Author's note:

In case this story sounds at all familiar, I had posted here about 2 years ago or so, but then I got hit with a major case of writer's block and abandoned the whole story. Well, real life kept going, things changed and I've got an idea where I want this to go now. And in rereading my original story, I realized that, in the early chapters especially, there was a lot of room to expand on the story. So that's what you're about to read.

I tried to use French names for people and places as much as I could. For more information about the names, PM me and I'll send you links to the sites I used as references. I'm including this because if you look up "fiacre" in an English or French-English dictionary, you'll find a definition relating to a type of horse-drawn cab. Here's a list of what the names mean in English:

"Cœur Blessé" basically means "wounded heart".

"Nadya" is the French form of the name "Nadezhda", which means "hope" in Russian.

"Beaulieu" is from a French place name that meant "beautiful place".

"Fiacre" is the French form of the name "Fiachra" which is derived from the Gaelic word fiach meaning "raven".

"Gagnon" is derived from old French gagnon "guard dog". The name most likely started as a nickname for an agressive or cruel person.

"La Guérison" is basically "Healing".

I've tried to research what I can, if you notice any inaccuracies, please let me know!! You'll find the translation of any other French words at the end of the chapter.

Before I forget, I also owe a huge thank you to my beta, erik'sangel57. She says she's new at being a beta reader, but from all the feedback she gave me I'd say she's doing an awesome job!!

Disclaimer: As much as I wish, I have absolutely no claim to owning POTO. No characters, music, places, etc...are mine, except those you don't recognize 'cause they came out of my mind. So don't sue me, I'm not making any money off this and I don't really have anything you would want, unless you count my piano and cats...

Erik had never intended to stay in the Opera Populaire forever.

He knew that Christine would never have been able to exist forever in his home under the opera house. Since now she was not going to be with him at all, he saw no reason to stay. After several hours of waiting in the tunnels for the gendarmes and opera employees to leave his lair, the maskless Phantom returned to survey the damage. Given the fact that his home was surrounded by rock and water, there was little damage beyond the mirrors he had broken.

Stepping around the broken glass, Erik slowly looked around the cave that had been his home for so long. There was the mannequin he'd carved of Christine, his replica of the opera house above, all his drawings of her. His organ, which had taken almost a year to assemble correctly. Little odds and ends of a life lived far away from the realm of others.

He took two traveling cases and began to retrieve some items: clothing, books, Christine's ring, supplies for shaping new masks, and a single brass key went into one case. All of his herbs and medical supplies went into the other. Into a large leather portfolio Erik put all of his music, all except his copy of Don Juan Triumphant. That was one piece that was seared into his mind; he had no need of the actual music. Sadly he looked at his magnificent organ, which was far too large to be moved. Finally, his other precious musical instruments were quickly packed in their cases and secured inside a large trunk along with his music portfolio. The music box he chose to leave behind. He didn't need anything else, as his new home had all the other things that this one did . . .except for the memory of Christine. Stacking the two cases on top of the truck, he easily lifted it and headed towards the passage. As he disappeared through the broken mirror, he never even glanced back.

As always, a large black cloak and hat were hanging in the dark corridor, awaiting his next venture above ground. Now, Erik lifted them from their hooks for the last time. As he removed the cloak, a small carved niche was exposed. He withdrew his spare mask, fitting the smooth white leather to his face with the ease of practice. Fastening his cloak and donning his hat, he picked up his trunk and cases again and strode off into the dark. As he arrived at the gate, he took one last look behind him. Then, pushing open the iron gate along the Rue Scribe, the Phantom of the Opera left as quietly as he had arrived all those years ago.

Upon leaving the alleyway, he quickly hailed a cab and gave the singular direction: "Cœur Blessé." After securing his luggage to the top of the cab, the driver started the horses. The sound of the horses' hooves softened as the road changed from the city's cobblestones to the soft dirt of country roads. The world outside quickly faded away as Erik's mind drifted off into sleep.

Almost anyone who knew of 20-year old Nadya Beaulieu would swear she had to be of the luckiest women alive. Her fiançailles to Fiacre Gagnon had been an announcement that delighted some, angered others, and astonished many. As one of the wealthiest men in all of France and still unmarried at the age of 28, this engagement was the greatest accomplishment Nadya's friends could dream of fer her. Fiacre's family estate was the largest in the province, even larger than the Beaulieu estate it bordered. That meant the marriage would unite the whole of Aquitaine north of the Dordogne river into one estate.

There was also cause for happiness beyond the material advantages. It seemed to everyone that theirs was a true love match. Friend and foe alike commented on how devoted Fiacre was to Nadya. Since their engagement had been announced in January, Nadya seldom was seen without Fiacre at her side. The marriage was set to take place in 3 months, May 23. Hundreds of guests had been invited, the church was reserved, and her wedding gown was the most talked of garment in all of Aquitaine.

Nadya had never felt more depressed or trapped.

Fiacre was good looking, wealthy and well-connected. Mothers throughout all of France had been throwing their daughters at him for years. Many a young lady had appeared to be his favorite for a time, only to be cast aside for another very quickly. It had been a shock to all to see this well-known homme à femmes so attentive to this particular young woman. Some said it had to be be love that caused this change, others cited the financial reasons for the match.

Of them all, only Nadya knew the true reason.

Erik was jolted awake as the carriage stopped. Lifting the shade and looking out into the dim light, he realized they had reached Cœur Blessé. Opening the window and leaning out, he gave the driver directions to his new home: La Guérison

.

When the carriage stopped again, he stepped out and accepted his trunk and cases from the driver. Handing the driver his fare, Erik watched as the carriage disappeared into the deepening twilight. He turned and walked briskly down the lane, up to the house. Lamps could be seen shining through the windows; Madame Giry had evidently followed his instructions and had engaged a housekeeper for him.

As he began to walk the last few yards to the house, he was stopped suddenly by a scream.

A woman's scream.

Translations:

gendarmes - police officers
fiançailles – engagement
homme à femmes – ladies' man

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