Legends Never Die

by TunnelsOfTheSouth

Finding himself at a loose end at the French port of Le Havre in 1866, Daniel decides to take the train to Paris to visit old haunts. He finds the old city he knew is in the process of being redesigned on a grand scale. Finding nowhere to stay, he meets a mysterious stranger, who offers him a meal and a bed for the night if Daniel will tell him of the places he has seen...

"Legends Never Die…"

The Ghost and Mrs Muir / The Phantom of the Opera

Cross-OverStory

By TunnelsOfTheSouth

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All the characters in this story have simply been borrowed for a time, and are always returned to their own universes, completely unharmed…

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"Guard your throats and hide your eyes. He's not dead, you fools! Legends never die…"

A.G. Howard

Le Havre, France – October 1866

Captain Daniel Gregg berthed his ship in the French port of Le Havre, after crossing the English Channel from London. This would be his last port of call in Europe for the season. His ship would be unloaded before he took on a fresh cargo and sailed home to Schooner Bay and the lay-over for winter. He was eager to be at sea again before the fickle Atlantic weather turned stormy.

Unfortunately, he soon discovered that the unloading of his English cargo was going to take longer than he'd contracted. A setback he'd railed loudly against. But his protests had fallen on deaf ears.

"Five more days, Monsieur…" The harbour foreman had shrugged his disinterest in the time-honoured Gallic fashion. "We cannot work any faster. There are just too many ships and my men are too few…"

He'd glanced from side to side before sidling closer. "Of course, if the good Monsieur wishes to pay more for a team of my best men…" The foreman had dropped his voice as he'd held out his dirty hand discreetly.

"God take your damned impertinence!" Daniel had snarled.

His understanding of the French language was limited, but he knew enough to understand the man's meaning. "Not a penny more of my money will you see, you larcenous sea-slug! You gave me your word! We agreed on a fair rate and I expect you to honour our deal!"

"As Monsieur wishes…" The foreman had touched his forehead insolently.

He and his men had gone back to their work with deliberate slowness, muttering about the parsimony of another damned Yankee sea captain who refused to pay a man a fair rate for a day's backbreaking work.

"Five days…" Daniel shook his head in disgust. "God's bones, you can never trust a Frenchman to keep his word."

Left to kick his heels, he decided to turn over command of the ship to his first mate before he collected his seabag from his cabin. He hurried to catch a train that would take him into Paris. It had been some years since he'd last visited the French capital.

It was early evening by the time the train pulled into the station, leaving Daniel little time to find a room and a meal for the night. He wasn't overly concerned. He would find somewhere soon enough.

A light rain began to fall as he walked from the station, down dark streets of rain-washed cobbles. He was looking for somewhere clean and comfortable, as he'd found on his last visit to the fabled City of Lights.

But now the centre of the great city was cloaked in darkness. There were none of the cheeky, street-wise urchins abroad, who would offer to lead a visitor to their required destination for the toss of a single small coin swiftly caught and bitten to prove its worth.

It looked to Daniel as if an enormous tornado had torn the heart out of the old city where once he would have found suitable lodgings for the night among the crowded houses and small taverns. Beautiful old buildings had been sacrificed in the drive to create wide boulevards lined with vast new apartment blocks.

An enormous construction site occupied the end of the Avenue de l'Opéra. It was an impressive mass of scaffolding and imposing stonework that shouldered its way upwards into the dark sky. Whatever the city fathers were building there, it appeared as if it was going to be truly awesome.

"Progress…" Daniel shook his head sadly, as he turned away to walk down a side street, looking for new lodgings.

The chill rain was finding its way beneath the sturdiness of his heavy naval coat. It ran from his cap down the back of his neck. He needed to find a place to stay, and soon.

He decided to turn back to the train station. It would provide shelter from the rain if nothing else. But it wasn't long before he knew he was being followed. A group of ruffians kept to the wide darkness between the dimly lit street lamps, using the gathering night as their friend.

Daniel loosened the snap on the serviceable knife he always carried at his hip. The streets were deserted, most of the citizens had long found what shelter there was from the rain, as he was seeking to do. But there was nowhere in immediate sight that offered a rain-bedraggled traveller a bed.

