A/N: Wow, I managed to confuse lots of people! Hopefully it all makes a bit of sense now… Also, has anyone else had trouble with receiving the updates? I haven't had any in ages.

HisInspiration: It should all make sense now… I'm having problems with the update links too :shakes fist at ff.n:

Kathy.L: Awww, thanks for the review! Glad you like it :hands over welcoming cookies:

PhantomFanatic: All will become clear… The use of the phrase 'splitting up' makes it sound as though they are a couple. Let me just clarify that they are not. P.S. Parents suck.

SariPunkinPie: Oh yes, utterly fabulous. Dom!Erik is my favourite :) So sexy, so strong, so…:runs off to take a cold shower: Sorry.

PhantomFreak07: Well, maybe I exaggerated a bit. Not a pro, more of a minor-leaguer. Enjoy the homework!

Quick translation: On y va means 'lets go'.

In His Darkness…

"Urgh."

"Oh, merci, mon Dieu. Marguerite? Can you hear me?" said a woman's voice.

"Ugh." I struggled against a murky fog and slowly blinked open my eyes. Well, one eye. "Where am I?"

"You are in the auditorium," said the voice, which I now realised was Monique's. "In box five."

"How cheesy," I mumbled.

"Quoi?"

"Doesn't matter." I tried to sit up and failed miserably. I felt a strong arm around my back and smelt a man's spray. Automatically I flinched away until I heard his voice.

"Hush, Marguerite, it is me," said Pierre. "You are in luck that I would do the grand tier today."

I relaxed and let him help me to sit up. I slowly pushed my hair out of my face and heard a gasp from Monique as she saw my black eye.

"Mon Dieu, what happened!" she screeched.

"Do French people really say 'mon Dieu'?" I asked, avoiding the question.

"Yes, but do not skip the question. What happened!"

I was too tired, and still a little drugged up to bother correcting her. "I walked into a shelf," I said.

"A shelf?" said Pierre, his voice trembling. "This looks more like a fist."

I looked up at him and saw that his jaw was set and his black eyes were filled with anger. "It wasn't a fist," I said truthfully, putting my hand on his shoulder as I wriggled into a more comfortable position. It was an elbow.

Pierre knelt beside me and put an arm round my back causing me to lean into him. "How did you get here?"

"I have no idea," I said. "I remember…" I broke off before saying 'Erik knocking me out with chloroform'. "…nothing," I finished lamely.

"Are you sure you are ok?" asked Monique worriedly.

"I'll be fine," I said smiling at her reassuringly. "Although I could use a place to stay for a while…?"

"Of course," she said. "You are welcome to stay with me for as long as you wish."

I sighed, still feeling woozy. "Shouldn't you two be working?"

"When I found you," said Pierre, "Mme LaCroix gave us the day off so we could look after you."

"That was kind of her," I said. I sat leaning against Pierre's strong chest for a few more minutes, feeling his heart beating powerfully. I could feel his chest vibrate as he and Monique talked softly.

"Can we go, please?" I asked. "I really want to get out of here."

"Of course," said Monique and she and Pierre helped me to stand up.

"Merci," I said, brushing off my clothes.

"You dropped this," said Pierre, handing something to Monique.

"Non," she said.

"But it has your name on."

"Oh." She took an envelope from him and opened it. As she unfolded the piece of paper inside, I recognised the writing.

As she read, she went very pale. "Mon Dieu," she whispered.

"French people really do say that," I said wondrously.

"What is the matter?" asked Pierre, ignoring my attempt at humour.

Monique handed him the letter and he and I read it together.

Take good care of her.

O.G.

- -

Pierre went pale beneath his tan. "How did he know you were here?"

I paused, trying to think of a decent explanation but sighed as I realised there was no way in hell I could come up with one. "Because he did this," I sighed, gesturing to my face. "He brought me here."

"He did this?" said Monique in a frightened whisper.

"Yep. I'll tell you everything, both of you. But not here."

Monique and Pierre exchanged glances but we left the opera house and crossed the city to her flat. Using the Paris Metro, it didn't take long.

Monique lived in a flat near the Gare du Nord. It was just big enough for two friendly people to share. It had a small lounge-slash-dining room, a bedroom, a small bathroom and a kitchenette. "Sit down and I will fetch some drinks," she said gesturing to the small sofa-bed.

"Er, you'd better make those drinks alcoholic," I said. "You're going to need it."

She threw me a curious glance but went off to the kitchenette and returned with two bottles of wine, three glasses, some crisps and a corkscrew.

