Disclaimer: don't own it…

What will happen to Erik now that he's in the Phantom's lair?

For future references, when both Eriks' are in the same scene, Christine's son will be called Erik, and the Phantom will be referred to as the Phantom…

Chapter five! Enjoy!

Tip of the Sword

The boy's eyes grew wide. "You…you're him…the Phantom of the Opera."

The man towered over him, curiosity shown through his eyes. "Who are you?"

Erik stood up. "Vicomte Erik de Changy. My mother is the Countess de Changy."

The Phantom smiled and chuckled darkly. "Right, right. I remember now. You're Christine's son."

Erik eyed the Phantom alertly. "If you're going to kill me, do it." He said bravely.

The Phantom merely broke out into laugher. "My dear boy, I shall do nothing of the sort. I gave Christine my word. She would be rather upset with me to find her son hanged. Besides, my lady tells me you have written an opera."

"You know my mother?" Erik asked amazed.

"Who do you think taught her to sing so beautifully?" he asked. "So tell me about this opera of yours." He offered the boy a seat as he began.

"I have indeed written an opera, Phantom." Erik said.

The Phantom sat down at his organ. "What would the title be of this opera?"

Erik blushed shyly. "The Return of Don Juan. Don Juan Triumphant was a favorite opera of mine." He let out an unsteady breath. "I never thought I'd see the man who wrote it."

The Phantom patted his seat next to him, signaling for Erik to sit besides him. "Play something, I am intrigued."

"I haven't memorized it, Phantom. I'm sorry." The boy said.

"Then go get it. I shall wait." The Phantom responded. Happily, Erik jumped up and ran back up the stairs. He was out of sight within seconds.

Back at his organ, Erik smiled. "Full of energy, isn't he?"

Christine immerged from behind a curtain where she was watching. "Yes, he is. He idolizes you a lot, Erik. More then anything, and for all you have done." She sat down on his lap and wrapped her arms around him. "Music runs through his veins, much like you."

Erik chuckled. "And what did the might Count de Changy, that husband of yours say when he told him of the title?"

Christine laughed. "Raoul didn't eat for a week." Footsteps were heard trampling down the stairs. "Shall I stay?"

"Let us alone, my darling. I would like to work with him one on one." Erik said. Christine nodded and stood up. "I shall come back later tonight, after the performance. Keep me updated, if you will."

Erik nodded. "Of course, my dear. I shall await your performance." As Christine rounded the corner her son came careening down the stairs.

"I have it, Phantom!" he cried.

"Very well." The Phantom closed his eyes as the boy began, striking a heavy chord, which nearly broke the master's eardrums. "Stop, stop. My dear boy, have you heard of dynamics?" The boy didn't answer. He grabbed a feather pen and ink. "If I may, Erik." He marked a red p for piano. "Softly, like this." The Phantom struck the same chord; a sweet note came from its source.

Erik looked at his mentor. "I go by what my mother taught me." He answered truthfully.

The Phantom rolled his eyes. "She left a lot out." He paused. "Now, continue." The boy obeyed and began to sing. A little rough around the edges, but that could be improved.

A little while later, his musical masterpiece was finished. "There are some things that need to be fixed, but that is all. Not bad, Erik." The Phantom nodded approvingly, a spark lit up in the boy's eyes. "Don Juan would be proud." Erik smiled at the Phantom.

"If at all possible," Erik began. "Could you maybe help me with my musical?"

The Phantom was taken back by the boy's question and gave him a strange look. "Why are you asking me?"

The boy's eyes went distant. "We are alike, you and I. Outcasted by the world."

"Surely you have friends?" came the Phantom's question.

"My friends do not see life as I see it. Always having a purpose, always doing what I want to do. Surely we have fun, but they don't appreciate me." He paused and looked at the Phantom, sadness piled behind his eyes. "And neither does my father."

The Phantom's face shrunk at that sound. "Explain, my boy."

Erik sighed heavily. "He and Mother, they fight a lot. I once overheard my father yelling at her. He was saying that I wasn't his real child. Saying that I was the product of everything that was bad in this world."

