This fan fiction is mainly based on the 2004 Phantom of the Opera movie. Of course, the name Erik is from the book, but I doubt there will be very little other references to the wonderful novel. I do intent for Erik to resemble Gerard Butler one hundred percent because he is the most gorgeous thing I have ever laid eyes on. After watching the movie I felt much too sad that Erik would have to stay alone and live without love, so I decided to fix that.

I would like to clarify a few things. Cielle is a variation of the French name Ciel, meaning sky. I just thought the name would be appropriate, considering the title of the story. She is French, but unlike the phantom, she has a noticeable accent.

I do know a bit of French so I will be incorporating a little here and there. I will try my best to not make it too difficult to read and if it is, feel free to inform me so I can change or translate as soon as possible.

I think it's only fair to warn you ahead of time that later chapters will be graphic. I can't tell you much now since that would ruin everything, including my ever confusing twists and turns of the story.

I will try to update often though I must admit that my updating will depend on the demand and popularity of the story. The more reviews, the more chapters. The better the reviews, the faster the updates.

Please review. I appreciate constructive criticism. No one is absolutely perfect, but I will try my best to correct every single mistake. Feel free to offer your opinion and your comments. I welcome them.

Thank you very much for your understanding and your patience. So, without further ado, Je presente la oeuvre de fiction "Sur les Ailes d'Anges"

Disclaimer I do not own Phantom of the Opera, even though I wish I did. I could hug Gerard to death all day! But, sadly, credit for the phantom goes to Andrew Lloyd Webber and the overall credit for the entirety of Phantom goes to Gaston Leroux. Cielle and characters related to her are the only ones I can truly take credit for.

On Angels' Wings:

Part 1: Looking Beyond the Mask, Beyond the Monster

Chapter One

A Fallen Angel

He didn't know just how long he had been sitting there, staring across the river. He just couldn't believe that the one time he had actually opened up to someone, she had betrayed him bitterly. She had absolutely no regard for his feelings. Her only motive in kissing him had been to free Raoul.

He was no fool. He knew that forcing Christine to stay with him would cause them both pain, no matter how much he loved her, or rather, worshiped her. She would constantly lament over the loss of her rich lover, fine horses and all. All he had ever wanted was to make her happy. All he had ever wanted was to feel that she loved him. But she never had.

Growing up, the only comfort to his lonely life had been reading. He had read countless novels and epic literature that gave him knowledge and meaning to life. That was, of course, until he discovered music. In all his infamous literature, there were heroes, shunned by the outside world that fought endlessly in the name of love. Those were his favorite. But, as it turned out, it was fiction and he wasn't exactly a dashing, handsome hero. You're quite the opposite really, he thought to himself bitterly. You're a disgusting monster. A murderer.

The scene replayed time and time again in his mind. The way Christine had looked at him, eyes full of hated. He was much too angry too care. He had a very explosive temper. When she kissed him, it was heaven for him. Never had he felt such emotion within his body and soul.

But when they pulled apart, he looked into Christine's eyes. Those eyes, he thought to himself, remembering the desperate, tear-filled orbs. They were full of pain, anguish, and fear. He could think of the many ways her imagination began to wander, with nothing but the dark fate she had chosen. I cannot do this, he had thought and kissed her one final time, his own way of saying farewell. I love you too much to cause you such pain. He had yelled and demanded for the young lovers to leave from his sight.

And they had done just that. He remembered so vividly how she looked back at him. Her beautiful form getting smaller, farther with each passing second. She was disappearing, dissolving into the darkness, never to return to him. Why would she want to return to a monster?

He had successfully ignored the growling of his stomach until it pained him. He had successfully ignored the dry taste in his mouth until the only thing he could think of was her sweet kisses. He had successfully put aside the fatigue until it began to overcome him.

Alas, he gave up looking out into the emptiness. It was just a reminder of what he had lost. Exhausted, he rose from where he sat and began to compose. From his pain would come creation. He would continue to live the way he had before Christine. Alone.

Only a few moments later, a very unexpected scream echoed throughout the caves, causing him to sit upright and listen.

