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another-chorus-girl · 6 years

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‘Ghosts of Phantoms past’ An Erik House drabble

So this is in part a “Christmas Carol” parody and a request for @sparklyerik especially. Like my other Erik house drabbles this is not necessarily in the canon so you don’t have to read this to know what’s going on in the story-however I still would appreciate if you’d read it :)

Merry Christmas!

Everywhere the eye could see was coated in a blanket of snow. In the city lights gimmered and twinkled, carols of old were sung on this winter's night. Even within the house, where several masked masters of music, Christmas' effect on everyone was infectious. All throughout the house, everyone seemed quite harmoniously at ease.

All but one that is.

Erik was more than happy keeping himself shut in. Not that anyone would bother with him. Each passing day he felt the ever more alone and rejected. Even despite the others efforts to raise his spirits. And Christmas, a time spent with family and companions felt all the more sickening to him, a harsh reminder that he was alone.

"You realise you especially are more than welcome to join us?" Crawford suggested to him that Christmas Eve. "We all know what it's like, you don't need to shut yourself away."

"While touching, that's quite easy for you to say." Erik scowled, barely looking up from his latest composition penned in messy red handwriting. "There's hardly a moment of solitude on your floor. Barely anyone pays me mind with you and your boys present."

Crawford paused, "Is this about Christine?"

"Let's not discuss her."

"Sarah said she tried to get here, but the storm outside was just too-"

"Enough!" Erik raised his voice, his temper flaring. "Not even Christine wants to see me, she needn't have her friends make up some lie to feed me."

"Monsieur please-"

"Just go. I'd rather immerse myself in my work."

With a sigh, the older Merik nodded not wanting to push too hard.

Going up the steps to the main floor, his mismatch eyes gave a warning glare to Gerik, whom coming down the stairwell nearly ran right into him.

"Now what?!" Erik growled, slamming his hands down in frustration on the keys in front of him that moaned in a bellowed protest.

Though a little nervously Gerik smiled, "Just wanted to bring you something a thank you and to say Merry Christmas."

"What reason have you to be merry?

"What right have you to be so dismal?" Gerik smirked, understanding that the older man could be get into such sour moods, but in the very least attempted to lighten his spirit.

Erik raised a brow behind his mask at the parcel in Gerik's black gloved hand that he nudged closer to him.

"I appreciate all you've been doing for me," The film adapted man said, "So much that I've been writing a new score, and I wanted you to be the first to read it. We could go up to the main parlour? Destler is suppose to have it's use right now but he and Winslow are out. And what with it being Christmas-"

"Humbug to this whole nonsensical season."

Gerik frowned, "Christmas a humbug? You don't mean that."

"Not tonight boy," Erik grumbled. "You should just go and join the others. Keep Christmas in your own way and let me keep it in mine."

"But you don't seem to keep it."

"Let me leave it alone then. Much good has it ever done you." Gerik nodded, "In the past I have regarded it as just that. But this year, Christmas being a kind, charitable time, I feel like I'm actually a part of it for once."

The film adapted man smiled noting to himself his pleasant surprise that Kerik-while pretended to be just as cynical about the whole holiday shoved an intricately wrapped box into his hands just moments ago upstairs. Gerik was puzzled by Erik's sneer. He was never this cross

"Is something the matter?"

"Like you should care? Why should anybody?"

He frowned, "We wouldn't be here without you."

Erik shook his head, "What recognition do I get for it? I'm just lost in obscurity, just like the ghostly facade I've taken."

Gerik looked down at his boots, Erik heaved a heavy sigh.

"Please. Please I don't want to argue with you. Your gesture is kind, but I need to be left alone. I'm rather use to it."

"Is there no way of changing your mind?" Gerik called one last time, concerned for his mentor."

Erik shooed Gerik off with the wave of a skeletal hand, "Good afternoon."

The world had looked past him and let his story be lost to the ages. He had no interest in enjoying any sort of festivity feeling unwanted and irrelevant.

