Disclaimer: I absolutely do NOT own, nor do I gain any monetary subsidies, for this fan fiction story. The characters, setting, names belong to the author that created them (Leroux, Kay), BUT the plot is all mine!

Author’s Note: Thanks for the reviews! I appreciate the feedback. I will try to be more diligent in updating both MMM and The Guardian of Gorham City, but whether that will be plausible remains to be seen since college and work may demand most of my time. However, I will try! Thanks and as always, read and enjoy!

In this chapter, Erik emerges as the Phantom once more. Raoul and Christine have a candid conversation. Nadir finds Darius’s body, and the Captain discovers Madame Giry’s secret. Some may find the need for some tissues…It is a very sentimental chapter.

“I would rather have eyes that cannot see; ears that cannot hear; lips that cannot speak, than a heart that cannot love.”

Robert Tizon quotes

“In taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; but in passing it over, he is superior.”

Francis Bacon

“There is no grief like the grief that does not speak.”

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Chapter Eighteen-What Becomes of the Broken Hearted

As I walk this land of broken dreams

I have visions of many things

But happiness is just an illusion

Filled with sadness and confusion

What becomes of the broken hearted

Who had love that's now departed

I know I've got to find

Some kind of peace of mind

Maybe

The roots of love grow all around

But for me they come a tumblin' down

Everyday heartaches grow a little stronger

I can't stand this pain much longer

I walk in shadows

Searching for light

Cold and alone

No comfort in sight

Hoping and praying for someone to care

Always moving and going nowhere

What becomes of the broken hearted

Who had love that's now departed

I know I've got to find

Some kind of peace of mind

Help me please

I'm searching though I don't succeed

But someone look, there's a growing need

All is lost, there's no place for beginning

All that's left is an unhappy ending

Now what becomes of the broken-hearted

Who had love that's now departed

I know I've got to find

Some kind of peace of mind

I'll be searching everywhere

Just to find someone to care

I'll be looking everyday

I know I'm gonna find a way

Nothing's gonna stop me now

I'll find a way somehow

I'll be searching everywhere

(A/N: Jimmy Ruffin’s ‘What Becomes of the Broken Hearted?’-A beautiful song)

Nadir knelt down on his aging knees to get a closer look of the boy that he had once considered his own son. The body had already drawn flies, although few due to the late winter cold, and the small body was rigid from rigor mortis. His glazed eyes of terror were frozen in time, still accentuating the gruesome fright he must have suffered before the moment of his sudden death.

Tears stung the Persian’s eyes as a large ache began to pulsate in the back of his throat. The Punjab lasso was taut against the boy’s blue skin, leaving a purplish ligature mark around his broken neck. His body, slumped against the brick wall, head dislocated from the neck, and those grey-glazed eyes forever would haunt Nadir as he finally closed the Darius’s eyes for the last time. Gently as he could, he lay the stiff corpse down and covered the body with his cloak. He could not feel the biting wind as it railed against his form, battering his back with voracious tenacity as it warned of an oncoming storm.

The sky rumbled as some drops of rain began to fall. Turning away, Nadir stifled a sob as the police carelessly carted the dead boy to the morgue. Biting the back of his hand, the Arab tried to process this senseless brutality, but his mind could not focus. His heart cried out with such pain, familiar pain, which he nearly collapsed from grief. Familiar pain was always worse than pain first felt.

“Khan, I am sorry for your loss.”

The Arabian did not even turn his head in the direction of the dreaded voice he knew all too well. The Captain came forward and pressed a hand on the Persian’s shoulder. Sighing, the police chief signaled one of his men and wrapped a blanket around the shivering man’s form.

Once Nadir found his voice, he spoke quietly and coldly towards Agnew, “I wish to be alone now.”

With a brief nod, the police officer left Nadir in the street as the storm rumbled in the sky. Rain began to pour down but the Persian stood still in the abandoned Parisian street unable to grasp the death of the boy he had loved more than life. Then, that memorable hurt began to surface in his chest, the familiar pain of losing a child, Reza. Now that ache increased twofold as his old knees gave way in the street. Collapsing, he stared up into the black sky and blinked several times due to the raindrops that poured down his face before his mouth opened; erupting in such pitiful screams that no one dared to attempt to console the grieving man.

