I'd like to thank everyone who read chapter one and of course Anonymus, who reviewed. Greetings to you :)

In fact, that night, just before the third act started, I crept from my place off stage to move up the stairs that would lead me to Box Five. Considering Miss Daaé's considerable talent as well as the rather strange fact that she couldn't even name her teacher, I was certain that Erik would be there, watching.

I pushed the curtain aside and slipped in just as Christine's voice started to be heard from the stage. I took a few steps inside, cautiously, looking out for him. He wouldn't be pleased with me arriving here, so much was clear.

Strong, long fingers wrapped around my throat and I was rather roughly pressed against the wall. Another hand pressed on my mouth to prevent me from making any sound. My hand shot up automatically to pull on the arm cutting off my breath as I stared at my attacker with wide eyes.

Erik looked the same he always had; the white mask standing in prominent contrast to the darkness surrounding us.

He glared at me out of dark, angry eyes, but I could practically see that realization dawned on him. He let go off me, taking a step back. "What are you doing here?" he hissed.

"Did you think of me?
Think of me fondly,
When you sat up here alone?
Remembered me?
Every so often,
When the dancers seemed like clowns?"

"Remembered you?
Yes, I remembered you
with equal parts of hate and glee...
Amélie, what are you doing,
now and here with me?"

"Why, I had counted on you to bid me welcome, but you never did."

He huffed and turned his back on me to observe the scene again. I followed him to see Miss Daaé's performance. She was rather talented, though not yet a star – she had yet to be formed. Very little sense of stage, I would have to plan next to every step for her. Then again, the effort would be worth it. Her voice certainly was something.

"My, Erik," I said as she bowed and retreated, while his eyes remained fixed on her. "You seem rather enchanted by Miss Daaé."

"I'm watching an opera," he growled.

"And I am watching you," I retorted. "You admire her. Oh, for God's sake, Erik, she's off stage and you've seen this opera a thousand times! Please focus!"

He turned and glared at me again, but I was unfazed.

"You don't scare me away with that," I told him. "I want you to tell me about your relations with Miss Daaé."

"There are no relations."

"You want to know what I think?" I asked, coaxing. "She has a mysterious teacher – my guess is that I'm talking to this teacher right now."

"There's no point in guessing, Mademoiselle."

"I shall go right to knowing, then."

He sighed heavily. "She's got the most angelic voice," he informed me. "It's as if she was made for my music..."

"People aren't made for music, Erik, music is made for people."

"What would you know, foolish girl?" he snapped, narrowing his eyes at me.

"Forgive me," I said slowly. "How could I ever assume to know better than you?"

He huffed, clearly annoyed and turned to the stage again.

"Erik, I had hoped we could talk."

"We are talking."

"I'm serious. We can't talk while the opera is-"

"Listen," he said, turning to me once more. "I don't want to talk. I want you to do your work and do it good. That is all. I don't need you bugging me."

"Bugging you?" I repeated. "Are you that rude to everyone who tries to be friendly?"

"You've met me."

"Bugger this."

He whirled around, glaring again, but I had pushed the curtain to Box Five aside already and stepped outside. Fine. If he didn't want my friendship, I wouldn't run after him.

I returned to the stage and found Madame Giry standing at the door, waiting for me. She sighed in relief as I showed, but soon scowled at me disapprovingly.

"I had asked you not to."

"And I had told you I'm not afraid, Madame. I won't let him intimidate me – there's no point."

"What has he said?"

"Not much," I answered, stepping past her. "He seems rather fond of Miss Daaé. I'm sure you keep an eye out for her."

She opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the earth-shattering applause that echoed through the opera house.

"My," I muttered. "What a success."

As the auditorium emptied, every corner backstage seemed to fill. The ballet girls had gathered around Christine who glowed with pride. I tried to watch her, just in case anything funny happened, but was hauled off far too soon by Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin.

"Monsieur le Vicomte, may we introduce you to our new choreographer, Mademoiselle Bonnet – the Vicomte de Chagny, our patron."

"Pleasure, I'm sure," I said, curtsying quickly.

"The pleasure's all mine, Mademoiselle. I understand you worked for this opera house before?"

"As a dancer, Monsieur, a few years ago. I'm very happy to be back."

"And we are glad to have you!" Monsieur Firmin said.

Over his shoulder, I saw Madame Giry ushering her dancers away, probably to train. The dancing had, in fact, been rather disappointing.

"I should join them," I said. "You'll excuse me, Messieurs?"

I didn't wait for the muttered response of, "Of course", but hurried off to follow the dancers. I froze as I passed one of the dressing rooms.

"Who is this Angel, this-"

"Angel of Music,
Hide no longer!
Secret and strange
Angel..."

"He's with me now!"

"Your hands are cold..."

"It frightens me..."

"Don't be frightened..."

I entered to find Meg Giry standing with Christine, both clearly too absorbed to notice me.

"Meg Giry," I said and she whirled around, eyes widening. "Are you a dancer?"

She nodded fearfully and I added, "Then go and practice!"

Meg cast one last look at Christine, who seemed just as shocked to see me, and then rushed off past me.

"I have to congratulate you," I said, "For this splendid rendition."

"Thank you... Mademoiselle."

"Amélie, please. I remember you. When I left, you were still a young girl. Now you're a woman. I have to admit, I was rather astonished by your development. And by your voice, of course. A great teacher, indeed."

"Yes," she whispered, casting a quick look around.

"I shall give you a word of advice," I said. "Angels very rarely teach. In fact, most angels turn out to be disappointingly human."

She opened her mouth but closed it again without a single tone uttered.

"We'll see each other tomorrow at rehearsals, I assume. I wish you a goodnight."

She smiled lightly and swiftly turned to her mirror again. I opened the door to leave and collided suddenly with the Vicomte, who seemed rather flustered to find me.

"I thought you were at rehearsals-"

"I got held up," I answered. Patron or not – where I went was none of this man's business. "Good night, Monsieur."

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