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

*        *        *

Christine followed Erik as they retreated from the boy's room and retired to the downstairs sitting room.  After the young child had finished the food that Christine had brought to him, and a long, halting, but gentle conversation, he had finally fallen asleep.

"He doesn't remember much before the fair," Erik calmly recounted as Christine took a seat in the dimly lit room. 

Christine arranged her skirts and glanced up at him as he paced the length of the room.  She was glad to finally hear something spoken in French.  Erik and the child had engaged in English for what seemed like an unbearably long time, and she hadn't been able to pick out too many cognates to help her understand the gist of the conversation. 

"He knows that his name is Edward," Erik continued on, turning to look at her as he passed by. "And he also knows that he comes from nearby Britain – possibly London.  He doesn't know exactly how old he is, and consequently, he also doesn't know how long he has been in that cage."

Erik paused his narrations and restless movements.  He turned to face her from the opposite side of the room.

"From what he told me, however, I would say that he has been in there for…" Christine watched Erik make some quick calculations. "…Four or five years, I would think."  She heard the intense, bitter resentment and loathing in his voice that he made no effort to conceal.

Christine inhaled sharply as she repeated Erik's words. "Five years…?"

He nodded and began to pace once more.

Her mind reeled at the thought. "Five years…  He can't be more than 10 years old!  It is no wonder the poor child is scared half to death of us…"

Christine bit her lip, fighting the all too familiar urge to cry, and subsequently, sob.  She felt that she was getting an idea of why Erik hated humanity so much, and she began to feel a resurgence of pity for Edward and for Erik.  Oh, why did she always have to get so upset at times like this?  Christine was beginning to feel frustrated at herself with the way she was reduced to a weeping mess when the thought of the boy and the cruelties he must have endured came to mind.

She quietly stood up and moved toward the open window, inhaling the warm evening breeze.  Gratefully, she allowed the wind to ruffle her hair and help blot the tears that were threatening to fall. 

At the moment, a part of her was longing for Raoul.  He was her dear, loving Raoul who always knew what to say and do when she was feeling distraught, and he was always so eager and willing dry her tears, to comfort her…

Why couldn't she adopt that control Erik almost always enforced on himself?

Oh, Erik… What must he think of me? Christine thought with a small sigh. Always falling to pieces… Always on the verge of tears…

She chanced a glance toward his imposing figure.  He stood motionless by the mantle, his back to her and seeming not to be paying attention to her.  But she knew better – he was always focused on her, even if it wasn't apparent.

But it upsets him, too, Christine thought as she guiltily observed him a little longer than was necessary.  Despite his efforts to hide it, she could tell the situation bothered Erik, too.

How could it not upset anyone? she continued on.  How could anyone with a heart feel nothing in the face of such cruel, inhuman treatment?  Five years locked in a filthy cage in a cheap country fair, half starved and neglected above all else, no less!  When a child should have been given hugs, and kisses, and sweets, he was given kicks, lashes, and food probably not fit for eating…  It's no wonder the poor boy – Edward-- She corrected herself. -Flinches every time anyone makes a move…

She shook her head sadly and tried to tell herself that all that was over, and that Edward was now in good hands.  He wouldn't have to suffer that kind of humiliation anymore…

How could anyone be so cold-blooded? How could anyone be so callous as to treat a young, impressionable child so awfully and to render him completely terrified of all people, and for no other reason than chance appearance?

"Sometimes it amazes me that people can be so petty," Christine whispered softly.  Her eyes widened the moment she said those words and she wished they could take them back.  Although they had only been a quiet whisper, she knew with dread that Erik had heard every syllable.  He always heard everything… Her mind vaguely remembered pitying him for that ability – he was bound to have heard so many hateful and rude comments made about him…

Idiot!

Of all the things to say to him!  She had no right to comment on that and call others petty when her first glimpse of Erik's face had left her screaming and suffering from nightmares for weeks afterwards.  If she wanted to be painfully honest, it was only in the past few months that those nightmares had abated and her fears dissolved.  But she didn't have the heart to tell him that…

Christine turned slowly in embarrassment, half expecting a rebuke of some sort from her old mentor.     

Much to her surprise, Erik hadn't moved, and hadn't made any sort of change that would have revealed that he had heard her.  She peered at his form in the growing darkness, and noticed those oddly ethereal eyes of his fixed on a wall.

