A/N: I found myself oddly drawn to this dong:

'She rides the night,

Next to me,

She leads me through Moonlight,

Only to burn me with the sun,

She's taken my heart and she doesn't know what she's done,'

- She's Like the Wind by Patrick Swayze.

Chapter 38- She's Like the Wind

The wind whistled around his body and, at the moment, the night seemed very cold. Erik stepped out from behind the gargoyle and onto the rooftop, he looked down at their footprints in the dust, and then let his eyes stare at the door as if Christine was still there.

It was a fallacy that Erik never came to the roof.

He often hid up there, behind one of the many statues, and looked out over the city that would always be just out of his reach. Sometimes, when he thought he was alone, he would see Meg Giry sitting in the corner looking lonely. On more than one occasion he had considered talking to her but, he knew, she would run away scared.

Erik was the Phantom of the Opera and that made him the enemy.

He was not a good man, there was no denying it, he could not even convince himself. Somehow, though, he cared for Meg. Perhaps it was that she was Antoinette's baby, her only child, something that his friend loved more than Erik, more than herself. Maybe it was that Meg, though sometimes a little irrational, was an intelligent young woman. Or maybe, just maybe, it was that sometimes he saw himself in little Meg Giry.

Sometimes, when he saw her on the rooftop, he thought he knew more about her than anyone because when he did see her, she was his own reflection. Though she tried hard to be social, a person able to get on with anyone, and when she was around other people she was jovial and pleasant, up here, on this rooftop, she was sullen and lonely.

Erik took another look at the door and felt the destructive sensation of his heart crumbling. There was a pain in his chest like no other he had ever felt before. He walked to the edge of the roof and glanced over the wall, at the floor below, he could not fly. There were flickers of light around the city, Paris was always alive at this time of night.

If only the feeling would extend to him.

His fears had been confirmed. Christine was in love with Raoul and now, Erik's new world was gone. Slowly he would go back to being the man he was before, the man before Christine Daae. The cellars of the opera house would lose their appeal now, without her smell, without her presence. He did not take her there often but when he did he felt free.

She had seen his face and known the worst of him and yet somehow she seemed to care anyway.

It was all a lie.

She cared about Raoul De Chagny, not about Erik, and that hurt.

It was strange to him that his mind could not seem to stay on one thing. In a flash his brain focused on Christine, on her face, on her eyes... on the way she looked at him, on the way her smile could make his muscles weak.

In the next instant he was back on the roof, seeing her with Raoul, watching her declare her love for that boy. In that moment his heart was crushed and all of his ideals gone again. Erik Lambourne would never be a normal man, with a normal life, no matter how desperately he longed for it.

In his life he had loved only two woman. The first he had driven away with his need for solitude and the second... Christine...

He clutched at his heart, the glove on his hand doing nothing to warm his skin. A wave of pain rolled through his veins, crashed at his heart, poured into his soul. He felt a stabbing pain in his chest and stumbled back to the statue.

That was when his cheeks began to feel wet. He took a glove off his hand and stuffed it into his pocket. With his fingertips he reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek and then stared at it nestled on his skin. He shook his head and then his hand, making the tear fall and then splash on the floor.

Erik could not remember the last time he had cried.

His head dropped and he was staring at the floor, tears falling from his cheeks. His chest felt swollen with a pain so bad he thought that it might burst. A sob escaped him.

'Christine...' He murmured, head pounding, unable to concentrate on anything.

Her happy face, her smiling, beautiful face was seeping from his mind and the demons of the night were replacing it. Suddenly, all he could hear were their words, her betrayal.

Raoul's I love you... Christine's heartbreaking, I love you too.

His legs felt unable to bear his weight as they buckled beneath him and he dropped to his knees, hands on the floor, crouched on all fours, crying. No pain was like this.

It tore through him again, another tide of anguish, and he let out another pained sob. The air caught in his throat, he could barely breath, his heart was gone. He would never get it back.

The despair that clung to him was instant and suffocating, he felt claustrophobic and heavy, as though he could not move if he tried. Her betrayal now dug into his soul ,nestling itself in his mind, in he could see. Through everything the mist of tears he glanced up at the dark sky as it began to rain, one spot and then another, until it poured down around him.

The stars were gone and had been replaced with black clouds, darkening the night further, hiding the glowing moon. His heart ached but he pushed himself up, a different feeling taking over his body now. The hurt would not go, even in inexperience, Erik knew this, but he could channel it, make it become something else.

There was a burn in his veins as he pushed himself back to his feet, he was still crying, there were still drips of salty water falling onto his shoulders, but as it mixed with the rain he came to many conclusions.

He stood and looked around him, slipped the black glove back onto his hand. His fingers were cold but suddenly, that did not bother him.

He smoothed his hair back, neatened his jacket and headed to the trap door at the back of the roof. 'He was bound to love you... when he heard you sing,' He shook his head. 'Christine...'

The feelings of hurt were all around him but anger quickly crawled into his senses, slid along his veins, moved through his body until it was flooded with rage. The trapdoor opened easily and he jumped into the hole, closing it behind him. He navigated the thin corridor, letting his fury build and doing nothing to stop it, until he reached the set of steps he had created just above the auditorium.

He looked around him, thought of Christine, thought of Raoul...

He plunged into the blackness.

The chaos has not subsided in the slightest as Monsieur Firmin did his best to calm the theatre audience. So far he had taken complimentary drinks and some snacks around to the horrified guests. The police, who had just arrived, had insisted that all of the audience members remain in their seats as witnesses. That had been nearly an hour ago.

Monsieur Andre was running around like some sort of headless chicken but Antoinette Giry remained calm. She stood beside the stage watching the commotion and wondering just how stupid people could be. Certainly, she had seen extraordinary feats of idiocy but tonight was, all in all, taking the proverbial biscuit. She could hardly believe her eyes as, instead of searching the premises for the perpetrator, the police had decided to interview grief stricken cast members.

