Chapter One: Erik

Paris Opera House, 1858

"Wait for me!" Little Christine Daae lifted the skirts of her dress slightly as she ran after her friend.

They were exploring the new Paris Opera House, which had opened a few years ago. Christine had met her strange friend then, and the two had instantly bonded. She thought he was the son of one of the stagehands, since he knew his way around pretty well.

His name was Erik.

She didn't get to see his face that much, because he always wore a grubby brown sack over it. Christine always asked him why, but he had never answered her.

Today she was going to find out why.

Christine was the only daughter of Gustav Daae, the revered and respected Duke of Wiltshire. Christine's mother was the beautiful Charlotte Daae, but she had died giving birth to Christine six years ago. For five years Christine lived in her father's grand estate in Wiltshire, England, and it was only a year ago when they moved to Paris when her father began entering business deals with the owner of the Paris Opera House, Monsieur Lefevre.

Christine thought she would be spending most of her time in the opera house looking wistfully at the ballerinas who laced their pink silk ballet slippers or watch the muscled workers quickly arrange the set pieces into place during rehearsals.

But no. She met Erik during one of her many attempted escapes from her nanny when she climbed up into the rooftop. She was too short to see over the balcony, so she had crouched down and peered out through the bars.

Erik had appeared then, and he asked her who she was. At first Christine was frightened, but his voice was so gentle, so soothing, that all her fears slipped away.

They became good friends after that. Erik seemed curious about her and her life, but he never told her much about himself, only that he ran away from the circus and never came back. Christine had wanted to introduce him to her father, but Erik had shrunk away.

"It's better if I don't, Chrissy," he said quietly before disappearing.

He always did that; it was like he was a magician and could slip away unnoticed. Christine guessed that he had been to the circus once with his stagehand father and had learned a few tricks.

"Erik! Wait!" Christine called out, and gave a sharp cry when her dress snagged on something. She tried pulling her dress free, and a tiny rip told her she had torn the hem of her skirt. She started to cry.

"Chrissy? Chrissy! Are you alright?" Erik said, running to her side and kneeling on the floor. When he saw her tear-streaked face, he made an angry noise. "Darn. I'm sorry, Chrissy."

Christine nodded between sobs. "Papa would… be mad," she choked out.

"You can have your nanny mend it," Erik suggested. As always, his voice was muffled by the sack he wore over his head.

"No! Nanny always tells Papa if I've been naughty," Christine wailed. "Help me, Erik."

"Fine, I'll try to stitch it," he said hastily. "I know where Madame Giry keeps her sewing box. Come on."

"Don't leave me again," Christine chided him as they made their way past the empty dressing rooms. The performers were busy at rehearsals, which gave them the freedom to go about as they pleased.

Erik shook his head. "Never again."

Christine smiled. Erik led her inside the room marked "Giry" and began searching the drawers, while Christine looked at the items scattered on the vanity dresser. They were so busy looking for the sewing box that they didn't notice Meg watching them from behind the burgundy dressing screen, her eyes fixed on Erik.

"Found it!" Erik hissed, holding the small heart-shaped box in the air.

Christine squealed with delight, clapping her hands joyously. Erik opened the box and found a needle and a spool of thread that closely matched the blue of Christine's dress.

"Sit," Erik said, and Christine sat primly on the nearby couch, her feet dangling a few inches from the floor. "Stay still. I don't want to prick you."

Christine froze and Erik laughed a little. He expertly drew the thread through the eye of the needle, tied a knot at the very end, and ran the needle through the tear in Christine's dress. His strokes were quick and fast, and he was soon tying the thread together and clipping the ends.

Christine smiled at him and stood up. She walked over to the mirror and examined her dress.

"Oh Erik, you're amazing!" she said, twirling around happily. "You saved my life!"

"It was nothing," Erik murmured, looking down at his feet.

"It was not!" Christine said, and she gave him a hug. Erik clasped his hands behind his back uncomfortably.

"Um, we need to put this back, Chrissy," he reminded her.

"Oh yes you should!" Meg cried, unable to stand it any longer. She leapt from behind the screen and stomped towards Erik. "Return that box, you monster!"

Christine's eyes narrowed. "He is no monster, Meg! Leave him alone!"

Meg rolled her eyes and stomped her dainty feet again. "Give it back!"

"Fine," Erik retorted harshly, and threw the contents of the sewing box in Meg's face.

She yelped as the needles and spools of thread smacked her in the face, but by then Erik and Christine were gone, running as fast as Christine's six year old feet would allow. When they were safely away, Christine rounded on Erik.

"What did you do that for?" she demanded. "That wasn't nice."

"She called me a monster," he said defensively. "I'm not."

"Then don't act like one," Christine said, her tiny voice softening. "Please, Erik. You are my best best best best best BEST friend in the whole wild world, and I don't want people hating you."

