Demons of the Past

Summary: Erik and Christine have just managed to find the happiness that they have both so desperately needed; but a past that has never died may find a way to undo them both. Will Erik confront the demons of his past, or will they consume not only him, but his beloved? Can the past truly die? Sequel to 'Christine'

Ch. 1 Nightmares

Author's note: Hello again everyone! I had fully intended on taking a long break from writing, but I have found that it is absolutely addicting. So I find myself, once again, enthralled in a plot that has been screaming to be put into writing. First, I would like to say that this story is a sequel to my first ever fanfic Christine. I would strongly encourage you to read that story first; you will understand the plot components better if you know what's already been done…Second, this fic will concentrate a lot on Erik's background. I have put some thought into his past, and have come up with several ideas. I have not read Susan Kay's 'Phantom', and therefore will not be using any childhood Erik references from her. I will follow the guidelines of the musical and movie-but mainly the movie. And third, thanks for giving this fic a shot. I hope everyone enjoys it; I know that I will have fun writing it.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the computer that I'm typing from…

P.S. This story takes place around three months after my previous story.

P.S. 2 Christine sings a bit from a Coldplay song called 'Fix You'; full lyrics will be used in upcoming chappies.

And now, on with the story…

Christine hugged her cloak closely to her body as her carriage entered the final stretch to their destination: the Opera Populaire. It had been three months since she had last entered the home of her childhood; and she carried memories, both bad and good, of this place. Here is where she first came with her adopted mother Madam Marie Giry when her father died; here is where she first met her best friend Meg. Here is where she first learned her passions for dance and song; here was where her first dreams of becoming a primma donna began. But more importantly, this Opera House was the place where she had first met her Angel of Music. She remembered the late nights of practice; she remembered his beautiful voice guiding hers. Christine sat, lost in her thoughts. She had been a simple child, yearning for the guiding touch of her father's, and her Angel had provided her with that and much more. Much more, Christine thought with a smile, as she looked down on her wedding ring. The events that followed in her memory after her performance as Elissa in Hannibal were shut in a corner of her mind, simply labeled 'Phantom'. She sighed to herself. She had to take the bad memories with the good, for every decision, every choice, right or wrong, had led her to her life today; and so for that, she was grateful to the so called 'Phantom'. Her Erik, her husband…he was not the Phantom. Nor would he ever be again, she was sure. She loved Erik, more than her own life, and would do anything for him. Which brought her to the reason for her visit today to the Opera Populaire. She had come in search of Madam Giry. Only she would be able to help her. And if she can't, then God help me, Christine thought miserably.

Erik sat alone in his music room. Christine had left a short time ago for Paris. He had offered to accompany her, but she had just smiled that infuriating smile of hers. He knew as well as she did that going to Paris, going back to the place that still hunts for the Phantom like an animal, is in a word: unwise. Erik knew that eventually all would calm down. After all, everyone believed that the Phantom of the Opera was a fable; a ghost story that the older ballerinas told to the younger ones to scare them. He smiled, remembering the story-telling voice that Meg use to get when she would tell the other ballerinas of her numerous 'almost' Phantom sightings. He looked down at his piano. It was covered in paper half printed in musical notes. He sighed in frustration. Erik just couldn't seem to get the last part that he needed written. It was eluding him, which always irritated him to an extreme. The answer, of course, would be something painfully obvious. Erik stood from his seat and walked over to his desk, unable to think upon his music at the moment. He desperately needed a distraction. With Christine gone, there was a loneliness in the air that was unbearable. Erik shook his head. He had lived in solitude for most of his life; and now, married not quite three months, he couldn't stand the thought of being without her. Erik looked over the cluttered desk. He smiled as he picked up a red rose; no doubt from the garden outside. There was a note attached: Later, dearest. The wave of loneliness intensified and ran through his body, and he set the rose to the side. Erik sat at his desk, and pulled out a letter that was addressed two weeks prior. Erik reread the letter, his eyes plotting and cool.

Monsieur Erik Massenet:

Thank you for the kind words of encouragement. Running an Opera House is in itself a huge responsibility, especially with the debt that was left by both the previous owners; it is thereby my great pleasure to inform you that I have thought upon your words, and would greatly appreciate your involvement in the Opera Populaire as 'patron'. I have looked over the scores that you sent, as well as M. Reyer, our leading maestro. We both agree that they are genius, and we would be honored if you would allow us to perform your works in our humble Opera House. I cannot express to you how heartening your letters have been. Your suggestions on the rebuilding of the Opera House were flawless; you must be a skilled architect, Monsieur.