Of course, Antoinette knew that they would never find Erik, she knew him too well for that. If he was not long gone he was probably very well hidden. Erik definitely knew how to cross the lines of sanity yet it was always done in what, to her, seemed a controlled madness. Nothing about him could be predicted or attributed to a mood, he was a truly frightening man.

She looked around her, wondering if he had gone, but she saw nothing of a clue. Part of her assumed he was still there, watching with some amusement... the other part of her had seen Christine with Raoul.

Erik might already be gone.

'Good God!' She heard and spun around to see the source of the familiar voice. Scott ran in and threw his arms around her, complete disregard for anything around them.

For once, she found this oddly comforting.

He was warm.

'What on earth happened?' He asked, pulling away slightly.

She half shrugged. 'None of us really know,'

'I'm just glad you're alright,'

She smiled. 'Thank you for coming,'

He nodded and kissed her cheek. 'Where is Meg?'

'She's fine,' Antoinette answered. 'She's with the police at the moment,'

'They wouldn't let me in,'

'There's been a murder,'

'Is this definitely murder then?' He asked, pulling her back into his strong embrace.

'I'd say so,'

'This Phantom?' He asked.

'I don't know,' She lied.

He moved away to look around him. There were people sitting down, looking stunned, some were crying with each other. Antoinette assumed that this reaction was the shock of everything. She felt some sympathy for the audience, after all, they had only come to see the opera but had been treated to a show of a far more sinister nature.

They were all currently sitting in a living nightmare.

As she looked around she could easily see the different types of people in the room. Some of the men, particularly the younger ones, covered their fear by showing outrage at being stuck here. They would verbally attack anyone with a look of authority and so Antoinette, not in the mood for the confrontation, stayed away. Some of the men, older generally, just looked terribly bored with it all, as if they had seen this a thousand times.

Perhaps some of them had.

The women dotted around the room varied from utterly shocked to completely hysterical. Antoinette thought that, had she not known what was going on, she would have understood this reaction.

The police had, at least, drawn a curtain across the front of the body, sparing people from the sight. Slowly, some uniformed officers were making their way around the room, interviewing the guests. After an interview was completed they gave them a signed piece of paper to give to the guard on the door and then they were allowed to leave.

There were over a thousand people in the theatre.

It was a moment before she realised that Scott's eyes were on her.

'Are you sure you're alright?' He asked.

She nodded. 'I'm just wondering why the police insist on taking everyone's statements here,'

'Instead of allowing them to leave their details and return home?' He asked.

Again, she answered with a nod.

'Perhaps they're hoping to get the information while it is still clear in their minds,'

'Perhaps,' She said. 'But no one saw anything,'

'No?'

She shook her head.

'Did you?' He asked.

'No,'

He sighed. 'But you have to remain here as well?'

'Unfortunately,'

He glanced down at her leg. 'Do you need me to get you a chair from somewhere?'

'It doesn't feel too bad tonight,' she managed a smile.

'Did you know him well?' Scott scanned the room again. His eyes stopped at the stage. 'The murder victim,'

'Not really, he's worked here for years but no one really knows him at all,'

'Someone thought they knew him well enough to deem him worthy of murder,'

She nodded her agreement, knowing Erik's feelings about Joseph.

'Did he have family?' Scott's voice was a little strained now and she knew he was thinking of Meg, of her, of leaving them alone.

'I don't know,' She was shaking her head when she noticed Gilles Andre and Richard Firmin step onto the stage.

Scott nudged her. 'New managers?'

'Yes,' Her eyes were fixed on them now.

'Excuse me,' Monsieur Firmin said, not loudly enough, the rumbles around the room continued.

Andre stepped towards the front of the stage. 'Ladies and Gentlemen!' he shouted.

The mumbling began to quiet and all eyes were back to the stage.

'We're terribly sorry about the unfortunate events of this evening,' His voice floated around the room. 'We will be refunding...' He paused as if to catch his breath. '... everyone's ticket price for the evening,'

'Yes, yes,' Monsieur Firmin nodded. 'The police are going to ask everyone to leave their names and addresses and then you can all go,'

'This awful situation will not happen again,' Andre took over. 'We an assure you that the perpetrator will be caught and that he will never be allowed to set foot in this theatre again!'

Antoinette was about to turn away when she heard the sound of a chuckle. Erik. So he was still here after all. Her eyes scanned the room for any sign on him but she saw nothing. The police were looking around too, as the laughter built and filled the room.

When she spotted him all she could do was scream to Meg to get away from the stage. Some people began to run but they had no idea what they were running from. Erik was standing on top of the chandelier, holding it's ropes. Suddenly Erik leapt up and grabbed the rope higher and then the chandelier began to plummet to the floor. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. Antoinette watched as people scattered in all directions, running back and forth and not really knowing where to go.

She felt Scott's hand grip her wrist and pull her to the back of the room, closely follow by Meg. In this time the managers had fled the stage and the chandelier, with a crashing sound that echoed even in the chaos, hit the stage, splitting the boards and catching someone underneath it.

Meg buried her face into her father's broad shoulder and he circled his arm around her. His eyes were wide and disbelieving. He reached over and pulled Antoinette into his embrace with his free arm. People were screaming again and there was a rush to the exits. The police had lost all control and the madness that ensued was hard to breath in.

Oh Erik... she thought, as she looked at the stage, at the person crushed beneath the huge weight of the once magnificent chandelier. Philippe De Chagny was standing with the managers, all three men had their heads in their hands, looking full of despair.

Antoinette looked up to where the chandelier had once been but there was no sign of Erik.

She wondered how long that would last.