Author's Note: Sorry it's been a while! Between being sick and midterms I haven't had much time/energy to write. Here's a nice long chapter to make up for it.


On the announcement board in the wings of the stage was posted a cast list, and in front of it an awestruck Russian woman who was quietly wondering if she had gone mad or somehow forgotten how to read French. Perhaps it was both, she wondered, reading and rereading the piece of paper as ballerinas walked behind her gossiping away.

"Who is this Anya Chekov? I've never seen her audition, have you?"

"No, I haven't! Perhaps she is screwing one of the managers?"

"Perhaps she is screwing a wealthy patron! God knows it's happened before-"

Anya ducked her head as the girls passed, trying not to feel so foreign. This… this was really happening. She was not mad or misreading the slip; she had been cast as Giselle in the ballet by the same name. The part had been her debut in Russia as a prima ballerina, and earned her rave reviews… but that had been seven, nearly eight years ago, in a different country, when she was still young and beautiful. To play Giselle now! The part was innocent, weak and virtuous but at the same time noble and passionate. It was an immensely difficult role to perform… how in God's name had she been cast as Giselle? And without auditioning no less!

Moncharmin cleared his throat from behind her, and Anya startled visibly; she had been so focused n her thoughts that she had not noticed him behind her. "Well Madame Chekov, I do wish you had told us you were making friends in high places."

"Monsieur Moncharmin! I-"

"I would like to let you know, Madame, that you are on very dangerous grounds. Friends of the Opera Ghost are no friends of ours," the man warned her, and Anya frowned.

"Monsieur, I'm afraid I don't understand."

"You mean to tell me you know nothing about the Opera Ghost?"

"It's not that… Monsieur, I injured my foot and was worried I would not be well enough for the audition. All E- all the Ghost told me was that he would take care of it. I only thought he would ask you to postpone the audition. You don't mean to say he set the cast list?"

Moncharmin eyed her suspiciously. "He set the cast list, and the orchestra, and provided us with an ideal set designed, rather like the last time he felt the need to intervene with our performances. He has been quite enough for a good many years, Madame, and now suddenly he is making advances for your career?" The man shook his head, incredulously. "Madame, he is a dangerous entity. Please, if you know anything about him you must inform the authorities. I assure you, helping us rid the theatre of him will advance your career far more than he ever will."

Anya gaped. "Monsieur, I have nothing to do with this! I have no desire to perform a part I have not earned! Put me in the chorus, or even remove me from the cast! I swear to you, all I asked the man for was a chance to audition, nothing more."

"He said you might say that. He also said if we lessened your part we would pay for it dearly, and after what happened the last time I believe him. You will play Giselle, Madame, but do not expect a warm welcome," Moncharmin concluded, walking back off the stage to his offices. Very nearly in tears, Anya waited until the man was out of site before shouting, not particularly caring if she sounded like a madwoman or not.

"Erik you fiend! You said you hear everything that happens in the Opera, well hear me now! I have half a mind to report you to the authorities like Moncharmin wants! You have ruined me, do you hear me Erik? You've simply ruined me! What in God's name did I do to you to deserve this?" She demanded, bordering on hysterics. "I ought to tell the whole ballet who and what you are, you monster! I-" Before she could utter another word, the woman was unconscious and draped over the shoulder of a tall man swathed in black, who quickly carried her off into the shadows.

When Anya opened her eyes hours later, she immediately closed them again, hands covering her face to keep out as much of the light as possible while her head throbbed. She couldn't quite remember what had happened… had she been drinking? Her head and stomach certainly felt as if she had been. When finally she could pry her eyes open, her stomach dropped for a moment at the unfamiliar surroundings. This was not her room…

Then she recognized it; this was the room Erik had cornered her in, when he had first brought her here. She hadn't paid it much attention before, but this was certainly it. Pulling off the blankets, Anya yelped and immediately covered herself again upon realizing she was only in her undergarments. Her stomach knotted in terror, and she wondered now if she would prefer to remember what had happened before she fell asleep at all.

A knock came at the door, and the door opened just enough to let in Erik's voice. "Anya, is everything all right?"

