Disclaimer: For a hundredth time, I do not own it! I own nothing except the plot and OC's. All credit goes to GL, ALW, SK and Billy Joel for the song.

A/N: Thanks to Larissa for betaing this!

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A Whole New World

Chapter 7

She can lead you to love, she can take you or leave you,
she can ask for the truth but she'll never believe you
and she'll take what you give her as long as it's free,
Yeah she steals like a thief but she's always a woman to me.

She's Always A Woman, by Billy Joel

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Never had he guessed that a woman would be the downfall of the infamous Phantom of the Opera. Of course he had always known that he was bound to make a mistake somewhere, sometime. After all, he was merely a human.

But he hadn't ever thought he would make the mistake of falling in love.

All his life he had known no woman could ever love him. It had started with his mother, a woman whose strongest feeling regarding her son was fear. Next came the beautiful young gypsy girls, with dark hair and dark eyes and luscious bodies. They always hurried past his cage never sparing a glance.

And then there was she. Beautiful, innocent Luciana who had known nothing of the horrors of the world. She had almost made him believe she cared for him. Until she demanded that he take his mask off. For years afterwards, he had had nightmares where she screamed and fell down from the roof over and over and over.

He had sworn never to look twice at a woman after that.

He had managed to keep this rule in Persia. All the beautiful harem girls, who tried to win over the shah's most trusted advisor and the Khanum's favourite plaything, had failed. He never gave them the time of the day.

It was in Paris where all his rules were broken.

It started with Antoinette Giry, the first woman ever to be something else than cruel to him. It was a strange relationship, based on mutual respect and trust, if there ever was such a thing in Erik's world. She was nine years older than him and the closest thing to a mother he had ever had.

But Mme. Giry was nothing compared to Christine. The young chorus girl had enchanted him the moment he first set his eyes on her. It was neither lust nor love that he felt for her; it was compassion.

No-one had taught Erik compassion. No-one had taught him to care for others; he was a selfish creature through and through. So it was new to him, to feel sorry for that mere slip of a girl. She was alone in this world, much like himself. And he found himself wanting nothing more than to make her smile again, to make her dreams come true. So he became her Angel.

He was her teacher, her father, her friend. She was his inspiration. And he thought that it was enough. But somehow he became so caught up in this game that he didn't notice how tangled he was in his own web. Being everything a child wanted was not good enough for him anymore; he now wanted to become everything a young woman would want.

One night, he had watched her dance. She wasn't the best dancer in the chorus, but there was something intoxicating in the way her barely-sixteen-year-old body moved. He caught himself following her every move, every stretch, every turn, every pirouette. It was the first night he realised she was more than just a student.

From then on, things only got worse. He found himself falling faster and deeper than he could've imagined for a girl who didn't even know who he was. He fell until the very bottom, until his love had turned into an obsession.

How he regretted that now! With just a bit more self-control he could've avoided a disaster. But a disaster was exactly what followed. In less than six months, he managed to lose her along with everything else he had. His pride, his power… She took everything, leaving behind a broken man. No longer an angel, he had discovered how painful it was to land in hell when one fell from the heavens.

For days he was neither dead nor alive, wasting away in the cold and damp cellars of the Paris Opera. Silently cursing himself for letting Christine into his heart, his only wished for death.

It was Nadir Khan who found him. The Persian Daroga had saved Erik's life once and he did it again. Somehow, he had managed to follow Erik's trail across the whole of Europe to France. Once in Paris, the tales of the Opera Ghost led him to the Paris Opera.

But finding Erik was only the beginning. Days spent without food or water had made him weak and that weakness paired with many untended wounds had given him a high fever. Erik was a strong man, but even he had his limits.

He didn't die. It took seven days before Erik regained consciousness and two weeks before the former Phantom could stand or walk again, but it didn't matter. He was alive. And that, thought Nadir, was a miracle in itself.

Although Erik's body might have been doing well, his mind, however, was in state of turmoil. He was plagued by endless dreams of Christine, dreams which made him scream and writhe in his bed. Awake, he did his best not to think about her. On those rare moments when he succeeded, he thought about the future. He no longer had a place to live. Neither did he see any reason for living. Death seemed a good enough option. But Erik wasn't about to commit suicide; he had always regarded it as the coward's way out. Had he been alone, he might have just slowly withered away. But he wasn't alone and Nadir forced him to stay alive.

It was the Persian who sold the house Erik had bought for Christine, acquired tickets to London even though it was the high season and most ships were full. Nadir was the one who bought a new house in England. Away from civilisation, in the wilderness of Cornwall this house was the perfect hiding place for the former Phantom of the Opera.

Looking back to it now, all this seemed unreal and dream-like to Erik. He himself had been thinking of Christine the whole time. He had hoped that by letting her go he would free not only her but himself, too. This obsession had gone too far, had made him make mistakes so unlike him. But freeing her only succeeded in making his love for her even stronger.

It took Erik three months before he finally sat down behind the piano Nadir had bought. He didn't thank his friend for being thoughtful. Instead he played a few simple tunes and then started listing the piano's numerous faults. But the Persian didn't mind too much: this meant that his friend was on the road to recovery.

Nadir was right. The music had always been Erik's whole being and its absence had almost destroyed him. Only music could heal the wounds Christine had left. And now that he had his music back, he was slowly, but surely getting better.

