Note: This is loosely based on the story PHANTOM by Susan Kay. I have
kept the name of the some of the characters, but that's about it.
Prologue
It had been 6 years since what Erik had warmly described as "The Tragedy" occurred. Erik found himself still at the Opera... Still alone and growing steadily older. He hadn't ate, nor drank, nor slept for over a week. He had been working on his Don Juan Triumphant. He was getting closer to finishing it, which meant death for him. As far as Erik was concerned, the sooner the better.
Christine had moved to London with Raoul. They had been married and had one son, Charles. Christine often found herself lost in the music of old operas that she purchased for her new record player that Raoul had given her for their six year anniversary. Christine often dreamt of Erik, his pain and loneliness, and would pray that someone would come and ease it. Neither Erik or Christine thought that this person would eventually bring them together again...
Erik eased his nimble fingertips off the organ. His back was tense, not to mention old, and he reached for the ceiling. He looked around his room and sighed. He wished he had a window he could open to let in some fresh, cool, and crisp October air. The black and red funereal décor had vanished long before, along with the coffin, only to be replaced with a regular bed that had very special meaning... Christine had once slept in that bed... A long time ago...
Erik's eyes were dark with lack of sleep. He glanced, as a habit, to the regular clock on the mantle of the organ. It was nearly two in the morning.
Erik got up and stretched. He longed to sleep, but he couldn't. "I have to get some air." he called to the loneliness around him. The old walls, the mold, the dank of the cellars were beginning to wear on his old lungs. He coughed heartily as he made his way to the door. He grabbed his cloak, hat, and mask as he began his way up the passage towards the Rue Scribe.
When he had reached the top, he immediately was able to breathe easier. October was his favorite time of year. The crisp cool air, the trees losing their leaves, and the incessant wind that begged you to notice it were but a few things he loved. As he made his way down the street, he watched the leaves dance in the darkness and make their own mystical melody as he passed. Even if Christine wasn't there, Erik would still notice these pleasant things that he would have normally ignored, or not noticed. But the effect she had left still lingered about him, and he wouldn't send it away. He would always love her, and, although he wished she had stayed, he had finally come to terms with her happiness... Even if he was sacrificing his own in doing so.
Erik continued to walk, lost in his thoughts, as he listened to the fluttering leaves. But, he could feel, the leaves began to flow a different way, and made a different sound... The kind that makes you shiver internally. Erik drew his cloak closer and his hat tighter as the wind began to pick up and blow more forcefully.
To break the wind, he cut across an alleyway. He was familiar with alleyways, and was also familiar with the things that lived there. He was brutally reminded that he was a creature of the night, and now longed more than ever to crawl beneath his covers and die.
As the sound of the leaves began to die out as he moved closer and closer into the path, he heard a faint echo. He continued to walk, considering it nothing, as he was only occupied with getting back to his home, his prison, and falling into a sleep he would hope he would never wake up from...
But that sound... It sounded familiar. He listened more closely and heard that someone was crying... His pace quickened for it sounded just like her cry. He was hoping that his age, lack of sleep, food, and water wasn't playing tricks on him. He would rush forward, stop and listen, then continue to rush forward once more. The sound was coming from ahead...
The cry became closer and closer... And Erik pursued it, with a fervent hope that she had come back... That she needed his help... He peered into the darkness. He was amazed that the mere thought of her aroused his sense to be inclined. He hadn't been active for a week, but all his senses were sharp, sight, sound, smell, touch... Erik was able to make out two shapes ahead. One on the ground, and one very small shape.
Erik listened to the sound of his own fierce footsteps as he made his way towards the two shadows. The closer he came, the more his heartbeat increased. "She has come back..." he thought.
Erik was quite sure, for the first time in his life, that he was lost in Paris. This alley was different from those he had ever traveled before. He continued toward the shapes finding no other visible means out of the alley.
But, as Erik approached, he could now see the outline of a little girl... And the crying resonated once more.
Erik couldn't stop his feet from following her sound. He now saw the little girl hunched over what appeared to be a woman.
Erik now knew that this was not Christine, and pain overtook him once more. The cold wind blew across his face. There was nothing to do now, except go home...
The crying had stopped. "Monsieur, wait, please!"
Erik stopped, but did not turn around. The voice belonged to the little girl. "Monsieur, please help me... My mother..." She sobbed once.
