A/N: Super duper long chapter so grab a cup of coffee or soft drink and something to eat. This will take a while. You might want to have a Kleenex handy if you are the softhearted sort.

Chapter Twelve

The Angels Wept

Erik

Gabriella's departure came not a moment too soon. I am not a saint nor am I an eunuch. My self-imposed gallant promise to keep Gabriella chaste is turning into a promise I am regretting every second I want to be inside her loving her as a man does the woman he cares about most in the world. If what I believe wil come to be should we not at least have that one special intimate act two people in love share to express that emotional bond?

Because I stupidly gave my word of honor, such that it is, not to deflower her until such time we shall be wed I now suffer having her and yet not being able to claim her entirely. And now...now I don't know if we will have another tomorrow.

To further complicate my life more and more about Gabriella's life is being revealed to me. As hard as it is for me to grasp such an impossibility of an after life the proof is before me in these papers recounting the life and death of one Gabriella Star. Even without finding a body the authorities made the declaration of her death public after several months without any leads as to her whereabouts. A massive search had been made in the opera house without a clue as to what happened or where she went. All her belongings were in her dressing room just as she left them. Her reticule containing over a hundred francs still sat on her dresser the day the police were called in after Gabriella missed opening night of the opera she had been given the lead role to perform.

Logic fights against what I now believe to be true. I would rather she be some vagrant pretending to be in employment here rather than to know with all my heart that the woman I know and love as Gabriella is one and the same as Gabriella Star, murdered opera performer. I know it for a fact for I saw where they buried her.

Learning about her from papers brought back memories of how and when I saw her in the past. I can remember the first time she came to audition and how impressed everyone was including me. I think I fell in love with her when I first heard her sing a piece I had written and left lying on the conductor's pedestal. Being a man with a good ear he promptly claimed my composition for his own.

He had been marked for a visit from me until Gabriella opened her mouth to let out the most entrancing sounds I ever heard. Not perfect but very nearly so. I was intrigued.

She won the role of lead without any threats or suggestions from me to the managers although at that time they did not know the full extent of my power and what I am capable of when I want something or feel threatened.

For months I watched over her and attended every rehearsal. The few years between us did not worry me. We shared a passion for music that bridged our age difference or so I told myself. I left her notes written in poetic rhyme. I shudder now remembering how naïve and youthful my aspirations were.

Watching her from behind the mirror in her dressing room she seemed to like my written offerings as well as the single red rose I left for her. Braving myself to speak with her took several weeks of starts and stutters until I finally croaked out my first greeting to her. Had I known how odd it would appear to her or how frightened she would be to hear an anonymous voice coming from behind her mirror I might have approached her differently.

It took me several more weeks to convince her that I was not an escaped lunatic from some mental institution. Just when I began to win some favor she went missing. No one knew what had happened. Even I remained in the dark for a while, that is until I found them, three unmarked fairly fresh shallow graves, one very old and two fairly fresh.

Immediately I knew that bounder Joseph Buquet to be responsible. What I had not counted on was digging them up and one being the oh so precious first love of my life. Add to that I later learned my managers back then knew of her demise but covered it up to circumvent bad publicity. Because of them Gabriella and two others had been consigned to eternity buried in unhallowed ground.

My grief had no time to be expressed as I hunted down my now sworn enemy. I could not rest until I avenged my love's lost honor and her death. Not only did Buquet take those three lives but he raped them with a viciousness even I could not comprehend. On my life I swore if I died in the attempt I would make that horrible man pay for what he had done. It took me many years to do it but in the end I kept my promise. If I had buried my memories of that time to stave off the pain at least I kept my promise.

Christine had not been my first love. My first foray into that arena came at a time when I had not yet reached my full maturity. If fate had not stepped in and taken Gabriella from me the first time I wonder if I could have won her over after she had seen me. Being older now, my appeal is different from back then. Gabriella is mine in every way that matters but perhaps it would not have ended well that first time around and some power beyond our understanding let the story unfurl as it was supposed to.

Tonight I take extra care with my appearance. I will be walking on stage and taking a bow. A speech is not necessary. Bandages will be wound around most of my head leaving only my nose, mouth and chin exposed. Everything else will be covered in white cotton strips.

No expense had been spared on my clothing. I am even going to wear a top hat. I hate top hates as I think of them as belonging on the heads of fops. I am by no stretch of the imagination a fop.

Taking my seat in box five, nervousness begins to set in. Excitement is almost a living thing among the crowd filling the seats. This will be the first performance of my work since my last great opera had been performed only part way through. This night we will reach the end without mishap. For Gabriella I want everything to be perfect.

As the story unfolds it is hard to keep my objectivity when with each line they sing time grows shorter until I must force Gabriella to see the truth so she may be saved a soulless life.

It is a wonder she did not comprehend that this is her life when she rehearsed all these months. The final scene is filled with pathos as the hero and the heroine sing their last good-byes before death reclaims her. Everyone surrounds the hero sharing his sorrow while giving him platitudes about life going on and there being a purpose and a plan to all that God does. Such assurances are easy when they are another's grief being felt and not their own.

It will be me soon who will need to be comforted when I lose my own heart to death. I must make her see it is the only way. I am a better person for having met and getting to know her. I must sound convincing when telling her I will be fine if a little battered. Truthfully I may whither and die once I do not have her to give me the will to live on.

When the curtain comes down there are no less than four curtain calls and two curtain calls with Christine and Gabriella clasping hands as they bow. A five minute standing ovation did much to fill me with pride for my achievement and the success of both my protégés. The stage is filling with flowers being tossed in a show of the audience's appreciation of their talent. Each woman is presented with a large bouquet of roses.

Now that the time has come for me to make my appearance my courage is lagging. I would have retreated back to my home but Gabriella looked toward my box as if she saw me. Christine followed Gabriella's concentrated glance. She whispered something to which Gabriella shook her head in the affirmative. I suppose Christine asked for confirmation whether or not I occupied my box. As if I would miss such an important night.

Resolving to carry out the task I must complete I have no choice but to join everyone on stage. Antoinette is waiting for me to come backstage so she can enter and calm the audience to make my introduction. I want this night to last forever but know that it cannot.