Erik sighed and nodded. "Alright, Christine, whatever makes you happy."

Christine smiled and hugged him again. "You're a really good friend, Erik."

"Really?" Erik sounded happy.

"Yes," Christine said, smiling warmly at him. She knew Erik was a little older than her – his height was a dead giveaway – so she thought he was her fierce protector, the older brother she never had. "Are we going to play some more, Erik?"

"Of course! Follow me, Chrissy. I found a new passageway," Erik said excitedly. Christine followed him as he led her down beneath the stage. Erik opened the door to the prop room and headed to the very back. He crouched down and pried a loose floorboard.

"Erik?" Christine whispered. Christine hated the prop room. It had large sculptures and other sorts of horrible looking things that seemed to follow her every move. But she was with Erik, and she trusted him.

Erik ran to her, holding out what looked like a silver medallion. It was on a fine filigree chain, and the medallion had colorful stones set in the center.

"It's pretty," Christine said, amazed. The stones caught the light and reflected in her face. Erik was studying her, obviously pleased by his discovery. "I thought you found a passageway, Erik."

He snorted. "I just told you that so you'd follow me here. I know how you hate this place."

Christine blushed. "Who's is it?"

"Yours," Erik replied automatically, dropping the medallion in her small palm. "Keep it, so you'll never forget me."

"I'll never, ever, never ever forget you, Erik," Christine said smiling. "I love it!"

"Don't tell your papa where you got it though," he warned.

"Why?"

Erik didn't reply. Instead he led her out of the prop room and they headed towards the stage. Rehearsal seemed to have ended, because the stomping of many feet and the steady, lively chatter of the performers grew louder and louder.

Amidst the noise Erik and Christine heard the alarmed shout of Nanny Margarethe.

"Christine! Christine, where are you, you silly child? Come here!"

"I have to go," Christine said, sighing. "But thank you for this, Erik."

"You're welcome," he mumbled, looking down at his feet. "You're leaving tonight, aren't you?"

Christine nodded, tears forming in her eyes. "I'll miss you, Erik."

"So will I. I won't have any friends here anymore," he said, not looking at her. "Promise me you'll come back?"

"I will," Christine promised. "I'll come back, and we'll spend our time here in the opera house. Oh take care of yourself, Erik!"

Christine threw her arms around Erik again and embraced him. His mask was wet, and he sounded like he was crying.

"Christine!" Nanny Margarethe's tone was as sharp as ever.

"Good bye!" Christine said quickly, pulling away.

Erik nodded once. "I'll see you soon."

Christine smiled at him before running in the direction of Nanny Margarethe's voice.

"Good bye, Christine," Erik whispered to the empty hallway. "I'll never forget you."

Ferry to Paris, 1870 (12 years later)

"Oh God, the weather is completely scorching!" a woman complained loudly. She fanned herself furiously and then snapped her fan shut before leaving in a huff and a swish of her skirts. She accidentally bumped into a handsome young man who was making his way past the crowd and towards a beautiful girl sitting near a group of boisterous boys who were insulting the lower class passengers who had crowded on deck.

"Christine!" the man called, and the girl looked up.

Christine Daae was no longer six years old, that much was obvious. She had inherited her mother's long, dark tresses that hung below her waist, and she had her father's thoughtful and warm eyes.

"Raoul," she said smiling. "Took you sometime to pry yourself from your new friends, I see."

Raoul blushed. "I apologize. They had interesting things to say about going on a safari in Africa, and… well.."

Christine laughed, which caught the attention of the boys sitting near her. She didn't mind them, as always – she had never found a man who had captured her attention and love so far. Well, except for Raoul, but he was her dearest companion, and he certainly didn't count.

"I was jesting, dear Raoul," she told him, placing a hand on his knee. "You should not worry. I was perfectly fine."

"That's reassuring," Raoul said with relief, while casting a warning glance at the boys who were ogling Christine behind her back.

"Have you talked to the captain?" Christine asked while watching a violinist serenade a newlywed couple. "How much longer will this voyage take?"

Raoul shook his head. "I didn't. Philipp and Stephan sidetracked me before I could talk to him properly. At this rate we'll be there tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow!" Christine was disappointed. "I hoped we'd be there tonight."

"Why? What's so special in Paris, Christine?" Raoul inquired. "Aside from our school friends, of course."

"An old friend," Christine replied vaguely. "I haven't seen him in 12 years, Raoul."

Raoul grew jealous. Christine talked about this mysterious friend with such love in her eyes. But he knew better than to be envious; Christine was so sweet, kind, and understanding; nobody could stay mad at her for long.

Well, at least he couldn't.

Christine smiled at him and his jealousy abated. But he was still curious.

"Was he the one who gave you that necklace?" he asked her.

