A/N: Okay, sticking to a schedule is not working for me. I'm so very, very sorry but I'm afraid that I absolutely must update when I have a chapter done, the suspense just kills me! I hope that you don't mind that I'm junking the weekly-update idea, but I just have too much imagination that needs to be written down for this fic! Today's special guest to read my disclaimer has come all the way from the Twilight fandom! Give it up for Bella Sawn-Cullen!

Bella: The- uh- I-Incredible N-nameless Wonder doesn't- uh- o-own the Phantom o-of the Opera.

Me: Okay, you've said your line, now scram! And before you begin reading; this chapter is dedicated to symmetry888 for giving me my 40th review, I have never had this many reviews for just one story! Thanks so much!

Chapter Eleven: The Ties That Bind

I let go of the rope and allowed gravity to do its thing. I screamed as loud as I could before I went toppling off of the banister, but I soon found them to be stifled by a hand over my mouth. I heard the crowd below grow silent and the performance stop as I was caught around the neck and hauled back over the side of the banister.

I didn't open my eyes as the hands around my neck tightened, strangling me as before, except the agony was intensified by about a million as the choker that covered the bruises from before that had yet to fade was covered in small metal charms that dug into my skin, making small cuts.

My eyes were forced open and they immediately found the jaundice-ridden ones of my soon-to-be murderer; Joseph Buquet. He was silent as he choked the life out of me, but a wicked grin was on his face as my world grew dark. I forced myself to remain coherent and didn't pass out as his grubby fingers tightened their grip.

I kept a sharp image of Sixty and Goblin in my brain, for it was them that I would miss most of all should this be it. I felt no tears on my cheeks, which was odd because the last time I'd stared death in the face this way I was a sobbing mess, but now I found my eyes dry, as if I already knew I would end up dead if I tried to escape the Phantom, one way or another.

The Phantom.

Something in my heart hurt when I thought about how I'd gotten to this point. Sure, I said I went down to his lair to save Christine, but she was a girl I barely knew who favoured fops, why would I save her? I already knew the answer before even mentally asked it.

You went to see him. My mind stated and I couldn't help but agree, I went down there to see the infamous Opera Ghost and I did, and he was just as much of a monster as I'd expected. I didn't hate him at all though, in fact I felt drawn to him more than anything, almost as if determined to find the good in him; a lot of good that did.

The hands around my neck clasped even tighter and my vision finally began to grow blurry and quite dark. I whispered a mental goodbye to my friends as I surrendered to my impending doom. I wondered if God would let me in Heaven after all I'd done; most likely not. I wondered what Hell would be like, and if it could possibly be any worse than my life; which I doubted.

I was so focused on what my life would be like once it had ended that I didn't notice the hands that were trying to kill me were pried off for a few moments. I choked and sputtered as I got used to breathing and my glazed-over eyes were jerked back to reality as Joseph Buquet was pried off of me and thrown to the ground.

I gasped and slumped down to the ground as my saviour emerged from the shadows to punch Buquet in the face once, twice, and then three times. I heard the cracking of bone and saw blood spurting from the stagehands broken nose. He didn't scream, but he did look very, very afraid as the man who was clad all in black raises his fast to hit him again, this time in the eye.

For the briefest of moments, the man turned to look at me, making my heart freeze and my blood stop pumping for a few seconds. Half of his face was covered in a white mask and a sick gleam was in his eye. It took me three seconds to remember who it was.

Erik had come to save me.

I watched with amazed eyes as the Phantom of the Opera reached to his belt and pulled out his lasso that he had tied like a noose. My heart was thumping out of my chest at a remarkably ungodly pace, and I could only stare on as Joseph Buquet attempted and failed to escape the Opera Ghost.

I couldn't think about anything, my mind was blank. I didn't even gasp in shock as the stagehand stumbled and fell on the wooden beams that formed the floor of the rafters, his ankle twisted in a length of rope. Erik was upon him in seconds, wrapping the noose around his neck. Buquet wasn't giving up; he followed the advice the Persian would give Raoul in the book and the slimy man kept his hand at the level of his eye, prolonging his life for a brief amount of time.

The Phantom pulled the noose tighter still as Joseph Buquet screamed. I heard yet again the sound of cracking bone and I realized that Erik had pulled the length of rope tied into a noose so tightly that it had broken the stagehands wrist.

I finally found my lungs and began to breathe again at an ever so slightly faster pace than the normal as Erik tightened the rope around the man's neck tighter. I thought for sure that he would finally just die, but he seemed to have other plans, for just as Erik was about to throw him from the high rafters, the vile stagehand kicked his legs out from under him and stood up, reaching a hand into his pocket.

My eyes widen even further when he pulled out the very same knife he'd threatened me with. I couldn't scream; it felt like he was choking me once more as he dove at Erik, plunging the knife into his torso.

A moment later, I found my voice box, and I screamed with everything I had in me.