Erik shook his head. "I'm sorry, I cannot help you." He made his way back down the alley. The little girl, desperate, clung to his cloak. "Please, you can't go!"
Erik's long lost fury had returned once more. No one touched Erik... Ever.
He turned on the little girl and snarled, "There's nothing I can do! Let me be!" He snatched his cloak, therefore flinging the girl aside.
The little girl, shaken but not yet beaten, got up and ran ahead of Erik and looked him in the eyes. "You have to do something..." she pleaded.
This plea of help would have meant nothing to Erik, if she hadn't looked just like her... Erik blinked a few times, to see clearly. The girl looked to be around the age of five. She wore torn garments, a pair of ragged brown boots, and a pauper's hat with several holes in it. But, beneath that hat, Erik could see a pair of large, sparkling green eyes, fresh with crying, a head full of blonde locks, and a fair, porcelain complexion he had only seen once in his life... "This can't be..." he said.
The girl continued to stare curiously at him. She had seen his mask, but she thought it best not to say anything. "Please, help my mother... Please..." she sniveled.
Erik, letting his emotions get the better of him, kneeled next to her mother, who was sprawled on the ground. She appeared to have taken a brutal beating. The mother looked at Erik and smiled weakly. "Thank you..." She whispered.
Erik peered at her wounds... There wasn't much time. She had taken a fatal blow to her left temple, and he was afraid of the lethal complications. He looked back at the little girl, forgetting his mask. "I can't leave them here..." he thought, "But I can't move the mother... It could be deadly..."
Erik took off his cloak and tucked it around the mother, who had closed her eyes. He looked at the little girl, who was watching him with a bold fascination and one finger in her mouth. "What's your name, child?" He asked her gently.
"M...My name is Angelica..." she stuttered. "Is Mama okay?" she asked.
"Well," Erik said, "I'm doing as much as I can... I want you to stay and watch her. Ask her questions, keep her awake. I'm going to get some help. I'll be back quickly."
"Okay." Angelica said bravely.
Erik got up and looked around on the street they were on. He didn't want to leave them alone for long; this part of Paris was dangerous.
He jogged silently along, hoping to find a policeman patrolling. He saw a bar up ahead. He hoped they would be able to help.
Inside was a bald, fat bartender who was washing the counter. He heard Erik enter and said, without looking up, "We're closed. You know the law. No selling alcohol after two."
"I'm not here for that." Erik said. "There's a woman and her daughter just outside. The mother has been beaten badly. I need you to fetch the police."
The bartender looked up and peered curiously at Erik's face. "Why are you wearing a mask?" he asked, stupidly.
"Does that matter?! Didn't you hear what I just said?!"
"Yeah, I heard. Just a man who barges in here wearing a mask and talking about some woman getting beaten doesn't exactly strike me as normal."
"Fetch the police or I will..."
The bartender continued to leer. "There's a bell outside. Ring it and they'll come."
Erik ran outside without even looking back at the bartender. He rang the bell fervently. After a few minutes of ringing it, he could hear the faint clip-clop of horses' hooves. A police carriage pulled up. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked sleepily.
Erik was getting tired of telling the story. "A woman has been beaten. She is lying on the street, just over there. Her daughter is with her. She needs medical attention."
"I'll be the judge of that." The officer said.
Erik climbed next the officer. "I'll show you where they are."
They rode off and after about two minutes, they arrived back. Erik thanked God that the girl was safe. The mother had closed her eyes again.
"Mama... Mama, keep your eyes open like the nice man said... Please, Mama..." Angelica was hardly being heard over her tears.
The officer knelt down next to the woman. He looked at Erik. "Help me get her into the carriage."
"Do you really think that's wise? The injury to her head... If we move her too much she might die."
"That's a chance we'll have to take. Not too many doctors are willing to come to this part of Paris at this time of night... We have to get her to the physician."
Erik nodded. He knew the officer was right. "Please, just let me take her... I'll be gentle..." Erik wrapped his cloak around the woman and lifted her into his arms. He made sure to support he head carefully. The woman's eyes were still closed, but she was still breathing. The officer opened the carriage door and Erik set her gently in it. "Make sure you ride on smooth roads... Without too many bumps." The officer nodded.
Angelica walked past Erik and made to get into the carriage. The officer said to her, "There's no room... I can't take you to the hospital with her."
He looked at Erik. "What's your name?"
"Erik."
"Erik what?"
"Just Erik."