Finding Antoinette is easier than one might think in all the confusion backstage. She has taken up a position just at the curtains edge looking onto the stage. From there she can see everyone and watch everything going on making it easier to keep things moving along. Coming to her side neither one of us speaks. She leaves me alone to make her way to center stage. Lifting her hands she lowers them then raises them again then repeats the motion. Gradually the audience begins to quiet and take their seats leaving only drifts of chatter from backstage to disrupt the quiet.

"Messieurs, Madams and Mademoiselles, it is with great pleasure I introduce to you our newest maestro Monsieur Erik Destler. Without his great talent and teaching we would not be here tonight. It is my great honor to present Monsieur Destler," her voice raises at the end and she turns in the direction from which I am coming clapping her hands along with everyone else. It is deafening but also the most wonderful sound imaginable and mostly for me. Christine and Gabriella gave voice to my creation but it is my talent as a composer and teacher that made this night the success it is.

Coming to stand between Christine and Gabriella I take their hands and bow along with them. They surprise me when they both kiss me on a cheek. My bandaged face seems not to faze either of them. Women ooh and aw to see such sentiment being publicly displayed. I am sure from somewhere in one of the boxes Raoul is shooting daggers at me and glaring with suspiciousion.

A few more rounds of bows and appreciative clapping from the audience gradually winds down as people begin to leave. Cast members are eager to join the festivities backstage. Their will be no celebrating for me tonight because my ending is not going to be anything worthy of celebration.

Gabriella and I face one another and link hands. All I can do is to absorb as much of her as I can. We only have a few moments left until we must part. Already I want to change my mind and take her as far away as possible from this damn opera house. It has entombed me for so long and now it will keep Gabriella as well. At this moment I feel more cursed than ever before.

"Gabriella there is something I must say. Something we must both face if you are to be saved," my voice breaks as tears gather in my eyes.

I can feel the trembling begin in her hands then gradually travel to the rest of her body. Those left on the stage stop their conversations as it becomes clear something momentous is about to happen. From the smiles on Christine and Meg's faces they must assume some sort of announcement is eminent about Gabriella and I. Perhaps they imagine an engagement. How I wish that were the case.

Antoinette, Christine, Raoul, Meg are the only ones left besides Gabriella and I as Antoinette being a very astute woman sensed something about to happen that may be too personal to share with the whole opera house and so shooed everyone to their merry making. What I am about to do is best done among friends who will perhaps not believe at first what they see but in the end they will see there is only one conclusion to be drawn just as I had to come to the same conclusion myself.

"Erik I am frightened. Please take me home. I want to go home," she cries as she steps closer to me so her head can rest on my chest.

"In a little while my love. We must get through this so we can both have peace," I try to give her assurance even if I know I will never know peace again.

"Erik what is going on?" Antoinette worriedly asks for an explanation.

I ignore everyone except for the woman in front of me. Letting go Gabriella's hands so I can retrieve the things I left offstage earlier this evening I am stopped by Gabriella grabbing my arm beseeching me silently not to carry on. I believe she knows what it is I must do and fears the outcome just as I do. Patting her hand I give her a smile that I hope will suffice as my insides are churning and my chest is so tight with anticipated agony I can scarcely breathe.

Leaving her alone is so hard when all I want is to hold her and tell her everything will be fine. Gathering up the posters and letters I return and set the bundle down at Gabriella's feet. As if she knows what they are she moves back a couple of steps.

"Gabriella I want you to look at this and really see it. Let the truth sink in. Read the letters and newspaper reports. It is all there in black and white for you to see. You must see and believe just as I had to. I fought against what my mind told me and what my heart and eyes were letting me see," I am almost begging her to understand and forgive me for what I am about to do. I hope she realizes what a great sacrifice I am making.

"No Erik, please do not make me see them. I do not want to know. I cannot leave you. I cannot. My heart will break," she cries desperately as she steps toward me and clutches two handfuls of my shirt in her fists. I cover her hands with mine and feel a tear splash onto my skin. That tear nearly tears me apart. I am hurting her just as I am hurting myself. I must not weaken and condemn the both of us to an eternity living in purgatory.

"Erik what is going on? For goodness sakes you are beginning to frighten even me," Antoinette tries to use her official instructors voice but I am beyond being guided by anything she has to say.

There is a flash of light then incredibly two women appear as if by some magician's trick. I know them. I reburied them along with Gabriella all those years ago when the managers buried them to hide what Joseph Buquet had done. I could not bear for them to lie in eternal rest without proper words being spoken over them or placing them in such shallow graves that the vermin could feast on their flesh. It turned my stomach to think of it especially when I imagined it being Gabriella. I had not been given the opportunity to meet her face to face or discover all that was wonderful about her, not back then. I got a second chance and thank God for it even if it was for such a short time.

I know there is a fourth woman buried someplace down in the lowest level but could never find just where Joseph had put her. I wonder if she is not here as a celestial plea to Gabriella because I did not find her and pray over her as she deserved.

Silently I hand Antoinette the poster. Christine and Meg lean over her shoulders to read what it says. They all gasp and look toward Gabriella with shocked glances then return to peruse the poster again. The name is the same just as the beautiful woman pictured there is an exact replica of Gabriella Star.

My attention returns to the ghostly visions waiting what is to come next. I do not have long to wait. They address Gabriella imploring her to do the right thing.

"Gabriella it is time. You know you cannot stay. Think of what you will do to Erik. Each time you take a little more from him. Soon he will have no more to give," the blonde apparition pleads my cause.

"Gabriella you know Charlotte speaks the truth. Open your mind and see what must be, what God intended it to be. Your task ended when Erik took to the stage tonight. Now you must sever your ties with earth bound entities. It is not his time. Would you want to take from him the years ahead that will be his glorious introduction into the world of man?" This is the auburn haired one speaking. She is Marianna. I know them both. After all it is I who took care of them or rather their graves all these years. Claire, the missing angel from my repoitoire was a blonde, petite and childlike woman and Charlotte is the one with hair dark as coal. Joseph did not discriminate when it came to his victims.

"Please, give me more time. I need more time. We have only just begun to know one another. I beg of you do not make me leave him. I would rather suffer the fires of hell than leave him now," Gabriella cries out angrily as she grabs hold of me again. I can feel the pull in every part of me, the draining of my inner strength. This is what gives her substance so she could appear real to everyone, including me. I gave her life if only for a brief time.