This seemed to throw Joseph Buquet off for a second, as he looked up to me in surprise, as if he'd forgotten I was there. This gave Erik enough time to find his footing once more, and when he did so, Buquet was in another world, making it all too easy for him to push him off the rafters.

The noose tightened around his neck as he fell, cutting of his airway and leaving him to hang right in the center of the stage.

The screaming began moments later, drowning out the beautiful ballet music.

Hurried footsteps were heard from below admits the shout and sounds of hysterics. I supressed my tears as Erik hung onto the banister for support as the red spot on the front of his shirt grew at an alarming rate. I didn't have time to react, and thank God I didn't, I just knew that I couldn't leave him, not after he saved my life yet again.

"Can you walk?" I asked in a hurried voice and he nodded quickly. I took a deep breath and grabbed his arm, hooking it around my shoulders.

He gave me a surprised look and tried to push me away but I stopped him. I was surprised by my own strength but I had bigger problems to worry about than my adrenalin.

"Trust me." I told him, but I didn't give him enough time to respond. We had maybe minutes until someone came up here and found us, minutes that could not be wasted. I lead him as fast as I could back the way we came, reaching the spiral of old, metal stairs fairly quickly.

I snaked a hand around his waist to make sure he didn't fall, and slowly began to descend the steps. Just as we began he stopped walking and I looked up to him in surprise.

"Come on, we don't have much time!" I exclaimed as he pushed himself off of me. He went back up the steps towards the side of the wall, where a black curtain held back by a black ribbon that I'd never noticed before was. He pulled the tie and the fabric fell into place, concealing the steps. I was there when he was done, providing a marginally shorter shoulder for him to lean on.

"Where did you hide the boat?" I asked quickly when we reached the lakeside and I found the shore to be empty. The phantom of the Opera, who had remained unusually silent, finally decided to speak.

"Behind the rocks, right over there." I was startled with how he sounded. Yes, he seemed calm, cool and collected for a man who had been stabbed in the torso on the outside, but on the inside and in his voice, he sounded as though he was in quite a bit of pain. He was still in charge though; that much was clear, and so I did as he said and I found a rock that wasn't too wet for him to sit on and I ducked behind the wall of rocks, pulling the heavy boat out and onto the shore.

"I'll row." I told him when we were seated in the boat. He had reached for the oar, but I was faster, as my abdomen wasn't bleeding profusely. He looked as though he was about to argue, but I cut him off with a glare. "I don't know how deep your wound is' you could very well die of blood loss if we sit here arguing." That shut him up.

We rowed in silence, with only the oar splashing into the vast lake to shatter the awkward silence that filled the air. I should have felt angry with myself for getting roped back into this mess, but somehow, I didn't, no… couldn't feel that way. I just knew that I had to help him as he helped me.

A life for a life, Annika. I heard Sixty's voice in my mind and I nodded. I didn't even remotely like him at all; I was just helping because I owed it to him. When I knew he was going to be alright, then I'd make plans to escape again, shortly followed by sorting out my life after I'd fled the Opera Populaire.

I hopped out as fast as I could when we reached the Phantom's lair, with him following slowly behind me, an arm pressed against his torso. I lead him up the smooth stone stairs to the bedroom and a look of anger flashed across his face when he saw what I'd done to his door. I sighed and pushed the door open, leading him towards the bed and stepping over the knob that I'd broken off with the large metal bar from his vent.

"I know where the bandages are, lie down and I'll be right back." I sprinted out before he could reply and rushed to the box that he kept the medical supplies in that was sitting where it was the last time he had used it to bandage my hand. I opened it quickly, almost dropping the box my hands were shaking so badly as I try to recall what the nurses did when people in the depression ward attempted suicide back home at the hospital.

Fuck it; I don't have time for this. I thought to myself before grabbing the whole box and tearing up the stairs back to the bed room. By the time I reached the door, I was out of breath and panting. I let myself into the room without knocking and set my sights on the Phantom, who was standing there as though he hadn't moved.

"Well, don't just stand there." I said, getting angry at the fact that he was wasting his time, although I didn't know exactly why that irked me. "Do you need help?" I asked when he refused to move. I took a few steps closer and the injured Ghost growled lowly under his breath, as if my being there was reason enough to get cross.

"Are you daft?" Leave me!" I exclaimed with enough force to startle me. I didn't back down or cower away though. I stood straight as a board and squared my shoulders, setting the box down and clenching my jaw.

"Fine." I said in an icy voice before turning on my heel and leaving.

I stomped back over the red chair I'd woken up in, and sat down, folding my arms. I sighed and let my eyes close; determined to just rest them and not fall asleep, but nobody can control their body when it wants to do something.

I woke up a few hours later; my back and neck stiff as I wondered what just happened. No sound came from the bed room and I grew curious after a while. I stood up and slowly moved towards the door that led into the room, creeping softly in case Erik was asleep. I carefully pushed the door open with my hand that wasn't healing and gasped.

Erik was gone.