I invite you to write me your response at your leisure; this is an awesome responsibility that I have offered you, and one to be carefully considered. I await your response, and hope to one day meet in person.

Sincerely yours;

M. Stefan Javere

Erik had sent Monsieur Javere several letters. He had introduced himself as a gentleman with a passion for the arts, and merely wanted to offer a few suggestions that may help him in his attempts to reestablished order in the Opera House. Erik could see the ironic nature in this: he himself being the man responsible for the destruction and chaos surrounding the Opera Populaire. What better way to right the wrongs that you have done than by giving back to the place that was your home? That was Christine's home? He tried to tell himself that these were the reasons for his interest in the Opera House, but he was only part right. What he really wanted was power. He wanted power over those fools who had mocked him, who had mobbed him, who had degraded his home, who had defiled his art. And as he read over the letter in his hand, he realized that he had it. Erik was acting like a respectable gentleman in society, and it had given him more power than he had ever had as the Phantom. The Phantom's power came from fear; and Erik had thought at the time that power was power. However, he realized now that the power he commanded with his money, with his art, with his intellect, was more resonant than anything that he had been able to accomplish with fear. M. Javere responded to all his letters; he was always polite, and even asked his suggestions on things. His…other letters to the managers of the Opera Populaire were not well received.

The real question, as had been the question since he first received this letter two weeks ago, had been what would his response should be. Erik wanted to invest his money in something he knew would bring capital in, and the Opera House had always been a lucrative investment…and he would love to have his works performed for Paris; his passion would fill the ears and hearts of all who heard, especially if Christine were to be the one to sing…and as patron he could influence the manager's…artistic choices. But there, in the dark corner of his mind, lurked the main thing holding him back. He could pretend to be the gentleman, could pretend to be proper and respectable, but eventually he would have to meet his manager face-to-face. What would be the response? What would the other people in the Opera House think? Erik closed his eyes in frustration. It always ended like this. He was finally happy; happier than he thought he deserved. But there was always the nagging realization that he would never be able to function as a normal man.

It didn't matter to Christine that he wasn't normal. But it did to him! It mattered to him that he was sitting at home, alone, missing Christine because he could not go with her! He threw his hands across the desk in frustration, scattering all the papers and various objects across his room. He was stuck…there was no other choice for him…he would always be the one left behind…Erik eyed his piano, and his eyes widened suddenly. That's it! I've thought of it! He ran across the room, scattering more things that were in his way, and started playing furiously. He lost himself completely…and that was always a good thing when he felt trapped…

Christine entered the Opera Populaire, allowing the familiar feelings rush her. Her eyes swept over the entry hall, and she immediately turned and headed toward the stage. She anticipated that Madam Giry would be rehearsing the new ballet girls; and her instinct was correct. She stayed in the background, and watched her foster mother instruct the girls with her sharp words, demonstrations, and, as a last resort, her cane.

"Ah, my girls, it's not right, not right…but it is better. Break for ten minutes, and come back with more motivation! I can't teach you if you don't want to be taught…" Madam Giry half berated, half encouraged the ballet girls. They left the stage, and Madam Giry stood alone for a moment, leaning on her cane. Christine came forward.

"Madam, perhaps you should sit a moment! Have you worked yourself to death, and me not around to stop you?"

"Christine!" Madam Giry whirled forward toward the petite girl, and embraced her in a large hug. "Oh my dear, it has been too long! I have missed you so!"

"And I you, Madam," Christine's eyes started to mist a little. She had not seen her foster mother in at least a month, and now she was here with troubling news, rather than just coming for a pleasure visit; Christine felt a twinge of guilt. Madam Giry glanced at her.

"My dear, you look horrible! You look as if you have not slept in weeks! Is there something wrong?" Madam Giry lowered her voice. "Is it Erik?"