Everyone is looking at us as if we have lost our minds. Since they are not looking toward our celestial visitors Gabriella and I must be the only ones who can see or hear them. It stands to reason as this is only of importance to the two of us.

I have no will to stop what is happening. If giving her a part of me will sustain her then I freely will give all that I can.

"Gabriella stop! You will kill him. Erik read the letters and articles. She must face the truth. It must be you who shows her the way. Do it now for both your sakes," Charlotte pleads. I remember her as a kind young woman willing to help anyone in need. Her trusting nature is what got her killed by that murderous bastard's hands.

Picking up the paper I begin to read words that cause me great agony down to my very core.

"Gabriella Star is believed to have been murdered and tossed into the Seine and dragged out to sea by the currents.

Everyone at L'Opéra Populaire mourns her loss as they had great expectations for her ability to bring new life to Paris' opera season.

It has been rumored that a great Italian diva is being courted to fill the role vacated by Mademoiselle Star. We mention no names as this is only speculation and rumors.

Rest in peace Mademoiselle Gabriella Star.

"Erik, stop please, it hurts. I feel so cold. Why is it suddenly so cold?" her pleading eyes beg me for something it is in my power to give but it is something that would condemn her soul to eternal unrest.

The costume she wore for the performance tonight transforms into a gown from a few decades ago. As I continue to read the letters of confession from a journal Gabriella's gown begins to fade and tatter in front of our eyes. Slowly it changes into a tattered remnant with yellowed lace and faded colors. Where once she stood solid and as real as any of us she now appeared transparent.

Reading from the journal is hard when the woman I love is fading into obscurity right before my pained eyes.

"Tonight as on two other nights Robert and I sacrificed all that is good in us to save our reputations and to keep our pockets lined with profits from the opera house.

The Opera Ghost showed an interest in the latest victim, Gabriella Star, a truly great performer who would have gone far if her path had not unfortunately crossed with that bounder Joseph. I pray we do not now need to fear retribution at the hands of our very own ghost.

As often as we condemn Joseph we also condemn ourselves for being so weak. Confession to my priest may absolve me in God's eyes but in my own I fear I shall rot in hell for these unholy acts. It goes against everything my mother and father taught me about the sanctity of death and giving the dead proper respect.

Both Robert and I condemned our souls the night we first discovered poor Marianne lying in a deserted corridor with Joseph running away dangling the rope he used to strangle her from his hand.

I had always thought of myself as a good man, an honest man but that night my true nature showed me just how black a man's soul can be. May God forgive me for I know I shall regret my part in this travesty even into eternity.

If at some time in the future four shallow graves are found and someone perchance reads my journal know that Marianna Carpenter, Charlotte Blackmore, Claire Beaumont and Gabriella Star reside in that unhallowed ground and I beg of you please do after my death what I did not have the courage to do in life, bury them in sacred soil. Alas we cannot find poor Claire's resting place and dare not ask Joseph for the information. My prayers will have to be enogh to win her a place in heaven.

The words fade into silence with barely a stirring in the air. If silence can seem to roar then I hear the rumble of thunder, the symbol clash of lightening and the sound of the heavens splitting open to rain down God's wrath upon us.

"My love I did it for you. For once in my miserable selfish existence I wanted to put someone else first. You do not belong here. Perhaps it is not for mere mortals to know what God's plan is for us. Maybe there is no plan at all and we are supposed to muddle through life making mistakes then doing what is needed to correct them. By speaking of your death aloud and making you face the truth you now can move on. Never doubt how much I love you. It would have been so easy for me to ignore all that I knew and let us go on as we were but we both know in time you would have felt out of place, out of step with your life," I am choked by tears and feel no shame to let them fall.

Gabriella reaches her hand out to me and I reach out my own only to feel thin air. The magnitude of what I have done is just now becoming a reality as untold agony rips into me leaving me raw and grieving. I survived Christine's loss with the help of Gabriella but who will save me now?

No one seems able to speak. They look to each other for confirmation that they saw what their eyes and brains are telling them they saw. What they feel or want to know is of little consequence to me. There is no word that I know that can describe just what I am feeling or perhaps there are too many. All I know for certain is I want to crawl into the grave with Gabriella but even that will be denied me as I am not one to take my own life no matter how devastated my life becomes.

Without a word I grab a rope from the back of the stage and climb upward. The rooftop is calling to me so I can shout out and curse at the world so others may know once and for all the Phantom has been defeated by the redemption of his own soul.

As I climb upward every step burns the muscles in my legs. I welcome the pain. Better pain in my body than in my heart. Perhaps death shall claim another victory tonight, victory over his long sought after demon child, the Phantom

Time crawls by with no end to my sorrow. I want only to be left alone to suffer in peace. One second after Gabriella faded away I wanted to relive those last moments again so I could change them. For her sake I am glad time travel is not something I have conquered. Time they say heals all wounds but I fear mine shall have a weeping gash that will never close completely.

Three long tortuous months have gone by and still I linger on in this world filled with nothing but regrets and an unrelenting ache. I care nothing for the fame I have now and thought I wanted. Now I would trade it all for one more moment with Gabriella.

If I thought Antoinette would leave me to my own devices how sadly mistaken I am. At first her visits were only once every few days. No amount of cursing deters her from being my angel of mercy. Having spent nearly two months tracking me down how can I expect her to be reasonable and obey my commands to leave me in peace?

Peace, what about my existence has ever been peaceful? I had though with…God it is too much to even think her name. No one dares speak it out loud, not after the first time I unleashed my anger and agony on the unsuspecting stagehand gossiping among his friends. I cared not one iota that the opera house is abuzz with news of auditions for someone new to take the place of Gabriella. I'll not be there to watch or listen. My heart is not longer in creating beauty through my music.

What right does anyone have to mention her name? He knew nothing about her or why she no longer took her part on stage. Her story is mine to tell and no one else's. Lucky for that man Antoinette and Christine happened upon us or he would have been dangling from one of the catwalks with my Punjab wrapped around his neck.

Resistance against rejoining life proved useless when I am bombarded no less than ten times a day with chattering women going on and on about the goings on above me. I want to shut them out but they are relentless.

A new soprano has been found. Antoinette hired a man to travel the globe hunting for just the right woman. The local talent had been drained leaving only second rate singers. So much for the gossip mill. Auditions woulc be superfluous.

