This is my new Phan Phiction, I'm going for a completely different approach. This story is very violent and sex driven, and is ABSOLUTELY not Christine/Erik. There is also foul language and graphic images. So if you are looking for a fluffy, romantic Christine/Erik story, this is not for you. Enjoy.

Syd (DefyGravity18)

Paris

The shadowy figure of a young woman stepped out of a carriage in the middle of the night and into the vacant street. She wore the look of exhaustion, yet her eyes sparkled with interest as she took in her quiet surroundings. A demure cap of lace covered her rust colored hair and a small spread of freckles covered her nose. A simple white shawl adorned her shoulders, covering the gray traveling dress she wore. Worn leather boots sat on her feet. A valet came from within the modest hotel and took her bags for her before leading her into the hotel. Calmly, she requested a room, paying quickly before she was taken to her domain for the night. The concierge had regarded her with an odd look upon his face, for it was extremely odd for a young lady to come into the hotel unaccompanied after dusk.

The young woman stood in her room and began to undress, travel weary and anxious. Pulling off her lace cap, she unpinned the plaited coil at the nape of her neck and let the ruddy, dark hair fall down her back in a long braid. As she stared at her reflection, Evangeline Lambourne sighed, pulling a nightgown out of her valise before undressing and getting ready for bed. She had come from Le Havre to Paris in order to do research for her latest novel. Evangeline had been writing novels since the age of eighteen, with two published to her assumed name already. Now, at age twenty-three, even though she was considered a reclusive spinster, she felt an immense sense of accomplishment that many women would never have the pleasure of knowing.

Her four sisters and mother all agreed that Evie was the black sheep of their family, and, even though she gladly helped around the house and considered herself a good, obedient daughter, she had always hoped for more while her sisters were content to live as wives and mothers. Two of her sisters had already married, one with children. Her closest sister, Bianca, was being courted and Fern, the youngest, was a mere fifteen. Cadence was the eldest at twenty-seven, followed by Bethany, who was twenty-five. Their mother Giselle had been widowed during her pregnancy with her fifth child and had been left to the task of raising five young girls alone.

The Lambourne family was not wealthy, nor were they considered poor, but since their father Remus had passed suddenly of an unknown cause, money had been scarce. Evie even suspected that Giselle had done some unseemly things to keep them afloat, though she would never voice her theories to her sisters. At the age of eighteen, Evie sent her first finished manuscript to a publisher in Paris and had received a letter months later telling her that her novel was to be printed. The money from that had helped greatly, but had sadly not lasted long enough for them to live comfortably. Fern still wore childish pinafores which were far too short to be called proper for a young woman of fifteen. All of the girls wore hand-me-downs from their older sisters, which had thrice turned fabrics and looked shabby. Evie envied the aristocratic people who took their privileged lives for granted, buying new dresses every day. The women no doubt wore silk stockings and jeweled shoes on their rose scented feet.

Evangeline eyed her own stockings lying on the ground. They were soiled, run in and had stains all over them. Her boots were so old that the leather was thinning and the soles were detaching from the shoe itself. A new hope had crept into Evie's heart when she'd read a recent story in the paper about the recent disasters at the Opera Populaire in Paris. The deformed recluse who had lived in the bowels of the opera had become obsessed with a young soprano and had taken out his devastation over her rejection by dropping the large chandelier during a performance, killing three patrons.

An idea had formed as she decided to begin writing her newest novel loosely following the story of this so-called Phantom of the Opera. It had been the following week that she had made arrangements with a Madame and Monsieur Lacoeur to stay with them. Unfortunately, her carriage had hit a snag, breaking a wheel in an unexpected bout of bad weather, causing them to get into Paris just before midnight. Not wanting to disturb the elderly couple, she had opted to spend the night in the hotel before taking a hansom to their town house on the Rue de Verger.

Her first interview was to be with a Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre, who owned and managed the opera house together. She was to come to the opera house during the dress rehearsal the following afternoon. Messieurs Firmin and Andre had seemed very enthusiastic about her decision to write about their institution and had offered her a free ticked to the playAida in their private box as well.

As the final effects of lethargy sunk in, she let herself lay back into the clean linens of the bed, turning out the lamp on the bedside table. Before she said her prayers, she thought of Giselle, who no doubt had found the meager note left in her room. Evie grinned ruefully as she imagined the look on her mother's face when she realized her third child had run off to Paris to write another novel. Giselle had made no attempt to hide her disapproval of the profession and encouraged Evie to give up writing to become a suitable wife and mother as her sisters had. It had caused more than a disagreement or two between them as Evangeline had vehemently defended her life's passion. Giselle would never understand, having been raised to be nothing more than someone's wife, she believed that a woman's purpose was to accommodate her husband's needs before her own.