She tightened the blanket around her chest as she sat up. "Stay out! I'm indecent!"

"I know, I'll stay put. Your dress is on the chair by the bed, but there are fresh gowns in the wardrobe if you would prefer," said Erik, closing the door once more.

Oh God, what has happened? Anya thought to herself, controlling her breathing before finally pulling herself out of bed. Moved by curiosity, Anya ventured to the wardrobe to inspect the dresses within. Each and every one of them was worth more than her week's salary as a prima ballerina in Russia, without a doubt. They were all beautifully made of some of the finest materials Anya had ever seen. Silks, chiffon, lace, ribbon, cotton, things that put the rough fabrics of even her finest gowns to shame. Gently she pulled out a simple, wine colored dress accented with ivory lace and ribbon. Inspecting herself (awkwardly, for there was no mirror in the room she noticed), she wondered at its elegance; the dress was large in the breast and slightly narrow in the shoulders, but most of her dresses were considering her ballerina's build. Once the dress was tied snuggly and her brief moment of vanity was past, the reality of her situation struck her; she had no recollection of how she got here, or what she had been doing previously, and had woken up in her undergarments in a strange man's bed. Knowing she could not avoid the situation forever, Anya took a steadying breath before stepping out of the little bedroom into the parlor.

Erik was seated at a dining table, moving a finger gently around the rim of a large wine glass, making it sing quietly. When the door opened, he could not help but stare at the figure that stood in the doorway, awkwardly holding herself about her middle with her eyes on the floor. When Anya said nothing, Erik decided he probably should. "That dress is stunning on you," he said uncomfortably, and Anya's brow furrowed as she gazed at the floor.

"I… thank you. It is a stunning dress in the wardrobe as well," she added. "It was for Christine, wasn't it?"

The masked man's eyes immediately moved from the woman in the doorway to his wineglass. "Yes, it was."

"I thought it might have been; the breasts are too large and the shoulders are too narrow for it to have been for me," she remarked, before realizing how terribly arrogant that sounded. Why on earth would Erik ever buy her a dress so fine? "Erik… what exactly happened? The last thing I remember is coming into the theatre to look for the announcement."

Erik's eyes remained fixated on his wineglass. "I don't quite know what happened before you began shouting like a madwoman, except that one of the managers spoke with you. You were threatening to turn me over to the authorities, saying that I had ruined your career…"

Anya's eyes widened as the memories flooded back to her. "Yes! You cast me as Giselle! You…" She seethed. "You are a horrible, monstrous man!"

"For helping your career I am a horrible man? I had you cast as the lead in a Paris ballet! It will make you a star!" Erik glared at her hard, standing to move into another room Anya discovered to be the kitchen when she followed him.

"Erik! The entire ballet hates me! They hate me, Erik. You should hear them talk about me! They think I'm sleeping with the managers! And Moncharmin… Moncharmin probably thinks I'm sleeping with you! Which reminds me, why in God's name did I wake up in my undergarments? What happened, Erik?"

Erik looked back down to the floor. "I… accidently poisoned you, bringing you here. I put too much of the anesthetic on the rag in my haste to keep your quiet. You were very will, I couldn't wake you enough for you to undress yourself, and you were going to ruin your dress. I swear on my life, nothing happened," he promised so sincerely Anya felt inclined to believe him in spite of really having no reason to. He had tried to rape her once before, after all. There was something about Erik's voice though… it seemed to convey emotions he could not show directly on his face.

"…Okay. Thank you then, I guess. How long have I been I asleep?"

"Six hours, about. I'll return you whenever you're ready."

Anya shook her head. "Not yet, you and I need to have a talk. Why did you do it, Erik?"

Erik turned and folded his arms crossly, standing tall against the kitchen counter. "I promised you I could take care of things, and I did. I am giving you every dancer's dream!"

