NOTES: omg, I just watched the film 'Dear Frankie', the Scottish film with Gerry Butler in. Now I remember why I think he so darn gorgeous! If you haven't seen it, go buy or rent, it's such a nice little story, and Gerard meets his sexy mystery man persona :) sorry, back to the fic…this has elements of the past in that don't exactly fit with the movie, so don't start ranting at me that Giry met Erik as child, cause here, she didn't :)

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"Please state your name for the whole court to hear!"

There was an extremely long pause.

"Monsieur? Your full name please!"

It meant nothing to him anymore. His full name meant nothing. It didn't determine who he was, only reminded him of the bastard parents that had flung him out so cruelly as a boy. He cursed himself for ever remembering his family name, which he had so hard tried to push out of his memory.

"Erique Brigaki Djilia."

Fuck that Romany name! How it burnt his tongue to utter it once more, dragging with it memories of a tortured childhood, cast out by his own flesh and blood. He had spent countless nights wishing hell upon that name. Never in his life apart from now had he ever used it again to label himself. It made blood rise to his face to have to do it now.

"Monsieur Djilia…"

"Erik."

The judge raised a sarcastic eyebrow at him, and let his eyes linger on the man before him.

Erik was looking at his feet, not his usual proud self. You could hear the grinding of his teeth with shame and humiliation. For he stood, in front of an entire court of people, without his mask.

They had not let him enter into court with his mask without explanation. Probably to lower his defence and rise up an outcry against his appearance. No one would forgive a monster.

Christine sat in between Madame Giry and Meg, who had found her and Nasih a few days back. Both women were shaken by what had happened, and had sobbed to see Christine still alive. Madame Giry had returned home after Robard had found Sara to get Meg from his men in Paris. Meg still clung to her mother desperately every time they walked anywhere, and had become profusely quiet. Meg grasped onto Christine's hand tightly, as Erik's case began.

"Monsieur…Erik." The judge added with a slight hint of sarcasm. "You have been charged with the act of kidnap, arson, attempted murder, terrorism, man slaughter, and murder. How do you plead?"

"Guilty."

A murmur ran through the court, in hushed, but generally loud voices. The judge brought his hammer down to silence all.

"Monsieur Gene, if you would?"

The tall, skinny man, who barely fitted in his suit, stood up and straightened his jacket. He was the defendant, a top lawyer, yet probably on the loosing side of course. This didn't matter, all the lawyers in France had wanted a piece of this trial, loosing or not, you were going to be in every newspaper the next day.

He strode over to the jury.

"The man you see before you, is a tortured man. Just look…" He swung his hand over to Erik, with everyone's eyes following. " A miserable wretch, forced into hiding by his horrendous appearance! The world cast him out, along with morals and dignity."

Erik's knuckles were turning white, as he dug his nails into the palms of his hands in anger. He would be charged for another murder if this man would shut up. Yet, he carried on.

"Is there any wonder that this…thing…knew how to act? Does it even know that murder is a crime? Should we be punishing a creature that hardly knows what's going on?"

Erik almost burst with pure venom and hatred. Maybe this was a tactic for Erik's release, maybe a way of casting a sympathy vote out. But the last thing Erik wanted was people looking at him the way they were now, looks of disgust, remorseful curiosity, hatred, and regretful sorrow. His hands and bottom lip were taking he blunt of his frustration, as he clawed his hands and bit his lips furiously, tasting the metallic blood draw from it. His breathing became staggered and almost audible to all in court.

"This man should not be killed inhumanly, but treated for his trouble."

What that meant, was a death far worse than execution. He would live out his days were is arms were made to strap to his body. Where he would be drugged up to the eyes with medicines that would knock his senses dead. He would be locked in a room, with food shoved through a flap on the door. He would end a pathetic dog, a shell, where his soul would forever be trapped in a lifeless body.

Erik knew which death he preferred.

"I call my first witness, Madame Giry, to the stand."

She stood gracefully, and moved ever as a dancer to the stand. She sat perfectly poised, glancing now and then at Erik, who still remained fixated with the floor.

"Madame, please tell the court your previous career before the disaster."

"I was the ballet mistress at the Opera Populaire. I trained the new and old dancers for the up and coming Opera productions."

"And did you enjoy working at the Opera?"

"It was hard work, Monsieur, but I enjoy my lifestyle very much."