Daniel tightened his grip on the cord of his seabag, willing to use it as a weapon. The gang of bullies drew closer, encouraged by his perceived isolation.

At the same moment, a black carriage rounded a distant corner, driving down the cobbled street at a clip that made it obvious the owner was not concerned about the potential danger to any pedestrians unwary enough to step into its path. The lightless vehicle came on, the horses' high-stepping hooves striking sparks from the cobbles.

The gang following Daniel drew back into the shadows, cursing and muttering, as they waited for the carriage to pass them by and allow them to get back to their grim business. Daniel quickened his steps, taking advantage of the distraction to put distance between them as he headed back the way he'd come.

In the moment of passing him, a terse command was shouted and the carriage driver suddenly dragged on the reins, setting his horses back in their traces, bringing them to a prancing stop. Their hooves struck a fresh shower of sparks, as did the steel-banded wheels of the carriage as they skidded in the wet.

The carriage shuddered to a halt, rocking on its springs. The muffled driver sat motionless, staring straight ahead as the door beside Daniel was opened. The passenger within was cloaked in darkness, and the hand that grasped the door handle clothed in a black leather glove.

"Bonsoir, Monsieur. It is dangerous for an honest man to be abroad at this hour. Those malfrats wish to do you harm," a man's deep, refined voice commented as if he was discussing the weather. Despite his French accent, his English was impeccable.

"I've seen the lily-livered cowards. They will not best me." Daniel touched the brim of his cap in acknowledgement. "Thank you for your concern, Monsieur."

"Despite your brave words, they are seven to your one, Monsieur," the unseen man continued drily. "To my mind, that is an uneven contest. One which I would hate to see them win. Sadly, your naval attire marks you as a target worthy of their brutal intentions."

He stopped speaking, obviously giving Daniel time to consider his options. "I have a mind to remove you from harm's way. If you would consent to accept the help of a complete stranger…" The gloved hand turned over in beckoning appeal.

"You are generous, sir." Daniel looked at the dark heavens, the rain-drenched streets, before considering the gang of ruffians who were edging closer, pulling a variety of weapons from their pockets. "I will say the company of that scum is not something I would wish to cultivate. I will accept your kind offer."

"Then, climb aboard, Monsieur. You will find my company much more preferable to such as theirs. Throw your bag up to my man."

"Thank you, Monsieur." Daniel nodded before he tossed his bag up to the elderly driver, who caught it deftly, stowing it beneath the leather blanket spread across his lower body.

Daniel climbed into the coach and sat down on the black, buttoned velvet seat. His rescuer had retreated to the far side of the cabin. Darkness surrounded him. He sat watching Daniel, with a wide-brimmed, black hat pulled low over his face.

"You will forgive my desire to keep a measure of space between us. It is my habit of long-standing." The man shrugged. He knocked on the roof of the coach with the gold, lion-head of a long, ebony cane, setting the vehicle in motion. "For my own reasons, I am a very private man."

"Your business is yours, Monsieur," Daniel replied. "It is none of mine."

"Ah, a man after my own heart," his rescuer approved smoothly. "Where may I take you, sir? Your accommodation? Or do you wish to visit one of the many nightclubs Paris is famous for and spend the night in the company of strong drink and loose women?"

"Nightclubs have never been to my taste." Daniel shrugged. "But I have only just arrived in Paris. I have not had time to secure suitable accommodation. It seems they have torn the very heart out of the old city and the places I once knew."

"That is the benighted work of Emperor Napoleon and his Grand Prefect, Baron Haussmann!" the other man replied hardly. "They would gut my beautiful city like a cheap whore, for their own grandiose ends. They seek immortality."

His hand tightened on the gold head of his ebony cane and for a moment he looked murderous. Then he drew a ragged sigh. "But, one day, I will have my vengeance."

"I regret if I have touched a nerve, sir." Daniel shook his head.

"Thank you, but it is not a matter of your concern. It amused me to take you as my guest for the night." His rescuer waved a dismissive hand. "I will admit, at first, I took you for one of those accused English tourists who have begun to swarm into my city. They go abroad at all hours as if they own it and embolden the street vermin to mayhem and murder. From your speech, I now deduce that you are an American?"

