This is my new E/OW story. Thank you for all those who wrote me and asked me to post this story as quickly as possible. I will try to stick to my normal way of doing things. We shall see. Enjoy.


An original adaptation of the continuing story of

"The Phantom of the Opera"

By GerrysJackie

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters of the "Phantom of the Opera"; they are the property of Gaston Leroux.

Cast of Main Characters:

Erik Lacroix (pronounced "La qua") – Gerard Butler

Lavanya (Anya) Keshav - Aishwarya Rai (Bride and Prejudice, Mistress of Spices)

Christine de Chagny – Emmy Rossum

Raoul de Chagny – Taylor Kitsch

Meg Giry – Jennifer Ellison

Annette Giry – Miranda Richardson

Romir Keshav – Anupam Kher (Bride and Prejudice)

Sharad Keshav – Ashmit Patel (Fight Club: Members Only)

Lord Douglas Garrison – David Spade (Just Shoot Me, Joe Dirt) looks only.

Tarrah Sheldon – Kirsten Dunst

Carlotta Guidicelli – Silva Colloca (I am not sure if she can sing or not, but she has the look, and I like Minnie Driver too much to make her a bad person)

Ubaldo Piangi – Victor McGuire

Pieter Mallery - Gaspard Ulliel

Dark Side of the Glass

By Lori Yates

Special thanks to Melissa (Magestar) for providing these lyrics –

I was having a hard time finding them.

Walking in shadows

Feel like I am drifting away

Never able to touch a heart

Too cold to live this way

On the dark side of the glass

Alone on the edge

On the dark side of the glass

I am the outsider

I am the outsider

Looking in.

You can not run from what you are

You can not hide all the pain

When you look through empty eyes

Night falls and the darkness remains

On the dark side of the glass

Alone on the edge

On the dark side of the glass

I am the outsider

I am the outsider

Looking in.

On the dark side of the glass

Alone on the edge

On the dark side of the glass

I am the outsider

I am the outsider

Looking in.


April 1872

The smoky cloud that hovered over the opera house had begun to dissipate and there was a light rain falling, so the damage had been minimal – at least compared to what it could have been.

The caped figure of a man scowled at the looming cloud and felt the warm sting of betrayal and deceit nipping at his heart. A low, rumbling growl gathered in his throat and he roared at the top of his lungs.

"Even now, I feel the music pushing me onward; driving me…seducing me into obeying her call."

His head bowed and he blinked back moisture – not certain if it was rain or tears.

"Why?!" He shouted into the night sky, daring the Deity he had long since scorned to bless him with an answer. "I can not do this anymore – it is over!"

His caged and dangerous voice echoed back at him, leaving him even colder and lonelier than he had ever thought possible; but anger and his own self-preservation drove him on.

There was no cryptic answer to his bellowed prayer; no magical path that suddenly became known to him; just the beating of his shattered heart.

The magnificent stallion standing guard beside him neighed and nudged his shoulder, as if chastising a child throwing a tantrum.

The man turned toward the animal and gently rubbed the long, proud nose with a gloved hand; he spoke in soothing tones.

"I know D'Ombre (Shadow), I am a fool."

The horse bobbed his head up and down as though he agreed with his masters words.

Erik had no idea why he insisted on shouting at a God he had rejected and denied all of his life…why should He listen?

A pleasantly masculine, low chuckle pushed through the darkness and the man actually smiled into the face of the beast.

"You are a wise creature…I would do well to take lessons from you."

He mounted the horse and took one last fleeting look at the beauty of Paris…he loved this city; the cathedrals, the architecture, the art…everything – but it no longer tolerated him.

Many times, he had stood at the top of the opera house and watched humanity scuttle about in its streets – always observing but never quite being a part of it.

"She would have never loved me, D'Ombre…why could I not accept that?" His labored sigh made the horse neigh quietly as though to answer him, "…well, I am a fast learner…I will not make that mistake again."

Although that realization made his heart ache…he finally faced the reality of it; there was never going to be anyone to walk beside him; there was never going to be a soft touch or a loving smile – no one to share his music; his art; his life…no one.

A caustic smile played about his mouth, and he shook his head mockingly.

