I hear you breathe so far from meI feel your touch so close and realAnd I knowMy church is not of silver and gold,It's glory lies beyond judgment of soulsThe commandments are of consolation and warmthYou know our sacred dream won't failThe sanctuary tender and so frailThe sacrament of loveThe sacrament of warmth is trueThe sacrament is youI hear you weep so far from meI taste your tears like you're next to meAnd I knowMy weak prayers are not enough to healOh the ancient wounds so deep and so dearThe revelation is of hatred and fear

The Sacrament- HIM

(Rafe P.O.V)

With a heavy soul I return to a ruined Paris. The hope for a peaceful resolvement, faded as my uniform. The horrors and the deaths of war are bared heavy on my mind. Around me I saw many soldiers returning into open arms, yet where was my forever love? Where had Paul disappeared to?

It seemed like a dream, how easily we had been shot down. Bullets whizzed by me and one found its home in my shoulder. Paul had taken my letters, in the assumption I would die on the field. Would've too, if a strange nun hadn't saved my life. But still, she had not came to the edge of town, like she had promised. I was alone, and scarred. And no one cared.

So along the streets I stumbled, stores closing around me. Ghosts of crepes and stews hung low in the air. Beggars lingered in streets, hoping for a franc, but receiving only stares. The lamp boy reached high about his head to light a single lamp.

My mind wondered about her face. Would it have changed? No, most likely not. Did she carry our child to term? Have I been fighting for a family no longer in existence? Did she try yet again to kill herself? In a rage, has she killed our child? Is it a strong boy or a smiling girl? Who does the child take after? Where is she now? Has Erik kept our promise of keeping Noemi alive? Or just as easily as he left everything behind, would he do it again?

I slid down at a bar and my eyes slid to the barista. A young woman, perhaps a little older than Noemi. Long curly brown hair. Brown eyes. Obviously hiding defining features such as her own pregnancy. Christine, Christine. Will you ever learn...

"Ma'm. Where is La Opera Populaire? Is it still standing?"

She froze. Bingo. Hello my pretty dull one.

"What opera house sir?" Her voice, shaking. Fearful. She gave it all away.

I smiled, "My dear, La Opera Populaire. The one near the Rue Scribe."

A gun cocked behind me. "Rafe Aldan. Back from war and already missing your insane posse. She had your bastard child. A horrific ugly girl. I would've put it out of its misery but I figure on one of the Phantoms rages he would be quite easily talked into destroying the wretched thing."

I snorted, knowing full well that the Phantom Raoul knew was nothing like the Erik we all knew. "A girl, eh. What a blessing. Maybe she'll turn out better than my disappointment of a cousin. Correct Raoul? Or maybe Christine hasn't told you that. That we too shared nights listening to Fathers tales of the north. That Mamma Valerius wiped both our asses while we were still shitting green."

I turned slowly to see Raouls look and knocked the gun out of his hands. Pathetic.

Messing with a soldier. You will pay, de Changy.

I wasn't surprised by my own actions of grabbing him by his throat and pushing him up against the wall. Nor was it a surprise when He decided to spit on my face.

"Raoul, what kind of idiot hides in cowardice from a civil man? What sort of moron leaves his wife's pregnancy hidden like you're ashamed of it?" I grinned and remembered a small tale around the fields. "Oh thats right, a man who doesn't have his families permission to marry a peasant girl."

His face turned quite a lovely shade of red as the noises emitted from his throat. His feet kicked out in all directions, a strangely beautiful choking noise flowing from his throat. Blood pooled at the edges of his lips.

A gunshot rang out.

Instead of holding a pretty boy, I now held a bloody pulp. Crimson ran down the walls in torrents. Christine's gasped sobs rang out.

She was holding a gun. A gun that shot a bullet. A bullet that killed her lover.

I wiped my hands on her shirt, smiled, gave her a tip, and walked into the night.

Erik, a new Phantom will take a place by your side. But not tonight.