Chapter Ten

Alison was staring at Patrick. No, the logical half of her mind told her. You are not actually seeing this. Just blink and he'll disappear. The practical half said, You're looking. He's right here. Get past the denial and actually start trying to understand this.

Patrick looked irritated. "I'm kind of trying to figure out why I'm here. I just sort of ended up here about five seconds ago. It was the weirdest thing: your computer was playing Phantom again and I tried to shut it off but it didn't work. I went to close it but I touched the screen by accident and suddenly I found myself here. I'm wet and I'm cold and I don't understand what's going on. And what are you doing here? If this is some kind of joke, it's not very funny."

She sighed. "It's not a joke, Patrick."

"Then what is it? And please make this quick. I have a paper due tomorrow, so I need to get back to college."

She looked at him, feeling a terrible pity. She hadn't devoted too much time and energy to actually finding a way home, but one thing had always been pretty clear to her about the situation. "Patrick, I don't think there is a way back."

He frowned, trying to be certain of what she had said. "What do you mean, 'there isn't a way back'? Where is here, anyway?"

She shifted uncomfortably. "You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you."

He looked around, trying to find answers that she didn't seem to be giving, and his eyes found Erik. They narrowed in suspicion.

"And just who is this?"

"Patrick, it's not what you think."

"Then please tell me what it is before I come in there and beat him up."

She laughed.

"What?" he asked, insulted. "You don't believe me?"

"No, I believe that you would try. It's just that the image of anyone coming in and beating him up makes me laugh. But don't actually try it," she added, the smile slipping off her face. "You'd be dead before you took three steps."

Now it was Patrick's turn to laugh.

"Don't laugh, Patrick. I'm perfectly serious."

"Who is this?" asked Erik.

She turned to him. "Angel, this is Patrick, a good friend of mine from home. He got a little bit lost. He's also from America and he doesn't speak any French."

Erik opened his mouth, but Patrick interrupted him.

"Angel?" he asked derisively

"Patrick, it's really not what you think. Angel is… a nickname. It's not a pet name or anything like that. It's just what I call him because he's never told me his real name. But I do know who he is."

He raised his eyebrows. "Then who is he?"

She turned to Erik. "Do you want me to tell him who you are?"

Erik shook his head firmly. "No."

Alison looked at Patrick. "I can't tell you who he is, but I can give you a clue."

"All right," said Patrick. "Let's see if I can guess who your mysterious friend is."

"Okay. This is my hint. It may sound strange but it's the best hint I can give you right now."

"Hit me with it." Patrick smirked. "I bet I'll guess it in five seconds."

Alison rolled her eyes, and then, to both Erik and Patrick's surprise, began to sing. "In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came."

Patrick frowned. "What kind of hint is this? I don't need to hear you sing this song for… what is it now? The millionth time?"

She said nothing but kept on singing. "That voice which calls to me And speaks my name. And do I dream again? For now I find…"

"This isn't a hint at all," Patrick complained.

"The Hmmmmmm hm hmm Hmmm is there." She flicked her eyes toward Erik and back to Patrick, willing him to understand.

Patrick thought about it. His mind kept leading him to one conclusion, but he kept dismissing that as impossible. There is no way that could be…

"Your hint is ridiculous and misleading. The only thing I can come up with that would make sense based on your hint… is completely impossible."

"But if you've come to the right conclusion, it should be impossible."

Patrick's eyes widened. "You're not actually saying this guy is the–"

She cut him off. "Yes. He doesn't want you to know, though, so I would advise you to keep your discovery to yourself."

"But doesn't he know that I know already?"

She shook her head. "No. He doesn't speak English. But if you think about it, his title in English sounds very similar to his title in French. So don't say anything to give it away."

Patrick laughed. "And here I was thinking that he was a genius… Hold on a second. Why am I even considering this as true?"

Alison raised her eyebrows. "Why are you not?"

Patrick stared at her as though she was out of her mind. "Because, first, the Ph… he doesn't exist, no matter what Leroux or anybody else says. Second, even if he did exist, he lived in Paris in the late 1800s, not in America in the present day. Ha! I found the flaw in your story. That was a nice lie," and he suddenly became serious, "but now you actually have to tell me the truth. Who is he?"

Alison looked at Patrick pityingly and slowly shook her head.

Patrick frowned. "What is it?"

"I told you you wouldn't believe me if I explained where we were."

Patrick froze. "You're not actually serious, are you?"

"Yes, Patrick. We are in Paris, France, and the year is 1874."

There was a long silence. Then: "WHAT? No, no, no. That's impossible. These things only happen in movies, right?" Patrick looked at Alison like a child, pleading to be told that this was just a dream or some kind of joke. Unfortunately, she could tell him no such thing.

"I'm sorry, Patrick. I know this is crazy, but I've been living here for a year and–"

Patrick held up his hands. "Whoa. A year? You've only been missing for eighteen days! How could it have been a year?"