"No! Please," he could hear sobs and the sound was moving toward him.

Instinctively, he stood quickly grabbed his cloak and his sword running toward the direction of the sobs. He ran faster, not even sure why, every now and again going into the lake to cross to the other side. The underground passage was indeed underneath the opera house, but it was extremely vast. He suspected that it ran through most of Paris, if not all of it. But, it did not matter. Spending so much of his life down in this place, he knew his way around very well.

The sobs were getting louder and he could soon hear footsteps. He continued on, curious as to who had been disturbing his creative endeavors.

"Stupid girl," he heard a male voice shout, "you cannot escape me."

A second scream echoed loudly, coming from his right and he turned, not prepared for the sight that met his eyes.

There stood a man of medium stature dressed from head to toe in dark purple robes. His identity concealed by a black mask that covered his entire face. His robes were much too long for him, for the bottom was stained with dirt and mud from being dragged across the dirty tunnels, and the sleeves concealed his arms and hands.

He had cornered someone, without no doubt a woman. The screams were coming from her, he thought to himself.

Quietly, the phantom crept closer, remaining in the shadows. He was very adept at remaining invisible. He was, after all, a ghost. A monster, his conscience corrected him.

Upon closer inspection, he could tell that the victim was very young. She was no girl. That he could tell for certain. Even from where he stood, he could tell that her body was, to say the least, developed. But, the fear-filled features on her face were nowhere near that of mature womanhood. She couldn't possibly be a day older than twenty years of age.

"Please," she begged as her captor drew nearer.

"You ran from us," a harsh voice replied. "You will pay the price."

"No," she whispered quietly.

Unexpectedly, the purple- robed man pinned her against the wall.

The girl reacted with a pained gasp and began to whimper, as if she knew what fate awaited her.

"Since you're being this way, you put me in a very precarious situation."

She did not respond.

"I'll have to punish you once myself," he said, roughly thrusting his lower body into hers.

The phantom watched from where he stood, indecisive of whether he should interfere or not.

The girl began to sob uncontrollably.

"And you do know that they will punish you again upon our return." The man's voice was filled with perverted malice.

She continued to sob, obviously attempting to calm herself.

"Stop that," he commanded her raising one of the long sleeves, exposing his hand. Seconds later, the back of his hand collided with the side of her face, causing her to whimper more. "You're only bringing a harsher punishment upon yourself."

"Is that so?" By the time he realized that he had spoken his thoughts aloud, it was too late for him to disappear into the shadows. The purple-robed man turned immediately to face the source of the voice.

"Who's there? What do you want?"

"How amusing," he gave a small chuckle, "I was wondering the same thing myself. I was minding my own business, deep within my work, and I heard this unbearable racket and decided it must come to an end."

"Who are you? Reveal yourself!"

"To a stranger? I think not. Who are you?"

"It matters not." He suddenly grabbed the girl's arm, his purple robes shifting ever-so-slightly. "We were just leaving."

"No, my good sir, I believe you will be the only one leaving."

"I am certainly not leaving without the girl."

The phantom drew his sword, wondering why on earth saving this one soul mattered so much to him. "If you intend on leaving alive, I suggest you leave alone."

His opponent released his grasp on the girl's arm and, having no weapon, took several steps backward. Moments later he turned and began running, his long robes billowing behind him.

The girl looked at her savior, regarding him, not sure of what to do next. "Merci," she whispered, "Merci beaucoup. Thank you very much."

With no answer, he stepped out of the dim light and took several steps toward her. Without a word, he reached for the hood of his cloak and removed it.

"Le Fantôme," she gasped, "You're the Phantom of the Opera."

"Yes, yes," he rolled his eyes in exasperation

"I'm very sorry," she quickly replied, "I don't mean to be so rude. I am very grateful."

He rolled his eyes again. "Your name?"

She bit her lip. "If I tell you, will you tell anyone?"

"Oh yes, I will most certainly inform all of my closest friends and all of Paris, revealing my identity when I am wanted for murder just to tell them the name of a girl who happened to be wandering near my lair."