Not that Evangeline didn't adore her mother and admire her for raising five children alone without a single complaint, she sometimes felt frustrated at her failure to see eye to eye with her mother. It was simply the fact that, for some selfish reason, Evie felt she was destined to be more than a country wife and mother. Even her father, whose face was becoming less clear to Evie with each passing yet, had always told her she was different and that she would change the world one day. She liked to believe that, and it was his voice that kept her focused on her goals. Vowing that when she finally reached the success she deserved, she would buy her mother a new house and provide her younger sisters with the things they had lacked such as proper clothing and undergarments. Fern and Bianca were both well developed young girls without a proper corset and chemise to wear under their clothes to contain them.

Closing her eyes, Evie clasped her hands beneath her chin and began to pray.

"Dear Lord…please help me to find what I am looking for…" She stopped, biting her lip. "If only I knew what it was I was seeking…Amen." Finishing, she pulled the covers around herself and allowed herself to sink into the comfort of a warm bed.

Monsieur and Madame Lacouer received her kindly, showing her to her room and allowing her to bathe and dress in privacy before her interview at the opera. Monsieur Firmin had told her he would send a private carriage for her to take to the venue. As it turned out, it was the finest carriage she had ever seen, with a plush interior and a foot warmer. She felt guilty, experiencing such luxury while her family wondered where she'd gone. Two older gentleman waited for her on the pavement outside the grand building. One was considerably shorter than the other and had gray hair, while the other had black hair which was streaked with silver. They wore the look of someone oblivious to the rest of the world.

"Mademoiselle Lambourne." The taller of the two said, as a footman helped her step down.

"Monsieur…?" She began, unsure of which was which. The man smiled, extending his hand to her.

"Firmin…this is my partner, Gene Andre." He added, gesturing to the other man and offering his arm.

"A pleasure to meet the both of you, I'm sure." She said graciously, taking the man's arm and allowing him to walk her inside. Staring up at the beautiful, but looming building, a small thrill raced through her and something inside her just knew that terrible and interesting things had happened inside.

The lobby inside was even more spectacular than the exterior with expansive gleaming marble floors, a grand staircase and polished gold statues. The staircase split and formed two balconies overlooking the lobby, which was furnished with plush settees and chairs. A few maids stood around, pausing in their work to study the plainly dressed visitor with mild interest. She was led into an office with two cherry wood desks and leather chairs. A small vial of ink sat on the edge of one of the desks, which was very neat and organized. The other desk, however was a pile of disarrayed papers and pens, making Evie smile briefly at the difference in the managers' temperaments.

"I suppose I shall cut right to the chase, gentlemen…what was your first experience with the Phantom of the Opera?" She asked, holding her notepad and pen at the ready, her reading glasses perched on her nose. The taller gentleman began.

"We were in the scrap metal business you see…when a colleague of ours told us he was retiring and selling the opera house." Monsieur Firmin said. "Naturally, I saw it as an opportunity to expand our horizons. So I proposed the idea to Gene, who agreed wholeheartedly since the scrap metal business was not up to standards."

"Monsieur LeFevre was eager to retire, so we owned the opera within the month. We managed to secure a wealthy patron, I'm sure you've read about the Chagny family…"

Evangeline nodded, scribbling furiously in her notepad.

"Yes, I had read that the Vicomte de Chagny had gotten engaged recently and it mentioned his patronage in the article." She replied.

"Yes well, as soon as we arrived, we began to hear this nonsensical talk about a ghost causing problems in the opera house." Andre interjected as Firmin took over.

"Of course, we thought it to be bollocks, dismissing the claims of Madame Giry, who said…"

"Madame Giry?" She asked, quickly. The man nodded.

"Our ballet mistress of course…" Firmin replied. "She was reading a note that was supposedly from the blasted ghost, saying he requested a salary! Of all things!"

"Not only that," Andre added, "But he ordered us to leave the most desirable seat in the house open for his use!"

"I see…" Evie replied, trying to get all of that down as she listened to the men go back and forth.

"On top of all this! The damned back drop nearly killed our leading soprano, Carlotta Guidicelli…" Firmin's face grew red with the memory of it.

"So in a fit of temper, she walked out, leaving us with virtually no understudy and a performance only hours away…" Andre countered.

