Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Phantom of the Opera. Erik, Christine, Raoul, and all other characters that appear in the book belong to Leroux Gaston. Songs and other characters that appear in the ALW adaptation and not in the book belong to ALW.

Notes: This was a bit edited and broken down into several chapters. Some minor changes were made here and there.

Chapter 2 – The Good Samaritan

Lead me, save me from my solitude…

Five Days Later…

Marcellus Suniere steadied his eyes as he fixated on his target. His prey was a mere twenty feet away, unsuspicious. He suspected that this was the fox responsible for causing havoc in his stables several days back, preying on some of the poultry. The stable horses were also unnerved by the creature's unwelcome visit. Marcellus took another step forward and erringly stepped on a branch. The snapping noise startled his target and it quickly scurried away.

The tall man with grayish hair straightened up and moved quickly towards the direction that the fox disappeared to. Behind him, his two servants followed with their rifles in hand. "Do not make much noise as I do not wish to have our prey evade us completely," Marcellus hushed to them.

They moved across some shrubbery with him taking the lead. Twenty-five years of hunting experience would be naught if allowed a fox to outfox him. With patience, he followed its trail and was soon again within twenty feet of his prey. He crouched on the ground and raised his rifle by his right eye, taking aim. He captured his target in his eyesight and cocked his rifle for his shot.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, he realized that his prey was licking on something oddly shaped slumped against a tree. Marcellus moved closer and narrowed his eyes.

"Christ!" he exclaimed and jerked up from his position. Forgetting about the fox, he rushed toward the tree where the oddity lay, yelling behind for his servants to quickly follow him. The fox ran off toward another direction and soon Marcellus was by the tree, with a bewildered expression on his face.

By the tree lay an unmoving form of a man, bloodied and beaten. The elder man quickly bent down and placed his hand upon the other's neck, feeling for a pulse. He was relieved to find one, albeit very weak and faint. "Lorenzo! Come! Hand me emergency package and take out some cloth and bandages! Andre! Fetch an able horse and wagon from the stable! This man is barely alive and we must get him to the estate soon to administer medical attention!"

"Yes sir!" Andre, the younger of the servants, heeded and ran off towards the stable.

Marcellus took his coat off and wrapped it around the injured man before him. He instructed Lorenzo to tend to the wound at the side and make sure it has stopped bleeding. He took out his own water flask and poured some in a cloth which he then placed by the man's mouth, hoping that some hydration would affect him. As he did so, he was able to obtain a closer look at the unconscious man's face. Marcellus noted with slight aghast that the right side was badly marred and misshapen.

In addition to that, there were noticeable bruises and bleeding behind his head. Marcellus guessed that this man might have been bludgeoned several times. As he observed more, he noted that perhaps some ribs were broken as well considering the bruising, and the right shoulder seemed out of place. He wondered how he was going to be able to move him when he was in such a bad state.

Soon Andre returned and somehow all of them had managed to get the stranger on the wagon and hurried home. When they arrived, Marcellus instructed that the stranger be brought to a guest room and had another servant fetch the family doctor.

Marcellus' only daughter came to offer aid but he insisted that she just busy herself with helping the maids get some hot water ready as it seemed that the man's treatment would require much of it. As much as he knew that his daughter could help, she might be frightened by the state of the stranger that he had brought home to be capable of administering medical aid. Before long, his family's doctor arrived and quickly busied himself with treating the stranger. Marcellus left the room and contented himself to sit on a chaise inside the library. He soon nodded off.

Five hours later, Marcellus was shaken awake by a servant who had informed him that the doctor was finished treating the patient. He quickly proceeded to the guest room and the doctor's side with a questioning glance. "How does he fare?"

Doctor Pierre Avante led out an exhausted sigh. "Monsieur, it was timely of you to call for me when you did. This man was…Well, I don't know how he managed to survive in his state for so long. The stab wound just missed a vital organ. I've given him some stitches to close the wound. I have also bandaged up his ribs to the best of my ability. His right arm would have to be in a sling for awhile as his shoulder is in a very precarious state," he paused. "The injuries he sustained to the back of his head really concern me. I'm certain he lost a substantial amount of blood from whatever caused those injuries. Where or how did you come upon this man?"

