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No Easy Way	By : secretlysecretly Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 7567 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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A/N: This is our first work of phiction so please be gentle in your criticism. All reviews will be welcomed with open arms!

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Before reading, please take notice of the following:

Our Erik is modeled after Gerard Butler's outstanding performance as the Phantom.

Christine shippers, please take into consideration that this is not a Christine-friendly phic, so approach at your own risk.

Happy end is guaranteed as the story is pretty much finished by us, and we're merely in the process of editing the chapters (which are quite a few).

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Disclaimer: We own nothing of the Phantom of the Opera. All characters belong to Gaston Leroux and Sir Andrew Lloyd Webber.

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Chapter 01

“It’s over now, the music of the night”

Crashing the last mirror and stepping out of the candlelight and into one of the passageways that led out of his lair, Erik allowed the darkness to consume him as the sobs racked his body. He took a few steps before he realized there was no point in it anymore. Perhaps the best thing that could ever happen to him would be to allow the mob to catch him and beat him to a bloody mess before hanging the sorry excuse of a man he had become for his crimes. At least that way he wouldn’t have to live the rest of his miserable existence trying to mend his broken heart.

She was gone. Christine was gone forever with that boy. He would never see her beautiful eyes again. Never again would he hear her beautiful voice as she sung for her angel of music.

“Angel of music…” what a ridiculous notion. Angel of death; an angel condemned in eternal peril; a demon forever faced with the wrath of the powers that be… maybe. But never an angel of music. Only a sweet innocent child would ever believe him to be her angel of music. Only the naïve mind of Christine could ever grant him such a name. Yet, in the end, she too had recognized him for what he truly was. What was it she had called him? Pitiful creature of darkness… That was a perfect description of what he saw himself as. A pitiful, vengeful creature that was condemned to live in utter darkness to the end of time.

Born into a rich noble family, his father a figure he had never set his eyes upon. His mother, the only presence in his life up to the age of nine. She would keep him locked up in a room, only spending some time with him when she brought him nourishment and water. Only once could he remember anything else coming from his mother and that was a mask, that last year before he had run away from “home”. It was the first time he could remember even trying to form a question in his juvenile mind. What was this piece of fabric? Whatever could she have brought him? All he could think, all that he could say was “why?” And then that look on her face. He could still feel his blood turning cold to the iciness of her stare. She didn’t even dignify him with an answer. She simply stepped out of the room calmly before returning moments later, a mirror in her hand. She handed him the object and once again stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her softly.

His chubby childish hands had held the strange object, not knowing what to do with it. He had never seen a mirror before. Turning it to figure out what it was useful for, he looked at the glassy surface and saw a monster before him. He screamed, threw the mirror to the floor, running into a corner of the room, looking around for the hideous monster. It was nowhere to be seen… Hesitantly he crawled out of his hiding place, struggling to understand what had just happened. Maybe the monster was hiding in the glass…

He approached the object cautiously, all the while glancing around in fear, and finally he bent his head to look again at the surface. The hideous creature was there again but didn’t make a move for him. It simply stared at him in horror. He extended his little hand in order to see what it would do in return. It did the same. He put his hand down and the creature mirrored his movement. He turned his head to the right and saw that thing do the same. Again he brought his hand up and saw the monster bring its hand up as well, with a look of sheer terror in its eyes. This time he brought his hand up to rest on his face, and saw again that it was doing the same. The horrific screams of the child he once was, resonated in his mind as the wrecked man that now lived inside his body knelt in a heap against the grimy floor.

As his body was racked in sobs, he could hear them in the distance. The bloodthirsty mob was finally on his tracks. They were coming for him. Was this to be the end then? The notorious Phantom reduced to a shell of a man, hunted down and killed for his crimes in the deep recesses of his Opera House? It was certainly fitting… A life lived in darkness only to be taken in darkness.