"Can I reach you somewhere? As a witness?"
"I can be reached at the Opera Garnier. Ask for a Madame Giry."
The officer looked at the little girl and back at Erik. "Well, I must be going. There isn't much time. I will notify you of what hospital she is staying at."
"Very well."
The officer pulled away with the carriage at a slow but steady pace. Erik had completely forgotten about Angelica.
She had gone to sit on a nearby curb. He had her head in her hands and was crying again. Erik approached her cautiously and sat down next to her. She looked up at him, and he couldn't help but think of the uncanny resemblance.
"Where is he taking my Mama?" she asked him.
"To a hospital... Your mother's going to get the help she needs..."
"What's going to happen?"
"I don't know..."
Erik sighed. What was going to happen? Where was this little girl going to go? He didn't think he could bear to see her in an orphanage. He looked at her again.
"Do you want somewhere to stay? Are you tired?" he asked.
"Yes..." she wiped her tear-filled eyes and yawned.
Erik thought about finding her a shelter... But then he thought about all she had been through tonight. She was so brave... He couldn't send her away tonight. It would be too cruel. He knew he'd never be able to forgive himself.
"Tell me, Angelica, would you like to say with me tonight?"
Angelica looked up into his eyes. "You have pretty eyes. Really blue..." she replied.
Erik found this very strange... His eyes were always white in the dark...
Angelica laid her head against his sleeve and yawned. "You have kind eyes." She said sleepily.
Angelica was soon fast asleep. Erik picked her up gently and made his way down the alley, from which he'd come. She was snoozing happily in his warm arms soon enough, and Erik began to recall where he was. It was in no time at all that he arrived back at the entrance to his home on the Rue Scribe.
Carefully, he opened the gate and made his way down, down, down... All those steps. He reached his house and opened the door to Christine's old room, and set her down on the bed he had replaced there. He lit the fire in her room and went to tuck her in. He put her in the covers, took off her hat and put it on the bedstead, and she snuggled down immediately. After this, Erik made his way to the door, but just before leaving looked back and sighed. It was almost just like having Christine back. But he didn't think of Angelica that way. She struck him as more of a... A daughter... He left the room quietly and headed for his own. It had been a long night, and he had much to think about before dawn came... Like, what Angelica would want for breakfast...
Prologue
It had been 6 years since what Erik had warmly described as "The Tragedy" occurred. Erik found himself still at the Opera... Still alone and growing steadily older. He hadn't ate, nor drank, nor slept for over a week. He had been working on his Don Juan Triumphant. He was getting closer to finishing it, which meant death for him. As far as Erik was concerned, the sooner the better.
Christine had moved to London with Raoul. They had been married and had one son, Charles. Christine often found herself lost in the music of old operas that she purchased for her new record player that Raoul had given her for their six year anniversary. Christine often dreamt of Erik, his pain and loneliness, and would pray that someone would come and ease it. Neither Erik or Christine thought that this person would eventually bring them together again...
Erik eased his nimble fingertips off the organ. His back was tense, not to mention old, and he reached for the ceiling. He looked around his room and sighed. He wished he had a window he could open to let in some fresh, cool, and crisp October air. The black and red funereal décor had vanished long before, along with the coffin, only to be replaced with a regular bed that had very special meaning... Christine had once slept in that bed... A long time ago...
Erik's eyes were dark with lack of sleep. He glanced, as a habit, to the regular clock on the mantle of the organ. It was nearly two in the morning.
Erik got up and stretched. He longed to sleep, but he couldn't. "I have to get some air." he called to the loneliness around him. The old walls, the mold, the dank of the cellars were beginning to wear on his old lungs. He coughed heartily as he made his way to the door. He grabbed his cloak, hat, and mask as he began his way up the passage towards the Rue Scribe.
When he had reached the top, he immediately was able to breathe easier. October was his favorite time of year. The crisp cool air, the trees losing their leaves, and the incessant wind that begged you to notice it were but a few things he loved. As he made his way down the street, he watched the leaves dance in the darkness and make their own mystical melody as he passed. Even if Christine wasn't there, Erik would still notice these pleasant things that he would have normally ignored, or not noticed. But the effect she had left still lingered about him, and he wouldn't send it away. He would always love her, and, although he wished she had stayed, he had finally come to terms with her happiness... Even if he was sacrificing his own in doing so.