"I am, Monsieur." Daniel nodded. "I'm a ship's captain out of Maine."

"Ah, America…" the other man mused. "A land I have longed to see…" He tilted his head, regarding Daniel closely, as if considering extending their brief relationship. "If you will indulge me, sir. I would trade a seat at my table and a comfortable bed, for an evening of your time."

"You honour me, Monsieur. However, I fear it would be a poor trade. But, by necessity, I must accept."

"You are too modest. To me, you are an exotic. Just call me a collector of unusual things." The other man laughed softly. "I would know your name, Monsieur."

"Captain Daniel Gregg, at your service." Daniel sat forward to hold his hand out in the space between them.

The stranger stiffened. He considered the gesture for a long moment before he reached out to briefly touch his gloved fingers against Daniel's. A mere brush of contact and he was gone, back into his corner.

My name is Erik," the stranger supplied. "My surname is of no consequence. I have not had need of such for many years. I have been known by other names, too many to recall."

"As I said, your business is your own." Daniel shrugged.

"You are refreshingly blunt," Erik acknowledged. "I am pleased I stopped for you, tonight."

"The blasted ruffians who were following me didn't appear to be pleased at all."

"Ah, they are the curse of these streets. I have seen their like too often since the poor were driven away by increasingly high rents and greedy landlords. No doubt they will already be on the hunt for another unfortunate victim." He shrugged. "It is the nature of man to pick on those weaker than themselves."

As he spoke, the carriage rounded a corner and drew up before a tall, elegant house in a street of other older, darkened dwellings. Daniel looked out the carriage window, admiring the pleasing proportions of the building.

"I see you have an eye for detail," Erik commented, as the driver dismounted to open the door for them. "It was not so pleasant to look at until I took a hand in its redesign. It serves well enough until my new accommodation is finally completed to my satisfaction."

"I appreciate fine lines in anything," Daniel replied, as he alighted and accepted his seabag from the driver. "Be it houses, ships or women."

"Ah, women…" Erik shook his head. "Houses and ships, I understand. I am at heart, an architect, so my knowledge of such practical things is vast. But, women…" His shoulders moved in defeat. "I have no time for their impractical nature and unnatural whims."

"They can be the most perplexing of creatures," Daniel agreed. "Like them, yes. Understand them, never. I'll admit I have yet to suffer the ignominy of being tied to a woman's apron string or set by the hearth like a pet dog."

"Again, we understand each other perfectly. I find that most unusual." Erik nodded to his driver. "Thank you, Armand. That will be all for tonight."

"Oui, Maître." The muffled driver touched his whip to his cap, before climbing back up to his box and setting the coach in motion. It clattered away down the street and turned the corner.

Daniel turned to study his host, finding him slightly taller than himself. A voluminous, black, red-lined, silk cloak hid his proportions, but the way he carried himself and held his long cane, suggested a man of lethal strength if his ire was ever aroused.

Erik tugged the brim of his hat even lower over his eyes. He didn't appear to resent Daniel's frank look, but he still didn't wish to reveal his face.

"After you, Monsieur Daniel." He indicated the large, black-painted front door of his house.

"Daniel's just fine. I'm not one for ceremony."

"Merci, Daniel." Erik followed him in, shutting the door behind him.

The foyer was in semi-darkness, illuminated only but a single branch of candles set on a side table. Shadows clung in every corner, making the house gloomy.

"I am afraid you will find me a creature of the darkness," Erik apologised easily. "I have come to abhor the daylight. It is too burnished for my poor eyes to tolerate. I hope you understand."

"I am your guest in your house." Daniel inclined his head as he removed his cap before placing it on top of his seabag.

He unbuttoned and shed his heavy, wet coat, finding a convenient hook for it beside the door. All the while he noticed that his host still had not removed his large-brimmed hat or his great cloak.

"I think we are going to enjoy an excellent evening together," Erik approved, as he stripped off his gloves and laid them on the side table.

He turned as an elderly serving woman hurried from the back of the house. She said nothing as she curtseyed awkwardly, keeping her eyes downcast.

"As you can see, Matilde, I have brought home a guest for the night. See to it that you set another place at the table and we will take supper in half an hour. Then you will prepare a room for him."

"Oui, Maître." The woman replied nervously.