"It sure took me long enough to come to this conclusion, did it not?"

The question was asked to the wind, but D'Ombre couldn't resist jerking the reigns just a little – making his opinion known.

"Face it Erik…" he spoke to himself in a tone dripping with disdain; "…whatever life you make for yourself - from this point on – will be made alone."

They tread forward, beast and master, making their way through the dark, forgotten streets of the lesser presentable part of Paris – the part that no one wanted to admit existed.

Finally reaching the outer limits of the city, Erik realized how remarkably tired he was; his body felt drained and depleted – and he couldn't remember the last time he has actually eaten something.

His thoughts turned inward as they continued down the darkening road; leaving Paris and the life he had known, behind.

Thankfully, his load was light. He had managed to throw a couple of change of clothes in the bag and almost all of his fortune, save what he left for Annette; however, there was no food or water…that he would have to manage while he traveled.

His thoughts grew dark and angry, feeding the demon of loneliness that always lurked in the darkest recesses of his mind.

I need no one…the quicker I come to realize that, the better. They do not want me, and I do not need will sustain me through the years – my art – it is the way it has to be.

He really had no idea where he was going; so, he just turned west and kept going. Once he had cleared the sights of Paris, Erik steered D'Ombre off the roads and through the forests. The trees would make them harder to track, should the authorities be looking for him.

After a couple of days of sleeping on the dank, cold ground; Erik was feeling the effects of exhaustion penetrating every cell of his body.

He knew he was only miles from the English Channel and decided that England was a good place to start over.

"I have heard that the food is as dreadful as the weather; but neither of those things has ever held much importance to me." he mumbled.

Once again, the rain began to fall and Erik looked upward – feeling the drops beat against the black domino mask he wore. He smirked disgustedly and rolled his eyes.


His sarcastic tone carried with it the contemptuous grin that curved his lips…everything just seemed to be going right along with his mood – dark and gloomy.

"Tonight, I sleep in a bed and get a hot bath…" he leaned his nose down and smelled his own scent, "…a long overdue bath, it would seem."

He traveled for another hour, fighting exhaustion and fatigue, until he came to a small town on the edge of the water. He pulled the dripping hood of his soaked cape up as D'Ombre moved slowly through the tired, abandoned streets.

The Snake's Pit was the first Inn that Erik came upon – it looked rather squalid and low-class, just the sort of place to hide away. He had certainly slept in worse places.

He did not need anyone asking questions; all he needed was a place to rest his head and a hot bath – if that was possible.

Knowing that his expensively tailored cloak would draw unwanted attention, Erik removed it and replaced it with a far more simply designed and less fashionable cloak. He tethered D'Ombre, retrieved his satchel, and opened the rugged door.


Squalid did not even begin to describe it. Erik was certain he had never been in such a place…at least not since the cage.

Rustic and ancient were two words that came to mind, but there was an inch of dust on each piece of furniture and Erik saw rats moving along the baseboards of the walls – not that he minded – he'd shared his home with them on many occasions, he found they did not eat much and they asked no questions.

He walked to the desk and was greeted by what was obviously a very large, well-endowed woman. She eyed him wearily and grunted as he approached the desk; he leaned on his arm to talk to her.

"I need a room and a hot bath."

She stood to her full, impressive height and pursed her overly red lips at him. Her eyes narrowed and she almost shook her finger at him.

The voice she spoke with was raspy and deep, as though she smoked too much.

"We do not service your kind here."

His foreboding laughter filled the thick air and what few people remained within hearing distance stepped back a few steps – fearing the man was a lunatic or worse, a criminal.

"Interesting…" he scorned with a disdainful smirk, "…just what exactly is 'my kind'?"

The buxom madam backed away from his volatile tone and Erik could have sworn she looked about ready to faint.

"Vagabonds…and criminals." She spat with less certainty.

His humor was fading quickly and a dangerous rage was setting in; his patience with the human race was running thin. He flipped the hood off and allowed her a full view of his masked features.

The domino mask did little to hide the penetrating green of his eyes, or the sweep of dark hair that was perfectly tousled – the woman swept her eyes over him and could not help the appreciative glint that settled in them.

