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

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The sun had long set when the three stealthily made their way back to the fairgrounds.  The growing darkness had slowly urged the fun seekers home, leaving the fair completely deserted.  Where there was once laughter and joy, there was silence and an empty void.  The slinking trio all agreed that this was a much more agreeable environment to work in. All the inhabitants of the various shows had long since fallen asleep and all the tents were closed tightly up.

As quiet as it was possible, they made their way to the tent that they knew housed the freak show. 

Raoul silently followed along.  He was finding it was difficult to be enthusiastic about this whole mission.

He couldn't see anything! 

He could faintly see the outline of Erik moving around confidently ahead and Raoul wondered with mild annoyance how he could see in such darkness.  There were some people in this group that needed light to see, but Erik didn't seem to notice this.  Erik steadfastly refused to bring a lantern or illumination of any sort, and now, since all the moonlight was hidden behind the massive trees; Raoul was deeply regretting his decision not to bring one anyway.

All these tents looked the same in the darkness!  How could Erik possibly know which one was their target?  He didn't relish walking into the wrong one… but then again, he didn't relish walking into the right one either.  He didn't want to go back into that tent; he didn't want to be with all those… people.  He just wanted to be back home, alone, and with his wife…

Raoul glanced back at Erik and saw him dart between two tents.  He quickened his stride, trying to catch up before they lost track of him.  Raoul did not want to get lost in the night and he somehow knew that if he did, their masked guide was not going to come back to find him.

Raoul bit back a startled cry as he stumbled over an obscured object that he could only hope was not alive.  He was met with a sharp hiss.

"Quiet!" A pair of blazing, golden eyes met his for a brief moment before disappearing into the night.

Raoul chewed on his lip to keep back a rude reply about being unable to see in the dark because a certain someone was in denial over the simple existence of a certain tool called light.  Instead, he merely scowled at the black shape stalking in front of him and it continued to move forward.  He felt Christine squeeze his hand in a reassuring way and Raoul sighed.

And suddenly, without any warning, Erik stopped, and they were there. 

Raoul stumbled again, nearly colliding with Christine.  He glanced up and saw the entrance to the freak show.  It loomed over them oppressively; ominously silhouetted by the moon that had finally decided to peak out from behind the trees.  He shivered at the ghostly aura of the place. 

Raoul noted that unlike every other tent around them, this one actually displayed some signs of life.  A faint light flickered and shone out of the narrow entryway, and Raoul fancied he could hear a voice from inside, as well. 

Christine quietly came up to stand up beside Raoul, releasing his hand and putting her arm through his. 

Erik stood away from them, his attention wholly fixed on the tent.  He was not paying the slightest heed to his two companions. His eyes darted over the imposing tent, and didn't seem interested in moving.

There was a long silence between the group, none seeming inclined to break it at first, as seemed to be customary as of late.

And, as also seemed to be traditional, Christine was the first to voice her thoughts.

With soft determination, she asked, "Shall we go inside?"

Erik's voice was blunt. "No."

"No?" Raoul asked incredulously, feeling at the end of his rope.  "You've brought us here just to look-"

Erik turned slowly to them, and looked at him with infinite patience. He began to deliberately stress his words and Raoul, indignantly and unwillingly, began to feel like a stupid child.

"No, you will not be entering. I will be making this little venture alone. You will wait outside. I will be going inside. Do we sufficiently understand each other?"

Raoul looked at the older man's boots, unable to meet his eyes. He mumbled a glum, "Yes…"

"Brilliant boy," Erik commented, idly. "Stay here with C-" His voice suddenly faltered and the amused tone in his voice disappeared. "…With your wife…"


Raoul put his arm around Christine's shoulders and pulled her tight.  He involuntarily smiled in the dark and Erik slipped into the tent without a word.

*        *        *

The interior of the tent looked much darker than it looked from the outside. It was nearly pitch black. The moonlight didn't filter through the thick canvas walls, and there was no immediate light in close vicinity. 

But that didn't bother Erik; he didn't need the light. In fact, he preferred the dark for this particular excursion.  He tossed his gaze about the tent.

The tent was empty of all its occupants, the empty cages sitting forlornly in the darkness; their inhabitants most likely off in their own personal tents.  Erik noticed a small light reflecting off the metal bars and he looked for its source.  It was coming from the small annexed tent he was looking for.  He could see the faint, flickering light of a candle inside and he slowly began to stalk towards it. 

He silenced his footsteps as they trod on the loose, dirt floor.  The entryway he was focusing on was showing definite signs of life.  His sharp hearing picked up the sound of coughing, mutterings, and the sound of paper rustling noisily against itself.  When he reached the doorway, he peered inside, concealing himself in the shadows.

The fair owner, Aldo, was sitting in a small, rickety, wooden chair that sagged under his weight.  He busily counted through bills and coins, frowning, and muttering somewhat incoherently over what sounded like the pointed drop of income from the previous day.  Occasionally, he sent a dark, ireful glare in the direction of the runty, emaciated figure slumped in the cage that occupied the room as well.