I know everyone is trying their best to show me that life goes on and for them it may but for me the hands of time stopped the second Gabriella left me.

One evening a few nights ago, Antoinette came down all flustered and muttering things about something being impossible. At the time I couldn't raise any amount of interest. Later some of what she said must have registered for I found myself trying to recall certain pertinent bits of the conversation but drew a blank.

Glancing at the clock I see that rehearsals will still be in session. I might as well attend so I may see this new paragon Antoinette is so flustered about. Since she has not seen fit to bother about me in several days I assume her vigil over me is at an end along with everyone else's.

Even Christine has not been in my thoughts lately. I cannot find the energy to wonder if she carries on with her role or not. Vaguely I remember Antoinette saying something about a wedding and talk of a child and stepping down into the supporting role as that would leave Christine more time to plan everything.

I did summon enough of my former concern for Christine to silently vow if that boy violated Christine before the ink dried on the marriage license and the marriage had been blessed by the church I will not hold back my anger. I have marked the date on my mental calendar for future reference should a child be in the offing. I will not have any early arrivals needing hurried explanations to cover for an over eager fiancé.

My box is as I left it, looking as if it had been in the path of a mighty wind. If everyone thought it haunted before now they must fear it even more. I must say the night I ripped out the curtains and left the contents in a shambles leant credence to speculation of a ghost haunting this particular box. In the old days I would have gleefully encouraged such notions now I find it matters little what anyone thinks of me. If they wish to continue to believe in a ghost then let them. I feel more ghost than man most of the time anyway.

There is little going on down on the stage to hold my interest. Antoinette is her usual no nonsense dance instructor. Meg has been promoted to that position but her mother is not prepared to relinquish that role completely to a younger woman even if she is her daughter. Christine and Meg whisper to one another gossiping as they used to in the old days before I came along and spoiled such youthful pleasures.

I hear the name Ella Stern being called from center stage. The sound of skirts rustling from below carries up to me as there is a sudden silence from everyone below. A short time later I hear whispers begin to travel and grow until the sound is quite loud. If Antoinette had not taken the guilty parties to task I would be tempted to do so myself.

Gradually music builds leading into the introduction of the first song from my opera. Shock waves shake me to the core when I hear a familiar voice drifting up toward me. At first it is hesitant then slowly confidence takes over so that there is no doubt we are in the presence of a great talent, one I know all too well and know that this cannot be. Unless I am now to be haunted from the grave by the woman I returned to death, what I hear is not real but only my wishful imagination playing mean spirited tricks on me.

I fight against the urge to see the face belonging to such an angelic voice. My heart thunders with hope yet my mind is telling me what I am wanting is impossible.

Standing I take the few steps needed to reach the railing enclosing the box. Leaning my hands down for support I am not yet ready to open my eyes and end this unexpected gift. Will she disappear if I open my eyes? Will I be disappointed if I do and the woman looks nothing like my beloved Gabriella?

Slowly my eyes open then focus on the stage below. From here I can see everyone but not clearly. Damn it, I broke my opera glasses during my tirade. To see her better I will need to make my way onstage or at least be nearer to her.

If this is some joke being played at my expense heads will role, literally. Not even I could be that cruel. Easily I avoid everyone. I want no witnesses to my sorrow when my hopes are dashed. I dare not let myself believe what my mind and heart is telling me. As I get closer I can feel the old familiar pull within me that I always felt when Gabriella came near. It was as if we were connected by an electrical charge that got stronger when we were together.

Peeking out from behind a curtain my knees feel unstable and I feel light headed. There she stands just as beautiful as she was before. Can it be possible for two people unrelated to share perfectly replicated features?

This must be a sickness in my mind or my grief is such I cannot face reality anymore so that in order to cope I have conjured this image of Gabriella. Why now has she come back to haunt me? Punishment for my betrayal I could understand but this…this goes beyond what I deserve…what anyone deserves.

Going from person to person I search with my eyes for some culprit who would try to pass off some woman as a replacement for Gabriella and can see that everyone else is just as amazed and shocked as I am. Antoinette is jerking her head around like an owl trying to find me in all my usual places above the stage. It would not occur to her that I would come down onto stage level and risk being seen. Clearly she fears for the new soprano's safety. Her concern is valid and even more so for the instigator of this prank.

I shall investigate this on my own. Mademoiselle…what did they say her name was? My lack of concentration to the point I am forgetful of information just imparted to me proves I am not yet in possession of all my faculties.

Easily I can obtain all the information I will need from one of the offices. The booking agent is my best bet. Once I have what I need I will be armed to face this imposter…this torturer. She and all of her accomplices shall pay the price for trying to fool the Phantom of the Opera. Yes, he is back! Back with a vengeance and all who attempt to play with him will live to regret it…at least for a short time.

All the pertinent papers are stacked neatly on the desk of the booking agent as if he expected me to come a calling. How fortuitous. Riffling through the mountain of papers I toss aside anything not related to the subject that most interests me.

In the end there is very little to be discovered. As is usual in my opera house a thorough research is done into the background of newly acquired performers. The two thin sheets of information concerning Ella Stern are hardly enough to form an opinion of her even on a cursory level. What is here could fill a thimble. No one knows very much about her at all. The supposed publicity of her infamy is bogus to say the least. No one heard of her before a few months ago when someone found her lying on a bench in front of St. Katherine's Hospital.

According to the hospital records she could not remember anything before opening her eyes, not even her name. Some kind benefactor paid for her medical care and chose her name. Said benefactor insisted on total anonymity. Once Mademoiselle Stern recuperated it was discovered she had a voice any great diva would be proud to own.

A few francs tossed about certain circles and money donated to the right organizations and Ella Stern became an international star sought by many. In the end L'Opéra Populaire won her signature on the dotted line. It is confusing to me how someone with Antoinette's savvy could be duped by this obvious con unless she is in one the con. I hardly think she would risk her daughter's career or her own.

The impossible happened once could it happen again? If I let myself believe in this miracle I will also have to believe I have won God's pardon for all my sins. Gripping the papers so tightly they crumple then rip apart I glance down bewildered by the separated paper.

