Author's Note: This story was inspired by the Sheryl Crow song of the same title. "I would have given you all of my heart, but there's someone whose torn it apart, and she's taken all that I've got, but if you want, I'll try to love again." The basic outline is that Erik leaves France with Meg and Ann, and they travel across the globe, but Erik still burns for Christine. I've tried to remain as close to Canon as possible, but forgive me if the characters are too OOC. The time span covers about thirty years, including the new Millenium (1900). Of course, this is a Meg/Erik pair story, but it's different. No happy after ever, and no little "bunnies". There is a bit of death and destruction, because they visit Mazenderan. Be warned before you read this, I like to write angst/drama, not sappy fluff. Anyway, do enjoy the story and drop a review or two. :)

I do not own Phantom of The Opera. Credit is given to the following: Gaston Leroux, Susan Kay, Andrew Loyd Webber/Joel Shumacher, and Rob Schnieder. (You'll figure the last one out soon.)


Megan Giry: I don't know how to explain my feelings upon first seeing The Phantom's face. It was ghastly yet intriguing. I wondered what horrible accident had left him so disfigured, or had he been born that way? It was devastating and disgusting, yet from the moment I'd heard him sing as Don Juan I had recognized that soft, sensual voice.

Here was my old childhood friend, so long deemed a figment of my imagination, and yet also here was Christine's Angel of Music, and The Opera Ghost! It appeared that all three were actually one, and this one man was dominating the stage.He moved with Christine in such grace, such charisma, I knew they were meant to be.

Her voice rang out with clarity and perfection, and I realized that half the audience was entranced. My mother, however, glanced back at me, and I knew at that moment, this was the long hidden secret she had kept from me for so long. My mother had often been a quiet, somber lady, and I respected her.

She had also, however, been a secretive and over-bearing presence. All my life she had hovered over me, watching my every move. She hardly even trusted me to go out with friends! I had never done anything to warrant such an over-protective stance, yet still she watched me like a hawk.

Did she watch me to keep me from knowing too much? I now watched The Phantom and Christine move across the bridge, and I wondered, why had my best friend kept such a dark and seductive man so hidden from me? I thought she trusted me, she had certainly trusted me with her Angel secret, but when I had asked after the Masquerade if that sinister Red Death was her Angel of Music as well, she had replied "There is no Angel. Only Erik."

Erik. I repeated that name in my head as he began to sing off cue. This wasn't in the script, but before anyone could register that, she tore off the man's mask! I was ashamed for my friend. She was so compassionate, so careful and loving, yet here she was revealing her Angel's true identity to the world. I almost felt like slapping her.

The look upon Erik's face was utter shock and despair. He almost appeared to want to cry. Suddenly and without warning he snipped a rope and fell through a hidden trapdoor beneath the stage. I looked up for a breif second and saw the cracks that signaled the fall of the chandelier. I screamed and ran after my mother, who appeared to be chasing Christine.

I caught up to her as she ran backstage, only to be accosted by Raoul. "Please Monsieur Follow Me!" She told him, and then turned to me. "You stay here!" She ordered me. My mother ran off and I stomped my foot. I was tired of her ordering me around, telling me what to do. I was sick of her constant hovering, as if I were some pitiful five year old.

I ignored her completely and turned to the crowd behind me. "We need to find Christine Daae and her Tormentor." I yelled at them, but a man from within the crowd screamed back, "That's Obvious!" I was growing furious, with my mother ordering me about while my best friend had been aducted by a ludicrous mad-man, and I yelled. "Does anyone know the way down to the cellars?"

Two stagehands raced to my side and the crowd began to follow. We ran down the first four cellars yelling madly for Christine. I wondered where my mother and Raoul had gone, and I hoped desperately that they were ok. The crowd waved torches and began to chant, and I felt my insides tremble. I had always considered myself a brave girl, adventurous and curious, but now I realized that I was frightened to death of this strange and egnimatic Phantom.

He had murdered many employees at the Opera, including the fateful night he swung Joseph Buoquet out over the stage. I had barely escaped only to find my mother running around the Opera like a crazed banshee. I believed strongly that whoever this man was, if he was my mother's secret, then he had quite a powerful hold over her.

The crowd began to surge and soround a small pier. "There's no other way than to wade through the water. It's not that deep, but I don't know. No one has ever been this far down." The stagehands told us. The same man from within the crowd screamed, "You can do it!" I bit my lower lip, and stepped in. The crowd behind me followed, and we waded into the water. We came out at a small cavern, and I looked around.

It appeared that Christine and her kidnapper were not here, but the crowd began to search every corner anyhow. I raced up to a small table, and glanced down. A small white half-mask shone in the candlelight, and I picked it up.

It was the exact same mask I had seen nearly eight years ago in my room. He had been there, watching over me protectively, my old friend.

Ann: I raced through the hidden tunnel, cursing Erik. I knew he loved Christine, but this was no way for any man to treat a lady. I came out into the dark night sky, and stopped. I gathered my breath and looked around. Whatever was occurring down below was not my business. All I could hope for was that Christine could understand and accept Erik.

She was a nice young girl, deserving of the pampered treatment that Erik would provide. Only, would Erik accept Christine if she did not love him? I knew she was head over heels for Raoul De Chagney, but I had just sent him twenty feet to a watery grave. I fell to my feet and began to pray. I prayed that God would forgive me, for the murderous heathen I had become.

I cried for my broken soul, my wretched actions, and I prayed that God would have mercy on us all. Suddenly I felt the hot fire breathing down on me, and looked up. The Opera Populaire burned before my eyes, and I swore under my breath. Megan! I had told her to stay inside, but knowing her curious instincts she would have followed the crowd below to Erik's lair.

I had to rescue her, she was my only precious joy, my sweet daughter. I raced around to the Rotunda side of the Opera, only to be once again accosted by Raoul, and Christine! They were wet, scared, and Christine's eyes were red-rimmed. "What did he do? He didn't hurt you dear?" Raoul shook his finger in my face. "Be glad we are all alive, and he let her go. No time to talk, We need to escape France."

I hugged Christine tight and looked at Raoul. "Your fortunes? Your title?" Raoul pulled Christine tight to him and she clung on feircly. "Forget all that, only Christine matters." I nodded and told them, "You'll find several horses out front. No one will notice in the mayhem if you ride off." I held Christine's hand and pulled her close.

I whispered, "I'm so sorry for it all. It's my fault. You can't force Love." Christine whispered back, "But I do love Erik." Before I could register my astonishment, Raoul had dragged Christine away, and they disappeared from my life forever.

Erik: I stumbled in the darkness. It was pitch black beneath the Paris Catacombs, and I was lost. All I really wanted to do was curl up and die. I turned sideways, and hit my shin on a coffin.

I tried to walk further, but finally just gave up. Life was not worth living without Christine. I cried and dug my nails into the dirt. I stood up and continued walking, thinking how good it would be to just drown my sorrows into a keg.

I wondered where I could get some fine wine inside a masuolem, and then I laughed. Here I was,walking amongst the dead. I belonged here, wasn't I a living corpse? The Devil's Child? I do believe I was delirious. Christine's ring felt heavy in my pocket, and I touched it.

How I would much rather be touching her, feeling those soft lips against my cheek, her warm hands against my cold body. But no, tonight she would be wrapped around Raoul's body, that insidious, odious, Fop. I kicked another coffin, and then screamed.

Where in Hell was I!