The worst was over, but for Nadir, many problems were only beginning to surface. The main thing on his mind was the future. Erik had enough money to live comfortably for quite a few years. But what would happen when these years are up? Where would his masked friend go then? Would he have to move to another godforsaken cellar under some other opera house?

Erik knew very well that Nadir's actions had only been done out of worry for his wellbeing. But still, it was hard to not grind his teeth thinking about how Nadir had taken a few sheets of his music and sent them to various opera houses. And how he had invited Amelia Alexandra Anastasia Alexis, Lady Matthew (or Quadruple A as Erik later started to call her), daughter of Lord Adrian Alexis to dine with them.

Dining with anyone he didn't know (or even people he did know – Nadir or his servants) was something Erik never did. Dining with someone who always introduced herself by her full name and her father's name, who only read three sentences from any book (the first, the last and one someplace in the middle), who changed toilettes at least five times a day, who never carried the same handkerchief for more than two hours (even if it stayed clean) and who – God forbid – had a title, was definitely out of question.

Nadir's plan would have been doomed had Amelia Alexandra Anastasia Alexis been just like any other aristocrat. But she wasn't. She had always loved music and after the death of her husband, it became her only consolation. Her influence as a Patron brought more and more music to the London Royal Theatre in Convent Garden. And when the managers received a letter accompanied with a few sheets of music from some unknown composer, she was intrigued. There were two short arias, one for a soprano, the second for a tenor and a duet for both a tenor and a soprano. Also, a few shorter etudes and concerto for piano and violin. The music was perfect for a gala concert they were planning. As the letter was signed "Lord Destler", it was decided that Lady Matthew would be best fitted to visit the aristocratic composer.

She sent a letter and in response, received an invitation to lunch. However, the day this lunch was to take place, she got a letter from a mister Nadir Khan, telling her that the lunch had been cancelled. It had all been a mistake and he was sorry they were causing her Ladyship any inconvenience.

No-one had ever cancelled on Lady Matthew. And this man had not bothered to write the letter himself or to even make up a legitimate explanation for his behaviour? Furious for such disrespect, she decided that she just had to have lunch with that Lord Destler. She didn't have to think long to make an excuse for herself. The letter had arrived later than it should have, so she had a perfectly valid excuse to show up at the Destler manor – saying she had left early and received no letter. And that was exactly what she did.

To say that Erik was shocked when a random woman showed up at his doorstep would've been an understatement. And once Nadir had been forced to explain the whole situation to his friend, he was also furious. In his point of view, the Daroga had gone too far. Inviting people to his home was definitely out of line.

When Lady Matthew heard that Lord Destler wasn't going to receive her, she did something no-one who knew her would have expected of her. She just marched past the protesting secretary (who, as she suspected, wasn't really a secretary) and the butler. The house was big and she knew that it would be nearly impossible to find the Master, if he really wanted to hide. But she played her cards on the simple human trait – curiosity. She knew that if it were she herself in such a situation, she would definitely want to see the person who was willing to break all rules of etiquette just to meet her.

She was right. She was wandering down another hall, with a couple of maids following her (they thought they hid very well, but they were actually rather visible), when the butler approached her, saying that Lord Destler had decided to receive her and that she should come with him.

Erik still remembered that first meeting, even though it took place more than three years ago. She certainly wasn't the weak, opinion-less kind of woman he had been expecting. To start with, she was furious with him for cancelling the lunch. And she didn't try to hide her anger. The moment she entered his study, she began yelling at him. All this was very new to Erik. His mother had never cared enough to actually be angry at him. True, Christine had yelled at him, but it had been in a moment when he himself had been bordering on insanity. Had he been calm, she wouldn't have dared.

And this woman, a complete stranger, had done what no-one before her had. That was quite enough for Erik to develop a sort of respect for her. This respect was what caused him to actually listen to her. She wanted the right to use some of his music. And she wanted him to write more.

Strangely enough, Erik found himself agreeing. Later he assumed it was his natural wish for recognition and praise, something he had tried to fight for so long. But he gave in. It was a decision he didn't regret. The success was immediate. The first concert was followed by many others and Erik found himself writing down almost every melody he had ever thought of. Or at least those that weren't too dark for the public.

The first opera written under the name of Erik Destler premiered in not more or less than five opera houses all over the Europe at the same time. The European aristocracy, tired of wars and revolutions, welcomed any new trend with open arms. And Erik's music became very fashionable indeed.

A young, inexperienced ballet dancer had destroyed his old life. An old aristocrat had built a new life for him.

And now Christine was back. But he wouldn't let her ruin everything again. He had worked so hard to achieve everything he had now, and he wasn't ready to lose it all for a woman who could never love him.

Snapping out of his reverie, Erik rang a bell and summoned John. Two minutes later, the butler was there.

"Yes, sir?"

"I want Miss Daaé gone from this household by tomorrow morning."

"Gone? I'm sorry, I don't think I understand…?"

"I want her out of my sight. Pay her whatever is necessary, but I don't want to ever see her here again. Understood?"

"Yes, sir. Anything else you need?"

"No."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

John bowed and left the room, leaving Erik to his thoughts.

The Phantom of the Opera may have fallen, but Erik Destler was not about to…

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I know, I know. No apologies can make up for it. But the next chapter will be up sooner, one third of it is already finished. I'll reply to review tomorrow, anonymous ones in the next chapter. It's in the middle of the night here and I have to be up in five hours, so I'm way too tired for this right now.

And thanks goes to Larissa (bobmcbobbob1), who edited this. Go read her fics.