I opened a bottle of wine and poured three large glasses. I drank half of mine in one mouthful, knowing I would need as much Dutch courage as possible.

Pierre and Monique looked at me with their mouths open.

"What?" I said defensively. "I said you were going to need it."

They exchanged significant glances and took delicate sips from their glasses.

"Right," I said, feeling slightly more confident. "I'm going to tell you."

They looked at me attentively, wine in hand,

"First, you have to promise to believe me. No matter what I say, no matter what I tell you, you have to believe me because I'm telling you the truth. Some of it isn't very nice, and hardly any of it is believable, but it's all true."

They nodded silently.

"Ok." I took a deep breath and said seriously, "My landlord, Erik, did this to me…"

"I thought you said the opera ghost did it," interrupted Pierre.

"Yeah, that's the other thing," I said nervously. "Erik hasn't just got the same name as the phantom; Erik is the Phantom of the Opera."

There was a pause before they both burst into hysterical laughter.

-8 -

When their laughter subsided, I told them everything; what happened with Mark, how Erik rescued me, how I lived with him, how we'd become close. Everything except what was under the mask. By the time I'd finished explaining, Monique and Pierre were still trying not to laugh. Their expressions were serious but their eyes were twinkling. My wine glass had been refilled three times but they were both still on their first glass.

When I finished, Pierre smiled and said, "That was a very good story. You should put it on the internet, on one of those fanfiction sites."

"Yes," said Monique. "It is a good story. But it is only a story. I think you must have hit your head very hard and got confused."

I sighed irritably. "It is not a story! Erik did this to me. He did everything that I told you."

"If you know him so well," challenged Monique, "tell us what is under his mask."

"No," I said firmly. "He didn't really want me to see but I didn't give him a choice. I wouldn't betray him like that."

"Even though he hurt you?"

"It was an accident," I said. "I made him angry. God knows I should have known not to make him angry. I just had to get out. In that moment he reminded me of Mark so much. The way he hurt me and then seemed so concerned and caring. In Mark's case it was an act but in Erik's, I'm not so sure." I slumped back on the sofa and chewed on my thumbnail. "Maybe I should go back to him."

"Whoever you are talking about, whether he is le fantôme or a normal man, you should not go back to him," said Monique.

Pierre nodded fervently and took my hand. "Stay with Monique. Then I can be sure that you are safe."

I squeezed his hand and smiled reassuringly at them both. "I will be safe."

"No!" said Monique loudly. "I do not care who this man is, you will not go back to him. You are staying with me."

"Monique, I don't want to give you any trouble," I protested feebly.

"You are my friend, you are not trouble," she said giving me a quick hug.

"I still need to go back to the opera house though," I said. "My things are going to be there."

"Did you bring them with you?"

"No, Erik said he'd put them in the chapel. At least, I think so," I said, screwing up my face in concentration. "It's a bit fuzzy."

"The chapel has been out of use for years!" said Pierre. "I'm not letting you go there alone."

"Of course not!" I replied. "I've got too much stuff for one person to carry. You can both come with me."

"On y va," said Pierre, standing up and pulling me up by the hand. I wobbled slightly (too much wine far too quickly) and he steadied me with an arm on my waist.

Monique took the glasses to the kitchen with a slight smirk on her face and then the three of us left her flat and went back across Paris to the opera house.

-8 -

"I told you that this place was not safe," whispered Pierre, as we made our way down the winding spiral stone stairs.

Even though the steps were worn, they were covered in dust and cobwebs covered the walls.

"It's fine," I said. "I've heard people coming down here a few times. Although I've never been that way myself."

"Then how did you get in?" asked Monique.

"The window," I replied simply. "The managers should really do something about that; anyone could walk in."

We reached the chapel and looked around. In front of the mural were my bags and on top of them laid a box wrapped in Christmas paper. "Huh," I said, picking up the box and reading the label. "'Not to be opened until Christmas Day'. Well, duh."

The box was about twenty inches square and six deep. As I held it, I could feel the contents moving around inside. I shook it and it made a scrunching sound like tissue paper. Shrugging, I tucked it under my arm and helped Monique and Pierre with the rest of the bags.

Pierre took the largest rucksack, groaning under its weight, and one of the bags of music. Monique took the day-rucksack with my books and another two bags full of sheet music. I took my computer and the remaining carrier bag.

We began to walk up the stairs again when I had a sudden thought. "Wait a minute."

They stopped and I rummaged quickly through the plastic bags of sheet music where I usually kept… "My piccolo! I've left it behind."

"No big loss," muttered Monique.

