Gerry's on "The Tonight Show with Jay Leno" Tuesday night, don't miss it!! If you haven't seen "300", and are a Gerry fan in particular, I recommend that you do; his performance will blow you away! The rest of the movie is awesome also!!

Enjoy, my lovelies!!

DARK SIDE OF THE GLASS

CHAPTER 14

Erik paced the floor in his room, dreading the thoughts that entered his mind. Why would Sharad ask this of him?

He knows I am a disaster…he of all people knows how damaged I am.

There were things about him that Annette did not know – dark, buried truths that were better left in the past. Sharad knew almost all of his secrets; and for some unexplained reason, had sent his baby sister to Erik for safekeeping - and not just safekeeping – but as a wife.

His mind was racing and his fingers longed to caress the inviting keys of the grand piano, which called to him from the other side of the door.

It is so late; I do not wish to disturb the whole house with my demons.

His thoughts did not deter him, and he found himself sitting at the piano, flirting across the keys with expert gentleness, and closing his eyes to the exquisite calmness that settled within him.

He journeyed to a place where he could be honest with himself – a place deep within him that no other could invade.

It was strange how he could feel so alone in a house full of people. Even Tarrah could not ward off the despair that sometimes pulled him down to new depths of reality. He may have lived among the human race for the last four years, but he still felt very much detached from them.

They accepted him, there was no doubt about that; but Erik wasn't a fool; he knew that if he did not give them something with his music and talents, then they would lock him away with all the others that they deemed as freaks.

And being locked away was something he would never allow to happen – never again. His life would end at his own hands if that were to be his fate. He was a man alone – and it would always be that way.

The words began to flow from him as easily as the music did…

"In me, you see a man alone…
held by the habit of being on his own.
A man who listens to the trembling of the trees…
with sentimental ease.

"In me, you see a man alone…
behind the wall he's learned to call his home.
A man who still goes walking in the rain…
expecting love again.

"A man not lonely except when the dark comes on…
a man learning to live with mem'ries of midnights that fell apart at dawn.

In me, you see a man alone
drinking up Sundays and spending them alone.
A man who knows love is seldom what it seems…
only other people's dreams"

Erik sang the song with deep, dark tones that matched the mood of his soul and filled his nights. He soothed the loneliness with the tones of the piano and the caress of the cool ivory against the pads of his fingers. This was his life.

The music didn't care that he was ugly, inside and out; the cool ivory keys didn't care that he was a hideous monster – they never recoiled from his bare skin; and the melodious beauty of his voice never betrayed him.

"A man learning to live with memories of midnights that fell apart at dawn.

In me, you see a man alone…
drinking up Sundays and spending them alone.
A man who knows love is seldom what it seems…
just other people's dreams."

A Man Alone, by R. Mckuen, recorded by Frank Sinatra

Below him, in rooms that he had designed with beauty and life – two things he felt he did not have – wept two women.

One wept because she hoped he had moved past the rampant loneliness of his earlier years and found a semblance of peace in his new life; but she realized he did not have the means to do so.

The other wept because she knew she had done nothing to ease, and everything to increase, the mournful agony in which he always seemed to find himself; the pain which was a constant companion to the darkness he called home.

They both wept because the beauty of his voice and the haunting music had been missing in their lives for four years – and neither of them wanted to part with it again.

The music halted and quiet filled the house once again. Christine rested her head upon her pillow, turning from the sleeping form of her husband, to weep silently in the dark; finally drifting to sleep some time later.

Annette pulled on her night robe and quietly walked to the small chair that sat in front of the window. For the next hour, she stared out the window into the night's serene beauty. She thought about the second chance she now had to help Erik begin anew…and this marriage could very well be the start of something wonderful for him.

♥♦♠♣

Everyone finally stirred the following morning; they made their way to the bottom floor and the smell of something delicious. Erik was in the kitchen fixing breakfast when they all emerged at one time.

Christine, although still rather shy around him, approached his tall figure and placed a warm hand upon his arm.

He flinched from the contact, but recovered quickly or he would have dropped the plate of fresh croissants he had just pulled out of the oven. He wasn't certain why she had touched him, but he didn't like it…it just served to further confuse his thoughts about women.

"Is there something I can do to help?" She asked.

She thought she had just startled him by suddenly being at his side; she didn't realize that her touch was like a foreign substance to him.

He just stood there with the oddest look on his face, wondering what on earth she was talking about.

"With breakfast…can I help?"

His eyes lit up and he finally reacted to her question with a discomfited smirk.

"No…thank you…it is already done." He looked at everyone and finally smiled, albeit nervously. "Please, everyone sit down and eat."

Everyone did, including him, but he ate nothing – as usual.

"Eat somethin', Erik."

Tarrah had a disgruntled look on her face as she stared at him.

"I am not hungry."

"Ye are, and ye know it…I do not want ye sneakin' downstairs later, only to take food back up to yer self-imposed prison an' eatin' in complete solitude."

Erik sat back in his chair with one hand on the table and the other in his lap. His mask was dutifully in place and he looked immaculate, except that his hair was tousled – giving him an endearing, "the morning after", look.

His crisp white shirt was pressed perfectly, but he had chosen to leave the first two buttons undone. The light dusting of dark hair that winked at them from over the rim of his shirt was enough to make any woman sit up and take notice.

He raised the dark curve of his brow and sucked air in through his lips and teeth in a threatening manner.

"It is my house and I will 'sneak' anywhere I please and 'eat' anywhere I please."

Tarrah was not about to let him think he had won, and her mouth opened to answer to him, but it was Annette's voice that came out.