The boy had collapsed in the farthest corner of the cage, unconscious. He was an obvious victim of Aldo's anger over the afternoon's unexpected disruption and the inevitable, subsequent refunds. Several long, fresh bruises ran along his back and shoulders, and there was a bloody gash across his forehead.

The urge to kill had inconspicuously surfaced into being and Erik clenched a fist in response.  His eyes flicked over towards Aldo, who was still oblivious to his presence.

Kill him.

Erik chewed painfully on his lip until blood began to bead in the small cut.

No. 

This could be solved without violence.  No need to kill.  Christine wouldn't like that.  Nadir wouldn't either – you promised him no more wanton murder…

Erik silently invited a long, deep breath to enter his lungs.

That's better…


He began to feel strangely composed at the sight of the boy's abuse.  He welcomed the internal, professional detachment with relief, but allowed his face to remained fixed in a sneer. 

The small, lone candle by Aldo's side flickered gently as Erik withdrew from the dark corner of the tent and somewhat into the dim lighting.  He watched Aldo automatically glance warily up from his activity and look towards the boy, who was still very unconscious.  The fair owner shifted uncomfortably for another moment or so before resuming his tallying. 

Erik drifted forward a pace.

Aldo's head slowly rose again from the receipts and whirled around with the obvious attempt to apprehend whoever was setting him on end.  As he turned, he caught sight of his ghostly observer and took a startled, staggering step backwards.

Erik resisted the chuckle that he felt growing as fear briefly flashed across Aldo's features.  The man looked remarkably like a fish out of water with the way his eyes were bulging from his fat face.

Erik stepped a bit closer, becoming slightly more visible in the candlelight.  He kept his head lowered, allowing the wide brim of his black hat to obscure the mask from prying eyes.

"Good evening, monsieur," Erik greeted coldly.

Aldo tilted back his head, regarding him with faint suspicion.  Erik felt his face flush, as he knew that the endomorph before him had caught sight of what parts of the mask were not entirely hidden by the hat, and was now attempting to get a look of the rest of it.

"What do you want?" Aldo demanded gruffly, all pleasantries aside.  "Unless you haven't noticed, the fair is closed."

"Then I shall try not to take up too much of your valuable time," Erik said calmly, with an unmistakable note of sarcasm lilting in his words.

He began to slowly pace outside the circle of candlelight. 

He put Aldo in the back of his mind for a split second as he began to reestablish the iron grasp he customarily exhibited over his emotions.  Tonight, it was slipping away at an alarming rate and Erik wasn't relishing the aftereffects.  If he let his heart get in the way of his head, then he would become clumsy and irrational – something he did not need at the moment.

"If I'm not mistaken, there was recently been an offer to purchase one of your attractions…" Erik said.  His voice was carefully and perfectly controlled to not betray the loathing and disgust he felt for the notion of such an act.

He paused briefly, and cautiously, knowingly, turned his back to Aldo.  He took a breath to regain control as he continued.

"Perhaps if someone were to offer more…"

Aldo snorted in what sounded like irritated amusement.  "You too, eh?  Well, I'll tell you the same thing I told the other, 'not a chance!'  This little brat brings in more people than the others combined.  Do you think I'm stupid enough to get rid of my star attraction?"

His efforts to triumph over his emotion were going badly, and the craving to feel Aldo's neck snap in his hands became almost overwhelming.

 I am not quite in the mood for delegation and negotiation.

He turned to face Aldo.

"You're quite certain you will not reconsider?" Erik inquired smoothly and darkly.  In an unseen gesture, he ran his fingers across the coils of the Punjab lasso, which lay hidden in a repository in his cloak.

A small vein began to visibly pulse and twitch in Aldo's forehead.  His face had taken on a ruddy color and had fixated itself into a snarl.  "Yes, I'm 'quite certain'!  I'm also 'quite certain' that if you don't get the hell of here, I'm gonna throw you out!"

Erik fought to keep his voice placid and level.  "Then I'm afraid I must insist that you release this boy to me."

He stepped fully into the candle's weak light.

The fair owner's eyes flashed in satisfaction, as he looked Erik over. Erik knew grimly that the mask was in plain sight now. 

"Why does everyone in this godforsaken town have an interest in this little brat?" Aldo scornfully asked. He strode over towards the prone, limp figure in the cage, and snorted again.  "There was that meddling woman here screeching something about rights the other week… and then the fellow there was the fellow who actually wanted to buy the thing… Well, the little rat is my property and it's going to stay that way!"  He paused for a moment. "…And then, just today, someone was causing a racket in here… broke a boy's arm for throwing something at the freak…"

Erik watched him warily throughout all this, this eyes narrowing dangerously.  He said nothing.

Aldo continued, growing calmer, more calculated.  "Oddest thing… From what I heard, the troublemaker was wearing a black mask…"

He turned to face Erik, sounding accusatory. The suspicion from the beginning of their conversation reassembled itself.  "That wouldn't happen to have been you, now would it?"

"Anyone can wear a mask," Erik replied dismissively. "Now I really must insist that you release the boy."

