"The way to love anything is to realize that it might be lost."

-G. K. Chesterton

"I had a ring in my hand, a gold ring that I had given her and that she had lost and I had found. A wedding ring. I slipped it onto her finger and told here, 'Here, take this. It's for you...and for him...It will be my wedding gift...the gift of "poor unhappy Erik." I know that you love the young man. Don't cry anymore.'"

-Erik to the Daroga, The Phantom of the Opera

The Way to Love
By HDKingsbury
With Significant Contributions by Lizzy

Summary: What if, after hearing Christine's rooftop confession to Raoul, Erik – the Phantom of the Opera – does not declare love upon them both, but realizes that it is he who must change if he is ever to win a woman's love? All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, or by any information storage and retrieval system – available today or in the future -- without permission in writing from the author.

Vowing to make himself a better person, Erik abandons Paris and sails to America, and on his first day in New York City is attacked by a street gang when he mistakenly takes a cab to the wrong side of town. Suddenly, the man who has always prided himself on his self-sufficiency now must rely upon the kindness of strangers. Over the next few months, the Phantom becomes a man, making friends and starting a new life. But his past eventually catches up with him when Christine Daaé is invited to sing on the stage of the brand-new Metropolitan Opera House stage, and an implacable enemy he'd long thought dead makes an appearance as well.

Copyright © 2008
H D Kingsbury

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, or by any information storage and retrieval system -- available today or in the future -- without permission in writing from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Chapter 1
Rooftop Confessions

"Christine, Christine! Something tells me that we're wrong to wait for tomorrow night. We should leave tonight."

Erik listened intently as Raoul de Chagny's words cut through the air. Not wanting to risk being seen, he slunk deeper into the shadows. He knew that Christine had been confused of late, that she had been upset, but Erik was dismayed at the scene of that was playing itself out before his eyes. It bordered on physical pain to listen to this twaddle of hers, her belief that she was safe up here, on the roof.

Did she think him a troll out of one of her Scandinavian fairy tales? Did she think he never went outside, that he didn't know what sunlight was? Not that there was any sunlight today. On the contrary, the late afternoon sky was as dark and gloomy as Erik's mood. Lowering clouds swiftly scudded across the sky as a cold north wind picked up. He saw Christine rub her arms, and immediately his heart softened.

The poor, foolish child; she's forgotten to wear a wrap, as usual.

Erik put his hands to his temples, attempting to massage away the throbbing pain that was gathering there.

I should leave now, he told himself. You already know the truth, that she prefers her handsome vicomte to her "poor Erik."

Poor Erik, indeed! He started, fearing he'd spoken those last words out loud. It would never do to draw attention to himself, not with both of them present. And so Erik remained hidden in the dark recesses of Apollo's Lyre, alternating between outraged fury and self-pity.

Christine paced on the rooftop, wringing her hands and fighting back tears. Erik could not tell if she was truly frightened, or a supremely gifted actress. He did not know which he preferred, as both cut deeply. "I can't just leave him, Raoul. I tell you, he will be in agony if he doesn't hear me tomorrow night," she pleaded with Raoul, the little throb in her voice breaking even Erik's angry heart. "He deserves better from me," she added, her voice almost a whisper.

"But…Christine, it doesn't matter when you leave. If you run away from him forever, it will be hard not to cause Erik pain," Raoul countered.

"You're right about that," she replied, her voice forlorn and bereft of hope. "If I leave him, my flight will surely kill him." Then, in a muffled voice, she added, "But it's risk either way, because if we stay, he may…," she faltered before continuing, "…he may kill us."

What?

Erik couldn't believe his ears. He had thought himself prepared for anything she would say, but not this.

Kill them? Does she truly believe that I would do that? Have I sunk so low in her eyes that she believes I would kill her and her lover?

Then he realized that, only moments ago, he might have been capable of committing the very act he now abhorred. As quickly as it had come, the fury and the rage drained out of him, leaving Erik cold and numb, like the late autumn air around him.

The world seemed to spin around him, and an insane thought crossed Erik's mind as he looked down at the street below and wondered what it would be like to simply let go and fall through the air. He choked back a bitter laugh.

It's not the fall that would kill you; it's the sudden stop at the end.

No, Erik dismissed such ideas. He knew that, no matter how painful it was, he would stay where he was, watching and listening, as Christine tore his heart to shreds and tossed the pieces to the wind.

He watched through tear-clouded eyes as Raoul took her in his arms and held her close. "Does he really love you?"

She nodded, her shoulders slumped in resignation. "Yes, Raoul; I believe he does. I believe he would do anything to possess me."

"But surely, we can find where he lives. Let's go tonight; let's tell the authorities. They can go looking for him. Now that we know that Erik is no phantom, he can be talked to and made to answer."

A sneer played across Erik's lips.

That's what you would like to think, boy!

Christine shook her head. "No, you mustn't do that! There's nothing to be done…except to flee."

That's right, Christine – flee. No one is going to find Erik. Not unless Erik wants them to, and I don't think I'm ready for that just yet.

Raoul made a disgusted noise. "You act as if you don't want anyone to find him. Is that it?"

"Yes…no…I…I don't know, Raoul." She pulled away from the vicomte and walked towards the base of the statue, putting some distance between the two of them. "I don't know how to explain this. I'm afraid of him, but…but I don't want to hurt him."

Raoul stood dumbfounded. "I don't understand you, Christine. You told me before that you were able to leave him when you were down there. If so, then why did you return to him?"

"Because it was necessary. Let me try to explain it to you and tell you know how I got away from him."

