Authors Note: The seventh chapter and no reviews? Is it that bad? Anyway, this chapter is sort of a "fan-fic" thing. I do realize it's OOC but not really, considering all that has happened so far. Remember, this story and "Memories of a Different Past" were based on Joel Shumacher's film, not Leroux/Kay. So of course Erik is based on Gerard Butler. Not the real Phantom.


Ann: There is nothing more frightening in this world than the fear of being alone. I myself would be quite lost without Meg. We both know that Erik is utterly lost without Christine.

He tosses in his sleep, from one side to the other, and mumbles meaningless words. His frantic scrambling around in the day only serves to keep his mind busy, and those long hours in the evening with my daughter do nothing to calm his nerves. I tried to talk to him too, to care and comfort him.

It seemed a futile effort, for every day he appeared more melancholy than the day before. I saw him now, talking beside me as we rode past vineyards and dusty paths. The Italian countryside may have been enchanting to Meg and I, but for Erik, he was lost within his own mind.

I knew Meg was becoming entranced by Erik; I had seen that look many times before, and yet, Erik showed no other sign other than friendly affection, and I was worried for my little girl's heart. We slept out under the stars, even in the pouring rain, and wondered up through Italy each day.

We stopped every once in a while, but mostly we rode on. I came to appreciate the wearisome jobs of the merchants that we passed. They traveled from country to country every day, struggling to survive as they sold their merchandise and loaded up more to sell elsewhere. Of course the journey was not all bad. The scenery as we passed Italy was breathtaking. We took the back roads and deserted alleys to avoid cruel passerby.

Of course Erik's appearance was not too phenomenal, albeit his white porcelain mask. People still have a tendency to be cruel, and it was better to be safe than sorry. We traveled for nearly a month out of Italy, taking our time. We didn't really have any hurry, and I don't believe any of us three were in a rush to leave the Italian countryside.

I enjoyed the view, Meg and Erik enjoyed each other's company, and we pressed on.

Meg: The journey out of Italy was spectacular. We took the long, deserted paths and empty roads so to avoid curious passerby. We still encountered people, but they were not at all cruel; just curious.

Erik himself appeared to have no discomfort, at least physically. Emotionally; he was distressed, wounded, and agonized. I tried to comfort him; talking to him in the long evenings or during our travels upon the road.

My mother talked to him as well, and together we worked to help Erik out of his struggles and depressions. After nearly four weeks of relentless travel, encountering many different people and ever-changing scenery, we reached Slovenia.

The land wasn't much different than Italy, but when I commented on this Erik replied. "You don't expect there to be a large blue line across the road as there is on the map, do you?"

I shrugged. I didn't really know what to expect. I'd never even heard much about Slovenia, other than that it was next to France and across from Italy. Now, I wanted to learn about it.

The history, the government type, and the rich culture of the land.

I wasn't to learn until halfway across to Switzerland that Slovenia was mainly a barren, wild-grass country with crumbling castles and failing villages.

Erik: Another wonderful, beautiful country. Slovenia. I liked this country most of all for it's quiet solitude. Unlike Italy, Slovenia was a quiet, hardly-populated area with many ancient landmarks.

Once grand castles stood now in the distance crumbling into decadent decay. Tombs of warriors shared tombs with peasants, and the great fields of flowers sorounded us in multitudes.

Of course Ann and Meg were not impressed when we began our journey across. We stopped for a rest while Ann checked our supplies. "It's going to be hard with provisions if there aren't any towns here." She remarked.

I replied, "Yes, we'll have to be conservative since the only few villages here won't be able to share."

Meg sat beside me and asked, "Is there anything of interest here?" I waved my hands across the unobstructed blue sky. "Wait till tonight." She shrugged and waved her fan. I petted Aries as he nibbled at the sweet grass.

I reached out and picked a small dandelion, which I handed to Meg. "In no time I promise we'll be in Switzerland." I told her. She smiled and put the flower in her travel purse.

She had begun to keep a small bag beside her which she filled with unusual objects, including quartz stones and four-leaf clovers.

Ann came beside us and looked out over the field. "Well, I guess we'll just head in that direction."

I looked at my compass and nodded. "We can't make any wrong turns, it would be too easy to get lost. Head north and we should be fine."

We each climbed onto our horses and rode off.

Ann: Slovenia, for all it's dullness, was indeed a quaint country. We passed no towns but only small groups of huts and random traveling people. The fields of wildflowers gave way to fields of clovers, and back to wildflowers. Trees grew sparse in the wilderness, and at night we lay uncovered beneath the stars.