I must calm myself. Letting emotions run rampant never have done me any good. Cool calm reason is what is called for now. Sitting down I straighten the paper with my hands until they are flat if slightly wrinkled and a few separated and tattered. Tracing my finger over the unfamiliar name Ella Stern I feel a tingle start in my fingertips. As it travels up my arm, the old familiar charge of electricity zips along bringing every nerve to instant response.

If this is her, my Gabriella what game is she playing? Perhaps in this new life she does not remember anything from her past life. There are religions that believe a person can live many lives without one knowing of any of them until they delve deeply into their subconscious.

We shall be together even if I have to reacquaint myself with her. Antoinette is constantly telling me not to be so dispirited as this is the time for miracles, the Christmas season. Like Ebenezer Scrooge I used to bah humbug this time of year for it held no significance for me. No kindly old man left so much as a crumb of ginger bread for me and as for believing in the mercy and sanctity of any God I had sooner believe in the darker minions because those I knew all too well.

This is my chance to prove I am worthy of a second chance. First God sent me Antoinette to save me from my living hell then along came a little angel by the name of Christine Daaé. Years later when I despaired living my long life alone and unloved another angel came to pull be back to the land of the living. Through her I learned I can be loved, my soul is not forever lost to darkness. Through her love I found my salvation, my redemption if you will. I learned that love sometimes meant sacrifice even loss of the one you love but if you believe and have faith God will show you the way.

Dropping to my knees for the first time I ask God to enter my heart and show me what I must do now. If I am only to be a guide for Ella then that is what I shall be. If I am to be something more then I shall rejoice and thank God for trusting me with someone so precious to him, secretly in my deepest heart of hearts I felt somehow Gabriella had come back to me. Whatever comes of this I hope to at least keep her near me even if it is as a friend.

Leaving the office after I put everything back as I found it I return to my home to think. I can say I am a changed man but that does not mean I do not have the normal impulses and quirks of the normal man. My pride is pricked slightly because Gabriella or rather Ella does not know of me or if she does she gave no sign that she looked toward my box.

Tonight I will pay the new ingénue a visit. If she is pretending then two can play the game of cat and mouse and I will be the cat with very sharp claws. For the first time in months my blood is rushing along my veins to cause my heart to thunder in my chest. I feel alive again.

Preparing for my 'first' encounter with Mademoiselle Stern, I take especial care with my bathing ritual and choosing just the right evening wear. Looking in the mirror, something I rarely do, I can find no fault in my appearance other than the obvious.

About to leave it dawns on me that it is not appropriate for a man to show up empty handed when first meeting a woman he admires and wishes to court. Imagine me courting. I did not so much court Gabriella as acquire her through very little effort on my part.

I haven't any roses on hand and contrary to popular belief I cannot snap my fingers and magically make things appear or disappear or rather I can but…damn it I am so nervous I am going around in circles inside my own head. I shall pay a visit to one of the dressing rooms and confiscate a rose from one of the many bouquets that have surely been delivered before the first curtain call.

Accomplishing that task is easier than any I shall take on the rest of the night. I am not one known for patience but will draw on all that I have so this night can play out at the lady's leisure.

I am pleased my box has been cleaned and everything restored to it's former pristine condition. There on the table sits a box of chocolates. Well damn it if I had known Antoinette would be going to this length to win me over I would not have risked entering some young woman's dressing room for a rose.

Imagine the gossip that would have gone round tonight if it became known the Phantom invaded the privacy of another woman's private rooms. I certainly would not want to start a new relationship with 'Ella' on a sour note.

Constantly during the performance I am fingering the rose and fiddling with the box. By the time I give her the rose it will be a poor offering at best and as for the chocolate box, I have had to retie the bow three times already. It is beginning to look a little worse for wear.

I try to distract myself by watching and listening to the performance. I do wish now I had crawled out of my pit sooner and sat in on more rehearsals. If I had by now who knows how far in my courtship I would be?

Christine is doing well taking over Gabriella's old part. She conceded to return as a favor to me. Raoul silently fumed I'll bet when he heard the news. Planning a wedding agrees with her. She looks well rested and happy. Scowling I try to discern if her middle has thickened and if so the cause of this change. At the moment I have other more important issues on my plate, namely one alluringly familiar diva.

As the evening progresses I wait for at least one telltale glance toward my box but am disappointed when everyone casts fertive glances upward and all around looking for me no doubt but the woman I want to notice does not.

Long before the end my once perfectly fine box becomes a confines equaled to a torture chamber. Leaving it I make my way directly to the dressing room set aside for the company's diva. I have many minutes to wait that do nothing for my peace of mind. Not long into my pacing my anger nears boiling point. I am not used to being played with in this way. I can honestly say I do not care for it one bit and shall make that fact known to everyone.

Light coming through to the backside of the mirror alerts me to the return of my prey. I must wait for a parade of men and other well-wishers to leave her alone before I can begin my game. I am thwarted when she begins to undo very strategically placed buttons.

Only when she goes behind her dressing screen can I take in much needed oxygen. This is going too far. If she will tempt the tiger then she had best be prepared to feel his claws.

The woman knows not what dangerous game she plays as she comes around the screen to take a seat at her vanity. What she has on is as close to nothing as can be without being naked. Shame courses through me as I recall just how little Christine wore on the night I first lured her down into my sanctuary. Even she wore more than this blatant temptress.

I have had enough. Without ceremony or warning I let myself into her room. Since her vanity is directly across from this larger mirror I am clearly reflected back behind her image. How well she carries on with this charade as she jumps to her feet in well acted surprise.

Before she can let out a scream for help if indeed that is her intention, I clamp my hand over her mouth and turn her so she is facing forward with my arm now around her waist holding her firmly against my hard arousal. I will not feel shame for feeling something any man would feel in a similar situation.

Her taught body will not distract me from my task. Gliding my hand away from her mouth l let it slid insidiously down her neck to come to rest just above her heaving bosom. Catching her eyes in the mirror I do not see fright reflected back at me but rather defiance.

"Mademoiselle Stern do you know who I am," I hiss like a snake into her ear.

Raising her hand to wrap hers around mine she speaks firmly and with steady tones, "I know perfectly well who you are or who you are pretending to be. Gossip and superstition is rife in theaters as you well know Monsieur le Phantom or perhaps you prefer Opera Ghost?"