"Ah, how I hate him," cried Raoul. "And you, Christine. Tell me so that I can keep myself calm as I hear the conclusion of this extraordinary love story. Tell me, Christine, do you hate him?"

Erik stood perfectly still, as eager as Raoul to hear her answer.

Yes, Christine. Tell him…and tell me – do you hate me?

Christine replied simply, "I…I don't know."

The vicomte stepped back, startled by her response. "Oh, I understand now. You're not really afraid of Erik," he said sarcastically. "The truth is that all this talk of fear and terror is actually love. It's love of the most exquisite kind. The kind that one doesn't dare admit, not even to one's self."

"No, Raoul. It's not like that," Christine pleaded, tears streaking her face.

"But of course it is! It is the kind that makes you shiver when you think about it. Just imagine, a man who lives in an underground palace."

In spite of all she had said and done, Erik found he was still ready to defend Christine, to jump out of the shadows and throttle the boy. Instead, he stood back and fumed.

How dare you talk to her like that! How dare you?

But Erik forced himself to remain calm and retreated back into the shadows, silent as a ghost.

"Then you want me to go back there, back to him?" Christine interrupted harshly. "Be careful what you wish for, Raoul. I've told you, if I ever return to Erik, I won't ever be able to come back again."

A terrifying silence ensured among the three of them…the two who spoke and the shadow behind them who listened.

"Before I answer," Raoul said slowly, "I would like to know what feeling you have about him, since you do not hate him."

"Horror," she said, flinging the word with such force that it drowned out the night's sighs, and the moans that escaped from Erik's lips. "It's true," she began again, increasingly feverish. "He horrified me, but I don't hate him. How can I hate him? Try to imagine, Raoul. Imagine him at my feet in his home beside the underground lake. He admitted his charade and cursed himself, imploring my forgiveness! He told me that he had worshiped me from afar, and set a great and tragic love at my feet. He said he had abducted me out of love. That he kept me with him, underground, out of love."

"The cad!"

"No, it's not like that. He…he has never hurt me, but has always treated me with the utmost respect. When he took me to his little house, he groveled before me, moaning and weeping. It's true; I was frightened at first, but then I told him that I could only despise him unless he restored my freedom, and, incredibly, he did just that. He told me I had only to leave. He had already shown me the secret way. Only…only…" She hesitated.

"What is it?" Raoul asked, gentler this time.

"Even though he is neither the Phantom nor a genie nor an angel, he is still the Voice. And if he sings to me again, I will listen—and I will stay."

The young lovers continued talking, but it was hard for Erik to concentrate on their words. The more he listened, the more he came to physical pain. He was sickened by what he had done to this young girl. Time lost all meaning as he lost track of what was being said and he felt his control over the situation, his control over Christine, slipping away. He looked over at the two of them and forced himself to pay more attention. She was talking about his face – his god-forsaken, cursed face. She was saying how she had convinced him that she could bear to look at it. His vision blurred for a moment, and he blinked hard.

How could I have been such a fool?

"I said to him, 'Erik, show me your face without fear. I swear that you are the unhappiest and the most sublime of men, and if I ever shudder again when I look at you, it will be because I am thinking of the splendor of your genius.'"

"And did he believe you?" the boy asked. "What did he do then?"

"He turned around because he believed me. I believed myself, too, regrettably. I had faith that I could do this, but I was wrong. He had been playing on the piano and came over to me. He fell at my knees with words of love." She choked back a sob. "With words of love in that mouth of Death. He kissed the hem of my skirt, but he never looked up, never saw that my eyes were closed."

Christine stopped speaking as Raoul took her gently into his embrace. He wiped the tears from her face. The two stood quietly, feeling safe in each other's arms. Finally, Christine spoke again. "I…I don't know what more to say. Now you know the tragedy. For two weeks, I stayed with him. During that time, I was filled in turns with pity, enthusiasm, despair, and horror. He believed me when I told him I would return."

He believed me. He believed me.

The words echoed in Erik's ears and accompanied the final knife thrust into his heart. Not one word of love came from her mouth. He knew now that there was no hope of ever winning Christine's love.

"And you did return," groaned Raoul.

"Yes, I did, but it was not the frightful threats that accompanied my being set free which helped me to keep my word. It was the heartbreaking sob that he gave on the threshold of his tomb. Yes, that sob," Christine repeated, shaking her head sadly, "bound me more to the unhappy man than I myself realized at the time of our good-byes. Poor Erik. Poor Erik!" And she sobbed openly now.

Erik sobbed, too, but ignored the tears, ignored them as they collected against the fabric of his mask.

I don't want your pity, Christine. I only wanted your love!

"Christine," said Raoul, "you tell me that you love me. You won't admit it, but I know you're afraid. I must know, though – do you love me? Tell me the truth, Christine. If Erik were handsome, would you love me?"

She looked into his face, confusion registering upon her own. "Oh, Raoul! Why do you ask me such things, things I keep hidden deep in my conscience, as if they were a sin?" She hesitated slightly, and then forced herself to smile. "If I did not love you, I would not give you my lips. For the first and last time, take them."

And they kissed.

The world turned black as the pounding in his head grew louder and matched the rhythm of his heartbeat. Erik fell to his knees, wrapping his arms around his chest, which felt as though it would explode at any moment. Never in his miserable excuse of a life had he felt so devastated or so alone. He cursed himself, he cursed God, and he cursed his face, despairing that he had lost his last chance to ever know a woman's love – to ever know Christine's love.

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