A/N: Chapter Two! There's another song in here, which sets the tone for part of the scene.

It was day 2 in this surreal situation, and I was bored. I mean, yes, the lair is huge on atmosphere, but activity? I can't sing for 12 hours straight, and all of his books were in French. "Erik," I whined, collapsing on the floor in front of him dramatically. "I'm bored... I'm really, really bored."

He rolled his eyes at me. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"Take me on an adventure," I suggested, giving him my best pleading puppy eyes.

He groaned. He could not resist her soulful brown eyes and that cute little pout. "Fine. Get your cloak."

I grinned. Puppy eyes always work.

"Now, whatever you do, don't go through this door," Erik said, pointing at a recess in the wall.

"What's through there?" I asked.

He gave me a glare. "You do not want to know."

My eyes widened. "It's the mirror chamber with the tree, isn't it?"

He winced. "You know about that?"

"I told you already, I've seen your whole life. I dreamed the day you invented it." I folded my arms, frowning. "That torture chamber has got to go."

"No!" he protested. "What if someone wanders down and finds their way to the lair?"

"Then you kick 'em out again," I retorted. "Killing is bad! And torture by baking or hanging to death is even worse!"

He glared at me.

I took a deep breath. Yelling would not help. "Erik, listen," I said reasonably. "You are a brilliant man. Surely you can find another way of doing things that doesn't involve harming people?"

"Why should I?" he asked defiantly.

"Because I know you can be better than this." I gestured to the torture chamber reminiscent of his days in Persia. "This, this is from a man who was drugged and manipulated, guided by an evil king's desires." I gestured to the piano, to the organ, to the violin. "And this, this is from a kind musical genius. You can't be both, Erik. You have to pick one, or the struggle will destroy you."

"How do you know?" he asked hoarsely.

"Because I've seen it happen in my dreams," I said truthfully. "And I don't want that to happen to you in real life. Please, Erik."

He looked at me long and hard, and finally sighed. "If you want me to take this down, we cannot go on an adventure," he said.

I grinned from ear to ear and threw my arms around him. "I knew you were a good man," I said, hugging him tightly.

He went to get his tools, and after he removed a few key mirrors I helped him take down the hangman's tree in the center of the chamber. It was eerie, seeing hundreds of me and Erik's, chopping down a tree. I started to hum, the memory of a movie coming back to me. I wasn't a fan of The Hunger Games, but I did like this one song, The Hanging Tree.

"That's rather macabre," Erik said, glancing sideways at me as I finished the rest of the verse.

"Fitting, though," I replied.

"True. Sing the rest?"

I obliged, feeling strangely nervous with my one-man audience. Even if he wasn't looking at me as he took down the trap, he was listening intently.

He smiled. "You really do have a beautiful voice."

"Thanks."

We managed to take it all down, and Erik sent me to make dinner while he put a new trap in - one that was non-lethal.

"We're going to go up tomorrow right?" I asked, when Erik came in.

"Yes. I want you to learn these tunnels, so you'll be able to navigate in the dark." He grinned. "So, we'll go tonight."

"Tonight?" I squeaked.

"Mademoiselle, I am the phantom. Phantoms work at night."

I scowled. "Fine. Then you wash the dishes."

He gaped at me for a second, and then, to my surprise, he picked up our plates and went into the kitchen area.

"Oh wow," I said, "I didn't mean it, really. I can wash them."

"No, no, go sit down." He gave me a half smile. "You cook, I clean, and vice versa."

"Erik, you are a credit to mankind."

He gave me a half-smile. "I am glad you think so." He wiped his hands on a towel and said, "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be."

He led me to the nearest tunnel and ushered me in. We were in pitch black darkness as he closed the door.

"You do remember I don't actually like the darkness right?" I asked, reaching for his hand hesitantly.

He let me hold his hand and tugged me down the corridor. "Watch your feet," he said.

"I can't see my feet."

"Don't sass me."

"I can sass whom I like," I retorted.

He rolled his eyes. "Nicole, please concentrate. Put your right hand on the wall and count your steps. At 1000, we will turn to the right."

"Okay."

We headed through the tunnels, and Erik taught me how to get to Mme. Giry's office, Box 5, and the manager's office. "This way you can get to the most important places if I cannot."

I yawned. "Yep."

"Are you paying attention?"