Her dull dark eyes darted to Daniel. Her gaze narrowed with startled curiosity before she curtseyed again quickly and hurried away.

"It is hard to retain good servants." Erik shrugged, leading the way into the front parlour. "Armand and his wife, Matilde, have been with me for some years. They are both honest and hard-working, and completely incurious about my eccentric, nocturnal habits. They serve their purpose. When I finally leave this house I will make it over to them in payment for their tolerance of my many eccentricities."

The large parlour was lit by a good fire, that added much-needed warmth to the gloomy room. By instinct, Daniel gravitated to it, putting out his open hands to the welcome flames.

Drifts of steam began to rise from his damp clothing. He relished the warmth seeping into his chilled flesh.

Behind him, he heard a swish of silk fabric as his host finally shed his cloak, draping it across a convenient chair. He turned to see Erik was dressed in an elegantly cut suit of funerary black, with a crisp, white linen shirt evident at his throat and wrists. His host raised a hand to his hat then hesitated.

"I would beg you for another indulgence, my new friend," Erik said quietly. "But…my poor face is not made as other men's. For that reason, I am forced to wear a mask so as not to provoke unwarranted outbursts and dangerous recriminations among my fellows. Another reason why I often go abroad at night where the darkness is my only friend and people avoid my company."

Daniel considered him levelly. "In my voyages, I have seen many curious things and mysterious people. You will find I am not someone who takes fright at the sight of another man's face, however unusual."

"Thank you," Erik replied simply, before removing his hat to reveal a white cloth mask that covered his face to his chin. Through two slits, his dark eyes studied Daniel's expression watchfully.

"A man's worth should always be measured by his actions, not his appearance," Daniel told him, rubbing his hands together before the fire. "You performed a service for a stranger, tonight. One I am sincerely grateful for."

"Merci…" Erik sighed, as the tense set of his shoulders relaxed.

Without the concealment of his cloak, Daniel could see he was very lean, almost too thin for his great height. His white hands were long-fingered and incredibly slender, almost skeletal in appearance.

Those Erik didn't seek to hide as he indicated a side cabinet full of cut crystal decanters. "My one vice," he admitted frankly. "Would you care to take a glass of a most excellent Madeira with me before we partake of our supper? I have it specially imported for my own cellar."

"That would be very welcome, indeed." Daniel followed him across the room to a matching set of red plush velvet couches.

They sat together for some time in communal silence, both enjoying each other's company and the excellent liqueur. The crackle and snap of the fire provided an undertone to the silence that Daniel didn't find at all oppressive. He too was a man of few words.

"Tell me all about America," Erik encouraged presently. "It is a country I would like to see, but fear I will not." He sighed. "My extensive work here on the new opera house, I fear, will swallow the few years I have left to me on this earth. My health suffers now. The opera house will become my legacy and my tomb. I am content."

Erik spoke so matter-of-factly; Daniel saw no reason to ask his host to expand on such a fatalistic view. It was none of his business how another man saw his destiny.

"Very well. What would you like to know?" He took a long sip of the Madeira. It really was a most excellent vintage.

"Everything. Tell me everything. I wish to know it all…" Erik settled back in his chair, obviously prepared to be well entertained for his offer of a night's accommodation.

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That single night was followed by the rest of Daniel's enforced shore leave. His host turned out to be as entertaining as he was mysterious. They played both chess and cards, Erik showing he was a consummate master of both.

They ate together and drank more of Erik's excellent cellar and they talked. Long into the night about anything and everything. Except for love. That was a subject Daniel's host seemed to be deeply reluctant to discuss.

Erik seemed to abhor the concept that a man could love, or be loved, by anyone. He scorned all womenkind as being unworthy of his attentions. Daniel couldn't help but wonder what woman had hurt him so deeply, that he could express such deep distaste for their company. But he did not pry.

When they tired of games, Erik consented to play the gleaming grand piano in the dining room. His skill at the keyboard was mesmerising. Daniel was deeply intrigued by a man who could wring such intense and visceral emotions from every exquisite note on an instrument made of wood, ivory and wires and yet eschewed all talk of love.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, Daniel shared one last meal with his host. "Regretfully, I must return to my ship today. I am the mercy of the tides and the wind."