"Erik?" she inquired softly, but again, he made no sign that he had acknowledged her.  Worry began to gnaw at her mind, and she wondered if she had offended him with her careless words.  She drifted a little closer to him.

"It's late, Christine," Erik said suddenly with perfect calm, shifting hastily away as many steps as Christine had advanced.  He turned to face her.  "You should probably be getting off to bed."

Christine glanced at the old, antique clock on the mantle and noted the time.  "I suppose so."

She awkwardly stood there for half a moment before she timidly asked him a question.  "Are you going to sleep, too?"

Erik closed his eyes for a moment.

"No… No, I think I'll stay and keep an eye on him," he said softly.

There was no question of whom Erik referred to. 

Christine nodded and began to make her way toward the entryway of the room.

"You know, Erik, I think things will start turning up now," she said with a feeble smile. "He… Edward is here safe with us, and… with you caring for him-" Christine felt the breath rush from her lungs as Erik turned to regard her with an unidentifiable emotion. Unable to remember what she was going to say, she coughed nervously and continued to inch toward the door.

"Goodnight, Erik," she whispered weakly.

As she turned and began to move into the hall, she heard his voice in her ear, returning her words. "Goodnight…"

*        *        *

With a tired sigh, Erik began to trudge up the long, ornate wooden staircase that led to the isolated wing of the home where his and Edward's room were located. Breathing deeply and feeling uncomfortably helpless, he fought the inane urge to glance over his shoulder at Christine, who was retreating in the opposite direction down the hall.  He suddenly began to wonder if Christine was suffering from the same thoughts and desires.

Don't flatter yourself.

He paused for a moment, and unable to resist, he chanced a look at her slowly moving figure.  She had not turned, and was now traveling out of sight.

Self-control, Erik!

He took another deep and trembling breath before he began to move up the steps.

Before tonight, it had been rather easy to push aside any and all thoughts of her with concerns for the boy in the cage.  But now, the boy in the cage was no longer in a cage. He was safe, out of danger, fed, properly clothed, and sleeping.  There were no more immediate worries to dam his other, unwanted and submerged thoughts.  They came back unbidden and painful.

How he hated – hated – hated being alone in that room with her, and any other room for that matter.

She was married now.  If there had ever been anything at all between them, it was irrevocably gone and past.  It did give him a small bit of comfort in his bleak existence to see her so happy with her young man, though.  A guilty feeling returned.  He still wanted her so badly. Could he have made her just as happy if she had married him?

Of course not, Erik; don't be silly.

If only he could obliterate and be rid of those pestering, lingering feelings he still had for her…  It was that pathetic part of this heart that still longed to hang and dote on her every word and move, the part that twisted in agony when he saw the two together… the part that still desired above all else to take her in his arms – to never let go –

STOP.

If only there was a way to remove that piece of his treacherous heart and silence it forever…  Several morbid and strangely pleasing thoughts readily appeared in response to his wish, and after looking every one over, Erik attempted to divert them away before the ideas became irresistible.

He halted in the hallway, leaning against the sparsely decorated wall.  He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and heavily in attempts to suppress thoughts and regain control over his body.

It's over, Erik.  Forget her…

But he didn't want to forget…

Forget her…

Erik paused for half a moment, drowning out the emotions that demanded to trickle from his eyes.

You've done what you've set out to do.

Still feeling uneasy inside, he continued on his way, not wishing to linger in the halls for very long.

He'd finished what he'd set out to do and the boy was safe.  That thought alone was comforting.  Edward was free and he would be safe here.  As soon as the child was a bit stronger and no longer in need of his skills, Erik would leave.  He'd return home and… and… and then what?

He didn't bother to answer that particular question.

There was no answer to give.

Erik stopped at Edward's appointed room, just a short walk down the hall from his own.  Christine had decided it would be prudent to place the boy in close quarters with him in case prompt attention was required.

He quietly nudged the door open.

Edward had remained where they had left him: sound asleep in the small bed, curled up beneath the thick, soft blankets.  His breathing was gentle and measured, indicating peaceful dreams.  It was surprising.  Erik sighed, feeling a light tinge of jealousy of the relaxation of the oblivious sleeper. His own dreams ranged from unnerving to unbearably horrific, and he could not remember the last time he had been able to get a proper, full-night's sleep.

