Disclaimer: We don't need to tell you this, but you know, it's just here.  We don't own 'Phantom of the Opera', though we would like to. That belongs to Gaston Leroux and the rest of the wonderful (or not so wonderful… * coughcoughFORSYTHEcoughcough*…) geniuses who have brought this story to life.  Don't bother suing us; we don't make a penny off this.

Summary: A phic exploring the possibility of another person sharing Erik's face.

A Story of Love: by Lady Death & L'Ange de Folie

*          *          *

A large crowd had already gathered at the fair, Erik noticed with disdain.

They had tried to find a back way to this miserable place, or at least a way that wasn't so heavily populated, but it was impossible. The entire area was swarming with people and they had no choice but to walk through the mass. It was not something he was enjoying.

He continued to follow Christine to the freak show without a word. The young comte followed closely behind and Erik could feel his eyes boring into his back. It seemed as if the boy was afraid that masked man would disappear along with Christine if he took his eyes off him for just one second. Erik chuckled silently to himself, knowing very well that he could do that if he truly wanted to - he'd done it often enough.

His mirth was short lasting however. He felt a sickening feeling of claustrophobia replace it instead. Between the rapidly growing crowds and Raoul following so closely behind him, (Erik could almost feel his breath on the back of his neck), it was difficult for Erik to continue to walk and keep up a pretense of calmness. All his instincts were urging him to disappear into a dark corner and hide there. He was all too aware of the whispers and stares that were directed at him as they waded through milling groups of people. The only one advantage that they had in their position was that the crowds parted quickly and they were able to slip through without having to fight against traffic flows of people.

The fair itself was overwhelming and Erik wondered queasily why people willingly went to them. Thousands of sights, sounds, and smells bombarded his senses making him dizzy. The teeming throng around them made it worse, giving Erik a feeling that he was trapped. There were flashes of color, dancers with brilliant, gaudy costumes, contortionists doing backbends before a tent, jugglers performing for a group of squealing children, plus a hundred other things coupled with the sounds of laughter, cheering, talking, screaming and the barker's advertising of various shows and attractions. All made him begin to wish that he had never left the cellars of the opera house. He fought the deep feeling of panic in his stomach.

I spent so much of my life performing at these places, he thought in wonder. Why? He had been younger then, he supposed, and wasn't as reclusive and paranoid at that point in his life. The swarms of people and attractions filled him with such adversity and furthermore he couldn't understand why he had even considered making a living at these awful places.

And that boy is somewhere here…

Everything continued to bombard him and he began to feel nauseous once more. He mentally willed Christine to move faster.

Erik didn't have to wait too long before the shabby, dilapidated; yet surprisingly large tent came into view. The words "Freak Show" were written sloppily and crudely on a sign that hung over the entryway. There was a curious lack of people at the entrance, giving it a forlorn appearance. Erik didn't notice Christine hand a bored young man their entry fee, but instead was staring at the gaping, black hole that led inside the tent with an intense feeling of antipathy. Painful and awful memories and thoughts clawed their way up from a part in his mind that he wanted nothing more than to forget about. Before he could form a debate as to whether he should enter or not, he was suddenly through the door to the tent temporarily welcoming the darkness that it brought.

The sight that greeted Erik when he walked inside was hauntingly familiar and he successfully suppressed several shudders.

The tent was filthy, for one thing. The freaks of the tent didn't seem to notice as they went about their work, proudly displaying themselves before the gawking onlookers. Erik regarded a man who looked uncannily like a Cyclops standing on a wooden box, batting his one large eye at a clique of girls who screamed with terror and twisted glee. As they walked along, Erik also spotted a man with no arms or legs sitting on top of some table playing cards with his mouth and a young lady covered in fur from head to toe snarling at a passerby in an obvious act.

Erik turned from them in disgust, wondering if they had any dignity left at all. The entire concept of a freak show was uncalled for in the first place, but when the participants began to take pleasure in it, it was revolting. Feeling repulsed, Erik pushed his way through the larger tent and into a smaller annexed one. Raoul and Christine who had been distracted by the torso man caught sight of Erik and struggled to catch up with him.

Before they could get to his side, Erik had disappeared into the next tent.

*          *          *

Christine stepped into the darkness, her eyes skimming over the onlookers assembled around an attraction. She fought back the tears that began to form now that she was once again in the presence of this small, emaciated child. She quickly turned her back to the cage, took a few deep breaths and continued to look for Erik.

She felt a little frustrated and she made another pass around the tent.

Where could he have gone? She wondered. He wouldn't have left without finding us, I don't think. Oh, Erik! Where did you go?

She hadn't expected him to run off. He had stayed so close while out in the crowds but then he had unexpectedly stormed off when she least expected it… She stopped as a small flash of white in a dark corner snared her attention. She immediately recognized it as mask and hurried over.

