Hello to those of you who take the time to read my story. I am going to be taking this one slowly, as I have not written as much as I would have liked to before posting; but there some inpatient ones out there who have encouraged me to post (You know who you are...and I love you for it!!)

The title changed from the original, but the story line remains the same - a few minor differences; but I do hope you will enjoy this. It is an alternate universe, Erik/Christine story. Let me know what you thing.

GerrysJackie

SHOW ME THE WAY TO LOVE

An original story revolving around the characters of Erik and Christine from

The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux

By GerrysJackie

Cast of Main Characters

Erik Worthington (32) – Gerard Butler (long, wavy hair – like in "Attila")

Christine Darcy (26) – There really is no one that matches my vision of her; 5'10'', natural silver/blond hair, well endowed and curvaceous, dark violet eyes

Anne Roberts (48) – Emma Thompson

Wesley Roberts (52) – Rowan Atkinson

CHAPTER 1 - Sacrifices

The Crimean War, Battle of EupatoriaFebruary1855

"Captain Worthington, we are being attacked from both sides and our sails are down! What are your orders?"

The captain surveyed the area, not liking the heaviness that surrounded him and made a quick, logical conclusion.

"Get as many men as you can off this ship immediately, they are coming at us from all angles and we have been boarded!"

The voice carried over the booming resonance of the war and the men followed without discussion. To make matters worse, the weather was rough and more than just the sounds of war were pounding the ship.

"Barton…" the name rang out and a weathered, young sailor came forward – saluting the man he called captain and friend.

"Yes, captain?"

Captain Erik Worthington turned toward the older man, still monitoring all activity around him with a sharp eye, but still managing to the give the man his attention.

"Lower the long boats and have all that are still alive load into them…take as many of the dead as you can…" he looked around him; thankfully, it looked like there were few dead. He felt that somehow he had failed those who had lost their lives, "…they deserve a proper burial…and make sure you have the roster for identification."

Eli Barton furrowed his already disturbed brow and stared at his captain in bemusement; realizing he had no intention of following.

"What of you, sir?"

Captain Worthington looked down into the expectant face of his second in command, wanting to assure him that all would be well, but unable to do so.

His thoughts suddenly filled with images of his beautiful, cold wife, Lucy and his young, impressionable son, Gage. She had been his world…once; now, there was nothing left except a hollow cavern where his heart had once been.

Gage had been three when he had left all those months ago, and Lucy had made it clear that she did not wish to be a mother; thoughts of what she might do Gage in a fitful rage literally gripped Erik's heart with a volatile terror.

This could very well be the end, and Erik prayed that Gage would survive his mother's indifference and silent neglect; after all, Erik's own childhood had been much the same.

The deep abyss of his eyes held the reflection of every emotion he was feeling at that moment and Eli found himself lost in that gripping gaze – unable to pull out.

The Captain's voice finally broke the spell.

"I need to give the fleet more time…we were the first in these waters and paved the way for the others…I can give them the time they need…I just have to hold out a little longer."

Panic gripped Eli's chest at the thought of leaving his captain to face the Russian guns by himself. He shook his head in denial, not willing to accept the call that his captain had made.

"Sir, I can help…"

The words were stuck in his throat as the cannon sounded behind him and the strong hands of his captain pushed him to the deck in a barrage of flying debris and ammunition. The deafening sound of gunfire and battle, coupled with the strangling smoke that surrounded him caused Eli to cough dreadfully and try to feel his way through the thick, acidic air.

Losing the battle, he dropped to all fours, hoping to find something familiar; moments later his hand slid in a thick substance and then came in contact with flesh. A small clearing in the smoke allowed him to see that his captain had fallen; and his blood was quickly spreading.

"Captain!"

Eli did not take the time to assess the extent of his injuries; it was difficult to see much of anything as he had landed on his stomach with his face buried in a sea of his own blood.

Dragging the large man by the shoulders, he managed to get him to the side of the ship and catch the attention of two of his shipmates.

"Help me…the captain is injured!"

The two men rushed to him through the dissipating smoke.

"He saved my life." Eli stated, stark reality hitting him as he realized he could have been killed if Captain Worthington had not pushed him down to the deck. "His injuries should have been mine."

It took all three men to get the broad shouldered, six feet, two inch frame of their captain loaded into the boat. The small dingy was lowered into the water and they rowed away from the shattered debris of their ship; a vessel on which they had trained and fought side by side for over ten years.

Eli cradled his captain's head in his lap, finally able to see the deep, gaping wound that had been inflicted by a piece of flying debris. His entire right cheek was nothing but a mesh of destroyed flesh and blood.

"That looks really bad, Eli, what happened?"

Eli looked at the anxious faces of his fellow shipmates and shook his head.