Aldo peered at him through the dim space and sneered.  "Oh, you do?  And if I refuse?"   Smug arrogance was obvious in his voice.

"It was not a request," Erik hissed icily.  His patience was wearing thin with every word exchanged, and he was no longer feeling the want to smother his anger.

Aldo snickered softly and continued to move closer toward Erik.  "You don't scare me." 

Erik's face remained neutral under the mask.  "Neither do you."

Aldo stopped moving and rubbed his hands together.  "You know, I think it was you today… making trouble…"

"The boy, monsieur," Erik intoned forcefully.  Aldo's eyes glazed under the power of his voice, but after a heartbeat, unexpectedly freed himself.

"No, the brat can wait…" Aldo said. "I think I'm more interested in you right now…"

Erik stood his ground, fighting the sudden, dizzying urge to flee.  "Really, now?"

 "Yes, I am…" Aldo lazily folded his arms across his chest.  "The mask… Take it off."

Erik stiffened at the change of conversation. His aggravation froze and it took up painful residence in his chest.  "No."

Aldo's eyebrows rose at Erik's sharp response.  A smirk began to tug at his lips as realization dawned in his black eyes. "Take it off or I'll do it myself."

"I'd rather not."  Erik's displeasure for this turn of events was rapidly escalating.  Just take the boy and leave… you don't need this.

"Here's my ultimatum, then," Aldo said carelessly.  "Show me what's under the mask and I might consider your proposal."

"And if I don't?" Erik asked softly, intertwining his fingers in the comforting coils of his lasso.

Aldo shrugged and produced a knife from his belt.  The candlelight flickered off the surface.

Erik glared.  He'd had enough.

"And I said, 'no'," he repeated.

Aldo was silent. Then finally, "It's your decision."

Time stood still for a moment, and then without warning, Aldo lunged at Erik.

He moved quickly for a man his size; Erik was quick to find out. 

The small chair that the candle rested on toppled over in what ensued. The only source of light fell, guttered, and plunged the tent into blackness.

There was a brief struggle in the dark, and then suddenly a strangled cry… followed by the sickening thud of a body falling to the ground…

*        *        *

Raoul paced impatiently outside the tent.  The moonlight was beginning to play tricks on his eyes, and he was very jumpy.  He felt vulnerable without any light, and he fancied he saw dark shapes darting between the tents.  A cold breeze had begun to pick up. He could sense Christine's uneasiness as well, and he just wanted to go home.  He wanted this to be all over…  get the boy out of the fair, Erik out of the house, and he could begin to settle back into his life with Christine…

Where is he? Raoul thought in annoyance.  It's been far too long since he went in.

Christine stood nervously in the doorway, her hands twisting in her skirts. 

They heard a scream.

Christine jumped at the sound, and Raoul began to make his way towards her.  His heart pounded with fear, anticipation, and confusion.  She peered anxiously into the tent, but shook her head, as the tent was too dim to pick out anything inside.

What is going on in there?

His irritation began to die and give way to desperation. 

What could possibly be taking him so long? I knew this was a bad idea!

Raoul forced himself to continuing walking up and down the length of tent. As he passed by the entrance once more, he heard Christine shift around and let out a long, shaky breath.

Enough of this…

Raoul stopped his frustrated movements and took a deep breath.

You know what your brother used to always say…

…Never send a man to do a Changy's work…

"I'm going in there, Christine," Raoul said with sudden determination and more confidence than he felt.  He strode purposefully towards the tent opening.

Christine swiftly grabbed Raoul's arm, and he could feel her fingers trembling through his coat.  "Raoul, you can't!  He told us to wait outside!"

Raoul looked down at his wife, and could see her eyes wide with emotion in the almost non-existent light. "Something's gone wrong, Christine.  You heard that cry as well as I did."

Christine glanced fearfully at the entryway, and then indecisively back towards him. 

"But Erik said…" she stubbornly repeated.

"I'm going in there," Raoul said, more firmly.  He tried to extricate himself from Christine's grasp.

"There is no need," a voice called wearily from inside.

Raoul instinctively pulled Christine tightly towards himself and they both looked up to find their masked companion exiting slowly from the tent.  Erik's customary cloak was wrapped gently about a small form, which lay protectively in his arms.  Erik glanced down at his load, and gently brushed a few messy locks of hair out of the boy's dirty face.

Raoul watched in dismay as Christine gasped and freed herself from his grasp. She moved quickly towards Erik and the child.  Erik instead shook his head and began to move swiftly away from the tent.  He made a brusque gesture for them to follow.

"You shall be able to do that later, dear.  But for the time being, I believe we should go quickly.  Others were bound to have heard that shout…"

Raoul watched Christine trail obediently after Erik for half a second before moving into action himself.  He sighed softly to himself and tried to combat the acute sorrow he was beginning to register in his throat.

Oh, Christine…

Why was he suddenly beginning to feel like merely the tag-along… and nothing more?

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(A/N:  Like it? Hate it? Leave a review…. Thank you so very, very much to all those who have reviewed!  We really do enjoy them all… You guys are great!)