"Thankfully, one of the chorus ballerinas knew the role and could sing it…Christine Daae…"

"The viscount's fiancée?" Evangeline asked with new interest.

"Yes." Firmin affirmed. "It seems the Phantom had some sort of fixation with her…though I could have sworn that it was the Vicomte who was vouching for her. We'd thought he'd taken her as a mistress, you see…it's not uncommon for aristocratic men to take women of performing professions…"

"Yes Monsieur," Evie interrupted, holding her hand up. "I am perfectly aware of the corruption in society. Do go on…" She said. As she listened to the rest of the managers' story, ideas began to form in her head like wildfire. A man born with half a face, scorned by society…falls in love with a young ballerina and then…"

"Yes that would be splendid!" Monsieur Andre replied, bringing her out of her thoughts. "What do you think Mademoiselle?" Vaguely, she looked at the gentlemen over her thin framed spectacles.

"About what, Monsieur?" He smiled.

"You will attend the gala tonight, won't you?" He implored. A blush heated her cheeks as she shook her head.

"I couldn't…I'm afraid I don't have decent attire, and…"

"Nonsense! What a silly reason not to attend!" Firmin intruded as if fine dresses were no more than petty spending. "The local dressmaker is a dear friend. I'm sure she could lend you a decent gown…Andre!" He barked at his partner, who jumped in response. "Fetch Madame Giry!" The man nodded and left the room as Evie began to pack her notepad into her reticule. Moments later, the diminutive manager returned with a red haired woman who looked to be about forty.

"Monsieur Firmin?" She asked quizzically.

"Ah, Antoinette! I have a favor to ask of you…" He replied, pouring himself a drink. "Could you accompany Mademoiselle Lambourne to Lady Priscilla's dress shop to borrow a gown for this evening? She didn't bring a proper ball gown for the gala."

The woman studied her with a curious look on her face, but her blue eyes were warm and there was a maternal kindness in them.

"We'll see what we can do, Monsieur." Madame Giry replied, beckoning for Evie to follow her. "How old are you dear?"

"Three and twenty, Madame." She replied shyly.

"What a positively innocent face you have, child. You don't look a day over seventeen." The woman said, as a warmth flowed through her. "What is your first name?"

"Evangeline." Her voice was small as she followed the stately woman out into the lobby.

"Wait for me here. I'm going to instruct the ballet chorus to retreat into the dance hall. My daughter Marguerite will accompany us." Her voice was so resolute, Evie couldn't imagine anyone ever intimidating her or questioning her. Pulling on her bonnet and cloak, she smoothed the rumpled layers of her raggedy day dress, noticing a hole in the finger of her glove. Self conscious, she closed her hand to hide it, ashamed of it and yet, strangely proud that she was one of the few women who had a career, unsuccessful as it had been.

The woman and a small blonde appeared minutes later, wearing traveling clothes and cloaks. A flush made Evie's cheeks red as she realized their clothes were finer than her own.

"This is my daughter Meg." Madame Giry explained, directing them out onto the Rue Scribe to find a hansom cab.

"Pleasure to meet you." Evangeline said, nodding kindly to the small girl.

"Likewise…" She said meekly. "You remind me of my sister, but your hair is more fiery." She added, making Evie blush again. She had inherited the reddish tint of her father's Auburn hair, earning her the pet name "Rusty" from her sisters.

"Marguerite!" Madame Giry scolded, giving Evie an apologetic look.

"You have another daughter?" She asked politely. The woman nodded.

"A foster daughter. Christine. She is the same age as Meg." She explained as Evie's ears pricked at the name. Christine…surely not the same as Christine Daae. "Her father, Gustave Daae, the violinist…he died of consumption nine years ago. Our families had been close and as Christine's mother had died and they had no other family to speak of, I took the girl in and raised her here." A cab pulled to the side of the road, and the driver hopped down to help them inside.

The ride to Lady Priscilla's was short and Evie insisted on paying the cab fare, much to Madame Giry's protests. Truthfully, she really shouldn't spend frivolously, but her pride had gotten the better of her. The dress shop was luxurious, with fine fabrics draped everywhere and plush pink carpeting adorning the floor. Lady Priscilla was a red faced, stout woman with a haughty look to her.

"Madame Giry!" She said in surprise. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Lady Priscilla, my employer, Monsieur Firmin asked that I bring Mademoiselle Evangeline Lambourne to your shop to borrow a dress and proper undergarments for tonight's gala at the opera. You will be attending of course?" She added.