I yawned again. "Yep. Totally got it."

"Good. Then lead the way."

I yawned again. "Yep." And I headed through the tunnel, Erik following me. I yawned again.

"Stop yawning," he told me impatiently.

"I can't." I yawned again. "I'm tired. It's like 2 in the morning. I never had shifts this late."

We got to the lair without incident, and Erik grudgingly gave me permission to go through the tunnels. "But ONLY if you tell me beforehand," he said. "And no wandering."

I gave him a tired salute. "Yes boss."

He nodded. "Good. Go to bed before you fall down."

I tripped over the stone steps. "Too late," I grumbled.

He snickered and helped me up. "Do you want me to hold your hand?" he said mockingly.

"Go away." I went to my room and as I curled up under the covers I yelled, "good night!"

"Good night," he called back.

The next day, when I woke up, it was already late, and I found a cinnamon brioche waiting for me on the dining room table. "Awesome."

I made breakfast, washed my jeans and my T-shirt in the bathtub, hung them out to dry in the bathroom, and created a Rube Goldberg machine with candelabras, a scale, a xylophone, endless thread, a tube, and a metal ball bearing.

As soon as Erik came into the lair, I pulled the string. "Watch watch watch," I said excitedly.

He watched in amazement as the ball traveled across the various things, lighting candelabras as it went, and plopped into the sink. "How long did it take you to make this?" he asked.

"Uh, five hours."

"Brava."

She grinned. "Thanks. I made dinner."

They ate, and afterwards, Erik said, "would you like to go to the opera, mademoiselle?"

She grinned. "Yes I would, monsieur."

"Good. But you can't go like that."

"Like what?"

He gestured to her trousers and shirt. "You have to wear a dress."

She scowled. "Erik, no one's even going to see us."

"I will see you, and you cannot go to the opera in trousers."

I could tell he wasn't going to change his mind, so I went to my room and pulled out a dress. It was a light purple, and it complimented my skin color. I still needed makeup.

Erik knocked on my door. "Nicole?"

"Yeah?" I opened the door.

He handed me a box. "A present from the ballet rats."

I opened it. Makeup. "Perfect." I closed the door and went to the mirror. I put on black eyeliner, managed to smudge it into smoky eye, darkened and lengthened my eyelashes with the 19th century version of mascara, and put on some blush. I braided my hair down the sides and pinned it up into a tiny bun. There. Fully civilized. I looked like a native.

When I came out, Erik was waiting for me in his usual black outfit, and he smiled widely when he saw me. "You look lovely," he said, offering me his arm.

I couldn't fight the blush that rose to my cheeks. "Thank you. You look nice as always."

We ventured up to Box 5 and got there to watch the orchestra warm up and watch the people file in. "Which opera is it?" I asked.

He told me, but the French name went right over my head.

"What's it about?"

He gave me a frustrated look. "You will see."

I leaned back in my chair and waited for the opera to begin. Once it did, I was enthralled. It was the story of a girl lost in the forest, who finds a mystical land and falls in love with a tree spirit, but she's banished from the land when they realize she's a human. Both the tree spirit and the girl pine away and die.

Erik watched Nicole wipe away tears during the final aria, and smiled. She had a tender heart, and when she wasn't being sarcastic and stubborn, she was quite the romantic. He had many dreams of her watching romance movies with her friends and lamenting lost love.

They gave the cast a standing ovation and as they ventured down the passage to the lair Erik said, "The ballet needs to have better timing. They missed at least four cues."

"I didn't notice," Nicole said.

"How did you not notice? They were three minutes behind by the end of the first act."

Nicole raised an eyebrow at him. "I was doing something called enjoying myself," she said. "You should try it sometime." She laughed at his insulted look and hugged him lightly. "Sometimes you need to stop analyzing things and just relax."

"They are the most famous opera in the world, they have to be perfect," Erik protested.

"Okay," she said, shrugging. "It's your opera."

"Yes. It is."

She rolled her eyes at him.

The next day Erik wrote a series of notes and was preparing to deliver them. He was surprised to see Nicole come out of the kitchen with two cups of tea. "Morning," she said, handing him the tea.

"Good morning," he said.

"Can I come with you?"

"I will just be delivering notes."

"I know. But I want to go with you."

"Why?"

"I don't like to be alone down here."