"That song you sang last night…when did you write it?"

Annette was trying to avoid another quarreling match between Tarrah and Erik; it seemed that Erik had met his match in the little Irish lass.

Erik steeled his eyes on Tarrah for a few moments, lifted a brow, and then smirked at her – it seemed they had an understanding of one another.

"I wrote it some time ago…" his eyes drifted from Tarrah to Annette in a lazy, slow line, "…five or six years…I am unsure of exactly when I wrote it." He put his hands together as though in prayer; placing them in front of his face, and against his lips – with his thumbs supporting his chin.

"I did not mean to wake the entire house last night, I sleep little and music relaxes me.

An awkward silence filled the room and Erik finally stood up.

"I must get to the opera house and talk with Hammond. Tarrah…" he looked at her again, all thoughts of anger gone, "…you and Blanche begin covering the furniture and donate any unused food items to St. Catherine's convent; the nuns will be most grateful."

"I would be happy to help get the house ready, if you do not mind, Erik."

Meg finally spoke. She had been decidedly silent for the past two days.

"Tarrah is in charge, you may ask her if your services are needed; but she would be wise to accept."

He went to the door and retrieved his hat and cape; he swirled the cape around with finesse and elegance, and then swept the hat on his head for a dramatic effect.

"Erik…."

Annette's voice stopped him from heading out the door and he turned to see her inquisitive eyes staring directly at him.

"…what are we to do?"

He looked rather baffled for a moment. He had almost forgotten they were standing there.

"You may come with me, if you wish…" he glanced at Raoul and then at Christine. "…I have business at the opera house, but you are welcome to take the tour."

♠♥♣♦

Hammond had not liked the idea of losing Erik and Tarrah, but he understood. The understudy could do a fine job with Tarrah's part, and Erik had taught various people how to do his jobs – although they didn't do them as well as he did – and it took all of them to make one of him.

"Come back soon, Erik; we will miss you."

Hammond patted him on the back and shook his hand. They had developed a close relationship over the past four years. Hammond had taken a fatherly interest in Erik and cared for the younger man in such a way.

Raoul, Christine, and Annette toured the opera house and were most impressed with the design and functionality of the building.

"I do not know if I will be back, Hammond. I did not sign a contract for this very reason – I was certain I would be on the run constantly; but even after it was apparent that I was not, I just never thought about a contract."

Erik wanted to be open and honest with this man, there had never been a reason not to be; Hammond at accepted him without question and had never made him feel anything less then an equal partner.

"Well, if I hear about the Opera Populaire making a comeback, I will know who did it…good-bye son, I hope I see you again – soon – but if not, good luck."

They shook hands again and Hammond actually pulled Erik in for a huge hug. Erik had to admit, it was the first time a man had ever hugged him…he'd had a few hugs from Tarrah and some from Annette, but never had a man bothered to hug him as a son; his own father had certainly not stuck around to try.

He really didn't know how to react, so he stood rather stiffly while Hammond roughly hugged him.

From the opera house, Erik went to the train station to purchase tickets for the following day. If he ended up staying in Paris, he'd have to employ a moving company to move all of his household goods to France. It would be no small task.

Christine watched him through the day. She marveled at how he interacted with other people, but seemed always to be detached from them. He took part in many conversations and offered up his opinion and advice – but he never seemed to allow himself to feel accepted by them.

She was suddenly very tired and stopped to lean against the side of the building.

Erik noticed her very white complexion and stopped to help her. Raoul came running up to her side just as Erik was sitting her down on a nearby bench.

"Darling, is it the baby?"

Erik's eyes shot into Raoul with fervent interest; the words had stabbed him like a knife and he immediately stepped away from her.

Christine noticed his immediate withdrawal and captured his attention with her words.

"I was going to tell you, I just did not have a chance."

Erik turned from them, gathering his resolve. He swallowed hard, realizing that it wasn't jealousy he was feeling, just a sense of self-loss. Children – little ones, anyway – remained a frightening mystery to him; but one he longed to experience.

"You did not have to tell me, it is the natural course of things."

He was very happy for them, but he found himself pulling away from Christine – not wanting to pollute her air. The irrational part of him feared his presence would somehow tarnish the innocence within her.

He started to buy five tickets, but Raoul strongly objected. Erik tried to ignore the stab of fury that swept over him when he looked into the face that had once caused him almost to lose his sanity. Raoul was everything he would never be, and a constant reminder of his inadequacies.

"Erik, I insist that I buy our tickets, it is only fair that I do so."

Erik lifted his chin and looked down his nose at Raoul.

"I am not without means, Viscount de Chagny, do not think I cannot afford to buy tickets to Paris."

Raoul could hear the strained control in his voice and see the spark that lit his intense green eyes. He had emphasized Raoul's title and family name as though erecting an invisible wall between their different status levels.

"I do not mean to imply anything of the sort, Monsieur Lacroix. I have an idea of how wealthy you are and I know you could afford to buy the tickets – but please, allow me."

Erik released a long breath and looked away.

"You seem to be an honorable man, Viscount de Chagny, so you will understand why I wish to have no indebtedness to you."

Raoul understood completely. Erik was putting distance between them to protect himself. His impetuous actions the night of Don Juan and Christine's supposed rejection had embarrassed him and he felt humiliated in his presence, Raoul understood that feeling…even if it was unwarranted.

In the end, Erik allowed Raoul to purchase the five tickets from London to Dover and then from Calais to Paris.

"My family's ship will carry us across the Channel."

Erik rolled his eyes and gulped down the bile rising in his throat; ships…again.

"Perfect." He mumbled.

TBC