Welcome, thank you for stopping by! This will be coming in slow but steady updates, as I have another phic I'm working on as well. The idea for this phic came to mind months ago and I am finally fleshing it out.

I modeled this Erik after Gerik, though you can of course imagine him any way you want. He was originally going to be Erik from the 1990s miniseries, but I changed my mind. Same with Christine, she is modeled after the 2004 film, though you can imagine her any way you want!

Thank you for reading and welcome to the start of a new journey!

Much love,

MadameDestler

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Chapter 1 - The Hit

It was the distressed voice of her father that roused Christine from her dreamless sleep. The bedroom was still cloaked in darkness as she sat up in bed and rubbed her eyes with her fists. The overhead light flickered on and through sleepy eyes, she watched her father bound towards her wardrobe and fling it open. He reached into the back where she kept her infrequently used possessions and produced a large case. It was her traveling case.

Where were they going and why was her father so distraught? They hadn't had the need to move in years, after all, he had finally found decent work making violins for local musicians and playing in the orchestra at the Opera Populaire. And she couldn't leave Raoul. He had asked her on a chaperoned walk in the park Sunday after mass and she had accepted; she couldn't abandon the promises she had made!

"Papa, what is going on? Is everything alright?" she asked as he started haphazardly stuffing her dresses into the case. His labored breaths were coming in sharply and she could hear the rattle of his already fragile lungs. All tiredness left her and she bolted out of bed. "You aren't supposed to be doing any strenuous activity! You should be resting, just as the doctor ordered."

As she approached him, he glanced over his shoulder and she had to stop herself from backpedaling from the terror in his eyes. A sense of dread hung over her and her stomach clenched. Whatever troubled him was worse than she could imagine.

He closed the distance between them and took her pale face in his hands. "Mon ange, there is no time to explain. You must do everything that I ask of you immediately. Can you promise me that?"

Christine quickly nodded and covered his hands with her own. Her vision fogged and tears slipped down her cheeks. She glanced behind him and her eyes landed on her luggage. The reason for needing to pack her things still evaded her. Perhaps he lost his job at the opera house or–

"Are you sending me away?! You will do no such thing! You are sick. I refuse to leave you!" Christine cried as she clutched at the lapels of her father's tail coat. There would be no possibility of her willingly leaving him to fend for himself. The doctor hadn't even been gone for three days!

"Just do as I say, child!" The brashness of his voice made her flinch and she nodded again. Never in her life had her father spoken to her in such a way and it frightened her. His face softened and he trembled as he stroked her cheek. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to–we don't have time. Please, finish packing your dresses and I will explain."

"Alright, papa."

The full severity of the situation struck her and Christine wasted no time stuffing her traveling case full of her dresses, sleeping gowns, and her most sentimental possessions. As she worked faster, she waited for her father to explain but when she glanced up at him, he was sitting on the edge of her bed gasping for breath. Beads of sweat rolled down his forehead and down the tip of his nose, plopping onto the hardwood flooring. His fearful eyes rose to meet hers and she fell apart. Her knees wobbled and a knot formed in her stomach, but before she could collapse, he was on his feet and in front of her.

Her father wrapped his hands around her upper arms and held her in place. "I am sending you to stay with a business partner of mine. His name is Erik Destler. I trust him with my life, in turn, I am trusting him with yours. When I am safe, I will come find you. Until then, he will care for you. I expect you to treat him kindly and do everything he says."

Christine squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head in disbelief. How was she to live with a man she didn't know? How was she to leave her father alone when he would die without her? There had to be another way!

"You can come with me, papa. You don't have to leave me. Please, don't leave me," Christine choked through the suppressed sobs that wracked through her.

"It is only temporary. You are to stay with Erik until it is safe."

"Safe from what?" she asked as she rubbed her eyes to clear her vision.

He released one of her arms and dug into the pocket inside his coat to pull out a crumpled envelope. "I will explain later, but–but if anything should happen to me…if anything happens, please read this letter." The envelope was placed in her hand and she stared at it for a long moment. What were its contents? What was so important about a stupid letter?

Then his words sank in and with wide eyes, she looked back up at him. "Nothing is going to happen to you, please don't say it!" Heaving sobs overtook her and she fell against his chest. Everything hurt: her heart, her stomach, her body. She couldn't make sense of anything and no answers were being given to soothe her.

Her father pushed her away and held her back by her shoulders. "Just do as I say. As of this instant, I have a carriage waiting for you. Come." The despair in his voice pained her. She couldn't bear disobeying him, so she submitted to his requests, hopeful that she would get the answers she needed sooner than later.

Her trembling legs moved automatically and she stumbled towards her case and stuffed the letter in with her dresses before latching it closed. Her father heaved it into his arms before she had a chance to do so herself and swiftly left the room. She glanced around and said a silent goodbye to the room she had known for nearly ten years before following after him.

When they reached the front door, she realized she was still in her sleeping gown. It was not proper to leave the house in such a state of dress, but she couldn't bring herself to say anything. Instead, she donned her deep blue cloak and slipped her feet into her boots.

The air outside was frigid and smelled of the earth. It was going to rain. As Christine reached the bottom of the front steps, she glanced up to see a black taxi carriage parked on the street. There was a coachman that briefly looked back at her before turning his attention forward. She moved closer and caught sight of a very tall man standing as still as a statue next to the open carriage door. An eerie feeling came over her and when she moved past him, she saw a glint of white under the hood of his black cloak. A mask?

Her father ushering her into the carriage drew her attention from the man and once she was inside, she turned to her father. "Papa, please be safe. Don't be gone for too long. I don't want to be alone." She took her traveling case into her arms and hoisted it onto one of the benches.

