A/N: This is it, the next chapter, and I hope everyone enjoys it. Please review if you have any comments or constructive criticism. I am still pretty new at this. I will thank all of my reviewers at the end of the story, so please don't think it rude of me if I don't respond immediately. (Wide eyes and hopeful smile...)

Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera even if I love it very, very much. It belongs to the all those masters mentioned in the first chapter. (Cries my eyes out...)

The Way Things Might Have Been

Chapter1: A Destined Meeting

Erik's first reaction upon seeing the architectural marvel that was the Opera Populaire was an overwhelming feeling of awe. Then, he studied it with a critical eye, one that he had trained under several master architects, but even then, he found few flaws, none that really stood out. However, a feeling of nervousness soon replaced the awe as he realized the amount of life bustling about the theatre. If he could have afforded it, he would have lived the life of a total recluse, avoiding all human contact. Unfortunately, that was not the case and life would go on. The feeling of isolation and loneliness had grown into his constant companion following his mother's death. He would live life with no one. He could only hope for a decent level of acceptance. He let out one last sigh and entered the building. If the outside had made him gape, then the inside certainly, and literally, took his breath away. It was a beauty beyond mortal comprehension. He hoped to add to it with his own skills. However, a treacherous voice whispered into his mind, "Do you dare to defile this amazing beauty with your foulness? Who gave you the right to intrude into such a paradise? You should leave…" The voice was promptly cut off by the voice, a physical one, of another man.

"You there, who are you? From the looks of it, you do not seem to be here to attend the opera." The man was finely dressed and seemed to be followed by another man of similar fashion.

Erik quickly checked his anger and covered the expression on his face such that no emotion escaped. His pride was stabbed, but he did not want trouble, not now at least. He had to give their words veracity since he was dressed in work clothes. "Messieurs, you are quite correct. I am here in search of employment."

The two gentlemen at first just gave him a look, studying him, and then, they turned and gestured to him to follow them. "Monsieur, we are the managers of this opera house, and if you are seeking employment, then we'll see what we can do, and what you can do. Here is our office." The man who had been speaking then introduced himself as M. Debienne and his partner as M. Poligny. "Now monsieur, what have you to offer us?"

"My name is Erik, and I am quite… efficient in most areas of the arts as well as in trades such as carpentry and tailoring. However, my greatest talent lies in music."

"Hmm… interesting… are you learned?"

"Yes."

"The conductor, M. Reyer, has been searching for an assistant, and you might serve well there. The salary is decent, and we shall access your proficiency there. Will you accept?"

"Yes." Although Erik still outwardly sounded perfectly controlled, his warm voice showed none of the enthusiasm that had suddenly sparked within him. This was perfect, and he could still improve. As the conductor's assistant, he could be fully involved in the musical "on-goings" of the opera house.

"Then it is settled. We shall call someone to help you get your bearings here." M. Poligny spoke briefly to a young messenger, and a moment later, a young woman arrived. She had a severe yet still youthful face, average height, knowing blue eyes, a strict, straight bearing, and long braided auburn colored hair. "Erik, this is Mme. Giry. She is the ballet mistress here, but she is also quite knowledgeable about the theatre. Madame, Erik is to be M. Reyer's new assistant (the lady briefly raised one eyebrow at this.) Please help him get situated."

The woman only nodded her head and turned to lead Erik out when it suddenly dawn on him that neither of the managers had inquired about his mask. He stated this out loud, curiosity getting the better of him, and was met with a shocking answer. "It isn't our business to pry, as long as it does not interfere with your ability to work."

Mme. Giry then pulled him out of the office. "I suggest that we first go to see M. Reyer. Erik, do not be too surprised if he does not seem too pleased. The managers have been trying to force an assistant on him for ages. Their previous attempts have not been successful. He is a stubborn and demanding man but very dedicated. I think that you two will get on well."

"Madame, what do you mean?" It was a simple question, and her only answer was a smile.

Mme. Giry was only too correct when it came to M. Reyer's reaction to the news, but he immediately told Erik what was to be expected of him. "How much training have you received?"

"I am partially self-taught, but I have also trained under various masters."

