Title: Wandering Child

Summary: Broken in mind and spirit, Erik returns to his lair to die...and wakes to find himself in a different time, with the same problems...and a new Christine. EC, mix of Leroux and ALW.

A/N: I just realised something. The font I use to type my chapters...is called Gaston xD I find that hilarious. Might just be me.

Disclaimer: I own nothing to do with the Phantom of the Opera except the 2004 DVD, the 1987 Original London Cast Recording, and an unhealthy fixation on Gerard Butler.

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Light shone brightly, penetrating the eyelids which were squeezed shut in an attempt to shut it out.

"Bloody sunshine!" he muttered, frustrated, as he squinted, trying to look around.

And froze, eyes widening, as he came to the sudden realisation that he was not dead.

"About time! You must be a vampire, boy, I had to open the curtains to wake you!" The voice came from the other side of the room...and it sounded familiar. Erik looked up to see Nadir grinning at him. But is it Nadir? Erik wondered. The man in front of him looked like Nadir, yes, but he was dressed in the strangest clothing...dark, blue pants that looked slightly stiff, black shoes that were practically indescribable, a white shirt that had no opening in front and would never be accepted by the society in Paris, even given Nadir's foreigners' rights.

"A...what...where am I?" Ugh...I cannot even form a complete sentence...

"In bed in your room...are you feeling alright?"

Erik looked around. His room? This was not his room. The walls were white. There were glossy paintings, very realistic, hung all around the room, and various contraptions sitting on tables and desks around the room. The only thing he recognised was the stand on top of the dresser, and what it held: his masks. But he should not be here! Was this some strange sort of Heaven or Hell?

"Erik?" Nadir stood and walked over to him. "Perhaps you should stay in bed today. I know this has been a big adjustment for you, losing your parents, moving in here with me, going to a public school in a month. You look quite pale. I'll be back later with some gingerale and crackers or something, alright?" And with that, he was gone, as quickly and silently as he had always done at the Opera.

Parents? Living with Nadir? What in the hell is going on here? Erik decided to get up, wanting to know where he was. The first thing he noticed was that he had changed. There was a mirror across from the bed he had been in; he could not help but stare.

His body had always been scarred, along with his face. It was a part of who he was. He had been the tall, skeletal man with the pale skin and the scars. Now, however, skeletal was not the word. He looked...younger. Clad only in loose black pants of a material he could not name, he could see exactly what had changed: he was no longer as thin as he had been. The muscles of his chest and back were toned and sleek, his arms as well. Stepping closer to the mirror, he looked as closely as he could, and not one scar could he see...except for his face. Though he wore a black mask that covered the most of it, one abrasion ran from the corner of his exposed left eye to his left temple. The rest, under the mask, he was sure had not changed, and he did not want to look. Satisfied now that something had happened to him, and he needed to find out what, he explored the rest of the room.

Dresser, filled with clothes; not folded as they should be, but thrown in wherever they would fit. Closet, in much the same state. Bookshelves, containing many books in several different languages, at first glance, organised in alphabetical order. Desk, with a thin, rectangular, humming object with a few lights flashing on and off. Cautiously, he moved toward it, reaching out one hand to touch it...

"Ah, you're up!"

Erik jumped what felt like a foot into the air, whirling around. It was only Nadir.

"Yes...I wanted to know where I was."

"You are in your room, in my house."

"Why?"

Nadir raised one eyebrow. "Why? Because your parents were in a car accident a year ago and they left you in my care."

Blank silence from Erik's side of the room. "...Parents? Car?" He was incredulous. The only parent he had ever known had abandoned him...he hastily blocked the memories from his mind. And car...this was not something he was familiar with.

"Yes, your parents...are you feeling alright, Erik? Perhaps you should not be up..."

"No, Nadir, listen, I do not remember my parents, I do not know where I am, I do not know what these things do!" Erik gestured helplessly at the things in his room, finally letting his panic, at being in a strange place when he was supposed to be dead, take over. "I was in my house, under the Opera, I wrote the letter to Christine, I put the advertisement in the Paris Epoque that I was dying! I was dead! Nadir, you must listen to me!" He fell to his knees, resting his head in his hands.