Erik silenced his footsteps as he crept into the dark room, pausing briefly to close the door behind him.

The room was very dark.  The only presence of light came from the moonlight shining dimly through the opened drapes.  He automatically started toward the windows, intent on closing them and shutting out the small vestiges of light that pierced the gloom, but he paused halfway across the room.

He glanced through the dark at the figure asleep in bed, momentarily torn between his instincts and concern for the boy's comfort.  Complete darkness might frighten Edward if he happened to wake.  After all, many children are afraid of the dark at some point in their lives.  Even he had been, once, before he discovered the comforts nighttime brought.  He moved away, taking a seat in the chair which far from the window.  He felt himself relax.

Perhaps one of these days, he'd be able to introduce Edward to a few of his coping techniques…

He shook his head.

Not now, the time is not right.

Whatever small comfort the dark held for him, it would be pointless should Edward awake and become upset.  A careless action on his part could undo an entire afternoon of work gone towards calming and soothing the boy, towards helping him become more at ease.  His mistrust was perfectly justifiable and understandable, however.  Spending any amount of time in such conditions for as long as one could remember would be enough to make a person a bit leery around other people.

Quite an understatement, Erik thought with a bitter chuckle. Those places are rarely kind of accommodating towards their 'exhibits', willing or unwilling alike.  He's lucky to be alive.

Erik turned to look at the sleeping boy with his undernourished frame, his unruly brown hair (in dire need of a hair cut, he might add), and that all too familiar face.  He felt stirrings of loathed pity and made no attempt to quell the self-disgust that resulted.

Is he really so fortunate to be alive, though?

He looked away quickly, feeling sudden revulsion for even thinking of such a thing; but he was unable to question its legitimacy.  If his own life was any example at all, then life would not be getting any easier for Edward.

Perhaps…

No, don't think it, he thought.

But he did.

Perhaps it would have been better if Edward had died at the fair.  Even if he stayed with the Chagnys, he couldn't hide in this house forever, especially with the servants that flitted about, and their unreliable vows of silence.  And here, even in the house, and outside, there would be no escaping the inevitable teasing, insults… the violence… for the rest of his earthly days… There would be the curiosity, the cruel whisperings, and the people who would consider him less than human and treat him accordingly…  He would spend his entire life unable to do something as innocently simple as walking down a sunlit street or even in… in extreme cases… be unable to touch or hold another living, sentient being without being recoiled from in horror…

Erik felt a familiar tightening in his chest and throat.

And it will most definitely get worse as he gets older, Erik thought, finding his eyes drawn to his own hand, clenched on the arm of the chair.  It was shaking.  The older one gets, I suppose, is what makes it worse. There is finally a complete understanding of why things are like this...

He sighed as he remembered a time that seemed to very long ago.  He had not been much older than Edward, standing in a dark, empty field outside a gypsy camp, holding a small vial of lethal, homebrewed poison, preparing to end his short life.

With a resigned sigh, Erik felt that he almost wished that he had not backed out if he had known what was to occur in his desolate future.

You still could, an insidious voice in his thoughts announced. That vial you had from a day or so ago is just with your things, if you're interested…

He closed his eyes and sharply reprimanded himself for such notions.  He thought he had grown out of them and was doing away with them completely.

Stop this! That isn't the way to think, especially now.  You've come here to help this boy because you are the best and only one who can!  This child shares your curse, and you are certainly not through yet. You may not be able to change his fate, but you can help him!  You can prevent him from making the mistakes you did!

Perhaps his life will turn out better.

You can do that, at least…

*        *        *

The night was just still beginning in another, lonely location of the expensive de Chagny summer home.  The young owner and Comte found himself in alone in the library. 

 He fell tiredly into a nearby armchair, yawning.  With a bored sigh, he stared into a fire that crackled rather satisfyingly in the grate and he nodded in approval.  It had taken him the better part of an hour to build, due to inexperience in that particular area.  Under normal circumstances, he would have summoned one of the dozens of servants that were employed in the home. But then again, under normal circumstances, Christine would have been with him as well, so he supposed there was leniency in that area.  Usually, Christine would be sitting in the chair across from him, laughing, relating an old memory, or telling him of a minor incident that had befallen her during the day.