"Then, allow me the pleasure of a few more hours of your company. I shall convey you to the harbour." Erik ordered Armand to bring the carriage around.

The two men journeyed to Le Havre in comfort. The evening was drawing in when they finally arrived.

"Au revoir, mon ami." Erik sat forward to offer his gloved hand, as the coach came to a halt on the dockside, not far from Daniel's anchored ship. "I shall truly miss our conversations and your most excellent company."

"You have been most generous to a stranger." Daniel shook hands with him. "And I shall miss your excellent Madeira."

"If you would consent to write your address in America, I will happily send you a consignment." He reached into the top pocket of his suit coat, removing a small notebook and a pencil. He held them out.

"I would be happy to." Daniel accepted them, opening the notebook to see all manner of intriguing drawings and designs for the most fantastical of devices he could only guess at the use for.

"I use the book to write down whatever comes into my head. As I said, I have a vast knowledge of all things practical." Erik shrugged, watching Daniel swiftly write down the address of his home in Schooner Bay.

Erik accepted the return of his notebook. He read Daniel's notation. "Gull Cottage, Schooner Bay…" he mused. "It sounds idyllic and so very far away. He shook his head at some private thought he did not share. "Bon voyage, mon Capitaine. May fair wind and sea carry you safely home." He removed his right glove and held out his hand again.

"I shall never forget your kindness." Daniel clasped it, slightly taken aback by the dry coldness of Erik's flesh. He shook it firmly. "If you ever do make it to America…"

"I have your address in Schooner Bay." Erik laughed softly as he tapped the notebook before returning it to his pocket. "But I fear, my friend, that you and I will not meet again, in this life. C'est la vie…"

Daniel suddenly became aware of a small group of dock workers gathering close to the coach. Close enough to hear snippets of their conversation. Words such a 'demon' and 'devil' were being bandied about, as the men watched the black coach warily, seemingly trying to bolster their courage to come closer and look inside.

"It would appear I have once again outstayed my dubious welcome in Le Havre," Erik said quietly. "Soon their morbid curiosity will overcome their fear of my vengeance. You had better get back to your ship while your path is still clear. Association with me would not be good for your health."

"They would seek to do you harm?" Daniel put a hand to the hilt of his knife.

"Ah, no, my friend. Do not concern yourself with my safety. I have faced down many like those ruffians. Their dislike has never concerned me." Erik shook his head. "Besides, Armand is well versed in the use of his pistols. No harm will come to me, if I remain in the coach, out of sight."

He held up his gold-headed walking cane. "But if they venture too close, I also have this…" He opened it a little to reveal a vicious-looking blade concealed within the stem.

"Then I will bid you adieu, so you may go on your way in safety." Daniel opened the door and stepped down from the coach. "And I do hope to see you again, someday."

He caught his seabag that Armand tossed from the driver's seat. The old man nodded to him; his expression untroubled by the gathering of the dockside thugs.

"Au revoir, Monsieur," he said quietly. "Bon voyage and merci for your kindness to my Maître…"

Daniel touched his fingers to the brim of his sea cap. He stood back as Armand whipped up his horses, turning them so they headed straight for the melee of dock workers. They all scrambled aside, yelling various curses and shouts of alarm, as the black coach swept through their ranks and continued on its way back to the Paris road, gathering speed as it vanished from view…

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Gull Cottage – Christmas Day 1972

Carolyn sat watching Daniel as he opened her Christmas present. "I know you said you'd once been in Paris when the Opera House was being built," she commented. "Well, I found this book when I was in Bangor, last week. It's about some mysterious man who made a home for himself underneath the opera house after he'd helped to build it. I thought you might like it."

Daniel lifted the book from its wrapping. He held it up to read the title and author's name. "Le Fantôme de l'Opéra… by Gaston Leroux. Ah…" He smiled slowly. "Thank you, my dear. It's perfect."

"Why do I get the feeling you know more than you're telling?" Carolyn asked suspiciously, watching his reminiscent smile.

"Thereby hangs a marvellous tale," Daniel began slowly. "Once upon a time, on a dark and rain-soaked night in Paris, I met a very interesting man. A most unusual man unlike any other I had ever met before, or since…"

"Ohhh…" Candy expressed her delight. "This is going to be a good one. Tell us more, please."