"It's…hard to explain. I just need to talk to you. Alone, and in private. Can I? I'll wait as long as I need to…"

"Of course, child! Meg can take over this class, I'm sure of it…" Madam Giry hurried forward, looking for her daughter. Christine was left alone on the stage. She looked at the orchestra in the pit, preparing to practice. She nodded at M. Reyer, who smiled. She leaned forward a little to see what they were about to practice. Christine's eyes went wide in recognition. The piece was one of Erik's own: La Rose et la Nuit. It was one of Christine's personal favorites. She smiled at herself; she hoped that Erik would truly consider what being a patron to this place could mean for them. She knew that it would make him happy; he just didn't know it yet. He was so stubborn. Her thoughts went to her husband. She loved him dearly, but he was still so sheltered; there was still a barrier that he would not let down. Her thoughts were interrupted as she felt someone approach.

"Mademoiselle? I don't think I've met you, and I believe that I have met everyone here in the Opera House…are you new here?" Christine turned toward the voice to discover a tall man with a genuine smile playing on his face. He was an older gentleman, but his eyes were a piercing blue. Christine offered her hand, which held her wedding ring.

"Madam, actually, Monsieur, Christine Massenet. It is an honor."

"Ah, Madam Massenet! I am in correspondence with your husband, Erik! I am Stefan Javere, the new manager here at the Opera Populaire. The honor is all mine, Madam. What brings you to our humble theater?"

"I am visiting my dear friend and foster mother, Madam Giry. I do hope that I am not interrupting anything." Christine glanced to the exit of the stage that Madam Giry had used, hoping to see her, but she had not returned.

"Foster mother, did you say…pardon me if this seems bold, but are you the former Christine Daae? The primma donna?" Christine blushed and bowed her head.

"I was for a time, Monsieur. It was my dream to sing…I hope to return soon."

"Well, you are always welcomed here, Madam. Always."

M. Javere kissed her hand, and politely bowed. Christine was instantly enchanted by the man. M. Javere's eyes sparkled as he led Christine to the side of the stage.

"As you can see, the reconstruction of the theater is nearly complete. Our first Opera will be performed in a matter of weeks, if all goes well with your husband…we wish to perform La Rose et la Nuit. It would be a wonderful opener to the season."

"Oh that's wonderful, Monsieur! I am sure that he will be honored…" Christine was surprised by the straightforwardness of the man's words. Javere did not mince words when he was trying to make a point. Christine found it refreshing.

"Frankly, I was wondering whether this 'Phantom of the Opera' business was keeping him from joining our little investment here." Christine nearly choked. She quickly covered her shock with a little cough.

"What do you mean, Monsieur?"

"Well, all this nonsense about a ghost…all I have heard since I came here was to beware the Opera Ghost…I just find it all poppycock! The man who shattered the chandelier was deranged, true…but the papers say that the culprit was killed. And I certainly don't believe in apparitions. The former managers warned me of receiving letters and notes demanding anything from soprano changes in the middle of the season to extravagant sums of money. Madam, I have been here three months, and the only letters that I have received have been from your good husband! And to be frank, I don't know what I would have done without his suggestions. Your husband must be a genius, Madam, sheer genius. I look forward to meeting him."

"Well, then Monsieur, surely you will grant us the pleasure of your presence at dinner one afternoon? You could meet my husband, hear more of his work…"

"Madam I would be delighted! Simply delighted! I shall make arrangements! How's tomorrow for you, my dear?" Christine nodded her agreement, and M. Javere begged leave to set up the arrangements. As he left, Christine knew that Erik was going to simply kill her. I am putting him through an ordeal by fire, but he must do it…and I will be with him the whole time…perhaps he will find that not all people own pitchforks and torches…

Madam Giry came toward Christine. She had obviously overheard her conversation with M. Javere, and she had a very disapproving look on her face.

"Christine, are you sure that was wise? You know how Erik is…"

"Madam, I had to! He's been contemplating this patronage for weeks! Erik must stop living in the past; he must prepare for his future. He can do this, I know." Christine stood her ground firmly. Madam Giry sighed.

"Of course, dear. If you say so…"

"Plus, I would be honored if you and Meg were present as well. It would put Erik more at ease."

"We will come, Christine, but now we need to concentrate on why you are here. I only have an hour or so. Please, follow me to my room."

Christine felt the heaviness that was starting to lift from her heart settle back against it. How can I explain this? The problem is so delicate and difficult…and I hope there's a solution…

"It's the nightmares, Madam. I can't stop the nightmares, and I don't know what to do to help him…" Christine spoke with a frightened voice. Madam Giry leaned in.

"What do you mean, child?"

