I can completely sympathise with Meg at the beginning of this chapter. I've been breaking in my new pointes, which I'm now wearing with lamb's wool instead of toe pads, and I've never experienced pain like it. On the other hand, my dancing looks so much nicer with the lamb's wool rather than bulk toe pads. I can feel the floor, and get right over my box and GAH! The pain is so worth it when you feel pretty :D

Anyway, Sorry I've been so long in updating. I'm trying to keep a few chapters ahead of posting so you guys don't have to wait as long, but I keep re-reading them and finding mistakes and having to write them out again, so if anything, it's taking longer…

On with the story I guess…

Oh, how we ballerinas suffer for our art. I had been following Erik for what felt like hours, and I just knew that the blisters on my feet from rehearsals yesterday had been ripped open once more. Pain in my feet was, admittedly nothing new, but I was cold, hungry and tired to boot. Coupled with the raw pain in my toes, I was decidedly miserable. How I longed for this walk with a masked madman to be over soon.

More thank once, I considered asking him to stop and rest for a while, but I was afraid that he would leave me behind. Despite my doubts about the stability of his mind, I had sworn to help this pitiful man, and I couldn't do that if I was abandoned and left to rot in a dank tunnel far beneath Paris. We trudged on, my blonde hair falling across my eyes as I bowed my head in exhaustion. Erik on the other hand, showed no sign of tiring. He moved with long, confident strides, but also with a sense of desperation and fear. Whether it was fear of the angry mob I had left hours ago or fear of the fire that ma or may not be still raging through the opera house, I didn't know. One thing was certain though. He was as anxious as I was to leave these horrid catacombs, albeit for different reasons.

It was only when I noticed that the blackness in front of me was no longer complete but broken up by patches of moonlight that I began to feel hope. Light spilled through grates set not too far above me, at what I assumed to be street level. I could hardly contain my joy when I thought that I might soon breathe fresh air again instead of the musty tunnel variety. I couldn't help but skip a little, despite the extra pressure it exerted on my sore feet. Erik didn't seem to notice my exuberance, and even if he did, it certainly wasn't contagious. In fact, he appeared to be grimmer than ever.

Suddenly, we came upon a dead end, and I paused, glancing up at Erik in confusion. Suddenly, he was gone, as much a phantom as I was a dancer. Horrified, I rushed to the place where last stood, hands outstretched. The end of the tunnel was particularly shadowy, despite the moonlight, and I couldn't even see my hands before my eyes.

"Erik?" I hissed. "Erik, where have you got to?" For one awful second, there was no reply, and I feared he really had left me to die in the tunnel. Then came an impatient growl, and an arm seized me around the waist. I yelped in shock as I found myself lifted off my feet and unceremoniously thrown over his shoulder. There was a dull scraping and suddenly, we emerged into the cold night air.

"Quiet, Little Rat," Erik warned, dumping me back onto the ground. "We aren't far from the Opera House. They'll hear us," Incredulously, I looked up to see the vast shape of the Opera Populaire looming before us. Erik must have been leading me in circles the whole time. I turned to him angrily, but his eyes flamed with a fury that surpassed mine, and I kept quiet. Now on street level, he seemed a little at a loss. He glanced around helplessly, and I realized that all this must be new to him. I very much doubted he had ever been far from his underground lair.

"We need horses," I whispered. "Something to carry us quickly to the border," Erik jumped, almost as if he had forgotten I was there and then nodded curtly. He started in the direction of the Opera's stables, but I gripped his sleeve anxiously. It was very likely that the police were watching the building, and a horse thief would not go unnoticed. "Not from there. I know a place… not far from here. They could help us…"

Suddenly, the Phantom's face was very close to mine, as he almost spat his next words at me. "Don't be ridiculous. For one thing, YOU are not coming with me. I am going on my own. And secondly, I am not involving myself with any of your friends. Did you think you Ballet rats will get a reward for handing me over? You had this all planned!" I recoiled slightly, and tried to quell my fear. He's nothing but a man, I reminded myself, raising m chin defiantly. A man who has killed… I pushed this thought away and stood my ground.

"Monsieur," I began in the most authoritative tone I could manage. "Do you really me so stupid that I would endlessly stumble through tunnels in case I happened to chance upon you?" He was silent and I took this as a sign of my victory. "Now follow me, we can STEAL horses if it will make you feel more at ease," In truth, I wasn't comfortable of robbing my friends of their mounts, but I would cross that bridge when we came to it.

