A/N:YAY! 21 reviews! I CAN POST AGAIN! Alright then, five more reviews til the next chapter.

Hope you enjoy this, the feedback is inspiring! This chapter is neck deep in the movie by the way and I've taken bits and pieces of dialogue, though much of it is paraphrased so forgive any mistakes. This chapter includes the masquerade and the cemetery scene.

Also, I promised to dedicate a chapter to my best reviewer so...

Deanna37, this is for you! Thanks for all the kind words and feedback!

CHAPTER TEN

…you may say to this very day that killing Buquet was wrong and a sin of Erik's but forgive me, solnyshka, I cannot. Buquet followed Erik out of his own curiosity and it was part of the reason that got him killed but I must confess my overwhelming relief at his death. Erik freed me, Christine, from a loveless, painful marriage with a man I detested more than anyone else in the world.

I know you saw the horror in it more than the benefit but for me, it was protection and certainty. Erik saved me, my little solnyshka. You might not see it that way, but I do.

Now as you know, that was also the night you and your Viscount confessed your love. I know, only because Erik was there and he spoke of his heartbreak that night to me. As much as I love you Christine, part of me hates how you hurt that man.

You know of Erik's absence in the Populaire for nearly eight months after that night. And while you and the Viscount discovered each other again during that time, I worked and tended to a man who had been broken by your rejection.

Winter, 1870
Catacombes
Paris, France

Erik watched as though from a distance, as Margot tidied his home and composed a small tray of bread and jam, a cup of tea on the side. He could hardly stomach to see her and remember her and his Angel laughing together as they prepared for parties. Specifically, Christine's sixteenth birthday, where she wore a reworked white dress, lingered at the edges of his mind, taunting him along with the visuals of the Viscount.

How he hated that man! He'd felt such hatred only once in his life, for the gypsies that had tortured him as a child before Antoinette had brought him to the Opera Populaire and it burned inside him once more for the man who had stolen his love, his angel of music away.

"Erik, are you hungry?" Margot asked quietly as she settled the tray down beside his organ. He had not moved from his seat in weeks, his mind far too consumed with the task ahead of him.

He had written several songs, several short performances over his time under the Populaire but he had been waiting until Christine joined him before he created his masterpiece, his opera principal.

He had imagined spending his days immersed in darkness and music, only surfacing to experience the delicate, wonderful touch of his Angel. He had pictured her face, euphoric as she brought his music to life with her incredible voice.

Did she sing for the Viscount? he wondered. He would not know as he hadn't left his home by the lake since the opening of Il Muto and the murder of Buquet. It was hardly his first and sure not to be his last but it had apparently been the final straw for Christine who had run into the arms of her Viscount before the opera had even ended.

He could tell that while grateful for the murder- her Uncle had lost most of his ideas of marriage after the loss of his friend- Margot was at a loss as to how to deal with him. She'd taken to navigating to and from his home by herself which he was surprised at, considering she'd always claimed a total lack of a sense of direction. She came down nearly every evening to ask how he was, to fix him food and attempt to peel him away from the music he was now set on creating.

She even resorted to telling stories, something he hadn't had time to listen to for many years. It was actually one of her tales that had inspired the plot of his new opera, which was composed of pieces he had been writing all his life. He poured his heart and his rage and his pain into the pieces and watched with something like sadistic pleasure whenever Margot had to turn away, the power of his music too much for her.

Her story of the gypsy flower girl and how she toyed with the Italian Don Marco ended with Don Marco's decision to travel and experience a world not involved with the girl, was far different, however, to Erik's opera.

Don Juan Triumphant would be a story of seduction and with it, Erik would pour the power and creation he had held back from Christine so as not to scare her away. With it, Erik had decided, he would ensnare his Angel's senses so deeply that she had no choice but to follow him.

Love, he decided, could come later but as the Masquerade Ball drew closer, the Phantom vowed that he would seduce his Angel to follow him into hell.

"Erik eat something, please?" Margot murmured four days before the Masquerade. She knew he had something planned for it but she had not secured an invitation as part of Carlotta's entourage and would not be there to witness it.

Privately, Margot considered this somewhat of a blessing because if she had to watch Erik with Christine for another moment, she thought her heart might very well begin to bleed.