Marcellus let out an exhausted sigh. "My servants and I chanced upon him by the forest near the side of my estate. We were hunting for a troublesome pest. I spotted him by a tree, slumped and in that battered state."

Doctor Avante regarded his patron. "Aside from his physical injuries, the state of the right side of his face…I'm not sure what to do about that, if any. Unlike his other injuries, it seems that it has been in that misshapen state for quite some time now. War injuries perhaps? Ot maybe even torture? I cannot make a surmountable decision on it."

Marcellus moved closer. The right side of the stranger's face, as the doctor indicated, was quite distorted. "Perhaps on or the other. But that's the least of your concern, is it not? Judging by how cold his skin was when he was brought here, I guessed he has been staying by that three for at least a day or two."

The doctor nodded. "He would need constant watch as the threat of pneumonia exists. He has a very high fever right now. The next twenty-four hours shall be very crucial in his survival."

"I'll have servants watch over him with the utmost care, Doctor."

"Very well then. I shall have to take my leave for now, Monsieur Suniere, as it is quite late."

"Thank you for attending to my request. Bernadette has your recompense and shall accompany you on your way out."

The doctor gave a curt nod and picked up his bag. "You are very welcome, Monsieur. Please do not hesitate to call for me if needed. I will make a visit again sometime tomorrow to check on the patient. When he awakes, please ensure that he has plenty of water to drink and have him consume something of a very tender nature. Until then, I bid you good night."

— x —

One Week After the Don Juan Triumphant Events…

Monsieurs Andre and Firmin sought to meet several architects in hopes of restoring what was left of the Opera Populaire. The structure suffered extensive fire damage in its main hall and many windows were blown out because of the intense heat from the fire. Repair and reconstruction were to begin as soon as possible to salvage part of the opera season. The owners busied themselves with negotiating the patronage of the opera house. Regardless of all the unhappy events that had occurred, the Viscount had insisted that his family would continue supporting the activities at the opera house. However, it was not certain if such support included Christine Daae's return to sing.

"Oh that is quite all right, Andre. Carlotta has expressed interest in returning so we at least have a star to perform once repairs are completed," Firmin assured his partner.

"Yes, yes, quite fortunate. While I am thrilled that the de Chagnys will continue their support, I cannot help but blame the Viscount partially for all this mess," said Andre in return. "The Opera Ghost, man or phantom, caused us quite a fortune you know. All because of their scandalous affairs with Miss Daae."

"Hold your tongue, Andre! The ghost is no more. His home has been destroyed and the police are quite certain they have driven him off, if not killed him, from the depths of the opera. We have nothing left to fear."

Andre let out a sigh and nodded. "You're right, of course. On to business then, have you any architects in mind who might be able to undertake the task of rebuilding parts of the Opera House?"

Firmin glanced the list before him. "I have attempted to contact the structure's original architect but unfortunately he is quite busy with another company in Germany at the moment. I have here a list of other French architects of prominence who might be able to provide their services."

Andre took the list and gave it a once over. "Gustave Eiffel…Not him as he is bit too expensive for my liking. Girbaud…I'm afraid he's busy with working another project in southern France. Mansart…well…I don't know. It's true that his ancestor was brilliant but I've been informed that his skills are quite questionable compared to his forefather."

Firmin frowned and fetched the list from Andre. "What of this one here?" he pointed to a name down the list. "I hear that he has just returned from Orleans recently after finishing several constructions for several noble families and the government."

The other gave him a doubtful look. "Well, he seems credible. Do you think he'll wish to work on the Opera House?"

"Why not?" Firmin said. "Our building is quite famous! I am certain he would more than happy to offer his services to us. He could think of it as a high achievement!"

"Oh all right. Send a post for him so that we may meet and offer him the work. I sincerely hope he accepts as we really need to get this done as soon as possible."