The Phantom was taken back by the boy's statement as Erik continued his story. "He looks at me sometimes, with anger and hate showing behind his eyes. Every time he hears me practice, he grows angry and yells at Mother. It's not like Mother used to describe him as charming, gentle, kind. No, she's doesn't know where he's gone."

The chamber was silent. "You should go now, my boy. Your mother will be curious as to your whereabouts." The Phantom felt a hand on his.

"Thank you, for helping me." Erik said. He hopped up, but stopped. "Please, do me one favor. Don't tell Mother I am coming down here. She'll be upset with me." The Phantom nodded in agreement.

"I'll take it to my grave." He said. The boy smiled and left.

Once the boy was gone, Erik turned around and thought for a brief moment. "Are you falling for the boy?" He asked himself. He thought back to how he helped him with his music. Like a father…he sat down and helped a son. "You cannot." He scolded himself. "He is not your child. You cannot have him as your son, Erik." He sighed. "It is almost time for the play anyway. I must get ready."

After a quick bath he dressed in his normal black attire and redeemed his mask. He traveled up the stairs. Her voice soon reached his ears, filling him with joy. He entered the hidden hallways above the sets and came behind a small door. A florist stood outside the opera house selling flowers. Erik swiftly swiped the best one and tied his traditional black ribbon around its stem.

He made his way back up to the mirror in her dressing room. Once arrived, he saw Madame Giry preparing Christine for her opening in the play. After the soprano left, he watched Madame Giry walk over and open the mirror.

"Phantom, you are late." Giry stated.

He bowed his head slowly. "Forgive me, I had some things I needed to do." He handed Giry the rose who placed it on Christine's pillow.

"Come," the stage manager commanded. "Box five awaits you."

"I thought the Count and the Vicomte were stationed in my box?" he asked.

"The Count is ill and the Vicomte is awaiting your company for the play." Giry stated.

Erik's eyes shrunk. "Let us go then." His mind raced as to why the boy was waiting for him. As the doors opened, it was silent. The orchestra was heard striking up and that first joyous note struck by Christine. They blended in perfectly as they came to the door of Box Five.

"Vicomte," Giry knocked. "He is here." She opened the door as he walked in.

"Phantom!" Erik called. He ran up to him and hugged him. "Come, sit. Mother is about to come on!" As the play began, the Phantom heard the boy talk. "I am glad you could attend. My father is ill and couldn't attend."

"But why request me?" The Phantom asked.

"So we could watch the play together. I had my father buy out the box so we wouldn't have to worry about someone else coming here."

The Phantom didn't know what to say. "Umm…thank you, Erik." Christine began to sing again and glanced up into their box. He saw her smile as her son applauded after her finishing chord.

The Phantom watched happily as his love sang. It enticed him in a trap, as he found himself loosing track of reality.

But a disturbance in a dark corner of the audience caught his trained eye. Several men dressed in black began to advance towards the stage.

"Stay here." The Phantom commanded. "I have to take care of something."

Erik knew something was up, but obeyed the Phantom's command.

Above the stage

Erik came silently up the rafters overlooking the stage and watched these men. In the light, a gun was seen in their hands.

"I knew something was wrong." He said. He watched Christine's face shrink with fear, but she kept on singing, as the people behind the scenes instructed her to do so.

Down on the stage, Christine watched these men advance. As she sang, another voice met hers in a recognizable duet.

"Do not fear, for the Angel of Music shall take you under his wing." She looked up and saw him there, standing above her. She looked up, eyes pleading for help.

The men fired a few shots as the music stopped. Screams of fear erupted through the Paris Opera House as everyone dropped. Christine looked up again, he pointed to a trap door about six feet back. She moved back over it as the men advanced towards the stage.

"The Countess of Changy will be a wonderful prize! How much is the Count willing to pay for your head?" One said. He lunged for her as she screamed.

A rope came flying down as his neck was caught in it. His body was flung upward as he gasped for air. After a few moments, he stopped moving and fell lifelessly to the ground.