"The nightmares, there always the same…"

Christine was just about to fall asleep. Her bedroom was dark and relaxing, and the weight and heat of the body next to her ensured that she would be comfortable. She moved closer to Erik, and wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders. Erik sighed in his sleep, and Christine could feel the contentment surrounding her. She closed her eyes, ready for the deep sleep to claim her. Beside her, Erik twitched in his sleep. Christine opened her eyes again, to make sure everything was all right. Erik didn't move again. Christine moved closer to him, comforting him. Suddenly, Erik seized up, his whole body shaking uncontrollably. Christine stumbled out of bed awkwardly, and stared in horror as her husband thrashed violently on the bed.

"Erik! ERIK! Wake up!" Christine rushed forward, trying to shake him awake. Erik's eyes flew open, and he looked wildly about. He rose from the bed quickly. He moved toward her, his arms outstretched.

"Erik! What are you doing? Are you awake? Erik!" He came towards her, and fell to his knees.

"Please…please…don't do this to me…I'm your son…I'M YOUR SON!" Erik's voice rose to a scream, and Christine slapped him across the face.

"Wake up, Erik! Please!" But Erik had recoiled as soon as her hand hit his face. He went into a corner of the bedroom, and curled into a ball.

"No…no more pain…I'll do anything you ask…no more…" Christine was horrified. She hadn't meant to hit him. She went forward to him. He flinched, and tried to pull away. Christine held him, and crooned to him:

Lights will guide you home and ignite your bones
And I will try to fix you

He calmed at her voice. She helped him back into the bed, and he slept the rest of the night. Christine was afraid of another fit, and she fell into a restless sleep.

When Erik awoke the next morning, he had no memory of the night before.

"And it's like that, at least twice a week. I don't know when to expect it…it happens sometimes as soon as we retire, and sometimes it happens right before dawn. He always screams at his mother, he screams at crowds of people, he screams as people beat him…and he has no recollection. None. He wakes up, perfectly refreshed and rested. I tried to ask him about it, but he says I'm just being silly…that I'm the one dreaming…but it's driving me crazy! It has to stop!" Christine's voice rose to hysterics. She clutched Madam Giry.

"What do I do? I don't know anything about his past…but you do! You must help me."

Madam Giry stared at Christine for a moment. She looked into her tired, worried eyes. She sighed.

"Christine, I don't pretend to be some kind of expert. Erik has never opened up about his past. I know that he was in the traveling gypsy fair because I rescued him from it. The only other thing that I know is that his mother is the one that gave him to the gypsies in the first place. He's suppressed his past for so long…it appears that it is finally catching up with him. First, I think that he needs to talk about it. You have to get him to open up."

"What if that doesn't work?" Christine asked cautiously.

"Well, we will have to cross that when we get there…"

Erik was engrossed in his work. He was surrounded by chaos, but all that mattered was the chaos that he was playing on the piano. It was an exciting piece, and his heart was racing along with the rhythm that his fingers played. It was right! This is what he was waiting for! He stopped playing as he reached the end. He closed his eyes, and leaned back against the wall. He was therefore a bit shocked when he heard clapping.

He glanced up to see Christine slouched against the doorframe of the music room. Her eyes were on him, but then they spread to look at the rest of the room. She didn't look shocked at all. Erik smiled. She was getting used to him…Erik let his eyes travel over her. Her hair was mused from her trip, and her dress was her finest, but it was wrinkled. Her only jewelry was his ring. She looked tired and worn…and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

"How long have you been standing there, Christine?" Erik rose from his seat by the piano, and walked toward her.

"Long enough to know that what you were playing was the best that I've heard…" Christine smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Did you miss me?"

"More than you know." Erik bent his head down, and kissed her passionately. He was caught up in her: her scent was that of crushed roses, her hair was soft and silky, her skin…"Look's like you missed me too."

"Of course, love." Christine smiled up at him, and touched his cheek. She then gestured around the room. "And what did you do in here? Host a party in my absence?"

Erik scowled and turned away. He bent over and started picking the papers up. "I don't have to explain everything that I do…I was bored, and thought I'd give you something to do when you got home."

"Oh, how nice of you! What a great welcome home present…" Christine went to move beside him, to help, but he pushed her away.

"I'll clean it up…," he said in a low growl. Christine smiled in triumph.

"Thank you, Angel!" She turned to leave the room, and saw the note from M. Javere lying on the floor. She reached and picked it up.