As he cried out for his dead loved ones, no one came to his aid and he vowed to seek vengeance against Erik. He was no longer Erik’s conscience. The moment the masked man killed Darius; Nadir finally turned his back on his former friend. He would kill Erik, the equivalent to Persian justice. He would kill his former friend to avenge Darius who had not received the chance to live. A life for a life…

--The de Chagny Mansion--

“Christine! Oh, thank heavens you are all right! How I have missed you!” Raoul rushed forward to take Christine in his arms, and despite his excitement, the woman was less than thrilled to be in his presence. She wanted to be with…him. Yet, she was glad to see that her friend was still breathing and he was in good health. Loving Raoul was easy and therefore she knew that she was not in love with him. Love was difficult, especially when you have to give it up.

When he leaned in to kiss her, she pressed a hand to his lips to stop the kiss from happening. Puzzlement flared in his blue eyes and his brows furrowed in surprise as he tried to register why she suddenly looked at him with her sad beautiful eyes.

“Christine, what have I done?”

Tears then slid down her cheeks as she closed her eyes, grief consuming her. This was the moment she had been dreading. She was about to break her friend’s heart…again.

“You have done nothing wrong, Raoul. It is I that has failed you.”

Turning her back to him, she strolled to the window that overlooked the vast green lawn with the small creek and chirping birds. She felt his eyes’ piercing gaze at her back and she swallowed the large lump in her throat as she prepared to confess everything.

“I love him, Raoul.”

A soft gurgling sound was heard behind her as Raoul scoffed, “Excuse me, I believe I have misheard you…What did you say again?”

Turning to face his worried countenance, she spoke louder, “No, you heard me correctly. I love Erik…I love the Phantom…”

His blue eyes widened in horror and repulsion as he exclaimed, “No That monster has brainwashed you! He has done something to hurt you! I will not let him get away with this. He will pay for hurting you!”

“No! Raoul, listen to me! I have been lying to you this whole time…even before the train accident that took my memory. I remember everything…I remember when I first realized I loved Erik, and it was that fateful night…the premiere of Don Juan.”

Astonished and heartbroken, Raoul shook his head unable to be so easily convinced the woman he so desperately loved did not reciprocate his feelings. Sitting down in the armchair, as his legs could not stand on their own, he stared at her with eyes full of sorrow.

“So, it is true then…You never loved me…You said you wanted to marry me, but why? Am I such a horrid person that you could not love me? What did I do wrong?”

Kneeling down in front of him, she took his limp hands in her cold ones as she attempted to explain her actions and feelings to her former childhood friend who looked at her with the most heartbroken eyes, eerily reminiscent of Erik’s gold eyes when she left the underground lair the last time.

“Listen to me, Raoul. You did nothing wrong. I do love you, but not in the way that a wife should love her husband. I was truly confused as to what I wanted then…Erik suffered from deep madness because I could not make up my mind between you and him. He could not handle my indecision; I drove him to…”

“You did not drive him to kill, Christine…He chose to commit those actions…I think somewhere I knew you did not love me…I believe I first knew it when you told me the night on the rooftop and you refused to answer when I directly asked you. I just did not want to believe you could love him…over me…I tried so hard to save you from him, but in the end, you did not want to be saved, did you?”

He did not want an answer to his rhetorical questions as he paused shortly. Before she could respond, he spoke again with bitterness and resentment reflected in his tone.

“So why are you here? Go and be with him, Christine…I will not fight to be with a woman I love if she is in love with another man…No matter how atrocious the acts he committed, I know he would die before hurting you…”

Christine looked at Raoul and for the first time, she saw, firsthand, how detrimental the love she and Erik shared was. Their love had been toxic to Raoul, Madame Giry, the Willows, and Philippe, too. Raoul shoulders slumped and his refined nature now departed. As the breath that escapes in the winter cold, seen then dissipates in the frigid air, so was the life that now departed the Vicomte’s body.

No longer sat the rich, dignified, strong, and valiant man, now sat a broken, heart-wrenchingly sorrowful man whose spirit suddenly seemed to vanish as the night vanishes with the morning light.

“Raoul…I am here so that we can marry each other.”

