Sorry for the long wait! Again, thank you all for the reviews- without them, this would've been abandoned long ago. So here we go: epilogue.

Disclaimer: I don't own POTO or Frankenstein

He recalled the flames of hell, the nightmares of Persia, and a laughing gypsy- his mother had been there, the mask was out of his reach, he was lost in a sea of blood and cages, the devils refused to leave him be, this was punishment, penance, fate-

And then it had stopped. The horrors had dwindled into a storm in the distance and all he could hear were the soothing tones of familiar voices, so soft and kind that he was afraid to think himself the object of their conversation. Whether real or imaginary, they had eased him into a dreamless sleep, a long stable period of nothing but blankness.

"I am sorry."

Adam.

Erik's eyes struggled to open. It came back to him in a flash of lightning- Frankenstein's creature, the cult, Kristine, Gustave, the mystery unfolding on itself- he groaned. With every memory, a shot of pain ran through him, his body too weak and broken to protest. His mind was too fuzzy to care where he was, but in the semi-darkness of the room, he recalled a girl that had nearly died in his arms.

Daae's home. How...? A cough escaped his lips, flares of pain jabbing at his cracked ribs. But it was not the cough he remembered- it was dimmer, less in number. A trembling hand reached at his face and he tore the thin layer of gauze away, the cool air assaulting his parched lips. There was no one around and he could care less if anyone did see.

Erik forced himself to sit up, a wave of blood rushing to his head and the effort threatening to push him back down. Once the dizziness passed, he surveyed the dark room, a dim bit of light peeking in through the window. Perhaps it was near dawn. On the bedside table were two bowls, the smaller filled with water, and the other he couldn't quite tell. His fever had broken at last, that much he was certain. He was still shivering beneath the thick blankets but the cold was not nearly as bad.

He grabbed the water and gulped it down, his throat freezing as it entered. His eyes had adjusted. Slowly, he pushed back the covers and tried to put his feet on the ground. The bandages covering him were clean and thick, as if they had been changed many times over. What had happened? He tried to remember the events after the worst of his injuries.

He had managed to take Gustave to Frederik. The wife was safe. Adam. Yes, Adam had saved his wretched life- you should have left me to die, you fool. Oh, you fool- you were right about Erik! You were always right. Then Adam had abandoned him, he suspected, left him to rot in the snow- but there was a fleeting apology, one that dulled the blow somewhat.

An old man and Frederik. He remembered nothing else clearly. Piecing things together logically, he came to the conclusion that Daae hadn't the heart to cast him out- pitying the dog, so to speak. It would be murder if he did. Oh yes, that must have been it, so here he was, having probably frightened Kristine so bad with his face that whoever tended him had covered it up. He should be grateful, he supposed. He had been trapped in hell for far too long and he had no intention of facing it indefinitely.

One sore arm over his chest, he stood and limped toward the sacks on the floor- his sacks. He turned toward the table and sloppily devoured the contents of the other bowl, a thick stew too cold for comfort that he was too worn to bother tasting. Nourishment- he still couldn't remember the last time he ate.

Holding back groans and trying to keep the pain at bay, he managed to rummage through his belongings until he found a plain shirt. He threw it on without bothering to button it. There was another cloak inside, a shabbier one that he used to wear in slow show days. After a period of what felt like several hours of pain, he had dressed himself relatively adequately- shoes, shirt, cloak, and most importantly, a mask. But they fit him barely; he was thinner even than before, the trousers were ripped at the cuffs, he hadn't the patience to straighten the shirt, and the shoes were dirty. He wanted to laugh at how silly he seemed.

Before he limped out the room, he decided to leave a small amount of money on the table- hopefully Daae could use the currency. Yes, that would clear the debt he owed Gustave.

He knew he had overstayed his welcome. Shivering, he gathered his things, and walked toward the door on wobbling legs. He stumbled as quietly as he could through the house until he was out the front door.

The sky was gray, light bits of snow drifted overhead, and dead trees stood in the distance. The wind blew softly. Erik limped away.

A frantic Daae would later go to town asking about the Frenchman, a violin in his hands, and he would find that the man had hailed a wagon to take him to the next town over, and from there, he would finish the journey south. Perhaps he would settle down in a period of recuperation before going to Belgium, and then maybe home to France.

