A/N: Hey, everybody! –waves- Ok, I know I said that the last chapter was a half but I decided that it was so long I'd cut it into two. So this is the second half. Enjoy!

Songbird'sGirl: Mmm, cookies –munches- Well done on attempting to give up Phantom. I'm not doing well either. Oh well. Enjoy the chapter!

PhantomFanatic: Weird thing; you mention Wicked and I turn up to rehearsals and find two of my friends rehearsing a duet from it! It was really good :) I live in England. A more accurate description is in my profile. And I love your babbling – you make me giggle! Enjoy the chapter! (To answer your question in review #2, Lent is the period of 40 days before Easter Sunday. It starts on Ash Wednesday and is a time of sacrifice for a lot of people, especially Christians.) Oh, and Happy Birthday!

LadyFae: I know -cries- If you feel bad, imagine how I feel! To be honest, my friends know I write but they don't read it so they won't know if I update. I feel a bit guilty when I start reading and writing phic though…oh well! Enjoy the chapter!

Dedicated to Songbird'sGirl for being my 200th reviewer!

And thanks to all of you for your support and patience through the erratic updates of this phic. I won't be abandoning it – it's my baby!

In His Darkness…

There are five practise rooms in the Opera Garnier and each contains a piano and music stand. A full length mirror was hung in each room so that the performers could check their posture. The passage that Erik and I were currently standing in ran the full length of the practise rooms and we could see into each room through small air vents in the wall. We found Jean-Luc, the leading tenor who was taking the role of Jules, and André, the musical director, in the second practise room. We heard them before we saw them.

My hours are slumberless

Dearest the shadows

I live with are numberless

Little white flowers

Will never awaken me

Not where the black coach

Of sorrow has taken me

From behind the wall, Erik and I winced as Jean-Luc hit the wrong note on the 'has' in the last line and it clashed horribly with André's piano accompaniment. Erik pulled a scrap of manuscript paper from the bundle he had brought with him and scribbled a phrase on it, handing it to me quickly. "Play this."

"Now I understand," I muttered, tucking the paper into the corner of the vent and removing my mask before taking out my flute from its case and running through the finger pattern a few times. Erik had told me to bring the instrument along, 'just in case', and I had been confused but done as he said anyway. It was usually wise to do so.

"Non, Jean-Luc," called André, lifting his fingers from the piano keys and standing up. "The correct phrase is this."

As he reached towards the piano, I began to play the phrase Erik had written. It was dark in the hidden passage but I could just make out the notes from the light coming through the vent.

As I played, I half watched for Erik's reaction as he watched the two men through the mirror a little way off. He was smirking.

I finished the phrase and Erik spoke. "Listen carefully, boy, or I shall think I cast the wrong man in the role." His voice was all around me, not surprising since we were in an echoing passageway, but through the vent I could see the André and Jean-Luc looking around in confusion. Erik nodded to me and I played the phrase twice more, slower the first time so he could hear the notes and then at the proper speed.

"Sing!" commanded Erik, the power of his voice sending shivers down my spine.

André practically flew to the piano and Jean-Luc straightened immediately. I resisted the almost overwhelming urge to giggle and packed my flute away, closing the case with a quiet snap. I slung it over my shoulder, slid the mask over my face again and walked along the passageway to Erik. "Who's next?" I whispered, slipping my free hand into his as the men inside the room began to rehearse again.

"The managers," he replied with a smirk.

-8 -

The managers' office was at the top of a flight of stairs, along a short corridor and the second door on the left. Of course, that was how I reached it the first time I went to see them. Erik and I continued along the narrow passage that we were in and followed it as it began to climb upwards and curve to the left. As it straightened again, Erik slowed down and guided me towards the right side of the passage. There was a very dim patch of light coming from the wall at about the height of my head and I stepped towards it curiously.

"Up on that ledge and then into the crawl space." Erik pulled himself up onto the ledge easily and lay down before sliding forward on his stomach.