He bitterly laughed at this and stood on two shaky legs, walking over to the veranda that was only a few feet away. Leaning against the railing, he peered down two stories with a glazed, wild look in his eyes before whispering to her when she approached him from behind.

“Do you ever wonder what death is like, Christine? Erik should know; he brings it wherever he goes. While you have been keeping secrets, I, too, have not been forthcoming with some of the darkness I, too, hold. Is that why you love him? Because you wish to save him…I want to know what it’s like the moment before death…Do you ever really think about the one you love most or do you selfishly give in to the fear of dying?”

He turned towards her with his back leaned over the railing as Christine looked on horrified by the madness that swirled in his blue eyes. Closing them, he sighed heavily before speaking normally again as he retained his sanity.

“I fear death…Fear is what keeps us from going after what we want most…And I fought that fear to be with you…and look what happened…My greatest fear came to fruition. You never loved me. Now you come back in my life and spit in my face with a request of what I wanted most: a beautiful marriage with you filled with love. You have the audacity after all I have gone through to be with you to ask for a marriage not out of love but of fear. Do you truly despise me. Why? Is it not enough that you destroyed my heart, must you take my dignity, too?”

Christine raised a hand to her lips as she stifled a cry. Her heart ached with such throbbing pain; she closed her eyes to stop the tears from cascading down her face; it was a vain attempt. Why was she even here? She was so cruel…She was ruthless…She was no better than Erik was when he killed, for she had just killed her best friend’s spirit.

“Raoul, I am so sorry. I never should have burdened you…I will go.”

Before she could leave, his answer stopped her at the threshold. His quiet voice, void of any emotion before now held an astringent but gentle quality to it.

“That’s the problem, Christine. You never have been a burden and never will be. I will always love you. I will never get over you…Perhaps I understand Erik more than I would like. Hell, maybe I am just like the masked murderer.”

Turning to face him, she rushed forward and embraced his limp body. He did not wrap his arms around her, something she understood but hurt her heart nonetheless. When she peered into his eyes, she saw emptiness reflected back. He had shut down, and all of it was her fault. Madame Giry’s motive to keep her away from breaking both men’s hearts now came back to her; now she could see why Antoinette had done so.

“Raoul…”

“Shh.” He gently whispered, pressing a gloved finger to her lips before enveloping her in his arms one last time. Then he brought his lips to hers and kissed her coldly before he sat back down in his chair to stare at the crackling flames of the fire.

Confused, Christine touched his cheek but he refrained from acknowledging her presence as he continued to stare blankly in the hearth. With nothing left to do, the former singer lifted her skirts and plopped down next to the chair and rested her head on his knee. It was an odd sight. Former lovers who had accepted their fates as being alone now joined in hopes of saving each other from the clutches of madness and sorrow.

Their reunion had become the very end of their union. Raoul silently struggled against the constraints of his love and the draw of darker forces that had yet to be revealed while Christine struggled with the detriment she had caused all of the people she loved. Perhaps given time, the two would find that love never ceases. Love may die, but there is life beyond death; and where there is life, there is always love.

--La Sûreté Nationale (Police Headquarters) Paris--

“Commissaire, I have something you need to see. It’s regarding the masked murderer’s case.”

Agnew snatched the parcel of paper out of the gendarme’s hand and motioned with his hand for the nuisance to go away while he read the letter intently. The young gendarme gave a reproaching look directed towards his superior before exiting the office.

Suspicious of the masked man, the Captain did not want to take any chances with him; so he had hired his men to do surveillance of the masked man when he stayed at the asylum as well as any of his friends. The list included Nadir Khan, Megan Giry, Christine Daae (until her disappearance), and of course, Madame Giry.

As the Commissiare read the letter, a sinister grin spread across his features. Putting his feet atop the desk, he darkly chuckled at the extreme bout of good luck he had just stumbled upon by this small paper. Before any of those on the list could retrieve their mail, Armand and his men intercepted the letters in order to see if the masked man contacted them.

Although, this letter was not originally from Desslar himself, he found the epistle just as appealing. Laying the letter down on the desk, he stared at the feminine cursive handwriting as the letter’s details slowly sunk in.