Christine stepped cautiously towards him, aware that something was amiss. She squinted her eyes and could discern that he was hunched over in a way that alarmed her. She slowed her pace down considerably so not to startle him. She was convinced that he didn't see her. He had pressed himself up against the tent wall, looking as though he wished to disappear through it. She quietly stood next to him and gently placed a hand comfortingly on his arm. He didn't flinch or spring away like all the other times she had touched him, which partially relieved her, yet also filled her with apprehension. She bit her lip as she felt him shaking. She followed his gaze and could see that his attention was wholly fixed on the cage in the center of the tent, his eyes frozen in an expression of shock, horror and loathing. His long elegant hands were now clenched into tight fists and she bit her lip as she saw small drops of blood trickling through his fingers.

|I know…" Christine whispered softly. "It's horrible. How could anyone be so cruel?"

"They are cruel because they do not see," Erik replied, dispelling Christine's notion that he wasn't aware of her next to him.  "They see a monster in a cage; something different for them, to be gawked and stared at.  Not a human child with feelings or emotions… Just an animal."

His voice was thick with an obvious loathing for everyone in tent, but Christine detected one more emotion that she couldn't immediately place.  Was it sorrow? Perhaps it was even pity.  Whatever he had felt, she sensed it quickly turn to anger.

Erik's breathing had taken on a harsh quality and she heard a low growl escape from his throat.  She took a step back in surprise and looked for Erik's cause of distress. Her eyes caught sight of two things at once.  First, she found Raoul pushing his way through the crowd trying to find her and second, she saw two young men on the opposite side of the cage.  Her eyes furrowed as they pushed a thick, pointed stick in between the bars and began to prod the child inside, who would dart to the other side of the cage.  He was not saved as his tormenters would move and pursue him again.  There seemed to be a tangible amusement that floating among the crowd.  Christine felt on edge and revolted at what she was seeing. 

Christine, so absorbed and disgusted by this sickening spectacle, did not hear or feel Erik leave her side.

*          *          *

Erik kept to the shadows in the dark corners of the tent, no longer finding enough control in his body to allow this display to continue.  He crept closer to the impudent little brats who where now at the moment finding sport in calling out cruel insults, taunts and challenges.  It was an apparent they were attempting to bait the child in the cage to respond to their torment.  Up until now, the boy had held his tongue and had made not a sound to reward the boys in their bullying.  Erik silently cheered for him. 

However, the youths' efforts were in vain.  The young child made no sound in the slightest to reveal any suffering he was experiencing.  Indeed, he seemed to be completely oblivious to their presence.  Instead, he seemed to have lost interest in his tormenters and had found something more pressing to worry about.  He cradled a wounded arm that had been inflicted by their cruelty. 

Incensed, Erik tried to get a better look at the injury. He noticed unshed tears glistening in those empty looking eye sockets and they looked as if they would start running over his pale cheeks without warning.  He felt a strange, cold anger slowly festering inside him.  As he stalked over toward the cage and the intermediate crowd, he thrust and beat back the long-time banished memories that threatened to spill over into his intermediate thoughts.

He stopped one of the young men by tapping on his shoulder. A little harder than was necessary, he idly noticed.

"Are you thoroughly enjoying yourself?" He snapped sarcastically, his clenched hands trembling with rage. 

The youth didn't even bother to look at the man in the darkness behind him.  He replied with a somewhat amused, yet derogatory snort.  "Not what I'd call enjoying.  The stupid thing won't even move now.  I've got a good mind to ask for my money back."

"Then perhaps you should discontinue this activity and find a more worthy occupation of your time," Erik said icily.

"What are you talking about?" The young man asked incredulously. He laughed softly to himself as he picked up a hefty sized rock and smiled as he estimated its weight.  He called over to his companions with an easy, malicious grin. "This'll make the little freak yell!"

Erik's hand shot out and snatched the boy's wrist as he took aim with the stone.

"I don't recommend you do that," Erik growled. The boy cried out sharply when Erik violently twisted his arm. A resounding crack was heard.

*          *          *

It took a moment before Christine realized that Erik was no longer by her side.  Her mind filled with panic once more and her mind was dominated with thoughts of where Erik might be. The suddenly remembered the young men by the cage and she began to feel a paralyzing fear creep over her. 

Her eyes darted around, frantically looking for Erik's elusive shadow.  She pleaded to any divine being listening that Erik wouldn't betray them all with his raging temper… or do something horrible… She still clung stubbornly to the concept that this whole incident could be ended without violence or bloodshed.  However, in the back of her mind, she realized that after putting Erik in a situation of this nature, such ideals would be precluded.  She should have known better….

Presently, her attention was focused to a group of onlookers who were variously stepping back or moving closer to an activity of obvious interest.  She heard a pained shout pierce through the murmur of the crowd.  She quickly looked around for Raoul (who was bored and meandering around), seized him by the arm (he looked startled at that) and fought her way closer to the sound.  There was no doubt in her mind that Erik wasn't somehow involved. Having Raoul behind her gave her a bit of comfort, just knowing that she had some backup in case she needed it.