I slapped her gently on the arm. "I've got to go and get it. Go up to the top of the stairs and wait there. Do not come down. I mean it."

I waited until they were at the top of the staircase before turning to the mural and pulling it back. I slid it closed behind me in case they decided to break their promise and come looking. Without bothering to light a candle, I made my way silently along the passage until I came to the wall. I pushed it and it swung open silently. I tiptoed my way to the music room as I was sure I had left my piccolo on a shelf. The small black case was sitting there, untouched, just as I knew it would be. I sighed in relief and picked it up before turning and leaving the room.

I was just about to go into the passage once more when I heard a racking sob come from the lounge. Instinctively, I began to walk towards the noise but stopped when I heard the voices.

"It was an accident, Nadir, an accident." Another sob. "Why me? Why her? Especially now, today of all days when I need her most."

"The anniversary, of course," replied Nadir in a soothing voice. "But she is not your sister."

"May Natalie forgive me, but she was better than a sister," Erik sobbed. "I rescued her, I helped her, and now I have hurt her and she has gone. She will not come back and I do not blame her. Although I wish she would. I need her voice, her company. I need her music." He dissolved into sobs again and I realised that tears were running down my own face.

Every fibre of my being wanted desperately to go to him and hug him madly, and tell him I would never leave him. Something in my brain was holding me back; a survival instinct that was warning me that he had hurt me once and he could hurt me again.

I was so busy fighting with these feelings that I didn't hear Nadir say he was going to the kitchen until it was too late. He stepped out of the lounge and did a double take when he saw me standing there. I hurriedly put my finger to my lips and he gave a barely perceptible nod. I pointed at the music room and he gave that small nod again. I crept into the music room and waited.

A few moments later, Nadir joined me. "Why are you here?" he hissed in heavily accented English.

"I forgot my piccolo," I replied quickly, brushing the subject aside. "Is Erik ok?"

"He will be," said Nadir, not bothering to keep his voice down.

"Shhh!" I hissed. "He'll hear you. I don't want him to know I'm here."

"He won't hear you. He is too wrapped up in his grief."

"Oh, God, don't say that," I moaned quietly. "I can't stay here, Nadir. You know that."

"I know." His voice was sympathetic but there was a hardness in his eyes that I didn't like. "But do not cut off all ties with him. He has not had many friends in his long life."

"I will," I promised. I cocked my head to one side thoughtfully as I said, "You don't like me, do you?"

He started slightly at my blunt statement but recovered quickly. "That is not important. Erik seems to depend on you and so I will have to learn to accept you."

I sucked my lower lip between my teeth and shot a glance towards the main cavern as another sob filled the air. "Do you really think he loves me?"

His eyes widened in amazement. "You heard that?"

I nodded slowly. "Some of it."

He sighed resignedly. "Yes, I believe he does. For all your shortcomings," he added snidely.

I refused to rise to his bait-the last thing Erik needed was his only friends having a blazing row. "I have to go, Nadir. Keep an eye on him for me. It took ages for me to make him look healthy." I left the room and went to the tunnel entrance. I pushed the door open and turned to gaze one last time around the place that had become my home. As my eyes swept past the lounge, they met another pair.

When Erik walked out of the lounge, I gasped. I had been gone less than a day and he looked like I had been gone for months. His normally neat black hair was a mess and his mask was gone. His beautiful golden eyes were red and watery, and filled with sadness. I looked away quickly knowing that if I stared at him for too long I would stay. He was walking with a slight stoop and appeared even thinner than usual. "Marguerite." His beautiful hypnotic voice was hoarse.

I held up my hand to stop him. "Don't say anything, Erik. If you say any more I will stay and I can't do that." I managed to meet his eyes as I said, "Leave anything of mine in box five. I'll do the same with your things. Goodbye, Erik."

I turned and stepped into the tunnel. As the door closed behind me, I heard a thud of a body falling to the floor and a wailing sob.

-8 -

A/N: It broke my heart to do this to Erik. For any abuse and 'I hate you'-s I receive, don't worry-I hate me too. I received all the mentally-thrown tomatoes and expect to receive some for this chapter. :ducks:

Please note, the next few chapters are going to come rather more slowly as lectures start to kick in, and I sort of lost the whole of Chapter 28 in the transfer from my home PC to my laptop. Now I have to remember what I wrote. Argh.

I managed to get my hands on three rather lovely things today: the script to Don Juan by Ronald Duncan, the 1920s silent movie of Phantom and the 1984 movie. I'm now going to annoy my housemates by watching them both. To the DVD player!