My dearest Meg:

I know that you have not fully understood my relationship with Erik. You simply know him as the Phantom, a man who committed horrific crimes and frightens all who get to know him. Yet, Megan, I have known Erik since he was an infant. I knew him before he emerged as the Opera Ghost and haunted the theater. I once told you I was a godmother to my friend, Madeline’s only child. That child was Erik.

You were too young to remember, but Erik and you met nearly thirteen winters ago. He was injured from being beaten by superstitious people, and I had to tend to his wounds while you played with your dolls outside the cabin.

I tried so hard to stay out of his life and hoped he would do the same, but he always found a way to help me. When I was too poor to take you to the hospital, he supplied me with the medicine that saved your life.

I almost lost our little apartment several occasions, and he always came through for us. He ensured we had our home as well as guaranteeing food, medicine, water, and supplies were available for us. Your father died before you could get to know what a wonderful man, the love of my life, was. For that, my heart will always grieve, but you must understand the gravity of what I am about to reveal.

I loved your father. I truly did. Yet, in a moment’s weakness, I had relations with another man, Madeline’s widower. Yes, I slept with my best friend’s husband shortly after she died and when Erik was but a boy. It was only one night, a moment of weakness, I swear to you.

It was not long until I found out I was pregnant with you, Little Meg. The day I found out was also the day I found out my dear Ferdinand was dead…just like Madeline…just like the Erik’s father days later. Megan, Erik is your half-brother. You two share the same lifeblood in your veins.

I had to tell you the truth in case you needed this information to survive. I cannot live with my lies anymore. I am sure you know about what I did to Christine, and if you hate me, I understand. I swear to you that I will not meddle in any more lives. Take this revelation and do what you will. Erik is your older brother. The Phantom of the Opera that frightened so many is in a way my child as I consider Christine.

Please, I do not deserve it, but I simply ask for forgiveness for my indiscretions. I love you. I love you with all of my soul and mind just as I love Erik and Christine. When I see you next, I hope to be married to Nadir. Thank-you for urging me to marry the man I love, little Meg. Your love and admiration for Nadir has touched my heart.

Seeking your undying forgiveness and love,

Your mother,

Antoinette Giry

An evil and calculated plan formed in Armand’s mind as his usual sinister grin spread across his features. Oh, how delighted he was to make that masked man pay! Moreover, he certainly could care less if innocent people were caught in the crossfire. No one made a fool out of Captain Agnew! No one!

--The local inn outside of Paris’s city limits--

“Erik, we need to talk.”

The masked man had yet to move from the position he had retained nearly eight hours prior. Empty bottles of whiskey lay next to him, the only proof of any sustenance he had drank within that timeframe. The smell of alcohol was so prevalent that it now took on a rancid odor, causing Serene to cover her mouth.

Sitting rigidly still in the armchair, his back faced her as he stared into the fiery hearth with a blank stare. His mask had obviously been tossed carelessly in the corner of the room, abandoned. He also had thrown his suit jacket on the bed without a care. Not sure if he had heard her, Serene dared to step forward.

Once she reached nearly a foot away, he snarled, “Stop where you stand, Madame.”

Slowly turning his head, he glared at her with his fiery golden eyes of fury. She distinctly became aware of the pounding in her skull as she took a frightened step back as the formerly masked man stood to his full, menacing height.

His breath and body reeked of alcohol, but he was not drunk. As he looked at her, he surveyed the damage he had caused to her face. Her cheeks were bluish-purple and there were abrasions on her forehead and eyebrow. Her lip also had a minor cut from her biting it when he had slapped her numerous times. The doctor’s once calm green eyes now reflected barely contained terror as he reached out his hand to caress her battered face.

“Serene, I am sorry you had to suffer my wrath…Tell me, how long did you know Christ—she was going to leave?” His voice was so calm that she hesitated, unsure of his state of mind, but she inhaled through her nose and answered a bit shakily.

“She told me on the train. I tried to discourage her…I tried to tell her you would not handle her disappearance well. She begged me to help her…”

Biting her lip, she waited for his reaction. Surprisingly, his grotesque and bloodied face just smiled likening to a Jack-O-Lantern. Turning his back to her, he walked over to the fireplace and rested his head against the mantle, staring into the orange flames.

“Where is your husband?”