"Phantom will do perfectly well. Upon closer acquaintance I will properly introduce myself and we shall become more…intimate," I pause deliberately and suggestively on my last word.

"Save your wickedness for someone else. I have been warned about your charming ways with women. You may be handsome and speak with a voice as smooth as hundred year old rum but all your wiles are wasted on me. I am saving myself for the oh so elusive Monsieur Erik Destler, the great man himself," she sounds so smug if it was not laughable I would set her back a peg or two.

There is no guile that I can see in her face or recognition showing by so much as a glimmer that she knows who I am. Can it be possible she is who she proclaims to be? Am I letting my own wishful imaginings lead me down a path to insanity?

As one last test I drop my face into the crook of her neck. Gabriella melted in my arms when I used to do this to her. Ella Stern's heart rate may have speed up but she gave no outward sign I affected her at all.

Letting her go I stop at the mirror to warn her, "Be warned Mademoiselle, I shall fight the good fight and I shall be the victor."

"I look forward to our next meeting Monsieur…uh…Monsieur Phantom," she tosses out in challenge just as the mirror closes behind me.

I do not leave immediately. With satisfaction I watch as she picks up the rose and brings it to her nose. A smile creeps across her lips as she brushes the velvety petals of my offering over puckered lips. So she is not as immune as she would have me believe. I am going to enjoy her battle against the inevitable. I will not lose again. She has come back to me and I intend to keep her this time.

An unexpected visitor is wandering around my domain. Luckily I no longer have any lethal traps as I would hate to be responsible for Antoinette's premature journey to the great beyond. It does not need the intellect of a genius to know what has her risking her neck to find me.

Hurrying ahead down a different tunnel I slip into one of my hidden panels and take a short cut that takes me slightly ahead of my wandering companion. If she is startled to see me looming out of the darkness into the faint reach of her lantern's light she does well to hide it from me.

"Erik I have been wandering aimlessly down here ever since I tried to get into Ella's room and found her door locked and no answer to my knock," she huffs out her accusation.

"Well if you knocked then it was either before or after I paid my visit. I will not take offence that you immediately surmised I am the culprit," I say with just enough sting in my words and tone to refute what I said.

"Erik I am warning you, stay away from her. She is not Gabriella. Do not confuse the two," she speaks but I choose not to hear.

"I paid a visit to my newest cast member in my capacity as head of this opera house. I am duty bound to welcome all under my employ," I am almost fooled by my own piety.

"There are at least a thousand employees working here on any given day. How many have you met carrying a rose and box of chocolates?" I cannot deny her accusation so I will ignore it.

I do not leave before I issue a warning of my own, "Stay out of my way Madame. I do not wish to harm you but I will not be stopped by anything or anyone."

With a whirl of my cap I step back into my familiar dark world. I have plans to make, a woman to woo and seduce.

For the next two weeks I visit my star's dressing room bringing small trinkets which she pretends to turn her nose up at until after I leave then she pounces on them like a cat would a mouse.

Ella (Gabriella's POV)

Upon first getting the invitation to audition for the lead role at L'Opéra Populaire my mind refused to accept what the written word alluded to. Already some anonymous benefactor took on the charge of paying my medical bills and for the care I received outside the scope of normal daily responsibilities of the hospital's staff.

Contact through a lawyer is the only evidence I have that I am not imagining my good fortune. Not knowing who I am or where I came from is a very frightening proposition indeed. Would anyone in similar circumstances refuse such a generous gift as my unknown patron gave me? Whoever it is has asked nothing from me other than I train my voice for the operatic stage. At that time I did not even know if I could sing a note without causing some catastrophic disruption. Imagine my relief when my tutor told me how impressed he was with my natural talent.

Arriving here I was met with looks varying from shock to outright horror. Curiosity fell in the middle somewhere between the two. Madame Giry or Antoinette as I am to call her, greeted me with what can only describe as cautious acceptance.

Gradually I learned just why everyone looked at me as if they saw a ghost. It seems I look like the former diva, Gabriella Star. I must say I got a tingle the first time I said the name out loud. Gracious me if half what everyone is reporting as the gospel truth then no wonder the more superstitious of the lot cross themselves when they have need to pass by me if no other avenue is available to avoid being within touching distance of me.

I have to say I felt more intrigued than put off by all the stories of the mysterious Opera Ghost and Phantom. Sometimes the lines between the two are blurred so that it is not clear if we have not one but two supernatural hauntings.

Fortuitously Antoinette warned me that a man dressed in all black attire wearing a mask might pay me a visit. She did not exactly say she thought him benevolent but did not indicate he might be malevolent either. She did neglect to say he would be stepping into my room via a mirror.

Every day after rehearsal I kept expecting to have this otherworldly visitor but each day left me undisturbed and mildly disappointed. My pique increased the longer I went unnoticed by either the maestro everyone raved about or the opera house specters. According to the chorus girls and ballet corps the maestro is a cross between Machiavelli, Casanova and the Greek god Apollo.

Such descriptions were bound to ignite my female interest. The longer the three stayed away the more I wanted to meet them all. Since ghosts nor phantoms may own anything in the real world my real life interest featured the man of power behind the opera I am performing in at present. No one can control their dreams and I must say mine are wickeder than my experience is worthy to dream. I cannot say for certain I am pristine but feel I am not far from it.

Goodness gracious the night of my first performance I finally got my wish to meet at least one of my prime targets. Phantom? Oh no, I say seducer of virgins and teacher to the rest. How I remained coolly collected with all the heat building between us is something quite extraordinary. If he had stayed one minute longer I would have fallen at his feet, literally. He made me that weak by his mere presence in the room but intensified his power over me when he touched me.

As my unannounced visitor left he said he would visit me again and I did not know if I should take that as a promise or a threat. Either way I looked forward to seeing him again. Forget the elusive Erik Destler, I will settle for Monsieur le Fantome despite what I have said.

I nearly fainted when I found a note propped on my vanity informing me I would be receiving a visit from my very own phantom. I shivered when I read it. He promised that no matter how many men crossed my doorstep he would be the last to leave.

Keeping to his word the last admirer to leave my dressing room at night was a man I could only describe as hypnotic or maybe a better word is a drug. Each time I see him I am left wanting more. Have I ever craved a man's lips to press hotly against mine? Did my heart ever pound with the drumbeat of some trible mating ritual when some other man came into my sight? I do not believe so. I am entranced and can do nothing to save myself if saving is what I need.