When she was finally able to get close enough, the first scene that bombarded her was, indeed, one of Erik.  One of the young men she had seen earlier was down on his knees in the dirt while Erik stood over him, aloof.  The second thing she quickly took to note was that Erik had a firm grasp of that man's arm and was twisting it to a brutally unnatural angle.  The sight began to make her queasy and a little lightheaded. 

Another young man from the group was shouting frantically, doing nothing short of getting on his knees and begging for Erik to release his friend, who had begun to scream once more.

Christine desperately began to push and shove her way through the cluster of people standing between her and Erik. More people seemed to be grouping around and she was finding it near impossible to get closer.  She cried out Erik's name but he didn't seem to hear her at all.  In fact, he didn't seem to be aware of anything. 

She shouted aloud again, pleading for him to stop, but the melee of sound from the crowd drowned out her voice.

A sudden, deafening, crack of a whip snapped suddenly in the tent, causing all activity to instantly and effectively crash to a grinding halt.

"What is going on in here?" demanded a loud voice, accented thickly and heavily with an almost impenetrable Italian accent.

Every pair of eyes in the tent shot immediately to the large, heavy-set man who entirely occupied the entire entryway to the tent.  He firmly clutched a vicious-looking lion-tamer's whip in one of his burly hands. It flicked harmlessly as his hand tightened convulsively around the handle in annoyance.

Aldo.

"Well?" he challenged. "I do not want to repeat myself…!"

Christine's heart filled with cold revulsion as she caught sight of this cruel man.  His presence was not a welcome one. She had placed him in the back of her mind and had almost forgotten about him… That is, until he appeared; it was a stunning slap in the face. She took an involuntary step backwards and he began to roughly shove his way to the center of the crowd.

As she watched him for a moment more, worry began to gnaw at her mind.  Her eyes looked wildly for Erik, hoping to catch sight of his reaction to the intrusion.  Even more so, she was terrified of what might happen to him.  Erik's conduct was not necessarily something to be proud of, and he could find himself in trouble soon… She could hear Erik's poor victim as he was undoubtedly on the ground, cradling his arm…

She wasn't surprised to observe that Erik had disappeared once more.  He didn't appear to be in the tent, she didn't see him when she quickly swept her gaze about the tent, but she reminded herself once again that no one saw Erik if he didn't wish to be seen.

Aldo continued to move closer and fear filled her mind.  She quickly grabbed Raoul, (who was still looking fairly bewildered), by the arm, and fairly dragged him into the more shadowy corners of the tent.  She felt a growing sense of anxiety, somehow knowing that if Aldo caught sight of her and Raoul here, hovering around his 'prized attraction' that he would automatically assume them to be the source of the trouble…

As soon as they were out of sight, Christine found herself twirled quickly around by her husband to stare in him in the face.

"Christine!" Raoul quietly hissed. She could see the confusion and panic growing his in eyes. "What on earth has happened here? I loose sight of you two for just a moment and everything plunges into chaos! Why was that man screaming?"  He gave an exasperated sigh and looked seriously into Christine's eyes. "…And how do I know that that lunatic is somehow responsible for it all?"

Christine began to feel increasingly more and more distressed as Raoul voiced that last comment, especially as she could see things over his shoulder that he could not... She cleared her throat softly and indicated 'the lunatic' with a meaningful nod of her head as he materialized behind Raoul.  Christine saw Raoul's eyes widen as he instantly caught her meaning.  She saw his face twist in embarrassment and mortification, fully understanding the implications of what he had just said.  With as much dignity has he could manage, Raoul took a deep breath and calmly turned to meet the older man.  Unconsciously, Raoul stepped backwards to stand by Christine, at the sight of Erik's smoldering eyes.

"Erik-" Christine began, her voice trembling. She quickly bit her tongue as she saw Aldo skulking around the tent, his face filled with vile annoyance.  He was moving slowly but surely toward their hiding place and she quickly decided that it was best that they vacated the tent before they were found.

"We should go," Christine whispered nervously, biting her lip. "We can talk outside."

She seized Raoul's arm once more, quickly and wordlessly leading him around the crowd, then out of the tent, trusting Erik would follow… He did so reluctantly, but only after casting a glare of pure venom in Aldo's direction.

*          *          *

Once the three of them were safely outside the tent, Christine was able to take a deep, relaxed breath.  After a moment or so, they were able to find an area devoid of people.  She looked over at Raoul who seemed much more content with both she and Erik in his sights, but she could still see abashment written plainly on his face. As for Erik, Christine noticed his eyes were lacking their normal glint; they now were dull and empty looking. Erik's entire body spoke levels of weariness and agitation; making her regret their decision to come on this excursion.

"Well?" Christine quietly asked, barely able to be heard above the noise of the fairgoers.

Raoul looked over to Erik who plainly appeared as if he hadn't heard Christine.

"Erik?" Christine asked, taking a small step towards him.
His eyes tiredly met hers.

"Shall we go?" she asked.

He nodded and she heard a faint, "Yes," meet her ears.

"…Do you have a plan?" Christine asked gently.

There was a slight hesitation before he responded resolutely. "Yes."