"This? This is not my dream Erik! Perhaps it is the dream of the rats who do nothing but dream about being Cinderella and meeting their prince charming, anything whisk them away from the stage. These… children are ballerinas because of the romance, Erik, not because they love the dance. That isn't me. That was never me. I love to dance, Erik. It is my life! I don't care about the roles I get so long as I have earned them through hard work and talent. My dream is to earn the praise of audiences for my talent, not for who I know," Anya explained, exasperated. "You should have talked to me, Erik. All I wanted was a chance to audition-"

"I beg your forgiveness then, Anya," Erik sneered. "God forbid anyone want to give you the moon on a string. God forbid anyone want to be kind to you, to earn that beautiful, magnificent smile that radiates into your eyes. I would throw myself off the roof if it would earn that smile!" He told her before he ever realized the thoughts in his head were flowing unbidden from his mouth, thoughts that he had never in his life intended to utter. "Nobody has ever treated me as humanely as you do, nobody has ever made me feel so human, God forbid I want to make you feel half as wonderful as you make me feel!"

It was Anya's bewildered stare that brought Erik out of his ramblings and made him realize the gravity of what he had said. His entire body changed from a posture of powerful offense and anger to one of embarrassment and utter anguish. Erik moved past her as silently as a shade, and Anya turned to follow him with her gaze as he all but ran into another of the rooms in the house, slamming the door behind him with such force she couldn't help but jump. In moments the anguished wail of a pipe organ began, causing Anya to slump into one of the chairs at the dining table.

The music continued relentlessly for hours. Anya could not pull herself away; it was so transfixing, so dynamic that certain phrases physically affected her. Some passages made her weep with their anguish, some made her want to scream with anger she didn't know she felt. Others still made her breast ache with longing, while others made her feel so ugly and depressed she longed to sleep and never wake up.

When the music finally stopped, Anya clutched at the collar of her dress quietly. Why did her heart still ache now that the music was through? After a long moment of consideration, Anya moved to the door Erik had disappeared behind, knocking gently. "Erik? Please come out, Erik. I'm not angry with you," why she added this she couldn't imagine, but it seemed the right thing to say. After a long moment of quiet, the door opened just a crack.

"You aren't?"

"No, Erik. I'm still… upset that you didn't discuss this with me. But I'm not angry," she promised quietly. "Would you please come out?"

The door opened further and Erik stepped out. "I'm sorry. I should return you now," he remarked upon noticing the time. She nodded quietly before noticing his hands, which were covered in blood.

"Oh God, Erik you're bleeding!"

Erik clutched at his hands, and moved to the sink. "It's nothing, please don't let it horrify you."

"Nonsense, let me see," she demanded as he rinsed his hands. Anya stood next to him and took his hands from the water; the man shuddered at her touch, but Anya was too worried to notice. The man's fingers were bleeding, his nails split much like the nail of her toe had been from the breaking of her slipper; he had been playing so ferociously at the organ he had not even noticed. "Come here you foolish man," she scolded gently, drying off Erik's hands with a rag and pulling him over to the table. "Where do you keep your bandages?"

"In the pantry," he told her, watching her intently as she moved into the kitchen to raid the pantry for the bandages. She returned before long and unwrapped his hands from the rag before wrapping the two fingers which still bled. "Why are you being so kind to me? After everything I said…"

"Because you are my friend, Erik. And really… what you said was very sweet. I still think you were wrong in what you did," Anya added, "but it was well intentioned."

"The road to hell is paved with good intentions," Erik quoted, and Anya nodded, inspecting her handiwork.

"That should stop the bleeding soon," she remarked with a gentle smile. "You are as passionate about your music as I am my dance, I can tell. We all suffer our injuries," she smiled with a nod to her feet.

"Thank you," Erik whispered, heart racing when Anya kissed his masked cheek gently.

"You're very welcome. I hate to be such a bore, but I really must return. I'm already not very well liked, I don't want to give anyone a reason to dislike me even more by being tardy."

Erik nodded curtly and stood, moving past her to take up his cloak. Anya watched him with a furrowed brow, unsure of his behavior as he stood in a gap that suddenly opened in the wall of the parlor, gesturing for her to step out. Anya moved past him obediently, stepping into the boat on the lake just outside, steadying herself on his hand. By the time Erik returned her high enough into the theatre for her to find her own way, it was nearly sunup. Only having slept in a drug haze, Anya was exhausted by the events of the evening but forsake sleep in order to introduce herself to the girls in the dormitories, for better or for worse.