Christine's hand immediately flew to her neck, where a beautiful medallion was hanging from a filigree chain. The medallion rested on her cleavage, and Raoul couldn't help but wonder if the flesh on that particular spot was soft, sweet, and… no.

I mustn't think like that, Raoul reminded himself.

"Yes, he did," she said, and it appeared as if she were reliving the memory. "I never took it off after that. It's like my protection charm."

"Oh." Raoul didn't trust himself to speak. He loved Christine the very day they met four years ago, and he didn't like the idea that someone else seemed to have her heart.

"Is something wrong?" Christine asked, her face full of worry. "Was it because I mentioned Erik?"

Raoul blinked. "Erik?"

"My childhood friend," she replied slowly. "Oh, I'm sorry, Raoul. I should have never brought him up." She leaned against her chair and didn't say another word.

Guilt ran through Raoul; he never intended to make her feel bad about not mentioning Erik.

"No, it's not that, Christine," he reassured her quickly. "It's the heat; it's becoming unbearable."

Christine looked at him. "Are you sure, Raoul?"

He nodded, hoping she would smile at him. She didn't.

Instead, she looked thoughtful, her fingers never leaving the medallion, as she twirled it over and over.

Half an hour later Raoul escorted Christine back to her room. It was on the upper class level of the ferry, and it was decked out with every possible luxury. A cool champagne bottle had been put out, and Raoul noted that it was one of the good years.

Christine sat on her couch, while maids scuttled quickly out of the room. The table was practically groaning under the numerous pastries and fruits that were placed on top, but Christine didn't seem to be in the mood to eat anything.

Raoul popped a chocolate éclair in his mouth and savored the creamy chocolate as it trickled down his throat.

"Aren't you hungry, Christine?" he asked, handing a platter of little cakes out to her.

She shook her head. "I'm worried, Raoul."

"About what?" he was instantly alert; ready to offer his services at a moment's notice.

"I'm worried about Erik."

Him.

Raoul tried not to let his disappointment and jealousy show, and it was lucky that Christine was looking the other way. "What about him?"

"Maybe he isn't in the opera house anymore, Raoul," she whispered, her voice shaky. "I didn't write to him all these years, and he might have left thinking that I never came back for him."

"Ssssshhh. Don't worry, Christine, we'll find him," Raoul assured her, although he despised himself for what he said. "If we have to search every inch of Paris to find him, we will."

Christine turned, and he saw that her face was stained with her tears. He whipped out his handkerchief and offered it to her.

"You'll help me?" she said, her voice hardly audible as she wiped away her tears.

Raoul nodded. "Of course, dearest Christine. I am your friend, am I not?"

"Oh thank you, Raoul!" Christine said, throwing her arms around him. "Thank you."

"Why does he mean so much to you?" Raoul asked her before he could stop himself.

"He was there for me when I needed a friend the most," Christine said, pulling away from Raoul. "When no one else wanted to listen, he was there. I owe him most of my happiness, Raoul. The times I spent with him; oh, you should have been there too! Erik knew every secret of the opera house, and we were like little masters of the stage."

Raoul forced a smile. He couldn't bear to be grumpy and upset when Christine was so happy. He just couldn't.

The door to Christine's room opened, and one of the captain's lieutenants poked his head in.

"Pardon the interruption, my lady, but the captain wishes to inform you we will be arriving in Paris in two hours," the lieutenant said, in obvious awe of Christine's beauty.

"Two hours! Raoul, that soon?" Christine gasped happily. She thanked the lieutenant graciously, who reluctantly closed the door and returned to his duties.

Raoul laughed. "I thought you couldn't wait to arrive in Paris."

"Oh, but I didn't expect it to be this soon! Are we going to the opera house at once?" she asked, hardly able to contain her excitement. Raoul knew Christine was like a little girl with her most intimate friends, but in public she was the very figure of poise and grace. "I have made arrangements with Madame Giry regarding our rooms."

She was the Duchess of Wiltshire, after all.

"I thought we were staying in the Hotel de France," Raoul said, surprised. "You changed our plans?"

"I thought you wouldn't mind," Christine said, reaching out for a grape. "I'm tired of hotel rooms, Raoul. The opera house is like my second home. Please, don't be mad."

"Why would I be?" Raoul said gently. "Staying in the Opera Populaire would be a new experience."

Christine smiled. "I can't wait to introduce you to Erik."

"Neither can I," Raoul replied, but he knew he was lying.

Forgive me, Christine, but I hope you never find Erik, Raoul thought. You're mine.

Author's Note: Fan Trailer available YouTube. Keyword: The Phantom, The Duchess, and The Viscount Fan Trailer. Or search for: fanficfan007

Guide to the formats used in the story:

Bold = denotes a dream

Italics = denotes either a thought or a flashback