Erik refused to respond, still bent over his fabrics as he stitched and fitted his costume perfectly. Though Erik took more pleasure out of composing, Margot knew that he could fit anywhere in the opera house and work as the star of that department.

Such promise, she thought, and it was being wasted on a lost venture. Christine had come racing into her rooms not two months ago, her face light and happy as it had been since the Phantom's disappearance, and conveyed in whispered words the magical evening she'd shared with Raoul de Chagny. This was a rather common occurrence since the Viscount, while still awkward around Christine's surrogate older sister, had charmed Christine thoroughly but what came next was a surprise and cause for fear.

"Margot, he proposed!" the soprano had gushed. "He loves me and he wants to make me his wife!"

Margot had smiled weakly and claimed illness, not an untruth considering how sick to her stomach she felt. Erik was consumed by his love for Christine and he truly believed he had the chance to make her choose him but Margot knew what a lost cause his fight was. Christine was engaged; she was prepared to swear, before the eyes of God, that she would forsake all others for Raoul as his wife.

Unable to contain herself, Margot slammed the tray of food she'd prepared onto the floor, relishing the loud crashes and broken china. "This is madness Erik!" she exclaimed, helpless as to what she could do to make him see. "Christine is in love with the Viscount-"

"Do not say his name!" Erik growled but they were the first words she'd heard out of him in months so she continued.

"It is lost, Erik!" she begged. "It is time to move on-!"

"I cannot!" he roared, hoarsely. "She cannot be lost to me. I can reach her, you will see..."

Margot closed her eyes and took a deep breath, full aware of what she was about to do. "I will not."

"You doubt me?" Erik asked, icily.

"No Erik," she murmured, understanding that though it felt like a knife in her gut, she could not do this to herself anymore. Perhaps that made her selfish but she could no longer stand by and watch Erik succumb to his obsession. "I will not see because I cannot watch you continue down this path. If you keep going with these plans, I- I cannot watch you destroy yourself Erik. I couldn't bear it."

"You do not believe she will accept me. I know you care for her as a sister," Erik accused, his voice growing louder. Margot frowned, confused and exasperated. Did he not hear her when she spoke? Did the words simply drift around him, the untouchable, unreachable Phantom?

"No, I merely-" Margot began to explain but Erik was far too aware of his own betrayal to notice the pain in her expression.

"You don't want this for her," he gestured wildly to his right side, fury evident in his tensed voice. "You want her with that vile Viscount, don't you?"

"No, Erik. I want-" she attempted to explain but suddenly Erik's gloved hand was pressed tight against her throat and she could no longer breathe let alone speak.

"Don't you?" Erik bellowed from above her as he tightened his grip. Frozen, Margot could only shake her head, stunned that Erik would turn against her this way. The fear in her eyes, fear which had never been there previously, must've been enough to startle Erik from his anger and suddenly the hand at her throat disappeared.

Margot fell to her knees, winded and gasping. She glanced up and found Erik had retreated to his workbench, frozen over his Red Death costume. "Erik…" But for once she had no words.

"Leave Margot Ferrand." The Phantom demanded coldly. "I shall not ask again."

Margot escaped while she could.

Winter, 1871
The Prima Donna's Compartments
Paris

Margot heard of the Phantom's appearance at the Masquerade. A solemn hush had fallen on the opera house; the theatre and all its occupants lived in fear of the Ghost who had reappeared to declare his intentions. Don Juan Triumphant was the newest opera set to perform in just a few weeks and all who had seen him at the Masquerade dared not go against his wishes.

But Margot refused to listen to the stories the ballerinas and workers told; she ignored their chattering and gossip. She hated any talk of Erik and had Madame Tenau ban it from the workshop. Outside of her work, however, ignoring the gossip of the theatre was far more difficult. Even her Uncle wad full of hatred of the Phantom for killing Buquet all those months ago.

In the end, Margot merely grew used to imaging she was in Erik's home, isolated from the bustling opera house, whose confines she was beginning to resent.

Margot avoided Christine as much as she could which was hard when the girl was scared out of her mind and in need of her sister figure's comfort. But part of Margot's heart broke every time she was called in to calm the terrified ballerinas during rehearsal or when Christine broke down in tears and Raoul could not calm her.

