps we should finish setting up here and take an hour or two to rest until then."

Erik nodded and they continued their work until they both gave in to exhaustion that afternoon.