Pitiful creature of darkness… He was amazed at the accuracy her small mind could describe him in. Was she safe? Had her beloved Raoul harbored her from harm’s way? Out of his way? They should be fleeing the opera now. If the boy could find his way out in his terrified stupor, they should be stepping into his carriage right now. A carriage led by his fine horses. Maybe the boy was still raising his hand to the level of his eyes for the last few steps that would lead to the couple’s freedom. That would be funny to watch…

The mob was close now. He could hear them raising the gate to his lair. He stood, prepared to face his destiny.

Maybe just a glimpse. That was all he needed to sustain him through eternity. A glimpse of the funny Viscount. A glimpse of the Viscountess to be. Just a glimpse of her perfect complexion, her cascading hair, her stunning face. Just one glimpse. The mob could wait. Just one glimpse. And then he would be content in turning himself in, having been granted the grace of looking upon her one last time. Just one glimpse. And then he would be happy dying a thousand deaths in the hands of his executors. Just one glimpse. And then he would willingly step into the torture chamber he himself had created. Just one glimpse…

He kept repeating the words like a mantra in his head, running as fast as he could. The passage leading out to Rue De Scribe echoed with his hasty footsteps and his panting. He was almost there, he could smell her perfume in the air, he could see her in his mind’s eye stepping into that carriage. It wasn’t long now, he could feel it… He would soon be granted his last glimpse of heaven… Bursting out of the door that led out of the Opera, he looked around frantically. There it was! The carriage bearing the De Chagny seal was resting unused, but he could see no sign of the two lovers.

“What is wrong with that boy? Did I have to draw him a map out of the catacombs?” he muttered under his breath. Where could they possibly be? Maybe they had been trapped in the fire that now consumed the imposing structure. Had he killed his angel in his selfless act of granting her her freedom? Just as he was about to step out of the shadows in order to enter the burning building from the main entrance, he saw them. His angel and her lover running to the carriage that would forever take her away from him. He took a step and then another, steadily approaching the couple. Christine turned to Raoul and put her arms around his neck.

“Please Raoul, take me away from all …this. I cannot bear it any longer.”

For a moment, Erik’s heart stopped. He simply stood there, staring at his angel, mesmerized at the sound of her voice. And then, the Viscount spoke.

“Yes my love. You’ve been through so much. Let me lead you away from all this madness.”

Madness… As much as Erik hated the boy, he was right. Everything that happened here tonight had-

“No Raoul! It’s not… this” she indicated the surrounding crowd that was still screaming. “Take me away from that monster!”

With these words, they both stepped into the carriage and Erik watched, dumbfounded, as the vehicle became nothing more than a dot in the horizon.

He stepped back and once again let the darkness envelope him in its cloak.

Suddenly he realized that it had all been in his mind. His judgment, once clouded by jealousy, pain and rage instantly became crystal clear, as if a veil had been lifted from his eyes. He could see now that he had been a fool all along. From the moment he had been witness to that little love scene at the rooftop, up to minutes ago when he had watched the object of his infatuation step into the carriage with her lover, he had been acting like a madman. He was sure all along that she would love him. No one could ever even like him after having seen his face, why should she be any different?

He simply sat there, seemingly in a stupor, contemplating all of the moments he had been lucky enough to spend in his angel’s presence, the minutes turning into hours, struck with the harsh reality. Love that turned normal men into nobles, had turned him into the monster that anybody who had ever laid eyes on him believed him to be. He had committed murder and extortion in his search for love. Finally though, he had done the right thing, he had allowed his beloved a chance for a lifetime of happiness side by side to her lover. The Viscount.

As much as he couldn’t stop his heart from constricting in jealousy for his rival, he knew he was a better man than he would ever be. He loved Christine. He would care for her always, protect her from the world and all its cruelties. He had protected her against Erik after all, hadn’t he? He just hoped that some day he would be able to find it in his heart and be happy for Christine and her Viscount. If it’s true that time heals all wounds, maybe his broken heart could someday mend itself and he would be content with her happiness.