"Everything happened so fast…one minute he was before me; talking about getting everyone off the ship…" Eli swallowed his lurching heart and looked each man in the eye as he continued, "…the next, he was pushing me out of the way and I lost sight of him from there."

Eli felt his eyes stinging – certain he was feeling overwhelmed at the sight of his captain, the fact that he had taken the blow that was meant for him, and the smoke and other airborne agents had gotten into his eyes.

The blood was everywhere. Eli gently lifted Erik's head and noticed a brutal, bleeding blow on the back of his head; it was bleeding horribly and Eli felt the uneasiness of nausea filling his stomach.

"How did that happen?" Farley Rosin asked, after seeing the injury on the back of Erik's head.

Eli shook his head and furrowed his brow; his concern for his captain was foremost on his mind.

"The enemy was all around us, and visibility was at a minimum…he must have been attacked from behind. I just do not know if he was hit while he was down or if the blow to the back of his head is what took him down."

The seriousness of the injuries did not escape him, Eli was more than familiar with what fatal wounds looked like…and this could easily be just that. Erik was more than a captain to him, he was a friend – almost like a brother.

The trip to the shoreline was harrowing, but they finally made it. Erik had not awakened, but Eli was thankful for the heart that still beat beneath his hand, assuring him that his friend and leader still lived.

There was a camp not far from the shoreline and the men carried their fallen commander into the tent that was set up for medical attention. He was rushed away from them before any explanation could be made…they would have to wait to learn the extent of the damage.

►▼◄

It was obvious that the man being carried in, cradled in the arms of several men, with a trail of many more behind him, was respected and loved by them. They gently placed him on top of a cot, removed his boots, and stood around him in a crescent shape with their heads bowed and their eyes closed.

Eli became the spokesman for the group and began his explanation as soon as he saw the nurses and doctors headed their way.

"He just went down…the wood is a piece of the ships planking and it flew through the air and lodged in his right cheek. The wound on the back of his head is extremely deep and, as far as I know, was caused by a purposeful blow from one of the enemy soldiers."

Eli looked down at his captain and was, once again, overwhelmed by the sacrifice he had made…that would be him lying there – or worse – if Erik had not pushed him out of the way.

He whispered his final words, "They apparently happened simultaneously."

The doctor thanked him for the information and instructed the nurses on the proper procedures; and then he was gone.

Eli knew they were inundated with the injured, but he was not moving from Erik's side until someone came and told him that he had to leave.

◄▼►

Removing the wood, glass, and various other materials that were lodged in his flesh had been vexing and tedious; the nurse was sitting beside his cot assessing the bandages that covered the right side of his face and wrapped around to the back of his head. She could not shake the feeling that he was familiar to her; but then, she had seen so many.

She bathed his forehead with a cool cloth, assuring herself that there was no fever setting in. What she could see of the man was very pleasant to look at. Dark brown, almost black waves of hair whorled around his face and refused to lie down, as she was certain he would have wanted them to.

The one eye that was exposed was framed in sable, long lashes. They rested on his cheek creating shadows that fluttered with his eyes movements. However, it was the lower part of his face that held your attention; full, kissable lips that looked as though they would be easily coaxed into a roguish grin; a strong, firm, aristocratic jaw and a perfectly dimpled chin – in a word, he was beautiful.

He was not out of danger yet. Infection was still a major concern, but the head nurse had been sure to keep a close eye on him, as his men had insisted. He was loved by those who served beneath him…that spoke well of the man that he was.

The young man that had been with him since his arrival three days ago, still had not moved from his side. He was currently resting on the ground beside the cot and seemed quite content to stay there.

She stood as her superior approached and gave a thorough examination of the patient. She was the best there was, and they were blessed to have a nurse of her caliber on sight to tend to the wounded and train the nurses.

"He seems to be reacting well to the medication and his sheets and bandages look clean…very good, nurse…you are doing a fine job."

The young woman smiled at the head nurse and flushed slightly.

"Thank you, Miss. Nightingale, your advice and suggestions are must appreciated…I am learning so much."

The older woman laughed and wiped her drenched forehead with the back of her trembling, tired hand. Loose strands of brown hair had worked their way out of her stately bun and hung adorably at each side of her face.

"Please, my dear, call me Florence." The kind, efficient woman responded. "What is your name?"

The young woman curtsied and smiled, "Denise, Miss Nightingale; Denise Hampton."

"Well Denise, you are a very talented young nurse, I see you being a success in this field should you choose to pursue it…." She leaned and patted the younger woman on the upper arm, "...and I must insist that you call me Florence."

"Thank you, Florence…for the compliment; I enjoy what I am doing, I have studied beneath a very learned teacher for the last several years."

Florence Nightingale nodded and looked down at the floor as movement caught her eyes.