Antoinette has guessed who visits me when my door is locked. That first time I did not lock it but every time since the key has been turned on this side of the lock. I cannot push the horde of admirers and well-wishers out fast enough.

Something about all of this at times appears to be familiar. I feel at ease with everyone especially my new found admirer who is a person I am told I should fear. What I feel thrumming along my veins and heating unmentionable places on my body is a far cry from fear.

My last guest has barely stepped across my dressing room threshold when the mirror swishes open. As has become my habit I sit at my vanity brushing my hair. Lord how his eyes seem to eat me alive. All that passion burning holes into my skin thrills me like nothing I have ever experienced before. I hope once he makes his move to seduce me completely I am able to met passion with passion.

"Mademoiselle Stern I should like for you to come with me below to my home," he extends the invitation but it sounds more like a command. If he but knew I am his to command we could dispense with all these childish games. On second thought not so childish after all as he comes to place his hands on my shoulders. For once he does not have on the thick leather gloves. I thought he might have some disfiguring on his hands as well as his face. Now I can see he has perfectly formed fingers that are long and sensuous as they glide along my bared skin.

When I try to speak my voice is thick with all the sensations he is bringing to boiling point inside of me.

"I…I should like that very much and I think we may dispense with formalities. You may call me Ella and I shall call you…" I paused, waiting for him to reply with his own name.

"Erik, you may call me Erik," he says with a curious inflection. I feel as if I should know something important has been imparted but I am too focused on this man and how he makes me feel.

"Erik," I whisper trying the name out on my tongue. I like the sound and taste of it. A flash of something startles me for an instant then is gone. For that instant I saw Erik and I embracing passionately. Perhaps I am reflecting my wishes from my subconscious.

Taking his hand I feel safe and unafraid as we enter a world of musky damp air lit by only one candle. Along the way I see many wall sconces but none are lit. Somehow I feel we could be in total darkness and we would know where we were going. Him being able to that I understand but not me. It is a puzzle.

Coming to a crossing of tunnels I am automatically drawn to the right and he goes left. When I look at him questioningly he supplies an answer that should have given me more food for thought had I been paying attention.

"That way is a shorter distance to my home but this direction will take us to a landing where I keep a gondola. If you prefer to walk we can go that way," he offers courteously but I clearly know which one I would prefer.

"Oh no, please let us ride in the boat. I have always wanted to ride along in your boat," the slip of the tongue brings his candle closer to my face so he can see me more clearly. I am certain I have not come down into the lower levels of the opera house and I surely would remember if I had seen the underground lake.

Inside my head something is pushing to make itself known. I am not threatened in any way. On the contrary I feel as if whatever my inner mind has to impart to me is very important.

Bobbing along following the bends and turns of the lake I lay back shifting into a comfortable position. Nothing is more interesting than watching Erik pole along with his muscles and manliness perfectly displayed for my leisurely inspection.

Closing my eyes I once again see us kissing as lovers do. He is not forcing me to participate. On the contrary, I can see my hands roaming over him in a way only familiarity will allow.

Befuddled by my overly stimulated senses Erik practically has to lift me from the boat as I feel fluid as warm honey.

Whatever I expected a man's home below ground to be is not what I saw in front of me. All of this seems so familiar and yet that cannot be. Erik shows me around stopping every so often as if waiting for something. All I can offer is compliments for his taste. I am not pleased when he informs me a woman decorated his home. The way he spoke of her it is someone who has a special place in his heart. I know it cannot be Christine nor do I think Antoinette would have taken on that task. They do not have that sort of arrangement.

Throughout the evening I am plied with fine wine, entrancing music and the natural male allure Erik exudes in abundance. That man has sensuous marked from head to foot and is so unaware of it as to be almost shy of women. Perhaps shy is not the correct word. Maybe unsure is the better description.

He does not keep me late even though I wanted to stay. Rehearsals will be the usual grueling day long necessary torture as changes are always being made.

After that night Erik took me to his home every evening keeping me later and later until I did not want to leave at all. Only his sense of honor kept me chaste. Lurid dreams filled my nights as well as those strange flashes of events that I do not recall but the woman going through them looks exactly like me.

So gradually I did not notice it happened Erik began to call me Gabriella. The name did not feel unfamiliar or strange. It fit. As I accepted more and more of this other woman's memories as my own a transition came over me. It was as if the two of us merged.

Feeling everyone would think I am losing my mind I kept this new turn of events to myself. I hinted to Erik for information but he kept his lips firmly closed on the subject. Everyone else crossed themselves then scuttled away as if I had mentioned some unholy entity.

Not being well acquainted with anyone other than Erik I could not seek council from anyone. Worry over my sanity took its toll. I lost weight, became a shadow of my former self. Erik pampered me with offerings of delicacies but nothing took my interest away from the inner turmoil that raged inside of me.

More and more I felt like this Gabriella person and less and less like Ella. Where before I felt comfortable and safe, now I felt real terror fearing I was losing my mind and soul to the ghost of another woman. Erik must be experiencing the same thing for several times he has slipped and called me Gabriella only to stop to see if I took notice of his mistake. Even more bizarre is I answered him without any hesitation. Her name coming from Erik's lips seemed natural as did my response and ease with the mistake.

On Christmas Eve the opera house closed until the New Year so everyone could travel home to be with families. I had no family so Erik and I planned to spend our holiday together. I even talked him into letting me hire an open carriage so we could ride through the park and see all the newly fallen snow.

Erik had shown me his world now I wanted to show him mine. We had so much we could share with one another it might just take a lifetime to reveal everything.

Our ride could not have been more perfect. Erik confessed he had not seen Paris from a carriage and definitely not during any holiday festivities. Not many were out at the late afternoon hour and we rode around mile after mile content to be together whether in silence or pointing out something of interest.

The witching hour of midnight drew near and I knew Erik would be ready to return me to my room. Tonight I did not wish to go to a cold empty bed. I am not sure whether I am ready for sharing Erik's bed in the conventional connotation of the phrase but I do want to sleep beside him and have his face be the first thing I see when I open my eyes.

His arguments against me staying are half-hearted at best. His lonely bed is no less welcoming than mine. With seeming reluctance he gives in. The quick way he readied the bath for me and fetched my nightwear spoke volumes about my welcome if I had any doubts.

