I own nothing! I don't own The Phantom of the Opera or any of the Characters therein!

Soon, Sarah found herself curled up on Erik's bed as he was composing music. His eyes widened and he jerked with his hand immediately flying to the Punjab lasso he kept on his person as he whirled around to face her.

He needn't have worried, for she was too exhausted to do anything. She woke up only momentarily to blink at him, smile, and then curl back into a sleepy ball. After he heard her deep breathing that came with sleep, he relaxed just enough to go back to composing his music. He was approached by Madame Giry, who had recently taken to coming down to his lair when she had nothing else to do, and her eyes widened.

"She came from nowhere, and has only been sleeping," he said quietly. "I left her be because she is doing nothing."

"She looks like a female version of you, Erik," Madame Giry said softly. "A rather peaceful one in slumber, but she probably has a reason."

"I highly doubt she has a disfigurement," he snorted. "Nothing could be as repulsive as me."

"Perhaps her disfigurement is not on the outside," Madame Giry murmured. "Perhaps hers is on the inside."

"Inside? What nonsense are you talking?" he asked skeptically.

"Perhaps she has emotion problems," she said softly. "I would speak with her when she wakes, but this is your lair and she is your responsibility."

Sarah faded and they stared at the spot that her form had once laid in. Erik shrugged this off simply and went about his business. Madame Giry was still watching the location that Sarah had disappeared from and then gasped as she reappeared, this time whimpering in pain slightly. Erik rose and went over to the female phantom, sizing her up. Her outfit was the same as his, he noticed immediately, and began wondering just why everything about her screamed most of the same things that a mirror did.

She woke up again, this time looking at him with pleading chocolate brown eyes. His eyes widened as she caressed his face with weary hands that fell limp soon after. His eyes widened and he ordered Madame Giry to go get him a bowl full of water and a wet rag. The next opera could wait, this girl needed help, and it was help that only they could supply. Something within him had stirred, something that he'd never felt before, not even with Christine.

Sarah's body was very feverish, just as they'd feared. Madame Giry left after giving Erik the things that he had requested. After a very long day, and quite a few hours into the night, she finally managed to break through the fever. Her breathing was ragged, and her body was soaked – although to his surprise his bed wasn't. she was an exhausted mess, but alive and back on the road to recovery.

"Thank you," she croaked, and his eyes widened. "For saving my life."

"Do you yet know how you come here?"

"No, I'm sorry. I'm wondering how things are happening at home…"

"Do you wish to go back?"

"I can't, my time thinks I'm dead."

"What?"

"My time thinks I'm dead, I got stabbed and ran off. I haven't let anyone except my father and a special few people see me since. I've been masquerading as a female version of you who haunts the school ever since to protect those who had once been my peers and comrades."

"What on earth did you do to deserve being stabbed?"

"I made a group of girls mad, all of them the same kind of girl that La Carlotta was – er, is?"

"Was? What is today's date?"

"Um… January twelfth, twenty-twelve…" she said eying him warily. "Why?"

"T-twenty-twelve?" he stammered, shocked. "What?"

"Two thousand and twelve," she explained as she struggled to sit up.

Erik blinked and stared at her for a while before he sat on the edge of his bed and began rubbing his temples.

"It's just a dream, it's just a dream," he kept repeating, and she sighed heavily.

"I promise, Monsieur le Fantome, this is not a dream. I don't know how you and I are crossing the space-time continuum, but we are. As for the ones that model their lives after you… well, I'm an example."

"Prove it," he said, and she pulled a small book out of her diary.

"It contains photos and notes of every murder I've ever committed, dates I did them, the methods, and why I did them," she explained. "I started it the day that I was raped."

She slapped her hand over her mouth as he jerked up in surprise and pulled out his lasso.

"What did you just say?" he demanded, and she was forced to repeat herself. "Who did this? I shall flay them alive!"

"I already did, they were the first ones," she said holding out the book again. "My own brothers… they sat and laughed and jeered at me with all the others in the stands who were watching."

Erik couldn't help but blanch at her remarks.

"They-rape-for sport?" he said choking back bile.

"It's illegal, but it happens every so often," she said shrugging. "My best friend tried to protect me from it. He was fatally injured trying to help me get away, and I was literally cradling him as he took his last breaths."

"And I thought my life was bad," Erik shivered. "Your time is revolting!"

"Everyone in the stands could and would have gone to jail for it, except everybody lied to cover it up. If I had shown up and given my statement, I'd have gone back to being a freak of nature by soceity's terms, even worse after what had happened. People I wouldn't know would be coming up to me and telling me to drop dead for destroying a fun time and getting all the popular kids arrested. It's please the popular kids, or pay the price. At least, that's what it was like before I became the Phantasma," she shrugged as she curled up in a ball. "I'm sorry, I'm grossing you out, I should have shut up a long time ago. It's just… you're the first person who's truly listened to me without judging me by what's happened to me."

"Not even your mother?"

"No, she hates me, she wanted me dead anyways, I think," she murmured with a soft snort. "If it weren't for the fact that I was her personal slave, she'd have put me on the streets as soon as I could walk and talk."

"Stay with me," Erik offered. "I could always use another set of eyes and ears throughout the theater."

"As much as I wish I could, there are still three final victims I need to torture for making my life a living hell. But I promise you I shall come back whenever I am through. My two brothers are two of the final victims. My mother is the third."

"… You're a monster…"

"Touché, my dear phantom," she smiled widely as she began to fade, this time much quicker. "Thanks again for saving me."

He blinked as she vanished and promptly ran to a toilet to vomit at what he had heard.

"Those three shall pay for what they've done, whether they like it or not," he snarled as he finished. "If I have to go to their time and torture them to death myself, I shall."

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