Having spent the remainder of the evening composing, Erik leaned back. Returning to reality his energy felt drained. Rest and sustenance he even still neglected. Tonight however, he felt this pull for both. Perhaps something as basic as a bowl of porridge and just a few hours rest was the break he needed and then he could continue. Perhaps by the time he awoke and began his music once more, this trivial holiday would be over. The masked man hated the reminder of how alone and unappreciated he felt about his existence. -- Erik's head shot up hearing something behind him. Whipping around, he saw no one. Shaking his head, he dismissed it as nothing more than a rat scuttle. While Kerik's feline was an outstanding mouser snuffing out many stray vermin, some unfortunately slipped inside the house from time to time-likely coming from Jerik's dumpster.

Resting his head back down he just barely felt the hand that hesitantly reached out and touched his shoulder. Tired glowing eyes opened at half mast.

He stared back at a pair of dark grey eyes behind a cloth mask.

"Lerik? What is the meaning of this?" Erik questioned, the opposite man not even phased that he was not wearing a mask to conceal his death's head like appearance.

He could see Lerik begin making hand gestures and shook his head.

"Oh for the love of Faust write it down!" Erik scowled. He was unwelcoming to Lerik, but he and Crawford knew well to schedule their meetings well in advance. And certainly not at midnight-granted at this time the men would be composing rather than resting.

But rather than reach for a piece of parchment he shook his head, as Erik noted he could hear a muffled noise escape Lerik from behind the mask.

Erik blinked, was Lerik trying to speak? How was that possible.

"I mastered pantomime, but do know how to communicate," A low voice uttered from beneath the cloth.

Erik's eyes were wide in surprise, "You've never spoken...I must be hallucinating."

"You do not believe in me? Why do you doubt your senses?"

"Because the littlest thing can affect them, I don't doubt you exist but this cannot possibly be real."

Lerik merely clasped his hands together and stared down with him.

Erik spoke cautiously, "Dreadful apparition, why do you trouble me?"

"Man of worldly mind do you believe in me or not?" Lerik sounded rather impatient.

"I do....I must. I cannot remain ignorant." This didn't feel like some poor excuse for trickery, what reason would he even have to do so.

"Then hear me monsieur, for my time is nearly gone."

"Tell me then?"

"Tonight, you will be haunted by three spirits"

"Spirits? Is this a jest?" Erik snorted, despite seeing this strange occurrence was still sceptical

"Expect the first, when the bell tolls one."

Erik shook his head, "The Opera Ghost being haunted by spirits of his own? Now really that's just-"

But when he turned back to face Lerik, he was nowhere to be seen. Erik was left alone in the dark.

The house was deftly silent, the clock chime signifying it was exactly one o'clock. Erik's brow furrowed hearing the chime. He was by nature a very light sleeper, but still rather groggy as he awoke. Slouching up to a sitting position in the coffin, his golden eyes glanced around, piercing the darkness.

He scoffed, "Spirits, absolute nonsense."

But as he began to sink back down into the silk lining, he noticed a light out of the corner of his eye.

The light was coming from the next room.

"Really now," Erik growled, getting out of the coffin and made for the sitting room. Wrapping a deep red robe over his nightwear, and making good to reapply his mask, the recluse skulked down to the main room. He found the light source to be one of the candelabras.

But no one was in the room.

Removing the black mask-lacking a proper mouthpiece-Erik reached for the candelabra, blowing out the tiny flames when he heard steps.

Slamming the candle holder down he placed his mask back on and sprinted toward the steps. They sounded as though they came from the stairwell and were going up.

"Kerik if this is more of your tomfoolery I will string you up by-" Erik exclaimed, not necessarily caring whom he woke on the first floor. But his threat was cut short noticing the parlour's fireplace was lit.

But more so whom was hovering their hands over the fire for sought out warmth.

"Y-You..." Erik mumbled, hardly believing what or whom he saw.