Eli stirred awake and sat up, upon hearing voices. He rubbed his eyes and looked at the two nurses conversing over Erik. They became aware of his searching gaze and both of them smiled down at him.

"Hello, young man." Florence stated, looking from Eli to Erik in admiration, "…it speaks well of this man that you would stay by his side like you have…you must care for him."

Eli nodded and stood up. He brushed off his clothing and cleared his throat.

"Yes nurse, I care about him a great deal…he saved my life."

He excused himself to go in search of some food, leaving Erik in the good hands of the nurses.

Florence removed the patient chart from her pocket and looked over it with detailed eyes. She glanced back at the man who had not awakened and furrowed her brow.

"Well, Mr. Erik Worthington, you are of great interest to the queen…she wants you to get the best care; it seems you are a hero." She bent over his figure and coyly moved his hair from off his forehead. "My, but you certainly are a handsome one."

Florence looked once again at the young nurse who seemed to be in shock.

"Are you alright, Denise?"

The younger woman was trembling from head to toe and her face was ashen and streaked with tears.

"Will he recover?" She finally asked; her voice strained with emotion.

"Only time will tell…he will be heavily scarred on the right side of his face and we have no way of knowing if the injury to the back of his head has done any damage other than the obvious."

Denise pushed the tears from her cheeks with the pads of her fingers and stared at the still figure of the captain. What did his life hold for him? Denise knew she had no right to question these things, but she could not tear her mind or eyes from the man before her.

Considering the conversation over, Florence Nightingale left the tent and left the young nurse there…shedding tears she had thought to never shed.

►▼◄

For weeks, he remained unresponsive and they feared he would not survive. The nurses had taken special care with him – making certain he was kept clean and his sheets and bandages were always kept clean, as instructed by Miss Nightingale herself.

Despite the horrible mutilation of his right upper cheek, he was quite attractive and the nurses found themselves staring at him quite often. He was a hero to their country and had earned a promotion before retiring – a promotion from the Queen herself; he was now Commodore Erik Worthington.

His name was a well-known one among anyone who knew anything about the Royal Navy; he would be sorely missed amongst the ranks; but there nothing more he could do for them.

The young man, Eli Barton, had been called back into duty, and had reluctantly left his captain's side to become a captain himself. Apparently, Erik had recommended him for promotion months ago, and they had readily accepted his approval and endorsement.

He had hoped that Erik would have awakened by now, they all had, but he prayed over the fallen hero, saluted him with tears in his eyes, and dutifully left him in the hands of the able nurses.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done.

►▼◄

Three months later, London, England

She did not smile nor nod at anyone as she was escorted down the hall toward her destination. Yesterday had been a trial and she acted as though it had been a tremendous feat of will to have made it through without scars.

Lucy Worthington's cold demeanor had the entire hospital in a quiet uproar. She had stormed into the building demanding to see her husband, Commodore Erik Worthington.

Not used to intrusive wives, the staff was puzzled by her behavior; causing her agitation to increase and the volume of her voice did likewise.

They finally led her to his private room where he sat, propped up on the pillows with his head cocked at an odd angle, as though he was hearing every minute detail going on around him.

Her initial reaction to his scars was a shrill scream followed by a disgusted gasp. She turned her face from him with her eyes slammed shut as though trying to remove the image of his ravaged visage from her mind.

Her scream and gasp had set Erik's face in a hard, disappointed scowl. He had expected her to be surprised, but he had not expected her to be disgusted. They had not seen each other for months, and yet she did not so much as take his hand in comfort.

His entire condition had been explained to her and her reaction was not unexpected; she had turned and left the room without speaking a word.

Now she had returned; and the words she spoke took what pieces of his dignity were still intact, and hurled them into a deep, dark chasm and severed every fragile cord within his heart.

"I have arrived at a decision…" She spoke with a practical tone and did not touch him, "…I came here in good faith, Erik, thinking I would make more of an effort in this marriage. Things have been difficult since you left…"

Erik cringed on the inside, knowing that she blamed his absence for her infidelity. She continued on about the affair in which she was involved and Erik did his best to ignore her.

Whatever there had once been between them was no more. Erik could not remember the last smile she had brought to him, the last kind word she had said to him…the last kiss. He was not even sure Gage was his...the only real evidence was in his eyes; but Erik cared not…that little boy was his son – end of discussion.

"….I never wanted this and I am not going to deal with it – it is your responsibility. Virgil and I are in love…so…" he heard her pause as his thoughts returned to the melodious lilt of her voice, "…I am sure you understand."

She was not facing him; he could hear her voice reflecting off the walls and charging toward him like a herd of wild horses. Her final words were akin to a whisper; but they screamed in his ears like the cry of a banshee.

"You should have had the decency to die on that ship, you wretched man."

TBC