Of course Meg was delighted to find that she could see everything without such nusiances obscuring her vision. Erik even suggested buying a telescope sometime, but I reminded him that we would have to drag it with us everywhere we went.

The truth was, we had been gone from France for nearly seven months, and what we had with us, was all we had. We were like a band of gypsies; here, there and gone tomorrow. Our journey was teaching us all many different things, but we each had learned one important lesson.

Life was not worth living unless it was lived. You couldn't sit around and wait for things to happen, you had to make it happen. I loved my companions, and I loved the journey, even if it was wearisome.

Meg: Slovenia's only redeeming quality from it's dull boredom was the cool nights and beautiful sky. Even in the rain I would stand outside Erik's makeshift rain tent until my mother screamed at me to get inside.

I loved how the stars spilled out across the air, forming patterns and swirling across the heavens. I looked for the planets but was disappointed. A telescope would have been nice, but mother was right in saying it was too much trouble to drag one along with us.

My main interest in the stars was that of curiosity. Were we the only ones in this vast galaxy? Was Earth the only populated planet, or were there more?

Erik told me he did belive in other life, and of other populated planets. He tried to explain some complicated tale of genetics and chromosomes, but I was lost and confused, so he did not continue. I asked about other technology, about electricity and telephones, and Erik was glad to discuss such things with me.

I actually felt sorry for Christine; for she was stuck with that dull and stagnant Raoul while I was out in a field in Slovenia with an interesting and knowledgeable man.

The days and nights passed quickly, and only once did we encounter anything resembling a town. It was really just a small group of huts with a center, but it was better than the nothingness we had encountered for nearly two and a half weeks.

My mother and I restocked our empty canteens and washed our clothes with the other ladies, while Erik bathed the horses and checked on the other supplies. I came back from the stream with my mother and stopped.

"Come on Megan." My mother snapped as she took the clothes from my arms and walked over to our luggage bags.

Erik was washing Cleopatra without his shirt on, and cooing into her ear as he leaned over her. His body was taunt and lean, and his trousers were soaked with water and soap.

I felt myself blushing as I heard my mother again, "Get over here now!" I obediently walked over to the luggage and Erik looked at me.

I averted my gaze and he asked, 'Is something wrong?" I nodded no because my tounge was tied within my mouth. My mother came over to Cleopatra and began to rinse her off.

She told Erik, "As you requested I did not clean your clothes. Now go and do that and put a shirt on." I couldn't help but giggle when I realized my own mother was also blushing. Erik looked confused and I wondered if he did not realize his effect upon us. Truly he was a handsome man, save for that one side of his face.

Now, here in the stables with his muscular chest and tight legs covered in soapy water, he was honestly drop down irresistible. My mother continued Erik's job and I walked towards him. "I could help." I said quietly, but my mother shouted from only four feet away, "Get over here Megan Giry and brush Brise's mane!"

One of the village men checked on us to see what the screaming was for, but only shrugged and left us. I watched in fascination as Erik reached down and picked up his clothes, then walked out of the stables.

My mother was glaring at me as I picked up a brush and began to comb my horse, noting that Erik had done an exceptionally through job of cleaning.

Erik: I had no idea what the commotion was when Ann and Meg returned. I had been cleaning our horses and was finishing with Cleopatra when Ann began shouting at Meg.

I turned only to find Meg blushing and looking down. Of course I knew I wasn't being appropriate, with my shirt off and covered in water; but really, what did she expect me to do when cleaning two mares and a stallion? Ann, on the other hand, was being harsh, and that was to be expected.

I knew she enjoyed my body, there had been times when she'd told me I was rather handsome, and now, of course, she wanted to keep her precious daughter away from me. I myself was neither interested in either of the girls, but only wished that Christine had given me that look of utter desire that flashed through Meg's sparkling eyes.

I walked away towards the stream to clean my own clothes and endured several chattering village girls on my way.

I had never had any idea how impressive I might be while living at the Opera; but now my journey through Italy and Slovenia had made me realize that many of the feminine eyes that watched me were not of hatred or fear but of appreciation.
Even a few men in Italy had given me that roaming eye. None of this mattered to me, honestly.

My heart was shattered at the thought that Christine had never given me a chance; that she had run away at the first sight of my ugly face. I wondered how she may have felt if I'd shown up in her dressing room one night, rather than singing to her for so many years?

Of course it was not only my face that had frightened Christine, but my actions. My years of deceit and lies, and my murderous rage that had caused me to kidnap her and attempt to kill her fiance.

It was everything really, all boiled down to the fact that Christine was now a Vicomptess with her Vicompte, and I was in a village washing horses.