Erik continued to walk, lost in his thoughts, as he listened to the fluttering leaves. But, he could feel, the leaves began to flow a different way, and made a different sound... The kind that makes you shiver internally. Erik drew his cloak closer and his hat tighter as the wind began to pick up and blow more forcefully.
To break the wind, he cut across an alleyway. He was familiar with alleyways, and was also familiar with the things that lived there. He was brutally reminded that he was a creature of the night, and now longed more than ever to crawl beneath his covers and die.
As the sound of the leaves began to die out as he moved closer and closer into the path, he heard a faint echo. He continued to walk, considering it nothing, as he was only occupied with getting back to his home, his prison, and falling into a sleep he would hope he would never wake up from...
But that sound... It sounded familiar. He listened more closely and heard that someone was crying... His pace quickened for it sounded just like her cry. He was hoping that his age, lack of sleep, food, and water wasn't playing tricks on him. He would rush forward, stop and listen, then continue to rush forward once more. The sound was coming from ahead...
The cry became closer and closer... And Erik pursued it, with a fervent hope that she had come back... That she needed his help... He peered into the darkness. He was amazed that the mere thought of her aroused his sense to be inclined. He hadn't been active for a week, but all his senses were sharp, sight, sound, smell, touch... Erik was able to make out two shapes ahead. One on the ground, and one very small shape.
Erik listened to the sound of his own fierce footsteps as he made his way towards the two shadows. The closer he came, the more his heartbeat increased. "She has come back..." he thought.
Erik was quite sure, for the first time in his life, that he was lost in Paris. This alley was different from those he had ever traveled before. He continued toward the shapes finding no other visible means out of the alley.
But, as Erik approached, he could now see the outline of a little girl... And the crying resonated once more.
Erik couldn't stop his feet from following her sound. He now saw the little girl hunched over what appeared to be a woman.
Erik now knew that this was not Christine, and pain overtook him once more. The cold wind blew across his face. There was nothing to do now, except go home...
The crying had stopped. "Monsieur, wait, please!"
Erik stopped, but did not turn around. The voice belonged to the little girl. "Monsieur, please help me... My mother..." She sobbed once.
Erik shook his head. "I'm sorry, I cannot help you." He made his way back down the alley. The little girl, desperate, clung to his cloak. "Please, you can't go!"
Erik's long lost fury had returned once more. No one touched Erik... Ever.
He turned on the little girl and snarled, "There's nothing I can do! Let me be!" He snatched his cloak, therefore flinging the girl aside.
The little girl, shaken but not yet beaten, got up and ran ahead of Erik and looked him in the eyes. "You have to do something..." she pleaded.
This plea of help would have meant nothing to Erik, if she hadn't looked just like her... Erik blinked a few times, to see clearly. The girl looked to be around the age of five. She wore torn garments, a pair of ragged brown boots, and a pauper's hat with several holes in it. But, beneath that hat, Erik could see a pair of large, sparkling green eyes, fresh with crying, a head full of blonde locks, and a fair, porcelain complexion he had only seen once in his life... "This can't be..." he said.
The girl continued to stare curiously at him. She had seen his mask, but she thought it best not to say anything. "Please, help my mother... Please..." she sniveled.
Erik, letting his emotions get the better of him, kneeled next to her mother, who was sprawled on the ground. She appeared to have taken a brutal beating. The mother looked at Erik and smiled weakly. "Thank you..." She whispered.
Erik peered at her wounds... There wasn't much time. She had taken a fatal blow to her left temple, and he was afraid of the lethal complications. He looked back at the little girl, forgetting his mask. "I can't leave them here..." he thought, "But I can't move the mother... It could be deadly..."
Erik took off his cloak and tucked it around the mother, who had closed her eyes. He looked at the little girl, who was watching him with a bold fascination and one finger in her mouth. "What's your name, child?" He asked her gently.
"M...My name is Angelica..." she stuttered. "Is Mama okay?" she asked.
"Well," Erik said, "I'm doing as much as I can... I want you to stay and watch her. Ask her questions, keep her awake. I'm going to get some help. I'll be back quickly."
"Okay." Angelica said bravely.
Erik got up and looked around on the street they were on. He didn't want to leave them alone for long; this part of Paris was dangerous.
He jogged silently along, hoping to find a policeman patrolling. He saw a bar up ahead. He hoped they would be able to help.
Inside was a bald, fat bartender who was washing the counter. He heard Erik enter and said, without looking up, "We're closed. You know the law. No selling alcohol after two."