"Erik, have you made a decision yet? About the patronage?" Christine asked timidly.

"Let's not talk about that right now…I'm hungry, Christine." Erik tried his whiny voice, and Christine laughed.

"That doesn't work anymore! You have to help!"

"Fine, fine!" With that, Erik rose swiftly from the floor and scooped Christine up. She shrieked and kicked a bit, but Erik kissed her softly, and she quit her struggling.

"See, I always have the upper hand…" Erik carried her to the kitchen.

"Oh Erik…" Christine murmured into his shirt. She was regretting her rash decision to invite M. Javere to dinner. How was Erik going to take the news?

They sat in the small eating area in the kitchen, their backs to the windows that displayed a beautiful sunset. They ate in relative silence; and Erik found this very suspicious. Normally Christine would be talking his ear off about one thing or another; but she just sat quietly, picking at her food, barely eating. Erik finally pushed his plate forward and grabbed her hand.

"Christine, what's wrong? I've never known you to be this quiet…did something happen on your visit to see Marie? Is she well?" Erik was concerned. He didn't know what was going on, but he hoped it did not involve Marie or her daughter being ill or having some kind of misfortune. Christine shook her head slightly.

"No, and as a matter of fact, Madam Giry and Meg are joining us for dinner tomorrow…"

"That's nice; I haven't seen them in a while. Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Because M. Javere is also joining us for dinner tomorrow…" Christine held her breath, waiting for his reaction. She didn't have to wait long.

"WHAT! Christine, what did you do! He's coming here, tomorrow? How could you do that to me! I don't want him in my home…I haven't even decided whether to take the patronage he's offered…" Erik put his face in his hands, then slowly brought them up to massage away the headache that had formed. He felt such pressure that he could barely hear what Christine said in response.

"Yes you have, don't lie to me…or yourself! You're just worried about meeting him face to face, and so I thought that if you were to meet him here, away from Paris and the Opera House, that maybe it would be easier for you. That is why Madam Giry and Meg are coming as well. You'll be surrounded by people who love you, Erik. You'll do fine." Christine leaned forward to touch his arm, but Erik rose sharply from his chair, away from her.

"You have no idea what I go through…you know nothing, Christine! This is not something that can be made easier simply because I feel more comfortable in my own home! This is the deal breaker, Christine. When Javere sees me…when he sees my face…he will not want me as a patron, whether I accept or not! Do you believe that he is a smart man, my dear? Do you think that he would be able to put two and two together and come up with the right answer? It's not a far stretch to piece together that I was the Phantom of the Opera. I am the man responsible for all his current hardships." Erik turned away, and headed toward the front door. Christine followed him.

"He doesn't believe in the Opera Ghost! He thinks it's all just stories…and not all people will judge you on your looks, Erik! M. Reyer is already rehearsing your La Rose et la Nuit…they just wait your approval. Your appearance won't matter, my love…merely your mind and heart."

"What do you know? You know nothing! My own mother couldn't stand the look of me; she herself sold me to the gypsies! I didn't live most of my life under an Opera House for my health! I was shamed into solitude. How can you say that looks don't matter…you know nothing!" Erik reached for his cloak, which hung from a hook by the door. He started to put it on when Christine touched his shoulder.

"I know nothing because you tell me nothing! You act as a martyr. I can bear your burdens! Tell me what has happened to you! It could end the horrible nightmares…" Christine's voice trailed off as her husband's face twisted in such rage as she had never seen. She stepped back.

"I don't have nightmares!" Erik leaned forward to look Christine directly in the eye. "You may be able to bear my burdens, but I would never expect you to bear my scars…and that is what you are asking! The things that I have seen, the places I have been, the things that I have done, the things done to me…no other person needs to experience that, least of all you! You are the one person I care about more than anything. You ask because you know nothing. You wish me to poison you, Christine, and I refuse. I need some silence…I'm going out!" Erik reached for the door, and was halfway outside when Christine spoke again.

"I already bear some of your scars! I experience what you have through your nightmares! If I didn't, then how do I know that Anita was your mother's name? How do I know that Faza was the name of the gypsy that kept you as the 'Devil's Child', that you eventually killed? How do I know these things, if you do not speak of them as you dream? Do you think it better for me to hear you scream as you dream of being whipped and tortured?" Christine's voice was but a whisper, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Erik's response was deadly and cold.

"You know nothing"