She swallowed hard. "It's just," she trailed off

"Yes?" he was getting extremely tired of waiting for her reply

"Certain people will be looking for me," she said worried

"I do not socialize much," he stated, tiring of this insignificant girl, "In fact, I usually don't go around saving lives either."

"My name is Cielle," she whispered

He took this moment to study her, taking in every detail about her. She was a beautiful girl who was about half a head smaller than him. Her eyes were a dark, mysterious brown color that stood out against her olive complexion. Her hair was either red or brown. The color was so close to both of the colors that it was hard to tell. It was wavy and ran half the length of her small back. She was thin, but curvaceous nonetheless.

"These tunnels are no place for a girl like you, Cielle," he said as he saw that her knees were shaking, threatening to give out.

"It's where they brought me," she said quietly, "and when I got the chance, I ran as fast as I could."

"I should probably lead you out of here. Your family will no doubt miss your presence."

"I have no family," she said, her voice almost inaudibly. "My mother died giving birth to me and her family would have nothing to do with me or my father. He was disowned at birth, and raised me, but he changed as soon as I turned eleven."

"Why?" he couldn't believe just how curious he was to know about this girl.

"Je ne sais pas," she shrugged. "He, well -- let's just say I don't really have anywhere to go right now."

They were silent for several moments.

"Do you have a name?" she asked him, breaking the silence.

"I'm the phantom," he said plainly.

"Surely you have a name," Cielle pressed on

He sighed. "Erik," he looked away. "My name is Erik." He could not believe that only within moments of meeting her acquaintance, he told her his name. It had been so long since he had uttered the mere word, but even longer since he had introduced himself using his given name.

"It's a very nice name," she smiled wearily.

He noted that her knees had not stopped trembling. Seconds later, she began to blink furiously and, without warning, her body began to fall. He quickly reacted and caught her before she hit the ground. In one swift movement, he lifted her body into his arms.

Instantly, the memory of holding his beloved Christine filled his mind. Sighing, he shook his head, willing them to go away and began his journey toward his chambers.

It wasn't a very long walk, but it took him longer to return considering that he was carrying Cielle in his arms, being careful not to wake her. He couldn't even seem to remember when he started to care. You don't care. You still love Christine. You'll always love Christine.

Tried as he did, he could not stop the thoughts from filling his mind on his way back. The simplest thought grew out in branches and expanded into so many different thoughts. He began remembering little things he would not have usually remembered.

Trying to clear his mind, he looked down at the peacefully sleeping Cielle in his arms. She truly was beautiful. Compared to you, anything looks beautiful. He inwardly cursed himself for even allowing these thoughts cross his mind.

When he finally arrived, he was overcome with relief and fatigue. But, there was another problem to attend to. Where on earth was Cielle going to sleep?

He wasn't exactly used to having anyone visit him to say the least and he most certainly did not have a guest room for her to rest in. There was only one solution. Sighing he continued on, climbing up the stone stairs to his bedroom.

The peacock shaped bed with red velvet cushioning looked extremely welcoming, considering that he hadn't slept for days. Not since Christine abandoned me, he thought bitterly. But, feeling the weight of his arms, he knew he would go another night without his bed.

He walked over to the bed and lowered her onto the cushioned bed as gently as he could. He stood up straight and looked down at the sight. There's room on the other side, his mind rang tempting him, but the thought passed as quickly as it came.

Instead, he turned his attention to Cielle. She looked peaceful, and it was clear that the sleep was long overdue. He took notice of her apparel then. With everything that had passed, her clothes had been the last thing on his mind, but now, he couldn't help but notice.

Her skirt was white, torn in various places, and was falling apart. She wore flat shoes that were shaped like those of a ballerina, but they had no ribbons. Those were white as well. Her top was pink rose colored shaped like a corset. There were no strings or places to tie them, however. Unlike her other clothes, the top was undamaged and seemed to perfectly fit her body.

He shook his head at his last thought and tore his gaze away from his guests. He turned to leave and proceeded to walk to his mannequin of Christine. It was the closest thing he had to her. And for that reason, he needed to get rid of it.