He lowered his voice to a precarious snarl and leveled his piercing eyes on her. The mask only added to his mysterious air, obviously promoting her assumption that he was of a less than reputable nature.

His voice was dangerously silky and left no room for debate or questions.

"I want a clean room and a hot bath – no questions asked….and…." he smiled, showing straight, white teeth within a wickedly sweet smile. "…some privacy."

Something in his eyes and the tone of his voice had her moving immediately to do his bidding. She did not hesitate, but turned and retrieved the key – providing him all he needed.

"It is quite a place you have here." He droned, sounding bored and disgusted, the menacing man he had been, just a few moments ago, had disappeared; replaced by a weary and intolerant traveler.

The woman handed him his key and smirked at his sarcastic tone; he was perusing the dilapidated room with keen eyes and he made her rather nervous.

"Yes, it is a real treat…" she clipped sarcastically; but, once again raked his tall, lean form with her eyes, "…Hound…" she shouted, beckoning some poor soul to come to her "…get the man a hot bath."

'Hound' turned out to be the nickname for a giant; literally – the man it was associated to was as huge and unmoving as the Great Wall of China; and yet, he took orders from a woman half his size – if he hadn't been in such a sour frame of mind, Erik would have found the situation quite amusing.

"It will take him a few minutes to get the bath ready…is there any other…" she ran her finger along the well-defined swell of her bosom; drawing Erik's eyes to her female attributes. She toyed with him until he lifted his uninterested eyes back up to her flushed features, "…services you will need this night?"

Erik caught the hint in her voice and the subtle change in her eyes; she was offering him the pleasure of her company in his bed. He finally found a reason to laugh - quite a reprieve from the heaviness of the past few days.

Five minutes ago she was ready to toss him out with no questions asked – now, she wanted to bed him.

"Perfect." He muttered caustically.

He noticed that she remained, awaiting his answer. Erik couldn't help but stifle the laugh that almost escaped his lips.

She wouldn't be so eager if she knew what I really looked like.

Erik knew that the mask created the illusion of beauty where none existed. Wearing the domino helped eliminate some of the problem – they could see neither side of his odd features – so they had no reason to compare notes.

"No…" he almost shouted "…that will be all."


As promised, he was up and on his way by early morning. There had been no one about when he passed by the front desk – a small blessing in his eyes.

The room had been accommodating – at least for his most urgent needs. The bath had done a great deal to ease the ache in his bones and remove the grunge of the previous few days.

D'Ombre awaited his morning canter, eagerly bobbing his head up and down when his master approached. Erik rubbed his soft nose and spoke quietly, assuring the beast that they would be on their way in no time.

"Easy boy, do not be in too much of a rush."

Erik's soothing baritone quieted D'Ombre's nervous prancing and Erik drew himself onto the stallion's strong back.

The streets weren't much more populated than they had been in the wee hours after midnight. A few people were shuffling about, but Erik did not seem to attract anyone's undue attention.

He found a merchant ship headed across the Channel and managed to buy his way onto it. He did not know how well D'Ombre would handle traveling by ship, but he wasn't leaving the stallion behind.

Of course, the trip wasn't completely devoid of mishaps. It wasn't the horse that got sick, it was Erik. He had forgotten about the months he'd spent as a small child, stowed away in the belly of a large ship. He'd almost forgotten how sick he had been.

"Oh dear lord, I have not been sick in years."

He groaned, and hung his head over the side of ship; he was several shades of green.

"What was I thinking?" He wretched again and felt like sinking into the floor and dying.

The crew had managed to avoid the mysterious masked man, but Erik needed something to ward off the sickness before he fainted from lack of sustenance.

"Here…this should help knock you out…I will wake you when we dock."

The captain of the vessel had been alerted to Erik's less than favorable condition; and knew he had to help. The man had been slightly evasive about his destination, but there was sincere pain in the green of his eyes; he needed someone to befriend him – if only for a little while.

Erik took the flask of whiskey and found an empty corner below deck. He downed several long, burning swallows before he felt the effect taking over. He slept the remainder of the way across the Channel, with his faithful friend, D'Ombre, standing guard.