"I gave you a chance to rid of these fools from my theater. Now I shall take things into my own hands!" a voice boomed over the chaos.

"Lets get her and get the hell out of here!" More men with guns covered the audience as about five more came up and advanced towards Christine.

"Erik!" she yelled. In one swift motion, a figure in black leapt from the rafters and down, drawing a shining sword.

A woman pointed towards the stage. "It's the Phantom of the Opera!"

Erik's eyes glowed an evil green as he cast out the lights, the stage falling into complete darkness.

"Now you shall see what hell is like!" Erik yelled. A sound of metal on metal was heard as Erik and Christine's attempted kidnappers began a grueling fight. Sounds of screams erupted from the stage as clothes ripped, shouts of pain were heard as the men's flesh was torn.

Christine's eyes finally adjusted to the light just as Erik came towards her moments after the stage was quiet. "Come, you are not safe here." They stood over the trap door as he pushed a secret floorboard. The Phantom and Christine disappeared beneath the hidden door and into darkness.

Once the candles were restored, five bloody bodies were seen up on the stage.Two were left hanging, three were dead.

"The Phantom saved the Countess!" someone called.

"No! He has kidnapped her like he did ten years ago!" another person yelled.

"That is not correct! He saved her and is taking her somewhere safe!" He tried to make his voice known from the box, but failed. The Vicomte scrambled down the stairs and into his mother's dressing room. But the door behind the mirror was locked.

"Phantom!" He yelled. "Phantom let me in!" The doors burst open as Raoul came in.

"Erik!" He said. He ran to his son just as the reporters arrived. "Son, are you all right?"

Erik looked into his father's eyes as the reporters came in. A distant look was there, as if he looked past the boy. Raoul's voice was monotone."Yes, Father. I'm okay."

"A father and son moment!" a reporter called. "Count! Where is the Countess? Do you have any messages for the Phantom?"

Meg pushed past the reporters and guided Raoul and Erik away. Once in a room, Raoul saw the look upon her face.

"Count, do you know where he's taken Christine?" Meg asked, worry portrayed in her voice.

"No, I do not." He responded. Erik picked up something in his father's voice. Something he couldn't pinpoint.

"Who were those men?" Erik asked.

"They are after your mother." Raoul said. "I heard one of them talking on my way back from the doctor."

Erik looked at his father, and saw exactly what it was. He knew a lie when he heard one.His father didn't look sick at all. Meg's mother soon entered, her face was blank.

"This is a disaster. Christine was almost kidnapped, the Phantom almost killed…"

"Killed?" Raoul yelled. "He has taken Christine somewhere, and is doing who knows what with her! He could be raping her, abusing her. He kidnapped her! That bastard! He…"

"The Phantom saved Mother!" Erik yelled back. It wasn't like Erik to raise his voice and wasagainst everything he was taught. But he couldn't take his father's words. Raoul was silent. "He saved her from those men! He never meant to harm anyone, but those men were going to take her! They were going to kill her, Father! The Phantom saved Mother!"

Raoul's eyes grew fierce. "I told you to never raise your voice to me!" His hand slapped Erik's face; a large red mark steadily grew on his face. "Ungrateful maggot." He muttered. "If I hadn't loved your mother, you would have been put into a boarding house by now! For years I gave you home, raised you into the right family, gave you a hopeful future. All I wanted in return was some respect. Now you have lost that!" The Count scolded. "A true son of the Count would never disrespect his father. But you…" he pointed his finger at Erik, his eyes grew a deadly black. "You are not my son."

"What are you talking about? Of course I am your son." Erik asked, tears developed behind his eyes. His father never yelled at him, let alone hit him.

Raoul laughed crazily. "You get that independent spirit from your father." Erik gave him a lopsided look. "The gray eyes, the dark hair. That is none of my heritage, not your mothers. No, that look is the look of the Devil's Child."

"I don't understand." He whispered.

"The Phantom, boy!" Raoul cried. "Use your mind once in a while."

Erik gasped, finally realizing what Raoul was talking about. How could this be?

His father…the Phantom?

ch 6 up soon…