In a kind of enraged silence, he swept after me down the dimly lit streets. We kept to the shadows wherever possible, and I shivered in my thin shirt. It was barely March, and the nights were still bitter. The imposing black shadow that was Erik seemed impervious to the cold. He followed my steps furiously, as if he resented m presence. He probably did. I found myself wondering how a man so completely dependent on me could be so frightening.

It didn't take long to reach our destination, a house which belonged to Apolline Jammes and her family. She was one of the few girls in the corps who came from money, and did not live in the dormitories with the rest of us but arrived for rehearsals each morning in a cab. By now,the sun was creeping over the horizon. My silent companion watched it nervously, and I too was growing anxious. I knew Erik was keen to steal the horses and be on his way, but I was uncertain. The house which we had arrived at belonged to good friends of mine from the corps de ballet, and I didn't think I could bring myself to steal anything anyway, no matter whom it was from. Once, when I was about thirteen, the other ballet girls had dared me to steal a pendant from a gypsy woman, who sold jewelry in the city. Never one to back down from a dare, I had done it, but had felt so guilty I had crept from the dormitories the next morning and left twice the amount the necklace was worth at the stall, without buying anything. Taking horses from a very good friend was so much worse.

I resolved that I would leave a note, apologizing and promising to pay for the horses when I could. I had no clue where to start with this, since me and Maman had never been what could be considered wealthy, or even middle class, but I had to do something. I gestured to Erik to follow me round the back of the house to where I knew the stables were. There had been a time when Little Jammes and I had spent our summers together, riding over her extensive lawns from dawn until dusk. I forced myself to turn from the memories of those pleasant summers to reality, and approached the first stall with care. The last thing we needed to do was wake to horses. I had never been brilliant with them, and often required the assistance of the groom to mount one.

I slid back the bolt on the stable door and it swung open. The blue roan inside snorted anxiously and backed away in fear. I tried to placate the animal, but this seemed to terrify it further. Meanwhile, Erik had silently appeared by my side and pushed me - none too delicately, I might add - away. I was about to protest when I realized he was calming the frightened creature, whispering softly into its. His words seemed to have an instantly soothing effect, and Erik blew softly into its nostrils.

I knew I was staring but I couldn't help myself. The man had been so standoffish, so melancholy. Now, close by the huge horse, he seemed at peace. His eyes met mine and for a second, they were soft. Then the look was gone, replaced by his usual hard stare.

"Come, we had better get you a horse. Try not to terrify this one," His words were angry, but his tone soft so as not to worry the skittish creature at his side. He gently untied his own horse from its stall and it followed him placidly, whickering softly. We were on the verge of unbolting the next stall when a groom emerged, sleep eyed from a small tack room to our right.

For a moment, he simply stared at us, standing directly between us and the gate to the street. I heard Erik curse, and turned to see him leaping onto the horses bare back, knotting one hand in its mane. Surely, he wouldn't just leave me here? How would I ever explain this to Apolline and her family? The groom had begun to shout, and a commotion was heard from both the tack room and the main house. I heard the clatter of hooves behind me, and wrung my hands in despair. He was leaving, the scoundrel.

All of a sudden, a firm arm caught me round my waist, and I was, for the second time in a few hours, hoisted upwards. I gasped as I was thrown unceremoniously across the horses back. Struggling for a moment, I folded one leg over and managed to seat myself as comfortably as a girl could, when she was used to riding side-saddle with, well, a saddle.

Amongst the shouts and shrieks from various family members, we departed the yard, Erik almost running the groom down in our haste to get away. Suddenly, we were free, and the only sound was the noise of our newly acquired horse's hooves pounding down the street and echoing around us in the grayish dawn light.

OK, so it's about half the length of chapter one. I'm so sorry, I have literally had to write this story in tiny chunks between studying. It's been tough, so if it's bitty and doesn't flow properly, tell me and I'll try to edit it as soon as exams are over.

I couldn't find Jammes' first name anywhere, so I stole the name of a friends French Exchange partner :D.

At the time of writing this, it's 5.50am. I don't know why I always seem to stay up until all hours writing… it's a passion I guess.

Thank you so much for all your lovely reviews, you really did make my day(s). I'll do my best to update faster, but truthfully, next week is going to be hell, what with ballet classes starting again and exam prep and my little sister's birthday… GAH.

Anyway, review and you get a hug. Well, not really. But I'll give you permission to imaging yourself and Erik riding through the misty morning streets of Paris bareback… Ahem.