Closing her eyes, she did not answer out of fear she would erupt in rage and that would make things worse for them all. Looking up at her, he repeated the question and the doctor closed her eyes and bent her head down to avoid those terrible gold eyes.

Suddenly, she felt his gloved hand forcefully pull her face up to stare into his. Erik did nothing but stare into her eyes and whisper, “My God, did I kill him?”

Before she could bite her tongue, she sardonically replied, “You might as well…Not only does he have four broken ribs, a severe concussion, a battered and bruised body; you also cost him his sight!”

Blinking for several moments, the former Phantom tried to register what the doctor had just told him. Tentatively, he whispered darkly, “You mean to say that Willows is blind…and I am the cause?”

Spitting at him with contempt, she replied, “Yes, you cost my husband his sight! He is lying in bed next door refusing to talk to me…and it is entirely your fault. In fact, this whole fiasco is to blame on you! I wish I had never come to Paris! I wish I had never met you or Christine…Because it seems no matter what I do, I always end up hurting Spencer, a good man who deserves none of what we are doing to him.”

Collapsing at his feet, she let the tears freely flow from her cheeks as the overwhelming emotions from the past months caught up with her. Erik stood still as a vague memory washed over him when he had fallen to his knees tearfully at Christine’s feet with the same cry. Slowly, he kneeled and held Serene in his arms as she attempted to push him away then giving in to her grief.

Suddenly, she began to scream in rage and stood infuriated at herself. Looking around the room, Erik observed her wild eyes and incoherent mumbling. She then proceeded to tear the pictures of the wall and throw clothes in to the fire as well as any other furniture she could smash and burn.

When she had nearly emptied the room, he saw how enraged she still was. Her anger had not dissipated and now instead of turning it on everyone and everything else, she turned her fury to herself.

Snatching up some scissors from the battered desk next to the bed, she shredded the blanket on the bed then looked at him. Her arms were limp at her sides as she tightly gripped the scissors’ handles. The wild look on her face remained and to his astonishment, she pulled her long hair out of the bun and began to snip it off with the scissor blades.

As he watched the beautiful brown locks of hair fall to the ground, he suddenly felt pity for the doctor. He always seemed to have a way of pushing women to their breaking points and now he had pushed Serene to hers.

Guilt and madness swirled in her emerald eyes as she cried out unintelligible phrases and ramblings. Then, she opened the scissors and began to press the blade to the flesh on her arm. Reacting out of instinct, Erik lunged at her and snatched the weapon out of her grasp before she could harm herself.

Responding like a wild banshee, she began to curse at him, spit at him, and fight with him. Yet, he refused to let go of her. Throwing her into the armchair, he used some of the cut Punjab lasso to tie her to the chair he had sat in eight hours prior, rendering her defenseless.

The doctor glared at him with utter hatred as she continued her verbal onslaught. He gripped both sides of her face and the two silently stared into one another’s eyes. When she struggled against him again, he slapped her face.

“You listen to me, Serene! Do not give in to the darkness! Do not give in to the guilt from the boy’s death. You are not the one responsible! I am! I am the reason for all of this! Yet, I know one thing…Spencer is a good man. You are right about that. He loves you…otherwise; he would have left you a long time ago. You are being selfish by hiding within yourself as he suffers in the next room!”

She made no movement and breathed shallowly as she listened to the words Erik spoke as he put on his mask. He gripped her dirty hands and began to sing a dark lullaby when he realized his words were not registering with her. As was a common effect with his melodic voice, her eyes glazed over, giving in to his spell. Soon, her head lulled back as she gave in to sleep. Placing a pillow behind her head to make sure she was more comfortable, he also checked to ensure she was tied and completely helpless.

Once he was satisfied, he stood and left the room to see Spencer. Opening the door next to his room, he found the room to be bright as the sun’s bright rays was beginning to permeate through the small inn window. The pianist, however, could not see the sun or anything else in the room as the masked man entered.

“Spencer…”

As his wife had done, the pianist did not move or respond as his hazel eyes stared blankly at the ceiling. He lay in the bed with his arms crossed and silently screaming inside his mind. How he hated the masked man! How he wished to murder him with his bare hands! Yet, he would not respond. There was no point; he was a helpless and pathetic blind man.