M. Reyer then asked him a series of questions to test the extent of his training and musical knowledge. Erik answered all of them correctly, and although Reyer did not say it, he was slightly impressed. "Do you play any instruments?"

"I can sing, and I can play most instruments quite well."

"Well then, you will help me with the orchestration of the music as well as the tuning of the instruments. I will teach you the basics of conducting such that there will be a substitute should an emergency cause my absence. You will also be a second opinion during rehearsals, so make sure that you are present at all practices. I will be expecting you first thing tomorrow morning."

"Yes, monsieur." Erik gave a slight smile for the first time since his mother's passing. Mme. Giry, who had returned after checking on a ballet practice, then called Erik away again. She started talking to him, drawing information from him about himself. She surprised him. Erik found himself trusting this woman who had a very caring nature that was hidden by a strict exterior.

"Come Erik, there are two people I want you to meet." She brought him to a third floor corridor. First, she showed him his room-to-be, which was small but comfortable. Then, she brought him to the ballet dormitories that were mostly empty except for two young girls inside. She had ordered them to wait for her there following their practice. "Christine, Meg, will you please come here? Erik, this is my daughter Meg, and this is her friend Christine, who is also like a daughter to me." The first girl was quite adorable with curious blue eyes, straight blond hair, and a dimple on each cheek as she smiled and curtseyed. The second was a thin, fragile looking thing with curly hair, large chocolate, brown eyes that were filled with an unspeakable sadness, and very pale skin. She only offered him a slight smile that did not reach those gazing orbs before turning away to study the floor. "Okay, you may now go and enjoy yourselves but stay out of trouble." They both then left quickly together after giving her a slight hug. "No doubt, Erik, you are wondering why I introduced you to them?" She gave a soft sigh, gazing after them. "Erik, I believe that you are going to like it here, and you will fit in perfectly." She turned to Erik and spoke softly. "Erik, you have nothing to fear here. I have already accepted you, M. Reyer has too, and I am sure that those two girls that just left have accepted you as well, although my little one is sure to be curious."

Erik did not know what to say. Slight tears had formed in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall. He could only whisper, "Thank you, Madame," but the tone of his voice said it all. Erik then moved to leave for his room, when he suddenly stopped. "Mme. Giry, may I learn some more about you, Meg, and Christine?"

"Of course, I grew up in the ballet dormitories here as well. I left for some time when I married. My husband died shortly after Meg's birth from sickness, and I was forced to raise her alone. I returned here to apply for a position, and I became the ballet mistress. Christine only came here a month ago after her father Gustave Daae passed away. She is an orphan now and quite alone. She is a lovely child, however, and I have come to see her as another daughter. I sometimes worry about her though." Here Mme. Giry sighed but then spoke up again, "Meg and Christine are both seven and a half now."

"Gustave Daae… I have heard of him before."

"I wouldn't be surprised. He is a famous Swedish violinist." Erik and Mme. Giry sunk into silence for a while. Erik felt an empathetic bond with young Christine. "Come Erik, I'm sure you must be hungry. I'll show you where the dining hall is."

That night, as Erik was returning to his own room, he heard someone crying from within the "ballet rats'" (a nickname he had already adopted in one day) dormitories. Normally, he would have ignored it or left it as a disagreement among the ballet rats themselves. However, he knew that the dancers were now having supper in the hall because he had just passed the bustling room minutes ago. He decided to take a quick look inside. He saw the girl, Christine, crying on her bed near the window, calling for her father. "Please papa, come back… I need you. I'm afraid papa. I'm… afraid of the dark and afraid to be alone."

Erik found himself unable to leave her to wallow in her own misery, so he slipped into the room as quick and silently as a dark cat. Then he thought, "What am I suppose to do?" He awkwardly placed a hand on the girl's thin shoulder, startling her as she emitted a small squeak and faced him with a set of "frightened doe" eyes. When she realized who he was, she blushed and whispered a soft "Oh…" Erik experienced the shock of a lifetime when she threw herself onto him and started to cry, heart breaking sobs that just as suddenly stopped. As if she finally realized what it was that she was doing, she pulled away from him with an embarrassed look and a soft, "I'm sorry." Both of them ended up sitting at the edge of her bed in a semi-comfortable silence.