He sat back in his chair and retreated into the reverie he was entertaining.

If these were normal circumstances, his wife would be relaxing with him by this fire with a bottle of wine, helping him unwind after this particularly trying day.  If he were lucky, she'd even sing for him, her positively angelical voice lighting up the evening and lulling towards sleep. 

He sighed again.

These were not normal circumstances, however, and thus the fire was the result of his need to occupy his time. 

Raoul had been alone for the majority of the day.  Every person in the house seemed to have vanished, all off and busy with some important occupation that did not involve him now that the boy was here.  Christine had been gone long before he had awakened, which worried him as they had all been up very late the previous night.  She had probably run off to one of the upstairs rooms, attending to their new guest.  He hadn't seen Erik at all today, but it wasn't as if he was expecting to, anyway.  He could only assume that the man was in the same place as his wife, most likely tending after the boy.

A nagging voice in the back of his head told him that he could be there, too, if he wanted to…

He put his head in his hands and yawned once more.  He had little interest in the child currently residing in one of the upstairs bedrooms, he reminded himself.  He couldn't deny the fact that it had been a kindness to free him – the conditions at the fair were truly abominable – but that did not mean that he had to flock upstairs with the rest of the household, either to the child or to whisper behind closed doors.  There were probably enough people already watching the boy, anyway, and it would almost be like being back in that cage for the poor thing.  Isn't that what they were trying to save him from?  Although this was Christine's little crusade and he supported it her in it, he couldn't help but wish for the day when everything would all be back to normal… the way it was for the last, few, blissful months.

The only time he had even seen or even spoken to Christine today was when she had sought him out for a quick errand.  She asked him to venture up into the attic and retrieve some of his old childhood clothing for the boy, if he still had any.  He had.  He returned, surrendered them to her, and after a quick kiss on the cheek and a 'thank you', she was gone just as suddenly as she appeared.  He hadn't even been able to get a word in.

Things will go back to normal soon enough, Raoul thought to himself.  Erik and the boy would leave in the near future and then the home's occupants would be reduced back to he and Christine.

For a while, anyway… he thought in sly amusement, a smile crawling uncontrollably across his features.

Ah, there we go…!

That thought cheered him substantially.  To think, in a little more than half a year, he – of all people – would be a father!  It was something he never would have even considered possible about a year ago.  And even then, in a time just as short as four months, he still never would have believed it.  Sitting here, it was still difficult to believe the possibility of another topic -- he had won and had come out the victor in the war he had fought months and months for Christine.  The victory was sweet and it was everything he had hoped and prayed for since the first time he had seen her on that stage in Paris.  All his dreams had virtually come true and he could not think of anything more that could improve his life…

He sighed, suddenly sad.

I wish Phillipe had lived to see this, he thought. Never mind that Phillipe had threatened to disown him for courting a woman of the stage and then for the decision of marrying her. In time, he was sure that Phillipe would have been able to accept the proceedings.  Phillipe was forgiving like that…

Raoul squeezed his tired eyes shut.  He had learned in these long months, that it was just best not to think of his brother or his untimely demise.  It hurt too much.  And, now, especially not now, it was a bad idea to think of him with Phillipe's killer residing in the house at his wife's behest.

He sighed again and lifted his head to gaze into crackling fire once more.

He would find no sleep tonight.  Everyone in the house would most likely be up all night anyway, and he would probably be too.

A single thought consoled him, though.

Soon enough, everything will be back to normal… Soon enough…

*        *        *

(A/N: Hah! An update! Take that, real life! We are honestly and deeply sorry for anyone who was or still is following this little phic!  We were forced to take up arms and defend ourselves against conspiring teachers, homework, real life in general, and writer's block. But, we're back!  As a side note, Lady Death would like to include the link to her website that has our "Odd Happenings" phanphic which, erhem, keeps finding us on the banned list of Fanfiction.net… It's in our bio, if anyone is interested.  Let's see, anything else? Ah, well, thank you, everyone for reading and all the reviews! They're absolutely marvelous and we love them to death! We're practically at out 100 review marker and most exited about it – we never thought we'd get this many! Thank you, thank you, THANK YOU!!  Eep… Sorry for this being so long…)