This led to a certain amount of friction between herself and the Viscount, who resented Margot's ability to calm Christine so easily. He took, instead, to sleeping with a sword outside Christine's dormitories. Margot of course pointed out that the Viscount was a poor lookout considering he fell asleep most nights but Christine seemed charmed and comforted by the gesture.

The morning she was called to La Carlotta's chambers to soothe her with a romantic fairytale, Margot was half way through her story when Christine ran into her arms, crying and sobbing, Raoul following behind her, bleeding. It was then that Margot knew that Erik was past her help.

"It was horrible Margot!" Christine wept as Raoul left to speak with the managers. Margot clutched her girl to her, calmly letting her expel her tears on her blouse. "He was there and I thought he was my father!"

"Your father is dead, Christine." Margot reminded her gently. "It is time to accept this."

She could see now that by creating the Angel persona, Erik had not allowed Christine to come to terms with her father's death. In Christine's mind, he had always been with her, in the form of Erik's Angel of Music.

"I know," Christine sobbed. "And then he and Raoul, they fought with swords and he injured Raoul- I was so frightened, Margot."

"I know, solnyshka, calm down, I know." Margot rocked the girl, slowly, trying to calm her shaking body and couldn't help but be reminded of how Erik had calmed her when she'd been faced with the prospect of marrying Joseph Buquet, all those months ago.

"And now Raoul is talking of plans and hunting him down and-" Christine continued and Margot froze.

"Hunting who down? The Phantom?" she echoed, stunned. "He must be mad!"

Christine wiped her tears away with a handkerchief Meg provided her. "It's true, he's calling the police in to help!"

"They will get themselves killed!" Margot exclaimed, wondering how on earth Erik would react to the intruders in his opera house. "We must stop this, now before it is too late!"

"Margot-" Too late, Margot had left Christine in the arms of the young Meg Giry and raced off to the search party.

"…His reign will end!" Raoul declared, determination evident on his face.

"We shall corner him in the Populaire with as many guards as needed!" M. Andre said, firmly. "He will not be able to sneak away!"

"And armaments! All policemen are to be armed and ready to shoot on sight!" M. Firmin added.

Margot gasped as the managers moved on, leaving Raoul behind. "What are you thinking?" she hissed, furiously.

"I'm thinking that someone needs to do something!" the Viscount snapped.

"He will kill you all before any of these plans can come to fruition!" she nearly screeched. She could not believe the Viscount could be so thoroughly stupid. "This is his opera house, Viscount! He will see any trap a mile away!"

The Viscount paused. "You seem overly familiar with the Phantom, Mademoiselle Ferrand." He stated, coolly. "Do you have anything to share with us?"

"Only that this is madness!" she hissed. "He will know, he will stop you and it will never work!"

"Mademoiselle, he must be stopped." Raoul told her, sternly. "He killed the man you were intended to marry, I would've thought you'd be on our side."

"Joseph Buquet was a bully and a rapist!" she spat in retaliation. "I would thank the Phantom for stopping him!"

"You sympathize with him? With that monster?" Raoul said, incredulous.

"He is a man, not a monster!" Margot said unthinkingly.

Raoul froze, connecting the dots faster than Margot had given him credit for. "You've seen him."

"I-I have not." She backtracked, looking distrustfully at the Viscount.

"You have," Raoul clicked his fingers triumphantly. "You know him, you know where he is, don't you?"

"I've no idea!" she denied but Raoul gestured to a pair of policemen who each grabbed one of her arms.

"You know Mademoiselle," Raoul said, his face set. "And you will tell me!"

Few people noticed Margot's disappearance from the Opera house in the days leading up to the opening night of Don Juan Triumphant.

Margot Ferrand's few associates were informed a variety of stories as to where she had left to.

Madame Tenau was informed that Margot had quit, the stress of putting on the Phantom's twisted opera too much for her to bear.

Her Uncle was told that she had left, hysterical with fear over having her would-be fiancé murdered and her friend nearly kidnapped.

Meg and Madame Giry were told that she had taken ill and had left to visit her old home in Versailles.