Erik felt a stab of guilt. You could not keep such a spirited creature alone in the dark. "I'm sorry," he said. "I will introduce you to Mme. Giry today, and she will be someone you can talk to and go out with."

She smiled. "Thank you."

He took her on a tour and let her drop a few of the notes.

"You know, watching them scream is really satisfying," she whispered, as they hid in the catwalks after dropping a note on a ballet rat's head.

"You see why I do it, then," he said.

She grinned. "Yeah."

"The best target is the Prima Donna," Erik informed her. "She screams louder than anyone."

Their next stop was Mme. Giry's office. She was having a cup of tea after practice, and when the back of the closet slid open, she began to pour another cup. "Hello, Erik," she said, turning to face him. She saw Nicole, and her jaw dropped. "Erik, who is this?"

"This is Nicole," Erik said. "She is from America."

Mme. Giry looked at him suspiciously. "Did you kidnap her?"

He gave her a dirty look. "No, I did not."

"Are you forcing her to stay with you?"

"No. What kind of a person do you think I am?"

I looked from Mme. Giry to Erik. I did know some French, from my dreams, and she was questioning him. And Erik was starting to get mad. I took his hand and squeezed it lightly, trying to remind him I was here. He relaxed fractionally.

Mme. Giry looked at me oddly and I gave her a tiny wave. "Hi."

"Bonjour," she said. "What are you doing here?" Her English was actually okay.

"I'm lost," I replied simply. "And I've known Erik my whole life, so I'm staying with him."

"How did you meet him?" she asked.

"In my dreams."

She gaped at me. "You are the girl."

"What?"

She turned to Erik and fired off a question in rapid French. He replied in equally rapid French.

"What are you talking about?" I asked plaintively.

"Nothing," Erik replied.

I folded my arms and glared at him. "Doesn't sound like nothing to me."

"Nicole," he sighed, exasperated.

"Well how can she recognize me if I've never been here?" I asked, starting to get scared. "Did she know this was going to happen? Did you know?"

"No," he said calmly, firmly. "Allow me to return to the lair and I will show you."

"Sure."

"Good." He gave a brief instruction to Mme. Giry and vanished through the wall.

"Is he treating you well?" she asked after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Yes." I smiled. "He's the perfect gentleman."

She nodded, looking relieved. "And you know about..."

"His past? Yes." I gave her a tiny nod. "You were his lifesaver."

She nodded in response.

Erik came back a few minutes later with papers in his hand. Drawings. He laid them in front of me and stepped back, faint embarrassment on his face.

I looked at the first drawing. It was me, my face drawn in perfect detail, even down to the little acne scar above my nose. I turned to the next one. It was me, again, holding a cup of coffee, the background obviously my work. The other one was from when I was younger, the day my mom died. I could see my own sadness in the picture, and I felt tears well up in my eyes. I flipped the page over quickly. The last picture was from a few days ago, from when we went to the opera.

"I've been drawing you my entire life," he confessed. "I had to put your memories down somehow."

"So you have more of these?" I asked.

"Maybe..."

Mme. Giry spoke up. "How long are you staying here?"

Erik and I shared a glance. "I don't know how to get back," I said slowly. "I'm not going anywhere."

"Which is why we are taking care of you," Erik said firmly.

"Do you have any skills?" Mme. Giry asked.

"Uh... not really?"

"She is an excellent singer, a very good cook, and she can make coffee into a work of art," Erik said.

I shrugged. "So, pretty much useless to an opera house."

"Not useless to me," Erik said protectively, putting an arm around me. "She helps me with my work and she makes dinner." He glared at Mme. Giry.

"Fine. But Erik, you cannot keep a girl in your house like that. It is not proper."

"I'm a phantom and she hasn't been born yet, our existence isn't even proper."

"Good point."

"And besides,' I said. "I don't speak French and I can't get a job. Being Erik's housekeeper is much more interesting."

"You do need to learn French though," Erik told me. "We will start your lessons tomorrow."

"Aw, come on," I said, scowling, "I took French in high school and I really didn't like it. There's all those extra vowels at the end of words and that weird camel gagging thing you gotta do with your throat and just, ugh."

They were both staring at me. "You sound quite mad," Mme. Giry said frankly.

I blushed slightly. "Insanity loves company."

Erik grinned at me.