"Do you want to tell me why you were crying, Christine?"

Christine shook her head, but seemingly gave up when she sighed. "You're the other lonely one. I can see it in your eyes. Mme. Giry told me that your mama died a few months ago, because she was sick, like my papa. Neither of them got better. My mama died when I was born, but papa loved her a lot. Do you miss your mama as much as I miss my papa?"

Erik was surprised. First because she knew so much about him, second because she was so innocent and yet so mature, third because that was the most he had heard her speak the entire time he was there, and finally, because her question shocked him with its intimacy and directness. He wasn't entirely sure how to respond but settled on a simple "yes."

Christine nodded, and they fell into silence again.

Erik had a sudden urge to want to hear her speak again. She had a beautiful voice. An idea entered his mind and he asked Christine, "Do you have an extra picture of your father?" She nodded. "Bring it, and come with me then." She went to retrieve it when another question penetrated his mind. "Christine, do you trust me?"

Christine gave a small smile and responded quietly, "Yes Erik, I trust you although I sometimes don't know why."

"Was that a joke?" Erik was incredulous, but he also wanted to see that smile. He could already tell that Christine use to be a bright, energetic girl before her father's death, and he found that he wanted to bring her out of her shell and guide her back to the world. It was inexplicable to him why he would feel this way. It was an… intuition of sorts.

Christine whispered softly now entirely serious, "Erik, I do not know why, but I would give you my soul if you asked it of me."

Erik was touched beyond comprehension, and so, he had no desire to understand. He led her downstairs to an underground chapel he had discovered on an unguided tour. He aimed to know every nook, cranny, and working in the opera house by the end of the week as well as to find a private place where he could work in peace. Now, he led Christine to a corner of the chapel where a rack of memorial candles stood. There was already one candle lit above the beautiful picture of Madeleine Liszet, his mother. He only glanced at it briefly before he proceeded to silently attach the picture of Gustave Daae in an empty spot and helped Christine light a candle. Christine then sent a silent prayer to her father, two delicate trails of tears making their way down her face. Christine then turned to Erik who stood patiently waiting in a corner. She was barely audible as she spoke, and Erik silently thanked God for giving him highly sensitive ears that were sometimes a curse. "Thank you Erik, but how did you know exactly what I needed?"

Erik merely gestured at the picture of his mother. "It had helped me with my grief, and I hoped that it would help to alleviate some of yours. In truth, the pain never goes away, but we have to cope with it. All I ever had was my mother. I never knew my father, and she never mentioned him in my presence. I had no friends because of what was under this mask although I have noticed that most people here choose to ignore the mask. When my mother died, I felt that I was entirely alone in this world. My world was one of darkness, entirely devoid of light except for the hard light of cold snow. The only thing that kept me alive was the memory of my mother and my music."

Christine was happy that Erik could trust her with his feelings and decided to repay him with the same. "My papa was my world. I never knew my mother, but papa always said that she was an angel. Your mama is very beautiful too. I didn't have many friends either since I lived by the sea with my papa alone. He would tell me stories of the north. They were beautiful, but my favorite was always about the Angel of Music. Papa promised to send me the Angel of Music when he went to heaven." It was there that the little girl fell into a contemplative silent.

The story of Christine's own isolated, though happy, childhood related to Erik's own, and he felt the bond between them grow stronger. He knew how it felt.

Christine interrupted Erik's reverie was a hesitant question, "Erik, will you be my Angel of Music? You are good like an angel and you most definitely sound like an angel." At his questioning glance, she explained, "I heard you singing in your room earlier. I use to sing while papa played the violin, but I stopped after he died."

Erik nodded before saying, dazed by her affection, "I'd be honored to be your Angel of Music although I don't think I deserve to be."

Christine gave him a vibrant smile. "Thank you, mon ange." She enveloped him in an amazingly strong hug, that he slowly returned, a small smile lighting up his visible features as well. That was how they remained until lights out. In each other, they had found the comfort they craved for. When Christine finally fell asleep, Erik carried her up to bed.

"At least now I know why she is so thin. She needs to stop skipping meals. I'm surprised Mme. Giry hadn't caught her yet."