The man, much shorter and with a healthier build to the skeletal man, turned noticing him. Well dressed in a grey suit, his hair slightly curled but well kept as was his moustache, smiled back at Erik. His glasses seem to gleam in the fire's light.

"Been quite awhile hasn't it?" Leroux noted.

"I don't understand." Erik was puzzled and his mouth would appear agape similarly to a fish if he were not wearing his mask. "Gaston, how can you? You're-?"

"Quite a lovely home you've made for yourself here. But really my boy it's absolutely freezing in here."

"How and why are you here?" Erik asked, "You died over a hundred years ago."

"A hundred and ten actually, but I appreciate you've been keeping track."

"I don't understand how this can be?"

Glancing up at the grandfather clock adjacent from his, Leroux nodded, "It's one o'clock on the dot. I'm here for you Erik."

"So you're some sort of ghost?"

Leroux laughed, "Must sound quite funny coming from you, yes? I'm a ghost of the past of sorts I suppose."

"Long past?"

"Well your past that is."

The man held a hand out, "Come along,"

Erik's golden eyes stared from the offered hand to Gaston's dark eyes.

"Where are we going?" He asked.

"Back," He answered.

Erik heaved a hard sigh, not liking the idea of uncertainty. But in this man he always put trust in. Upon taking Leroux's hand Erik gasped feeling a swirling sensation overcome him, as if he were being violently spun around.

Opening his glowing eyes they were no longer in the dimly lit parlour, or the house for that matter.

Erik gaped upon seeing the angelic statues of gilt copper and bronze atop Palais Garnier rooftop. He walked towards the edge, overlooking the busy Parisian streets, people looking more like ants from where they stood going about their lives.

"I'm home?" He said no louder than a whisper.

Gaston nodded, "In a manner of speaking."

Leading them down from the roof, Erik soon heard more sounds. Music.

He stopped, tugging on Gaston's sleeve. "Wait, someone will see us. No one need discover me."

"Trust me son, we're certainly out of sight." Gesturing for the skeletal man to follow, Erik did so as they came up to a door leading into one of the private boxes.

"Does any of this look familiar?" Leroux asked, pushing his glasses up.

"Of course it does," Erik couldn't help but say as-a-matter-of-factly. "This is after all MY private box."

Stepping into Box 5, his golden eyes glanced down at the stage before them.

He remembered this performance. While it wasn't a particular favourite, Erik had no scathing problem with the opera.

But still he remembered this day all too well. The screams and sounds of panic gave way as the counterweights fell toward the fourth tier seats.

"One dead and several others injured because of that," Erik mused, "I remember"

"Calm before the storm, hm?" Leroux noted, "The chandelier itself you brought down would do even more damage."

The scene seemed to melt away as Parisian's fled or scrambled to find help.

"Now where are we?" Erik paused, "Wait a moment I know where."

He could see a familiar black and grey cloaked figure seated by an organ, playing his life's work.

Lerik barely registered Mary's advance on him from behind. But his head shot up, a look of horror on his now revealed face, his skin tight and nose sunken in. Several screams and gasps were heard all around them as people whom could not see or acknowledge Erik or Gaston ran passed. Others who ran in as opposed to out tended to the frightened women whom had fainted at the grotesque sight before they're eyes.

"And still the world fears my face," Erik grimaced. "As if anyone could possibly show me anything but disgust."

Leroux shook his head. "I think you assume too quickly. The world constantly revolves and changes. " Reaching into his pocket, he glanced down at the watch in his hand.

"Speaking of time, it seems mine is running short."

Erik turned, his normally cold glaring eyes filling with sorrow and regret.

"Gaston forgive me. I'm a poor excuse for being your last legacy."

Shaking his head, the journalist disagreed.

"I wouldn't say that at all son," Leroux smiled, "My other works wouldn't have even been picked up had it not been for you."

"But no one bothered with me for so long."