“I came here to…”

“To what? To apologize? Well, you can take your apology and…”

“Your wife needs you more than ever.”

“My wife needs to save you, Desslar. This whole time she has been trying to save you…”

“She is suffering from a severe mental breakdown and only you have the ability to save her.”

“My wife is not the issue, Erik. I cannot help her anymore.”

The masked man inwardly winced at the biting and indifferent tone Spencer directed in his direction. Inhaling deeply through his nose, Erik approached the bed and sat down next to the still man. Folding his hands in his lap, the masked man desperately tried to rally his sanity together in order to save the married couple from the same fate.

“Listen to me, Spencer Willows. I do not care if you hate me. I also do not care if you die. I certainly do not care about you or your wife…but Christine does. She loves you both, and so I am obligated to help you two because I love her. You need to stop shutting your wife out and save her before it is too late. She tried to kill herself just mere moments ago. I prevented her from committing suicide…Do you want her to die?”

A flash of alarm crossed the younger man’s features before fading back to nonchalance, but Erik had seen the crack in the man’s cold surface. Before he could expand upon the younger man’s weakness, Erik could only listen to Willows as he contemptuously spoke.

“Haven’t you done enough damage? Why do you not finish what you started, Desslar? Why do you not kill me now? I am defenseless as you can clearly see…HA! Take that gun and end it right now. I mean you have lost Christine forever…She left you for this very same purpose…You are pathetic to think you can change…YOU?! Ha! There is no way in hell Satan can morph into an angel…You were a fool to think you could be with Christine…”

“ENOUGH!” The masked man lunged forward and began to choke the pianist who remained silent, all the while smirking, knowing he had succeeded in pressing Erik’s buttons. As soon as the younger man began to drift into unconsciousness, the masked man flung his form back in bed. Standing up, Erik began to back away, horrified he had given in to his demons and yet strangely and sickly satisfied of his power.

The Phantom rose up within his body and took over. He would have Christine. He would get her back, and he would get the life he always wanted. He would get the devoted wife he dreamed of and the normal existence he so desperately desired…and to hell with any person who got in his way.

Before he would leave and travel to the de Chagny mansion, he spoke some chilling final words to Spencer who still lay pitifully in the bed. “Spencer, you had better go to your wife before it is she that is in an asylum next.”

--Meg’s House--

“Theo, what are you doing?”

“Nothing, my angel. Go back to sleep; I shall join you within an hour’s time. I just have to finish some work.”

Megan nodded before traveling back upstairs to the couple’s bedroom to sleep while her husband poured over the newspaper that would arrive at every Parisian doorstep within the morning light. The chilling headline read: “BOY’S DEAD BODY FOUND…PHANTOM IS BACK!”

Pressing his fingers at the bridge of his nose, he set his spectacles down on the desk. Running his hand through his curly, burnt orange hair, his green eyes scrutinized over the article as suspicion welled up within his body.

Theo Lancaster was of Irish background, being born in Dublin, Ireland to a poor family. His mother and father had tried their best to raise the family of eight in such troublous times, but often he had known the great pains of poverty and plight of the poor.

When he reached of age, he spent all his money to sail to England where he worked his way up as a stable boy and progressed to his lucrative business of selling the best thoroughbreds for races and the wealthy around the globe.

Once his business was thriving and established, he had moved to Paris to pursue another passion. He always loved literature and had become the Parisian Newspaper editor for the city. He owned the publishing company as well as edited each newspaper edition each night prior to distribution to the masses.

Yet, as he studied the article about Captain Agnew, something within him was telling him it was off. Meg had told him the entire story about the Opera House and the whole scandal involving the Phantom and Christine.

In addition, he was perhaps the most honest and trustworthy person one could meet. Meg had confided to him about Christine, the Willows, and Erik Desslar. Reading over the article for the fourth time, he snatched the paper and put on his coat. He had to see Dr. Willows at once!

Author’s Note: Sorry this chapter is a bit short, but I figure that an update was in order…Finally! I know and apologize for the wait. Please review and let me know how you feel or any frustrations you may have. Next chapter, more drama to come. I am off to work on GoGC. Au Revoir!

Sincerely,

RainsP.

© Copyright 2008