Christine was the hardest to lie to, the Viscount found, but the most necessary. If the woman he now held in the makeshift jail on the opposite side of the street from the Populaire was indeed an associate of the dreaded Phantom, then she may have been endangering Christine for years without her knowing.

To Christine, Raoul had Margot leave a letter detailing a similar story as the one told to the Girys, the underlying base of which was her fear of the Populaire and inability to watch Christine put herself in harm's way. The plan had nearly backfired when Christine declared she would not sing.

"Margot will come back if I do not!" she exclaimed, her tone final. "I love her Raoul, I need her with me."

Raoul, feeling wretched over lying to his fiancé, pressed her to his chest so he would not have to see her innocent, beautiful eyes. "Christine, she will not come back if the Phantom is still haunting the Populaire. Do this for her, for all of us. Help us find him and stop him from hurting anyone else."

Thoroughly depressed over Margot's disappearance, Christine had agreed, desperate for her friend back.

Raoul left that night, as he had been doing each night for the past week, to visit Margot Ferrand, furious with the petite ivory skinned woman for holding her tongue.

"Tell me where he is!" he demanded to know. Margot merely turned her gaze away from the Viscount, her face looking pale and gaunt. She hadn't eaten much more than bread in the past week and with the opening night of Don Juan upon them, Raoul was even more desperate to make her talk.

"He wants to hurt Christine!" the Viscount stated, surprised at her unwillingness. "I thought you loved her?"

"I love Christine as much as a sister could." Margot told him, sneering.

"Then help me stop the man that would keep her from the surface, keep her locked away, bound and in the darkness forever!" Raoul pleaded.

Margot laughed bitterly as she gestured to the tiny basement she was chained in. The police officers had not allowed her to take them off since she'd arrived and her wrists were rubbed raw. "And what do you call this, Viscount? I am below the surface, locked away and bound in darkness and the man at fault is you! You do not deserve Christine-!"

Raoul had never hit a woman in his life and he didn't intend to ruin his record. Instead, he settled for slamming his hands down on the table between them. A small part of him felt satisfaction at her flinch. "I am trying to save her!"

"You are trying to keep her the same way he is, Viscount." Margot told him bitterly. "You simply want to do it with fine horses and pretty dresses."

"You're intolerable, woman!" Raoul sighed, angrily.

"You are not the first man to tell me that." Margot shot back, rolling her eyes. She felt dirty and tired and fearful for Erik.

"Oh?" Raoul said, breaking his composure. "Did he tell you that? It must have hurt, to hear him tell you such things and lust after another woman!"

He had not expected her to turn away but her reaction surprised him. And suddenly, things mad sense for the first time since he'd agreed to patron this horrible opera theatre. "That's it, isn't it?"

"What are you talking about?"

Raoul leaned closer, astounded. "You care for him, don't you?"

"Ridiculous."

"Yet true." He stated, coldly. "You care for the Phantom, for that monster-"

"You do not know anything about him!" she screamed back.

"And you know him better?" Raoul mocked, angrily.

"I've known him for fourteen years, you fool!" Margot roared back. "And he has never once done anything as cruel as what you are doing to me now!"

"I could have you arrested you know," Raoul said after a pause over the shock of discovering what appeared to be the Phantom's only friend. "As an accomplice."

"Christine would never forgive you." Margot said with finality. "She won't forgive you if she discovers that you're keeping me here either."

"No," Raoul finally admitted. "She would not. But I will do what I have to, to secure her safety."

The Viscount turned and walked away from the improvised jail cell, leaving the two police officers to guard the door leading down to the basement and Margot in the dark once more.

Translations:

Opera principal- French meaning 'main opera'

A/N:So I suppose I have some explaining to do right?

First of all, I'm not a Raoul fan. He's a bit too pompous for me.

Second of all, Erik little...tantrum, should we say, is at a point where he is starting to lose control on his madness. The real Erik, the one Margot loves, is based around Mme Giry's movie description of him as a genius; the Erik she loves is a man who is lonely and artistically incredible.

The one who nearly choked her is kind of nuts.

So, FIVE REVIEWS UNTIL THE NEXT CHAPTER IS POSTEDand trust me it'll be a doozy. It's probably going to deviate from the movie a fraction but hell, its fanfiction, who cares?