"Your story is one that the masses were not ready for right away. It just took them some time to come around." Patting Erik's shoulder Leroux walked past.

"Just remember what I said when the next chime comes around."

In a swirling haze, Erik glanced back around for any sign of Gaston. But the long since passed journalist was gone and the masked man was alone in his chambers.

The clock chimed once more. Erik was unroused by this ring.

Rather what caused his eyes to pop open was the bellow of a pipe organ.

"By Apollo! What the hell is happening?!" Erik yelled, getting up and sprinting into his sitting room.

It was his organ being played no doubt, catching sight of the culprit whom had their back to him.

Erik scowled, noting the slick wig and multi ranging tones of blue and gold on the man's evening robe.

"Whichever one you are," He started, unsure which Merik he was talking to, "I don't know why you feel the need to play down here when you have a perfectly fine set upstairs. But I will give you to the count of dix to remove yourself from my room monsieur."

Turning around, Erik was puzzled to see it was Karimloo. What business exactly did the two have?

The West End Merik nodded. "You must have expected Crawford right? You two talk more than you would with me. But I suppose while he contributes to this that the ghost of your present must be a modern face. Or at least my good half."

Erik narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean my present?"

Standing up, Karimloo approached him, both men almost at equal standing height.

"Take my arm, I'll show you." The Merik said.

Erik shook his head, "This is insane."

Karimloo sighed, "Just touch my robe, you'll see."

"Fine fine then." Thin, bony hands grasped Karimloo's clothed wrist. Erik shut his eyes tight feeling that whirling sensation again, trying to will it away. But like last time the feeling quickly left as it began.

Looking around, Erik noted they were on a busy street, this time around however the people passing by-and through them for that matter-were of more modern dress.

"Now where are we?" He asked.

"London, on Haymarket to be precise," Glancing around. "I think I'm a little underdressed."

As Karimloo removed his robe, revealing his impeccable tailcoat suit, Erik looked around.

"Why?"

"We should go inside first, we're already late."

Leading them in, Erik's gaze softened.

"I know where we are now..." He mused, the two men entering the dark auditorium where hundreds of seats were absolutely filled.

"Looks like we'll have to stand," Karimloo observed.

The orchestra became louder and the tune changing ever so slightly as candles rose and two figures sailed into view on a gondola.

"And in this labyrinth, where night is blind.

The Phantom of the Opera is there/here, inside your/my mind!"

Erik smiled, watching the soprano be lifted up out of the boat.

"Your present is quite extensive as you can see." Karimloo indicated.

Erik felt as though his ears were deceiving him. The more he listened, the more the voice seemed to change.

He had seen and heard Crawford playing the organ just a moment ago, but the tenor's tune had changed. This time he could swear he heard Jones now. But once more it changed again, it seemed to be every Merik all at once after the other. Karrie, Wilkinson, Carpenter, Joback. All different, but still one and the same.

"Over thirty one years worth of voices for your music." Karimloo smiled. "And just listen."

Erik felt the thunderous applause rumble all around him, beating against his ears like drums. The theatre melted away but looked quite similar to the one they were standing in.

More voices as the Meriks' of Broadway sang. The skeletal man could hear Panaro, Lewis, Gaines, and even more. It seemed to be every time he blinked it was a new face-so to speak-and another powerful voice, most tenor but even those that were baritone. The music of the night coming to life before Erik's eyes and ears.

"It seems my time is over now. The opera is done, the last notes have been played." He heard Karimloo say, but turning to where he heard the Merik's voice he saw no one. Hearing only a light chuckle fade away into the wind.

Erik looked around, wondering just where he'd gone. While the chill of the cold was not something he was easily susceptible to. But given it was the dead of winter's night and he was adorned in his nightwear alone left him in fending off the bitter cold wind.

Turning around, he felt that invasive feeling that the masked man was being watched. Turning, Erik was met with a cloaked figure standing mere steps away, slowly walking closer to him.

