This is my first attempt at writing since High School which was quite some time ago. I have been a fan of Phantom since 1989 and have always wished the story ended differently. So, inspired by all of the wonderful stories here on this site and by the movie, I have come up with my own ending for the Erik, Christine & Raoul saga.

Special thanks to the women that encouraged me, pushed me, drove me nuts, gave me tons of great advice and distracted the heck out of me…Phantomann and DarkestDreams. You guys are the reason this story is even here.

Also, I should thank my hubby who has been so supportive and never gives me any guff over my obsession with Erik or Gerry.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Phantom of the Opera – If I did, I would hopefully be lolling in some bed in the French Riviera with Gerard Butler as he continues to grace my casting couch even after the movie has been out for over a year. I do not own Christine – If I did, she would be a lot more like the one you are about to read about in my story. She'd have a spine, and see Erik with more than her eyes. I do not own Raoul – If I did, he'd have shorter hair and would have come out of the closet years ago.

And now for the hard part, I may need a minute…Welcome to the first public meeting of GA – Gerryaholics Anonymous. Co-founders DarkestDreams and PhantomAnn, please repeat the oath with me, "I do not own Erik, the Phantom or Gerard Butler's perfect likeness of Erik." As is customary at each meeting, DarkestDreams runs screaming into the night, "I don't want to be cured!" PhantomAnn and JemaModa shrug and begin to back out of the room, intending to find the nearest computer to download the latest pics of Gerry from hope you enjoy this story. The rating is reflective of future violence and sexual content. The story is near completion now, I have about two chapters left to write so updates will be regular. Please leave a review as feedback is good for the soul, yours and mine.

Cheers!

Ch. 1 – Flight From Le Havre

Christine struggled to keep up with her guide as they practically ran through the streets of Le Havre to the docks. The man didn't seem to notice her struggles to keep in rhythm with his long stride. The cobblestone path was shimmering with moisture from the last rainstorm that had ceased just a few moments before they had emerged from the carriage. Christine's shoes slipped a few times and she was increasingly fearful of stumbling. Though the man carried her meager luggage, she was under the burden of her son who had fallen asleep on the long journey. At 5 years old, the fact that his body favored hers was the only reason that she was still able to carry him. He was small for his age but what he lacked in stature he made up for in heart. Right now her thoughts were only of not slipping and sending them both to the ground.

The streets were quiet and deserted as it was before dawn. The captain had insisted that she and her son be brought aboard before the morning crew was awake. At least that was the message that she received from Mr. Stone, the first mate. She had not had any contact with the captain as of yet and she was informed that most likely she would not be seeing him on the journey. He did not want passengers on his ship, especially a woman and a child. Bad luck she assumed.

They were now in full view of the harbor. The ships were rocking against a backdrop of stars. She could smell the water and felt the first twinge of fear that she allowed herself in weeks. She was getting onboard a cargo ship for a two month journey to a new home. Running away from all she had ever known. Running to a place that held nothing to welcome her and her son. How had she gotten here, she thought.

Mr. Stone led her to the largest ship docked. As she mounted the gangplank she saw the name of the vessel that would serve as her home for the next two months, Fereshteh. She wondered what that word translated into and made a mental note to ask Mr. Stone at a later time.

Now onboard, Mr. Stone had finally stopped and was waiting for Christine at the top of the stairs that would lead below deck. "Follow me."

Christine took a deep breath of the sea air and wondered when the next time she would be able to do so would be. She knew from her conversation with the first mate that she would be sequestered in her cabin for the journey. Captain's orders, she was told. She gazed at the moon and stars and silently wished them goodbye. Finally, she descended into the companionway, entering the bowels of the ship.

Christine followed Mr. Stone to her cabin and entered as he opened the heavy wooden door. "I trust you will be comfortable here ma'am. Aside from the Captain's quarters, this here is the largest room on the ship."

"Thank you, Mr. Stone. I know this situation has been quite a burden on you and you have my eternal gratitude for your assistance." Christine had laid Charles on the bed and was anxious to join him. She felt obligated to try to express her gratitude to the first mate and let him know that she did indeed know how difficult it had been for him to insure their passage on this ship. She gave him a quiet smile and continued, "I will abide by the Captain's requests and stay in this cabin for the journey. You can assure him that it shall be as if we are not even onboard."

Mr. Stone was visibly relieved to hear these words from her. He had been surprised that his Captain would even consider the possibility of having passengers aboard, let alone allow it. He was a strict man, and unwavering in his convictions. How this woman and her son had been permitted to be here, Stone still had no clue. Now that she was here, he knew that she had better keep a low profile lest she be tossed overboard in a dinghy at low tide.

He bowed at the waist and closing the cabin door said, "Ma'am, I will try to see to your comforts while you are onboard. Please let me know if there is anything you need."

Before the door was completely closed Christine called out, "Oh, Mr. Stone, I almost forgot. What is Fereshteh?"

'Sorry ma'am, but only the Captain knows for sure. The lot aboard have their speculation as to it's meaning, but those things are not for a delicate lady's ears." Suddenly the sullen expression was replaced with a coy smile and a wink as he closed the door with a thud. Christine chuckled to herself and turned the deadbolt locking herself in her voluntary cell.

Turning her attention back to the room, she took a moment to survey her surroundings. The room contained a large bed on one side and a small cot on the other. There was a desk up against one wall and shelves lined the opposite wall. As she turned in a circle to take it all in, her eyes fell upon something that most definitely did not belong on a cargo ship filled with men. A gorgeous Oriental screen was propped up hiding one corner of the room. Apparently it was placed there to give her privacy when she dressed and undressed. She was surprised that Mr. Stone would be so thoughtful as to provide her with the screen. Perhaps there was a Mrs. Stone in some port of call that she had neglected to inquire about.

There were two portholes on the wall where the desk resided. Thank the Lord, she thought, at least I will be able to look outside. She approached a rather old, beaten up dresser and mentally wrestled with whether to unpack before she rested or just curl into bed with her son. Yawning, she told herself, there would be plenty of time to get settled into the room. Besides, who cares if my dresses are wrinkled when no one will likely see me?

She removed her traveling cloak, dress and corset leaving only her chemise on and slid into the larger bed next to her son. He instinctively turned to her warmth and wrapped an arm around her neck. He had recently developed the habit of sleeping with her. She didn't mind though, as it brought her comfort to know that he was next to her and felt safe.

Charles had been a joyful baby and continued to be a cheerful child. He sported sandy colored hair, though to her husband's dismay, she had kept it closely cropped. His facial features were also those of his father except for one flaw that didn't belong to either Christine or Raoul. A purplish-red birthmark marred the right side of his face from eyebrow to jaw. It had been a shock to his parents, causing all sorts of memories and uncomfortable thoughts to be conjured up in their minds. But no birth defect could squelch Charles' spirit. Even Raoul admitted after a few years that he barely noticed the discoloration anymore. Yes, it was still there and it had even become more pronounced with each passing year, but their son was so much more than what his face portrayed.

She closed her eyes and willed her mind to stop its wanderings. She had thought that sleep would overtake her immediately but she couldn't quiet her thoughts and relax. Within a couple hours the ship would weigh anchor and their journey to freedom would begin. Would she be able to breathe a sigh of relief or would she find the fear of the unknown to be just as bad as the fear of the known?

As they often did, the tears filled her eyes and she was filled with a profound sadness. "Oh Raoul. Why did it have to be like this? Why did you leave me all alone?"

"How did I end up here?"