He stood and started treading back to his lair. The voices had died down long ago. How long had he been lying in that fowl corridor? Soon he reached his home; the only home he had ever known, now lying in ruins around him.

Although just a few candles were lit in the room, he could easily make out the wrecks of what had once been his beautiful home. He approached his organ and saw it half-broken. More than half of the pipes were lying on the floor, most of them scattered on the way to the lake. He absentmindedly caressed the keyboard and pressed one of the keys gently. Nothing, not even a hum came out. He tried again, this time more forcefully, almost at the edge of desperation. Nothing. It was as if the organ matched his soul; dead and silent now that she had left him.

A few feet across from him, he saw a half burnt copy of his score for “Don Juan Triumphant”. He sneered. It would seem that Don Juan hadn’t turned out to be so triumphant after all…

He made his way into Christine’s room. The once magnificent swan bed now lay in ruins flung upon the floor. All of the items that he had once purchased with love for her were now reduced to rubbles. The clothes that she had worn were strewn about like no more than worthless rugs. And her veil… oh, her veil was torn in pieces. She should have worn it to walk down the isle to him, and now she was gone; gone with that boy, begging him to sweep her away from her previous life. Away from the Opera House, away from him. And it felt as if she had plunged a dagger into his heart.

It had all been a lie.

His shoulders shagged and he turned to leave her room behind. He walked over to where his books were strewn about on the floor, some of them torn, others burnt, a few surprisingly still intact. He glanced around and picked one book up from the rubble. He turned it over in his hands and saw that he was holding “Divina Commedia” by Dante Alighieri.

Could he find the strength to retrace himself within the madman he had become? She had never made any promises of love to him. She had never acknowledged his love for her. Even the boy wasn’t the fop he had made him out to be in his mind. In actuality he was a noble man, merely trying to save the woman he loved from a monster.

Was he truly a monster? Was that what had become of his genius? All for the love of a self-centered girl who, while leaving him behind to spend his remaining life in solitude had not hesitated coming back to return his ring? Was she worth it? He still couldn’t find the answer in his cloudy mind.

Alas, he knew he couldn’t go on like this. If it were a life of solitude he had ahead of him, at least he would live it like a man and not like so much as an animal on the run. He would leave behind him the gloomy labyrinth of the Opera House to find peace in the light. Maybe he should leave Paris altogether. After all, there was nothing to keep him there anymore.

Madame Giry, once his best and only friend had betrayed him. She too had finally been convinced that he was a lunatic, capable of anything to win over Christine. Was she wrong to think so? He certainly had gone to extremes. He had lied, deceived, threatened, schemed, he had even murdered for her. Still, at the last minute, in a moment of revelation he had realized that he couldn’t simply force love to come to him, and had let her go.

Christine on the other hand would never return to him. She had fled, terrified of him without even bothering to find out if he had become prey to the murderous mob. Not even granting him a second glance as she stepped onto the carriage and into her new life as a Vicountess.

Yes, perhaps leaving Paris and the Opera House behind him was the first sane thought that had crossed his mind in years. He would build a house in the countryside, step into the light and try to find the peace that he had been longing for all his life. He certainly had the funds for it. Those long years of collecting his fees as Opera Ghost would finally pay off and give him the means to embark on a new life.

Turning his eyes to the book in his hands, he realized that it was open at the third part of “Divina Commedia” called “Paradiso”. His gaze fell upon the name “Beatrice” that in Dante’s work meant nothing more than “hope”. He immediately took it as a sign. Like Dante who had once been lost in a dark forest and after a long journey had found hope and peace in his soul, he too would be able to find it, however long it might take him to get there. Finally he could see a distant ray of hope rising; a hope that he could start over.

Alas, even if he found himself in Paradiso, deep inside him he knew that he would never be able to escape his loneliness. At last he accepted that he would be alone for ever in his own Inferno.

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No Easy Way