Alison thought about this. "So I guess time moves differently here. That's very strange. But like I was saying, I know lots of people and I know my way around here pretty well. I can find you a place to stay and everything."

Patrick sighed. "Well it's not like I have a lot of choices right now. So I guess I'll come with you."

Erik cleared his throat. "Will one of you please explain what is happening? What was this Patrick so surprised about? How did he find his way down here?"

Alison thought quickly. She knew she couldn't tell him where she was really from. Not yet, anyway. "He didn't know where he was and he was surprised to find that he was in Paris." She knew it was lame as soon as she said it, but she couldn't really think of a better excuse. "I need to find him somewhere to sleep. I should probably take him back up before he sees anything more than he should."

Erik nodded.

Her eyes grew worried. "Do you feel okay enough for me to leave you on your own? Patrick is less important to me than your wellbeing right now."

"I will be fine, thanks to you. I shall find my own way of dealing with the problem. Thank you for hearing my story, but I think it is best that you go now."

The concern in her eyes lessened, but only a little. "Okay. Just remember that if you need to talk about it, I'll always be here. Leave me a note or something and I'll come as soon as I can."

"Thank you. You should take care of your friend now, though."

"Bye, Angel." She leaned forward impulsively and gave him a hug.

He held her for a second and released her quickly, his cheeks slightly pink. "Goodbye, Angelique."

Alison turned towards Patrick, who had a skeptical look in his eyes. "Just friends, hmm?"

Alison rolled her eyes. "Yes, Patrick. I've got a perfect right to hug my friends, I think. Now come on, let me get you out of here."

She led him to the archway in the side of the wall and down the tunnel. As they walked, she filled him in on the daily life of the opera house and the names of people that he would meet. Patrick noticed how happy she seemed when she spoke about her life. She seemed to have adjusted very well to an entirely different time.

Suddenly, she stopped dead in the middle of the hall. "I forgot! We need to give you a cover identity!"

It sounded like something from a spy movie. "What? Why?"

She looked at him like it should be obvious. "Well, I can't exactly introduce you as my boyfriend. First of all, boyfriends don't really exist in this time, and secondly, people wouldn't really understand why I hadn't said anything about it before." There was a third reason, one that she wouldn't admit to Patrick. She didn't want Erik to know exactly what their relationship was. Before this, she had thought of him as only a friend. She had felt compassion for him and had enjoyed being around him. But tonight's events had turned everything upside down for her. The scene kept playing over and over in her head. Even the thought of the way he had touched her cheek made her heart beat faster. She kept imagining what might have happened had Patrick not come, but immediately felt bad. Patrick is my boyfriend, not Erik, she reminded herself. But she couldn't keep her mind from dwelling on Erik. She had never felt like this about anyone before, including Patrick. There's no time to think about that now, she scolded herself. Get Patrick settled enough and figure this out on your own time.

"So what's my 'cover identity'?" Patrick asked sarcastically. "A criminal on the run from the law?"

"Nothing that elaborate. We'll just say you're my cousin. I told them I was from a rich family who didn't want me to do ballet so that they would take me in. How about… your parents died so you were living with my parents. They sent you to look for me but you didn't actually want to bring me back because you saw how happy I was. But you are too scared to go back without me, so you need somewhere to stay for a while. How does that sound?"

Patrick considered it. "I guess I could do it, provided you give me a more satisfactory explanation for all of this at some point."

"I'll try. But I don't understand most of it either so I'll just have to do the best I can."

When they reached the end of the tunnel, Alison stopped Patrick. "Just remember that they don't like rich people, especially ones that don't speak their language. Don't look at anyone the wrong way and let me do all the talking. Got it?"

"Yeah, I got it."

They stepped out of the tunnel into the hallway near the chapel. "Madame Giry's office is this way. Follow me." Alison strode purposefully down the hallway… and right into Madame Giry. Her eyes went wide. "Oh my – I'm so sorry, Madame! I was just looking for you."

Madame Giry fixed her with a disapproving stare. "As I was looking for you. You have been gone for hours. Why is it always you who manages to give us all a heart attack, Angelique?"

Angelique looked down. "I'm sorry, Madame."

Patrick rounded the corner. "What's going on?"

Madame Giry frowned. "Who is your… friend?"

"This is my cousin, Madame." Alison repeated the story she had come up with to explain Patrick's presence. Madame Giry nodded.

"He can stay here for a while, provided he earns his keep. He can work as one of the stagehands and he will sleep with them as well."

Alison smiled. "Thank you, Madame."

"There is nothing to thank me for, my child. The Opera Populaire is simply gaining another worker, nothing more."

Alison turned to Patrick. "We're all good. You now have a job as a stagehand. Don't screw it up or I'll be the one who answers for it."

I hope I've explained Patrick's presence in a satisfactory way. Please review!