"Nothing is going to happen to me, mon ange. Remember what I told you, listen to Erik. Trust him and no one else."

Christine nodded quickly. "Yes, papa. I love you."

Her father pulled her into a short embrace before releasing her and brushed a soft kiss over her cheek. "I love you. I promise, I will come for you as soon as I can."

After another nod, she sat back in the empty seat and swiped away her tears. She had to be strong. There was no reason for her tears when her father would be back with her in no time at all. Her focus landed on the hushed whispers between the two men and she closed her eyes and took slow deep breaths. The practice soothed her shivering and she ran a hand through her curls.

With several more deep breaths, a calmness settled over her and she could finally relax. She settled further into the seat and rubbed her arms to soothe the gooseflesh that had popped up from the cold.

Suddenly, the sound of a gunshot rang out. The horses let out awful whining noises and the carriage lurched forward. Any guise of calm had dissipated completely. Her father's strangled cry made her lunge from her seat and burst out of the carriage. She looked around wildly and saw the tall man tightening a lasso around someone's neck. There was a sickening crunch of bones and the body crumpled to the ground.

Christine had little care for the man who met his fate at the end of a lasso. What concerned her was the fate of her father, who laid on the ground feet from the carriage gasping and clutching his chest. She bounded towards him and collapsed at his side.

"Papa! Oh–oh no, please. Oh Heavens!" she cried as she scanned his chest. Illuminated by the moonlight was a large spot of bright red leaking through his white shirt and it only became larger with each passing second. She pressed her hand to it, using her limited knowledge of medicine to save him. The stickiness made her stomach churn. "Please, don't leave me."

Her father reached up and with a trembling hand, he caressed her cheek. His brown eyes were filled with tears and his lips moved silently. He was dying and she couldn't do anything about it. She was failing him. She promised the doctor to keep him alive and he was dying in her arms. It was all her fault.

Christine heard footsteps to her right and turned to face the tall man. "Please, help him! I'm begging you!"

Suddenly, there was movement behind the man and Christine screamed as another assailant came barreling at her with a knife raised above his head. She put her hand up to shield herself and waited for the pain that was sure to follow. Instead, there was a swishing noise and another crunch of bones. She opened her eyes to see yet another victim of the lasso go limp and fall to the ground.

"We need to move!" the tall man barked as he rewound the length of the rope and hooked it onto his belt.

"We can't leave him! We must take him to a doctor, ple–" The tall man yanked at her arm but she pulled back, intent on staying with her father. "No, you cannot make me."

A quiet voice pulled her attention back to her father. "Go with him. I love you, my Angel of Music," he choked through the blood staining his lips. He let out a final exhale and his eyes moved up towards the Heavens.

"Papa! Please wake up, we need to get you to a doctor!" Christine cried, shaking him to rouse him from his sleep.

"We need to leave, now," the stranger urged.

Christine pulled her father into her and cradled him in her arms, still covering the wound on his chest. Still determined to stop the bleeding. "We need to save him," her empty voice whispered.

There was a heavy sigh, then the man was kneeling next to her. She wanted to look up at him, but she was focused on her bloody hand. "Christine–may I call you Christine?"

She only nodded.

"We cannot save him. Your father is–"

"Can we not take him with us?" she asked, mustering enough strength to peek at the man. She still couldn't see his face under his hood.

"I'm afraid not. We have little time, and if we stay a minute more, I fear there may be more men coming for you. If they are armed, I stand no chance."

Christine swallowed the hard lump in her throat and nodded slowly. "Alright." She squeezed her eyes shut and leaned down to place a kiss against her father's forehead. "I love you, papa."

He's dead. He's dead. He's dead.

Christine lifted her hand from the gunshot wound and stared at her bloodied palm. She couldn't save him. His blood wet her pale skin and she gagged. By God, she couldn't lose her dinner on the body of her father! Before she could commit such an act, she released him and laid him gently on the ground.

"Someone has surely called the authorities, so he will be found and be properly buried," the man assured her, though his words did little to comfort her. Instead, she felt worse. She was leaving her father's body to be discovered and buried without her. What kind of daughter would she be if she didn't attend his funeral?

Christine rose from the ground and tore her eyes from her father. She couldn't look at him any longer; she didn't deserve to look at him. Her heart thumped wildly as she sat in the empty seat in the carriage. The man entered next and he glanced over at the bench opposite her. There was no room for him as her case was too large, so she slid over and allowed him room next to her.

"Thank you." He joined her and he pulled the door closed.

The carriage crept forward and Christine's tremors returned and her cheeks wetted with tears. She angled her face away from the man and stared at the curtained window. Within seconds, she was doubled over with sobs and her head fell into her hands.

"It's m–my fault. I–I couldn't s–save him," she gasped between sobs.

There was a gentle patting on her shoulder and she looked up through tear ridden eyes to see the man looking down at her. His hood had been removed to reveal his face. Half of it was masked in white leather and the other half was sculpted by the hands of God Himself. Each feature was defining, from his strong clean shaven jaw and chin to the icy blue eyes that had tears threatening to well over. His dark brown hair was slicked back behind his ears and fell to the nape of his neck in subtle waves. She wondered why he wore the mask when he was so handsome. He must have been badly burned or had acid splashed on his face.

His lips moved but before he could speak she threw herself onto him and sobbed into his coat. He froze under her touch and his stiff form trembled much like her own. She reached out, grasping for something to hold onto, desperate for anything that would keep her grounded. One of his hands found hers, whether by accident or his offering, she did not care. She entwined her fingers with his icy ones and squeezed as hard as she could. He relaxed and his other arm wrapped around her back and embraced her tightly. She held onto the man with all her being, knowing that if he let go of her, she would simply die.

/

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Thank you!