Phantom of the Opera A Touch of Heaven

DISCLAIMER: None of these characters are mine. If only one of them was…

SUMMARY: In A Conversation in the Dark, by Riene, Erik is awoken from sleep by a terrible nightmare, a memory of his life with the fair. This short story further explains this dark moment in his past, and is written with the original author's permission.

A Touch of Heaven

Erik was huddled in the corner of the cage, wrapped around himself in an attempt to retain what little body heat he had. The nights were becoming colder but he was never given any protection against the chill. He turned, putting his back to the slight wind that foretold rain in the near future, and tried to sleep.

He had been dozing only a few moments when the clang of his cage door opening awoke him. Before he could react, rough hands grabbed his feet and pulled him toward the entrance. He was dropped heavily to the ground, then lifted up as if he weighed nothing and dragged to a nearby tree. The men surrounding him laughed as one of them tore the shirt from his body, an easy task since it was only tatters. He was pushed against the tree and his wrists bound. With a shudder of fear, he realized what was to come. "What… what have I done?" he asked hesitantly.

"Quiet!" a voice roared, and he was cuffed harshly on the back of the head. Etienne, Javert's main helper and thug, leaned close, and Erik could smell the alcohol on his breath. "You were born, monster. That is what you have done." There was more laughter, and Erik could hear the swish of the whip as Etienne flicked it experimentally.

 Erik flinched at the sound, his muscles tensing involuntarily in response. He couldn't stop the small cry that escaped his lips. "Noooo…"

"You're worse than an animal, and you must be occasionally be reminded of your place." With that Etienne snapped the whip forward, and Erik bit back a cry as the lash tore into his back. Before long he was screaming, writhing in agony as the beating continued with no sign of stopping.  The men were laughing and drinking, unbothered by his tortured cries, until suddenly there was silence and  the punishment stopped.  Moaning faintly, he sagged against the ropes.  
  
"What is going on here?" Javert shouted angrily as he came upon the scene. He snatched the whip from Etienne and strode toward Erik. "What is the meaning of this? I gave no orders that he should be beaten!"

"We were just having a bit of fun," one of the men offered drunkenly. "It was Etienne's idea…"

Javert pulled his knife from his boot and sliced the ropes around Erik's wrists, and Erik fell limply to the ground. "My God, you've nearly killed him." He took the whip and began to beat Etienne, chasing the inebriated man until he fell to the ground. Javert held the knife to Etienne's face. "If he dies," he whispered hoarsely, "I'll cut your face and put YOU in that cage!"

Erik lay where he had fallen, lacking even the strength to spit out the blood filling his mouth from where he had bitten his tongue, a dull roar filling his ears. For the first and only time in his life, he prayed: "Dear God, please let me die…" He felt his consciousness leaving him and the last thing he heard was one of the men calling to Javert.   
  
"Come quickly! I don't think he's breathing…"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  
There was a soft white light surrounding him. He was warm, no longer weak and hungry; the pain of many beatings gone. Was this death, then? If so, he welcomed it, opening his arms to the light that seemed to be getting closer and brighter. Then a form appeared in the brightness, floating toward him. It was a young woman, and Erik was left speechless by her beauty-she had long dark wavy hair, deep blue eyes, and seemed so very fragile. Then he remembered his face and quickly raised his hand to cover the deformity. To his amazement, the skin on the right side was smooth, the lips normal. The young lady smiled gently at him.

"You'll find no imperfections here," she told him, and her voice touched him in a way he couldn't quite comprehend. 

"What… where am I?" he whispered. 

"Somewhere you shouldn't yet be," was her reply. "It is too soon for you."  
  
"I don't understand."  
  
"You will. But you must return. It's not time for you to become an Angel yet."  
  
He shook his head. "No, don't make me go back. Please…"  
  
The woman leaned forward and kissed him softly. "I'm afraid you must. But have patience-your life will change soon." She started to drift back away from him, into the light, and he reached for her.

"Take me with you!" he begged.

"We shall meet again, Erik. Soon. I promise…"  
  


"Please…" Erik tried to plead with her, but his throat was suddenly filled with fire, and he gagged, coughing hoarsely. The light disappeared and there was only darkness…

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Javert lowered the bottle as Erik gasped, shaking violently as he tried to draw in a breath. He coughed, spitting up a bit of blood. Once his breathing settled a bit Javert lifted the whiskey again, forcing Erik to drink more. It had been touch and go for a few moments, but the shock of the strong drink had brought back the fair's prize possession. 

"You!" Javert pointed at Etienne. "Bring water and cloths and some salve. We'll be in the next city in three day's time and he has to be ready by then."  
  
"You want ME to care for that beast?" Etienne was indignant.   
  
"Go NOW!" Javert growled, and Etienne beat a hasty retreat, returning shortly with the required items. He rolled Erik onto his stomach and, under Javert's watchful gaze, reluctantly cleaned the wounds he had caused. Erik moaned quietly, trembling as shock set in. He nearly blacked out when the salve was applied; Etienne was none too gentle in his ministrations. Finally he was finished, leaving Erik  limply huddled on the ground. 

"Now, return him to his cage," Javert ordered. "And bring YOUR blankets out for him."  
  
"But I'll freeze!" Etienne protested feebly.

"Better you than him," Javert rumbled. "At least he makes money for me."

Etienne obeyed, half carrying, half dragging Erik back to the cage and dumping him inside. He returned a few moments later with two blankets and tossed them beside the still form. He leaned over Erik, making sure no one else could hear him. "I'll pay you back for this, monster," he whispered harshly. "Just remember that!" He climbed out, pulling the door shut behind him.

Erik forced his hands to move, slowly pulling the blankets up around his thin body, trying to stop the violent shudders that overtook him. He focused on his experience with the beautiful woman, attempting to block out the pain in his back. She had said she'd see him again soon… could it be? Would a woman as beautiful as she ever look at him with anything other than horror? Her lips had been so soft when she had kissed-actually kissed!- him, and a slight smile came over his deformed lips at the remembrance of that wonderful moment. She was his angel. He would believe her promise. He had to. It was the only way he could survive...


End file.

Phantom of the Opera, Angst