Freshly bathed and smelling of Erik's bath salts I crack the door open. To my surprise Erik is on top of the covers dressed for bed. Covered from head to toe in a black robe he reminds me of one of those creatures of darkness I once heard about at some time or other, not that I am comparing him to those bloodsucking undead but his dress and the way his hands are crossed on his chest suggest a…well it suggests a corpse. I have heard Erik described as being corpselike. I have no idea what idiot started that false rumor but he needs a good pair of glasses.

"Where did you…" I start to ask when he answers before I can finish my sentence.

"I went above and took the liberty of using one of the baths being unused at present," he does not open his eyes or indicate he is interested in carrying on a conversation. Well perhaps he just…just wishes to get on with it.

Nervously I remove my robe and still Erik remains lying with his eyes closed. Taking notice of the flush beginning to stain his cheeks I look closer and see the glint of his lovely green eyes through the slit of his lids. At least now I know sleep is not on the agenda for a while at least.

Feeling emboldened by his obvious desire for me I place my hand on his chest and begin fiddling with the buttons. One, then two, then three are undone allowing my hand to slip inside the silky cloth to feel short springy hair. I know I have gone too far when I graze my hand over a male nipple and Erik growls in warning, "Ella."

He does not frighten me one bit so I continue on regardless of whether I am being fair to test his resolve not to engage in any intimacies other than a little petting.

My world is turned topsy-turvy when he flips over to straddle his leg over mine imprisoning my lower body so I cannot get away if indeed that is something I even thought about, which it wasn't. Thinking is a process denied me when his lips crush down to cover mine in a masterful exchange of passion.

Images begin flashing inside my head. I do not know if they are real or imagined and my mind is far too rattled to make sense of anything at the moment other than the man I love and hold most dear is kissing me with unreserved passion and I am lying here like a marble statue.

"Gabriella, tell me this is what you want. I have waited so long and cannot bear to wait another day to know you will be mine body and soul," he groans as kisses are reined over my face, neck and shoulders.

I did not need to think twice. I belonged to Erik just as I believed he belonged to me. Upon admitting this to myself I felt something shifting inside of me, something leaving and then something else taking its place. For the first time in a long while I felt whole.

The name Gabriella floated around inside my head in a soft litany. I felt something give way inside of me. Along with this inner shifting came the feeling of a soft outer influence leading me to see all the hidden images inside my mind.

I am so caught up in this revelation I cease to respond to Erik. For the few minutes it takes for my past life to be revealed to me I lie still beside Erik with my chest heaving.

With clarity and a surety that makes no sense I know I am Gabriella. How or why I won't question as this second chance to be with Erik I will not let go of easily. If I have to fight my namesake, the angel Gabriel I will have my life with Erik, a life denied us by Joseph Buquet taking my life.

For whatever reason God or whatever powerful entity rules the universe has deemed me worthy of receiving such a precious gift.

My destiny is to be with Erik just as I have known all along. I was meant to be his saving grace all those years ago but met an untimely death at the hands of Joseph Buquet.

I shiver as I remember looking down and seeing my earthly body being covered with damp earth in an unmarked grave. Two other older graves were beside mine. I can see a younger version of Erik doing what he can to make these unmarked graves seem less lonely. I can feel his sadness and bewilderment. He had known of me. He had seen me and took a fancy to me. If I had not died he would have found the courage to approach me.

For so many reasons I silently damn my murderer to hell. So much of my life or afterlife has been wasted trying to right the wrongs in the world. Maybe not wasted, as I will now have a lifetime with Erik.

Not one second more of my time here on earth will be wasted on a man not worthy of a thought. I will think only of the wonderful man who loves me and who I love with all my heart.

Rolling onto my side I touch Erik's face with my fingertips. I trace over each feature with a loving caress. Leaning over him I command huskily, "Kiss me Erik."

"You need only ask Ella my love or simply look at me as you are now to have me groveling at your feet," he says as he rises up to lean over me.

"Gabriella. I know I am Gabriella. Don't ask me how I know just yet. It is too new and confusing. For now just make love to me Erik and let us shut out the world," I beg him desperately as I am not anxious to leave our private world. Who knows what will happen with the rise of the sun in the morning?

"My dear sweet love that is exactly what I had planned for us but now I am reconsidering. I want our first time to be as man and wife. You deserve that and I can hardly believe I am going to say this but I believe I deserve it too," his words are filled with passion but also a little wonder.

I start to protest then see the truth of what Erik says. We will spend the night talking with long moments of exploration. It may test our resolve but between the two of us we should have enough restraint.

Talk for now is set aside so we may begin a moment of exploration. There are other ways to fulfill passion or so I have heard. Will it not be heavenly to seek them out with Erik?

Unseen and Unheard

Three angels watch over the two lovers. There is joy mixed with sadness. Their dreams of love were cut short by a fiendish murderer. Now they only wish to help others fulfill their dreams and succeed in finding the path that will lead them to their destiny.

"Claire I am sorry you couldn't stay. Her life is not yours to live," Marianna says with real pain for Ella's loss.

"Don't be sorry Marianna. I am just grateful for that short gift. My life was far too short to appreciate how fragile mortals are. If I played some small part in allowing Gabriella and Erik find one another again I would do whatever it takes. He is meant for greatness and with a loving woman like Gabriella at his side he will fullfil that promise," Claire smiles fondly upon the couple oblivious they are being observed by otherwordly beings. Angels or ghosts does it matter?

"Let us return to our heavenly home so we may watch as Erik becomes who he was destined to be," Claire says with only slight envy for the woman she allowed to come to terms with going from ghost to having life, precious life.

And so it went. Erik and Gabriella founded a school for the arts as well as a place where deserving souls could find a niche in life even if the circumstance of their birth would normally have them cast aside as unworthy of notice. No frailty or affliction ever was turned away but instead those poor dregs of humanity were given back their dignity and thus contributed to society in very profound ways.

Erik and Gabriella were blessed with a second legacy, their five children. Each special in their own way and loved no matter what talent they had or lacked. The world was very blessed on that special Christmas just as it was all those many centuries ago when a special child was born to save the world.

A/N: I hope it didn't end too corny. I wanted something different and unusual. Was I successful?