"But of course." Lady Priscilla replied, moving to Evie and scrutinizing every inch of her, making her feel as though she were on display. "Your complexion is very fair, and pink won't do for you…no, I think green. You must wear green my dear." With a triumphant look at Madame Giry, the heavyset woman disappeared into another room.

"She's very proud of her work." Madame Giry explained.

"An admirable quality." Evie said sincerely. "I do so adore a woman who takes pride in what she does." Smiling at Meg, the girl seemed to fight her conscience.

"What brings you to the opera Mademoiselle Lambourne?" She asked innocently. Evie smiled benignly at her.

"I am writing a novel…about the Phantom of the opera." She said easily as the girl turned white and gasped.

"Y-you are?"

"Yes…it will be fictional, of course, but based on the facts I find out." She replied. Madame Giry's eyes grew dark.

"Do you really think that wise, my dear?" She asked. Evie looked at her in confusion.

"What's the harm?" She asked honestly, bemused as to what could possibly come of a silly novel. The woman did not have the chance to reply, however, for Lady Priscilla returned with a pile of emerald green, adorned with beads.

"It looks like I'll hardly have to alter it at all…" She said proudly, obviously displaying her knowledge of the woman's form. "Your more full in this area…" She added, gesturing to Evie's breasts.

"I'm sorry…" She began, but the woman clicked her tongue.

"Nonsense! Women would kill for your looks, dear! Here then, try it on…" Obliging, Evie allowed the woman to help her try on the dress, which was nearly a perfect fit, but for the fact it was a bit long. In the end, Evie ended up with silk stockings, garters, and a pristine white corset.

Hours later, while Evie was preparing to go to the opera at the Lacoeur's home, across town in a newly built estate sat a man at his desk, pouring over paperwork. A half empty glass of brandy sat near him as his factotum, Dag Holden waited for acknowledgement from his employer.

"Sir, a woman is here to see you." He replied. The man looked up, his stare as cold as ice.

"Cressida, Lady Remy?" He inquired with interest.

"No sir, a Madame Giry." Holden replied nervously. With a curt nod, the employer gestured for her to be sent in.

"Well, well, well…look at you." The man eyed his guest with hard eyes.

"Antoinette, what is it?" He asked, devoid of emotion.

"I never would have guessed it." She said, looking around the room. "You certainly do have a taste for the finer things in life." Her voice was mocking, irritating him.

"What the devil do you want Antoinette?" He growled. "Is she pregnant?" Antoinette stared at him as if he were a stranger to her.

"No. I'm not here to report on Christine. Though, I'm told she and her husband are touring the continent." The woman sighed. "I hear you've taken up with Lady Remy." She replied, a hint of disgust in her voice. "You were never one for sins of the flesh, Erik."

"You mind your business and I'll mind mine Annie." He said, returning to his paperwork.

"Fine." Antoinette replied harshly. "I just thought you might like to know a young woman is sniffing around the opera to do research on a novel she's writing…about the Phantom of the Opera."

"Who is she?" He asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Her name is Evangeline Lambourne." Antoinette said quietly. "She's twenty-three…from Le Havre. That's all I know other than she is the guest of the managers at the gala performance of Aida tonight." Walking to look out the window, Antoinette sighed. "The strange thing is, I think she's poor. She tries not to let on, but she had to borrow a dress from Lady Priscilla's…" Erik stood, smoothing his hair and straightening his cravat.

"I shall investigate the matter myself. In fact, this very minute, I intend to send Holden to Priscilla's and have her send over three more dresses as well as stockings, shoes, unmentionables and the like."

"But why?" Antoinette asked, turning to stare at him. He peered down at her arrogantly.

"I'm going to woo her…then I'm going to find out what the fuck she wants with me and send her back to Le Havre. I don't need spinster novelists sniffing around my private life." He said dismissively. "Holden!" He called, waiting patiently for the factotum and drinking the remainder of his brandy.

"Yes sir?" The man asked breathlessly.

"I need you to run an errand for me. I've written down the orders. Take this to Lady Priscilla's dress shop." Antoinette stared at him with an odd look on her face.

"Who are you?" She asked in a whisper. Ignoring her, he added.

"Also, send a note to Cressida and tell her I can't see her tonight." Holden nodded and left the room.

"Sleeping with married women is not going to rid you of your heartache over Christine…I know you love her…"

"I do not fucking love her!" He roared, losing his icy composure. "And you can go to hell if you think otherwise! Now, go and meddle in someone else's affairs because I have work to do, damn you!" He heard her leave as he fought to retain his calm. Pouring himself another drink, he said, "You can go to the devil too Christine Daae."