Erik snorted, "Trying to be a regular Don Juan with that cloak Karimloo?"

But the figure didn't answer him and simply stood before him. Behind the full mask he raised a brow, something didn't feel the same. It wasn't Karimloo under the hood whoever this was was taller-and seemed tower even over him.

And there was a feeling of uncertainty about this figure. As if they foretold something yet to come.

"Who are you?" He asked "You're here for me as well arn't you?"

The black hooded figure said nothing. It raised a hand for him to take.

Erik had been use to how this works well enough by now. But he felt unnerved taking this spectral beings hand-it was cold as ice even more so than his own waxy skin.

The feeling spinning and tumbling overcame him once more. Erik opened his golden eyes to another city street. More busy people, living day to day lives. It looked as though they were in Paris again, but certainly not the 1880s again.

"Spirit?" Erik asked, not certain if this truly was a ghost or not. "Where have you taken us?"

The cloaked figure gestured to a theatre house. Not quite as extravagant as Palais Garnier but with a similar air of sophistication.

Erik blinked looking up at the listing with a familiar poster attached.

'Fantôme de l'Opéra Sièges disponibles pour la performance de ce soir Aujourd'hui à 2h30 et à 7h30'

He shook his head, "I don't understand. There was a fire and it-"

He turned, "What year is it spirit?"

This had to be further on in the future. What else had happened?

The figure tugged on his arm, pulling Erik back. The venue and place changing once again.

"I think it's going to be good!" He heard one voice say. He and his cloaked companion were standing just outside another theatre, although this facility was much more digital and domestic.

Behind the corner Erik eavesdropped on the conversation.

"I don't know, you saw what they did with the Mummy." Another voice said unconvinced.

"They made up for that though! The first one is always a flop. And I mean it's going to be more like the original story!"

"So not the half mask? Maybe Universal really is giving us what we want."

From around the corner he could hear a clicking noise. Peering over-his dark dress and mask still concealing him in the shadows-Erik spied one of the girls holding one of those 'smartphone' contraptions.

'So excited to see Phantom on the big screen again! <3' He could see the post read on the illuminated screen.

"What are they on about?" Turning to the hooded figure he asked. "Is this really possible? This future can't possibly be? After all this time I'm still remembered?"

Still silent, Erik clenched his fists and finally his hands flew up to the hood. "Who are you?!"

But lifting it, Erik found himself staring back at another full mask similar to his own, piercing golden eyes staring right into his. But he could tell nothing more about this masked stranger.

His vision felt blurred, the affects of all this too overwhelming for his aged heart as Erik felt his knees go weak.

With a start Erik rose from his coffin, a bony hand clenched over his chest. He panted for breath, a cold sweat racked his body. Looking around, he was in his basement dwelling. Nothing was out of place, no intrusive guests.

Was it real? Was it all a dream?

Creeping upstairs, so perplexed at the night that may or may not have happened, he nearly ran into the child playing chase with Soot through the parlour.

"Oh! I'm sorry sir!" Gustauve apologised. Mr. Y came wheeling around the corner.

"Gustauve! You should be more-" He paused noticing Erik's presence. "I'm sorry about him Monsieur Fantome, a careless accident?"

But rather than stare daggers at he and the boy as expected, the golden glow of his eyes softened, smiling from behind the full mask.

"Easily forgiven. Tell me something, what day is today?"

"Today?" Y asked back.

"It's Christmas Day!" Gustauve chirped in happily.

"Christmas Day, the spirits did it all in one night?" Erik mumbled, "Though of course they can. They can do anything they like. Erik should have expected as much"

"Monsieur? Are you quite alright?" The boy asked puzzled

Erik smiled behind his mask at Gustauve gesturing to Mr.Y, "A delightful child you have there,"

Stunned, Y actually blinked. "Are you sure you're not feeling unwell?"

"On the contrary, feeling in exceptionally good health today." Walking past them, Erik made his way upstairs.