"I'm not here for that." Erik said. "There's a woman and her daughter just outside. The mother has been beaten badly. I need you to fetch the police."
The bartender looked up and peered curiously at Erik's face. "Why are you wearing a mask?" he asked, stupidly.
"Does that matter?! Didn't you hear what I just said?!"
"Yeah, I heard. Just a man who barges in here wearing a mask and talking about some woman getting beaten doesn't exactly strike me as normal."
"Fetch the police or I will..."
The bartender continued to leer. "There's a bell outside. Ring it and they'll come."
Erik ran outside without even looking back at the bartender. He rang the bell fervently. After a few minutes of ringing it, he could hear the faint clip-clop of horses' hooves. A police carriage pulled up. "What seems to be the problem?" he asked sleepily.
Erik was getting tired of telling the story. "A woman has been beaten. She is lying on the street, just over there. Her daughter is with her. She needs medical attention."
"I'll be the judge of that." The officer said.
Erik climbed next the officer. "I'll show you where they are."
They rode off and after about two minutes, they arrived back. Erik thanked God that the girl was safe. The mother had closed her eyes again.
"Mama... Mama, keep your eyes open like the nice man said... Please, Mama..." Angelica was hardly being heard over her tears.
The officer knelt down next to the woman. He looked at Erik. "Help me get her into the carriage."
"Do you really think that's wise? The injury to her head... If we move her too much she might die."
"That's a chance we'll have to take. Not too many doctors are willing to come to this part of Paris at this time of night... We have to get her to the physician."
Erik nodded. He knew the officer was right. "Please, just let me take her... I'll be gentle..." Erik wrapped his cloak around the woman and lifted her into his arms. He made sure to support he head carefully. The woman's eyes were still closed, but she was still breathing. The officer opened the carriage door and Erik set her gently in it. "Make sure you ride on smooth roads... Without too many bumps." The officer nodded.
Angelica walked past Erik and made to get into the carriage. The officer said to her, "There's no room... I can't take you to the hospital with her."
He looked at Erik. "What's your name?"
"Erik."
"Erik what?"
"Just Erik."
"Can I reach you somewhere? As a witness?"
"I can be reached at the Opera Garnier. Ask for a Madame Giry."
The officer looked at the little girl and back at Erik. "Well, I must be going. There isn't much time. I will notify you of what hospital she is staying at."
"Very well."
The officer pulled away with the carriage at a slow but steady pace. Erik had completely forgotten about Angelica.
She had gone to sit on a nearby curb. He had her head in her hands and was crying again. Erik approached her cautiously and sat down next to her. She looked up at him, and he couldn't help but think of the uncanny resemblance.
"Where is he taking my Mama?" she asked him.
"To a hospital... Your mother's going to get the help she needs..."
"What's going to happen?"
"I don't know..."
Erik sighed. What was going to happen? Where was this little girl going to go? He didn't think he could bear to see her in an orphanage. He looked at her again.
"Do you want somewhere to stay? Are you tired?" he asked.
"Yes..." she wiped her tear-filled eyes and yawned.
Erik thought about finding her a shelter... But then he thought about all she had been through tonight. She was so brave... He couldn't send her away tonight. It would be too cruel. He knew he'd never be able to forgive himself.
"Tell me, Angelica, would you like to say with me tonight?"
Angelica looked up into his eyes. "You have pretty eyes. Really blue..." she replied.
Erik found this very strange... His eyes were always white in the dark...
Angelica laid her head against his sleeve and yawned. "You have kind eyes." She said sleepily.
Angelica was soon fast asleep. Erik picked her up gently and made his way down the alley, from which he'd come. She was snoozing happily in his warm arms soon enough, and Erik began to recall where he was. It was in no time at all that he arrived back at the entrance to his home on the Rue Scribe.
Carefully, he opened the gate and made his way down, down, down... All those steps. He reached his house and opened the door to Christine's old room, and set her down on the bed he had replaced there. He lit the fire in her room and went to tuck her in. He put her in the covers, took off her hat and put it on the bedstead, and she snuggled down immediately. After this, Erik made his way to the door, but just before leaving looked back and sighed. It was almost just like having Christine back. But he didn't think of Angelica that way. She struck him as more of a... A daughter... He left the room quietly and headed for his own. It had been a long night, and he had much to think about before dawn came... Like, what Angelica would want for breakfast...