"Good, good. So, Madame, tell us, how are you acquainted with…Erik."

Madame Giry paused for a moment to look towards Erik, who raised his eyes to her. He gave away no emotion, just stared. She turned back quickly.

"I…I was first acquainted with him around 16 years ago, Monsieur. He…came to me looking for shelter."

"And did you offer him shelter?"

"Yes, Monsieur. I knew the Opera Populaire was a good hiding place for anyone, so I introduced him to it."

"He took the offer?"

"Yes, he seemed to like the idea of living in a theatre."

"Ahh, yes. The musical genius! Did he ever contribute to the Opera's?"

"Oui, beaucoup de temps, Monsieur. He overlooked rehearsals, gave constructive criticism, gave training…"

"Wait there, one moment, Madame. You say 'training'? Does this have anything to do with a certain Mademoiselle he took an interest in?"

Madame Giry looked over to Christine, who was watching every move Erik made, with one fist over her mouth, and her eyes wide and alert.

"Yes…yes it does."

"And what was the nature of these 'lessons'?"

"Well, Erik coached Mademoiselle Daae in singing, and trained her voice into a magnificent soprano."

"And is it safe to say that these lessons where harmless?"

"I…I believe so, Monsieur."

"Thank you, Madame."

The defence sat down while the other man, the prosecution stood. He coughed and straightened up, and held a very annoying smugness to his features. He looked Madame Giry up and down before beginning.

"Madame. The accused who stands before you, you claim is a musician with nothing to hide but his harmless singing lessons with Mademoiselle Daae."

Madame Giry said nothing.

"Yet, I have reason to believe that the accused ran amuck in the Opera, close to the acts of terrorism. Do you agree?"

Madame Giry inclined her head slightly, fluttering her eyes over to Erik.

"Terrorism, I feel maybe be…a little harsh…"

"But he scared the Opera members witless on a number of occasions!"

A few of the court members nodded their heads furiously in agreement, obviously ex members of the Opera Populaire. Madame Giry, however, disagreed.

"A man in hiding, Monsieur, who hides in the shadows is bound to cause rumours and evoke imagination…."

"Aaa, yes, rumours. But 'rumours' do not hang people from scenery, now do they? And 'rumours' do not bring chandeliers crashing into a stage, killing innocent people and burning down the welfare and homes of countless victims! "

Christine gave a little moan of distress, causing Meg to squeeze her hand tighter. Madame Giry stayed silent, and remained poised and stony faced, yet she lowered her eyes.

"I believe…he was the cause of these disasters, Monsieur."

Madame Giry was asked to take leave of the witness box, and she sat seemingly unaltered by her questioning. She rubbed Christine's knee comfortingly as she sat. Christine was too busy watching the next witness, Monsieur Andre take the stand.

Monsieur Andre and Firmin were both questioned intensely about the time in the Opera, and the deeds that Erik had committed. They spared no tiny detail in condemning the man who had ruined their future and wealth. The ridiculed him, bringing all evidence such as the notes from Erik, other witnesses that had lost family members to Erik's abrupt and selfish decisions.

As Nasih was on the stand, giving evidence to the defence, explaining generously how kind a master Erik was. Christine felt extremely grateful to the man for trying, yet she knew it would do little good. She hadn't known what to think as men yelled insults at her lover, throwing daring accusations at him furiously, and watching women break down in tears for members of their family that had been killed in the Opera fire. Christine didn't know what to do…she felt sorrow for them, yet no resentment towards Erik. To her, his love made everything seem ok, which she knew sounded absurd. She was in love with a murderer. Even she felt guilty for the deaths, as it was her that has caused it indirectly. But love makes no perfect matches. There was no way she was going to betray Erik now. She would never turn her back on him.

"For my next witness, I would like to call…Mademoiselle Daae to the stand."

Christine turned her head in surprise, as her vision had been totally absorbed in Erik's slouched form. As she returned back to her senses, she heard the hectic whispers gathering around the court room, and felt all eyes boring into her as she stood and walked nervously to the front.

Now, you may think I was a little harsh on the insults in the court case, but Erik, in those times certainly, would have been seen as a freak. I studied thing like this in college and for my exams, in those times, anyone with any disfigurement was not seen as really human, so Erik would have been treated like that, like the Elephant man