"Yeah, who was that man? And how did he save you?" Jonathan sank to his knees at Daniel's feet.

"He was a stranger who saved me from a gang of cowardly street thugs."

"Hang on…" Martha got up. "This sounds good. We're going to need hot chocolate and cookies. Come and help me, children."

"I'll give you a hand, too." Carolyn got up to follow them from the room.

"Surely, you're not going to tell us that the Phantom man was actually real?" Claymore demanded to know, indicating the book. He shook his head. "If this is going to turn into one of your scary ghost stories, I'm going need a lot more of this excellent Madeira."

He leaned forward to refill his glass to the crystal decanter on the coffee table. He glanced furtively around the room as he sat back.

He lowered his voice to a stage whisper, putting the edge of his hand to the side of his mouth. "He's not here, right now, is he?" He looked around again. "I mean, you haven't conjured him up just to enhance your tale?"

"Rest easy, Claymore. If Erik was here now, I would be sure to introduce you to him."

"Ah, ha…" Claymore didn't look as if he would enjoy such an encounter. He took another long sip of his Madeira, savouring its quality.

"Of course," Daniel continued with relish. "You do realise you're drinking some of his very best Madeira…"

"Wh…what…?" Claymore's face paled as he stopped drinking to stare at his glass in frightened astonishment.

※※※※※

Daniel materialised on the widow's walk. It was his favourite haunt at night when he had much to think about. The hour was late and his household had long since retired to bed.

He paced slowly up and down with his hands clasped habitually in the small of his back. He stopped to stare out across the restless ocean to the serene face of the moon.

Fresh snow had fallen but, of course, Daniel left no footprints in the pristine surface as he walked. The air was chill and crisp, a perfect Christmas night.

"Merry Christmas…" Daniel breathed deeply, knowing he was content.

"Joyeux Noel, mon ami." Erik materialised beside him. "It has been a long time since we last met. I have missed our conversations and my Madeira." He laughed softly.

"Bonsoir…" Daniel turned to look at him. "I wondered if I would see you tonight. I thought the mention of the book would draw you."

He studied his friend's face. There was no longer any need for him to be cloaked in a mask. Erik was still as tall and willowy as Daniel remembered him on that long-ago night, but his face was calm and serene, and as ordinary as Daniel's own. His elegant, nineteenth-century clothes were dark and, as always, he wore a crisp white linen shirt evident at his neck and wrists.

"I sensed that you now possess my book." Erik shrugged. "Well, it was really Gaston's book. I allowed him to take all the credit, even though I was pivotal in its creation. He told my story as I dictated it to him through the power of suggestion about the right places to look. He embroidered the rest into a fanciful tale that far outstripped my imagination."

He turned to gaze at the moon. "I never sought immortality. I wished to be forgotten. I should have been forgotten. But fate intervened and sought me out anyway, because of that small, insignificant book. My beloved Christine is all I ever needed or truly cared for. I waited for her and I found her. But, they do say legends never die."

He looked back at his friend. "As you know I created my lair beneath Garnier's grandiose opera house to be my tomb. I went there to die. Instead, I found a reason to live. A very beautiful reason… I can still remember that first night I heard her sing…"

He shook his head. "What we cannot have in one life, we must seek in the next, right, Daniel?"

"How is Christine?" Daniel asked. "I hope she is well."

"Waiting for me, as all good wives should." Erik smiled as he inclined his head. He looked at Daniel with compassion. "What it is to find the woman you love with all your heart before you die, my friend. Sadly, such is not your fate."

"No, it is not." Daniel sighed. "But I am content. I watch over them all and I wait. It is enough. After all, I have been waiting for more than one hundred years. I can wait forever if needs be."

"Then I am glad for you." Erik put a hand on his shoulder. "May time be kind to you both. We shall meet again, soon. We still have that game of chess to finish. I believe you were winning, for a change." He smiled, as he dematerialised, leaving Daniel to return to his contemplation of the night.

※※※※※

"He'd walked as a ghost in the gloomy bowels of this opera house for so long, darkness had become his brother, which was fitting, since his father was the night, and sunlight their forgotten friend…"

A.G. Howard