Only halfway up the stairs and he could hear the carols being sung in the Meriks parlour.

"O holy night the stars are brightly shining It is the night of our dear Savior's birth Long lay the world in sin and error pining Till He appeared and the soul felt its worth"

Erik slinked in around the corner, Cherik and Jones seated together on one of the sofas gaped seeing him enter silently.

Panaro faltered in tune spying him as well, a few of the other also bumbling with their notes.

Turning to the disturbance, Crawford's mismatch eyes blinked.

"Monsieur?" He asked, "I had thought after yesterday that-"

But Erik shook his head. "If...If you'll have me I'd love to join you for today?"

The older Merik laughed, trying to keep it down so as it did not come off as a cackle-attempting to kick the old habit.

"If we'll have you? Of course! It would be an honour. Although I suppose if you'd rather not a carol we can-"

"Nonsense! Continue please," He urged. He glanced back at the doorway, noticing Gerik walk through. "I'll join in with you all in a moment."

As the Meriks' picked up where they left off, he tapped Gerik on the back. The film adapted man was shocked to say the least.

"I didn't expect to see you here?" Gerik asked.

Erik held out for him sheet music.

"It's quite a lovely piece. Daresay I'm rather proud that in a way I helped you compose this." Erik nodded to him.

Gerik's shoulders sank and he smiled, touched that he'd finally crafted something worthy of Erik's ear.

The full masked man gestured to the organ bench. "Care to listen?"

Nodding eagerly the two sat down, Erik's poised long fingers pressing gentle upon the keys. The parlour falling into eventual silence as they listened, glancing over their shoulders the Meriks' easily picked up on the tune and began to sing.

Erik let a smile grace his thin lips, he turned hearing a light clap behind him. He felt as those his eyes deceived him, seeing a bob of long blonde hair and glee filled eyes as deep blue as the ocean.

"Christine?" He asked, feeling as though he could weep.

"The storm last night cleared up," She smiled, "Sierra asked Fraser if they stop my way and retrieve me on the way here. I'm so sorry if you were upset that I could not come last night, I so wanted to."

He clasped her delicate small hand in his, leaning his head against her fingers he felt himself shaken.

“My dear,” He asked, “If it’s not too much, could you sing?”

Christine’s kind smile gleamed from ear to ear on her kind face, “I would be delighted to.”

In the midst of such blissful harmony, Erik didn't quite feel so alone.

Here we go!

-Throughout the story I scattered and paraphrased some lines and quotes from “A Christmas Carol” naturally.

-Lon Chaney parents were both deaf and due to this he was raised learning the art of pantomime

- The original incident that inspired the chandelier crash in Gaston Leroux’s novel and the adaptations following this was during a performance of the opera Helle' at the Palais Garnier in 1896 when two counterweights for the chandelier fell and collapsed onto the fourth row, killing one woman and injuring several others.

-When Lon Chaney’s film was shown to audience members for the first time, it was reported that patrons were screaming, running out of the theatre and fainting at the sight of the deformity upon the Phantom being unmasked.

-Mary of course being Mary Philbin, Lerik’s Christine in the 1925 film.

-in October 2017 ALW’s PotO was suppose to be performed at the Mogador theatre in Paris, but due to a fire it was sadly cancelled and never performed.

-The reference to Phantom on the big screen is to the unmade film by Universal Studios, as they are attempted to create a cinematic ‘Dark Universe’ for the classic movie monsters including the Phantom of the Opera. ‘The Mummy’ is the first instalment already released starring Tom Cruise but so far is a cinematic flop and leaving the question of whether or not a reboot movie of Phantom will still happen.

-Moreso a tidbit, several previous Phantom actors including Jones, Crawford, and Panaro just to name a few have recorded their own versions of ‘O Holy Night’ sung.

#Erik house AU #Erik #Lerik #Merik #PotO #phantom #Christmas #Christmas Carol

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