"I will send for one later today, and to the Viscount as well informing him of the developments. In the meantime, let us off to lunch," suggested Firmin as he marked the architect's name on the paper. "I have received a fine bottle of wine from the family de Marquise and I am simply dying to have a taste of it."

"Ah, they have very fine vineyards, do they not?" asked Andre as he followed after his business partner out of the room and closed the door behind him.

On the desk, they left laying the parchment listing the architects. Near the middle of the list was the circled name of Marcellus Suniere.

— x —

"Monsieur, pardon my intrusion," Gerard knocked gently against the door that led to his master's study. "It seems that our guest is stirring fully awake."

Marcellus moved from his desk and strode out from his study. "Is he coherent? And was he given something to drink or eat? I'm sure his throat is quite parched."

Gerard followed his master to one of the guest bedrooms of the estate. "Yes, sir. He is quite confused at the moment."

Marcellus entered the guest bedroom and proceeded toward where the patient lay. His bandaged head was propped up on several pillows and he looked cautiously around. His shoulder, still bandaged, was unmoving. "How are you, young man?"

The dark haired man shrank slightly at the new person who entered the room and stood next to his bed. "I…I am uncertain. Where…Where am I?" He winced as he moved his head. "What has happened to me?"

"Young sir, I found you lying in the cold by a tree in the forest next to my estate," said Marcellus. "Tell me. What is your name?"

The man blinked. "I…I don't remember."

"You don't remember?" a brow rose on Marcellus' head. He was a bit wary but seeing the confusion that lay in the eyes of man before him convinced him otherwise.

"I…" the man closed his eyes for a moment. "I…I remember…Erik…I am Erik."

"Erik," Marcellus repeated the name. "How did you happen upon my estate? Where are you from and what has happened to you? Were you feeling from someone? Or just dragged here against your will?"

Uncertainty clouded Erik's dark blue eyes. "I…Forgive me, but I do not recall. I do not remember a single from my past or what has happened to me. I only recall my name."

Marcellus initially suspected that his 'guest' might have been a criminal of sorts, fleeing from the authorities. However, after he had sent Gerard to town to investigate, Gerard reported to him there was none that matched the man's state. The only news from Paris was that of a scandal that held to a fire in the Opera Populaire and the purported abduction of its soprano diva. A strange love affair of sorts involving the family de Chagny, rumor circles whispered.

"Gerard," Marcellus summoned his servant. "Call for Pierre. Tell him that his patient is awake." He turned to his daughter who was now also in the room. "Bernadette, instruct the maids to bring some supper for Erik here. I am sure he is quite famished."

"Yes, Father," Bernadette Suniere complied and left the room. Gerard followed after her.

Marcellus turned back to face Erik. "You shall stay here for as long as necessary to recover, Erik. Do you perhaps know of anyone or any name that might sound a bell from your past? A place perhaps or estate?"

Erik shook his head. "I cannot recall anything as such at the moment, kind sir. I thank you for your care and I will do anything that I can so that this dept is repaid." He slightly bowed, bearing the pain that the movement of his head caused. "I am your humble servant."

"Think nothing of it," Marcellus waved his hand. "Pierre, rather Doctor Avante, shall be here shortly and he will examine you. I am sure he will give you no trouble. Now, please excuse me as I have certain affairs to take care of. I shall return later to see how you fare, my friend."

— x —

Erik was once again alone in room. He attempted to rise but any movement caused his body to ache in much pain, most especially from the back of his head. Carefully, he raised his left hand to his face and felt the bandages around his head. He moved his fingers slowly over the right side of his face where he noticed that most of his visitors were staring. He felt ridges and oddities against his fingers as he traced. He reached for a small mirror beside his table and looked at his reflection. He was taken aback at the face that stared back at him.

Immediately, feelings of shame and fear overtook him. The right side of his face was badly deformed and distorted, and yet he found it strange that he felt no pain come from it. How could he show such a face before his caretaker?

"What happened to me? What am I?" he asked out loud but the room offered him no answers except silence.

— x —

To Be Continued...