Kristine would give birth to Daae's first and only child a few months later, a daughter he named after his wife.

It had been so many years. But it meant nothing to his never-ending lifespan. Twenty years and counting, perhaps more. He kept his head low, the hood of his dark cloak concealing the worst of his features. But his stature was still intimidating enough to keep the low lives away from him. He walked through the streets, the lamp posts elegant and new. It had been so long since he was in a city.

It was ironic: his first language had been theirs, and it had taken him nearly a century to even consider setting foot in their country.

Paris, France 1881. It was the busiest of winter and the Christmas holiday was encroaching- he breathed the air, let the sounds of carriages draw by, glanced at the items behind glass windows. The people were too busy to notice him, and it was in this manner that he made his way past the various flats and shops.

The Opera Garnier was magnificent, a sculpture brought to life, a piece of overwhelming beauty held back by the boundaries of art. Gold and marble and white and red. He stood on the outside and watched- something about it had drawn him in- perhaps part of his search to see all the buildings of worth, a task a companion long ago had once offered him.

His wanderings kept him at peace- to see and admire, to look and wonder if there could be more. He could perhaps be a creator when all was seen, out of Frankenstein's shadow for good.

Adam stared at the rooftop, examining the gargoyles and angels when yellow eyes caught sight of shadows flicker past the stone. The tip of a black cape, the outline of a fedora, the mask in the moonlight. Snow drifted down.

The shadow was gone, so focused on its activity that it had never noticed Adam, but he had seen him. Erik.

"Bonjour, mon ami," Adam whispered, the words almost bitter in his mouth. Erik could hide, but Adam knew he could find him. The hunt could begin once more.

Happy winter! Thanks for sticking with me for so long and reviews would be really really kind of you: now that the saga's over, feel free to tell me if it was a good read, a waste of time, or just bad.

I admit that out of all these fictional characters, I get the greatest kick out of torturing Erik- he's just so deliciously vulnerable, I'm sorry.

Some end notes: When I first thought of this crossover, things were a lot more bitter between Erik and the creature. It was more of a Freddy VS Jason thing instead of what we have here, and it would have been a post-Phantom story, instead of a prequel.

The divergences:

- Gustave's role was either supposed to got to the Persian or Raoul
- Kristine was Christine and would have only showed up once
- Erik would have died from his wounds
- There was no cult- Adam would just have been too consumed with anger
- There would be no need for Erik, a far more bitter man than what we have here, to reflect; he's already been redeemed in the post-scenario and would have literally martyred himself without hesitation

But none of that happened so instead we have a nicer Adam and Erik- I figured that the creature would have been more morally conscious since the events of "Frankenstein" and that a POTO prequel-Erik would make nice juxtaposition. This is Erik, straight out of the middle east, young and still a bit innocent, who thinks he still has a shot in the world and redemption.

It was mean of me, I know, but that resolve needed to break. So the story tore him down physically and mentally- he already has a bit of PTSD from Persia and a habit of not eating or drinking, the bad weather just got the worst of him. His condition plus the blood bath just made him vulnerable to extra angst and depression. It's still the incredibly fit Erik, though, so I think it's not too much of a stretch for him to plow through this much crap, with the fever and the wounds. But it's been pointed out to me and I agree that there might have been too much, so medically, things weren't terribly well-done.

None of this is in my headcanon but for this story's universe, it is: Erik never fully recovers from this, physically or mentally- it's just added to his long list of nightmares and the crazier he gets, the more he twists things to the point where he forgets about Christine's parents. Sometimes Erik thinks he was the one being sacrificed or that he was the one leading the cult. Physically, from this point on, he's a lot slower and weaker.

For Gustave's part, Kristine never recovered either- her immune system was weakened by this, and she died early in Christine's childhood. That's when Gustave took her and left town for good. He has mentioned a friend named Erik, but it excludes all the gory details and Erik's face. If I tried to piece this to canon, Christine would never think this Erik and her father's were the same.

Unlike Erik, who became more bitter and pessimistic, not to mention off his rocker, Adam regains some sanity from this, and he spends time traveling to reflect on what he can do to cut the emotional connection to Victor. He's not all happy, but not as depressed. And if I ever wrote a sequel, Adam would either play the hero to Erik's villain or relapse into something far worse. That's all the notes I wanted to share, haha.

Again, thanks for reading everything!