Sadly, Erik gathered every last drawing and every last doll that resembled or had been made for Christine. He disposed of them, taking them far into the tunnels and lit a fire. He stood there for a long time, watching until every last item burned to ashes.

I will let go, Erik thought to himself, determined. I will move on, but how?

When he returned, he was surprised to see how empty his quarters seemed. He was also surprised to see Cielle sitting in front of his organ looking intently at the sheet music.

"You were gone for quite some time," she said softly

"I had to dispose of a few belongings," he replied curtly

"Why?"

"They reminded me of someone I lost." He was surprised at just how easily he told this girl what was on his mind without even thinking. "Someone very special."

"Did you love her?"

"I worshipped her," he sighed

"What happened?"

"Must you ask?" he said with a frustrated sigh

She looked at him, confusion in her eyes. "I don't--"

"Even if it wasn't the phantom part that led to her ultimate decision, these quarters aren't exactly appealing to be spending the rest of your life in! Especially not when a rich vicomte is trying too woo her. She was bound to choose the fine horses, the fine clothes, and the handsome man."

Cielle remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"Yes, she was bound to choose that instead of the murders, hand-me-downs from the opera storage, damp lair, and the repulsive monster."

"I don't see a repulsive monster…" she said cautiously

Without warning her, he tore his white half mask from his face, exposing the deformed, scarred skin.

Her demeanor hadn't changed at all. She hadn't screamed, jumped back, or made a face. Her expression remained one of confusion and her eyes met his determinedly.

"Do you not understand now?"

She shook her head. "I see nothing repulsive or in the least bit ugly in front of me."

"Are you blind then?" he asked impatiently

She shook her head. "I think it's you who is blind."

She stood up and walked to him. Cautiously, she raised her hand to his face and ran her fingers over the scarred skin.

"Your skin is very soft," she said to him with a small smile.

He pulled away from her. The last thing he wanted was to be touched by anyone.

"You could not possibly understand me," he said looking at her, "You are just a girl."

"I am nineteen," she defended herself defiantly. "And you could at least let me try to understand you."

"Why? It's not like you'll be staying long." he said bitterly

"Oh," she replied taken aback. "I'm sorry, I didn't know my presence…" she trailed off at a loss of words, looking hurt.

He cursed himself. He had hurt her feelings. When did he care about hurting others? He shook the thought from his mind. "What I meant to say," he said cautiously, "is that this place is gloomy, unwelcoming, and despicable. Most don't wish to stay long. I presumed you would share the same sentiments as other visitors have shown."

"If you want me to leave, then I can just go now. All you have to do is tell me."

A quiet desperation overcame him. He didn't want her to leave. In fact, even if he wouldn't admit it, he was starting to enjoy her company. The rooms seemed so lonely, so cold, and he never had anyone to talk to. Even if they hadn't spoken much, it was a very nice improvement from his usual social behavior. From killing to small talk. Seems to work better.

She watched him quietly, awaiting his response.

"It would not be wise for you to go into the tunnels. Did you not say they were looking for you? If I let you leave here, and they do find you after all, then what was my purpose in bringing you here," he sighed. "I will not hold you here against your will, but I believe you will be safe in this area of the underground."

She smiled. "So I can stay with you?"

"You may seek shelter, protection, nutrition and all else you require here, yes. Seeing as you have no where else to go of course. Feel free to remain as long as you like." He sighed again

"As long as I like?" she asked, "Really?"

He nodded.

"Well, then," she said, "Does that mean I can call you by your first name?"

"How else would you address me?" he raised an eyebrow at her

"Monsieur, Phantom, Sir, …"

"Erik will do."

She smiled. "And I expect you to call me Cielle."

He nodded, exhausted. Moments later, he was not able to stand so he sat on the floor and laid his head on the ground. "Cielle, I trust you know your way to the bed. Good night." With that he closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

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This is my first chapter. Hooray for me! Anyways thanks for reading. Please review. Lots of love!