Silence reigned as Nadir stared at his young charge, trying to decide what to do. Erik had always been a quiet boy, even more so since the death of his parents. He had been homeschooled up until the end of the last school year, and was due to start eleventh grade at the high school where Nadir taught in a month. This latest development was completely different. Unless...something had actually happened.

Nadir had always had a certain belief in fate, destiny, the supernatural aspect of things. Erik's talking about the Opera in Paris, the house underneath...The only Opera in Paris Nadir knew of was the old Opera Populaire, abandoned in 1871 after a huge disaster and recently bought by a rich old dance teacher who had had it reworked. But Paris was across the Atlantic ocean, a far stretch from the small city of Halifax, Nova Scotia.

Still hesitant, Nadir tried to accept the fact that perhaps Erik was encountering a spirit, a previous life- anything to explain what was happening.

"Erik? Tell me."

The boy lifted his head, and looked Nadir directly in the eyes. It was then that he knew; this was definetely not the Erik he had known. The soul behind those eyes was older than Erik's sixteen years.

"I am Erik. I am the Opera Ghost. I am the Angel of Music. I live in the Opera house, the managers are terrified of me, and I taught Christine until she left with the bloody Vicomte. I helped build the Opera house, my mother hated me and I never knew my father." Erik paused. "But you do not believe me. I see it in your eyes, you do not believe me."

"You must realise, Erik, that it is not every day that a boy who is in my care says he is an Opera Ghost," Nadir replied carefully.

"Not an Opera Ghost, Nadir. The Opera Ghost. It is not like I had an army," Erik tossed back, frustrated. "Tell me something. What in the world is that," he pointed at the rectangular object on the desk, "and what year is it? I know I am no longer in the time I was."

"That is your laptop." Nadir received only a blank stare from Erik, where once his eyes would have lit up and he would have started rambling about his latest program. "It is a machine that runs many programs...it can do almost anything. And it is the year 2006." Another blank stare. "You must be joking with me. No person could leave their own time and be shoved into a different one without some kind of reaction beyond staring." Now Nadir was starting to get annoyed.

"I am no regular person," Erik acknowledged. "I have been accustomed to unusual things my whole life. The Nadir I knew in my own time would know that. Tell me about myself."

So Nadir spent the better part of two hours explaining to Erik his life, the various technologic devices in the room, and things about the world in general. He despaired of getting his charge to school now; not only was he a recluse, he was from a different time! He could tell that whoever this new Erik was, he was brilliant. He latched onto the computer immediatly, and somehow managed to dredge from a memory the old Erik's knowledge of the machine.

Eventually, Nadir decided that the time had come for food. Erik followed him through the large house, down the stairs, into the kitchen that looked like it was straight from the nineteenth century, except for the appliances, as Nadir called them. Stone floor, wooden panelled walls, a large wooden table in the center of the room, even a small chandelier in the middle of the room. Erik immediatly felt at home, even as Nadir pressed buttons on some of his appliances and strange humming noises came from them. At a nod from Nadir, he walked around the room, looking in cupboards, inspecting the machinery. This was his element; spare time down in his house had been devoted to invention.

After a few moments passed, Nadir set two plates down on the table and called to Erik.

"Food! Time to introduce...well, re-introduce, I suppose...either way, try this!"

Erik could only stare. The food on the plate- if it could even be called food- was steaming, and a bright orange that looked slightly lethal.

"What is that?" he asked slowly, almost apprehensively.

"That is Kraft Dinner. You love it," Nadir explained. "They're noodles that come in a package with cheese sauce and you put it in the microwave," he gestured to a small rectangular shape on the counter, "and it comes out like this. It's really very good."

"It looks ridiculous. Nothing that orange can be healthy."

"Carrots are healthy."

"Those are natural. There is no way on this Earth that you will convince me that those come like that!" Erik exclaimed. "I will be fine without the...Kraft Dinner, was it?"

"You are definetely not the Erik I knew," Nadir said with a laugh. "Though I honestly will not miss these much!"

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A/N: Bwahaha, Kraft Dinner...have never liked it, couldn't help throwing that bit in. ANYWAY. So this is a new idea that's been buzzing around my head for a while now. Any good? Leave a review and tell me if I should continue or not :)