"Der ner ner ner ner ner ner ner, Cat Man!" I mumbled. I hoisted myself up onto the ledge, scrabbling for a foothold and copied Erik's movements. I slid forward until we were lying side by side. He had rolled onto his back so I did the same, with more than a little difficulty.

"You must be quiet now," he said in a voice so low I practically had to lip-read.

I nodded. Well, sort of. It's very difficult to nod when one is lying in a crawl space. "I thought we were going to see the managers," I whispered.

"We are."

"Erik, I trust you completely but the last time I checked the managers had an office not a gap under the floor." I suddenly realised what I had just said. "This is their floor."

"Yes."

"And we are under it."

"Yes."

"And…" Erik cut me off with a finger on my lips.

"We need to get into the corner. There's a space there where we can stand."

I nodded and waited until I could see which direction Erik had moved in. I followed him with some difficulty – I was not built for sliding around on floors. Erik had stood up by the time I reached him and I found myself facing his feet. I slid my knees up under me and went into a crouch before easing myself upright.

The square column was not big. It had definitely been built with the intention of holding only one person. Erik and I were pressed together in the small space, my back against his chest and his arms around my waist. It took a great deal of effort not to turn around, reach up and kiss him. There was a vent about two feet above my head and a cool draught was drifting into the hollow.

"Well, this is cosy," I muttered dryly.

He bent his head to my ear. "Are you complaining?" His warm breath brushed over my ear and I shivered.

"Not in the slightest." I turned my head and kissed him softly. He responded for a few moments and then pulled away.

"Behave, Mar…"

"Do I have to?" I interrupted with a smile.

He laughed softly. "Unfortunately, yes. They're coming."

I couldn't hear anything but turned back to face the wall quickly. Moments later a key rattled in the door and it swung open. Two sets of footsteps entered the room and crossed to their respective desks. There was a loud thunk followed by a muffled 'ow'.

"Charles, will you stop being so overdramatic?" The sharp tone of Mme. LaCroix's voice quelled my amusement at the image of M. LaCroix had slamming his head on the desk.

"Hélène, I work in theatre. What do you expect?" His voice was still muffled but became less so as he spoke. "Although that did hurt more than expected."

"More than Carla's glittering personality?"

There was another thunk and a sharp, "Charles!" and I clapped my hand across my mouth to silence my giggles.

"That woman will be the death of me." He sighed and there was a beep followed by whirring as he turned his computer on. "She brings in a large audience, looks fantastic…er, from a purely artistic point of view, dear…"

"Good."

"…and sings wonderfully." There was the sound of typing for a few moments. "But she is the most difficult person to work with."

"I agree with you, Charles, I really do." A chair scraped on the floor and I heard Mme. LaCroix walk across the room and open a cupboard in the corner. "However, she is under contract. And who would replace her if she left? No-one else here has that kind of talent and I for one do not relish the idea of auditioning dozens of people again. Not after having to replace Nicole."

"But Christine is an excellent performer." There was more typing and the sound of a book opening. "Surely you're not regretting hiring her?"

Behind me I felt Erik tense. I tangled my fingers with his as they rested on my stomach and he relaxed.

"Not at all!" He shuffled some papers on his desk. "Do you have the wage sheets, Hélène?"

"In that cabinet in the corner," she replied absently. "And I should hope not, Charles," she continued, as if the question had never been asked, "because she seems to be favoured by O.G."

"Hmmm." M. LaCroix sounded sceptical. "I don't see why you insist on calling him 'O.G.', Hélène. He has a name you know."

"I know," she replied, "but it doesn't seem right somehow. He's practically our boss. Erik." She paused. "No. It still doesn't feel right."

Then something happened which made me jump out of my skin. Erik spoke.

"That is quite alright, Madame, if, of course, you will allow me to call you Hélène."

I looked up at him, eyes wide and mouthed, "What are you doing?"

He raised a finger to his lips and smirked, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. It was the first time in a while that I'd seen him looking so…young. It was good. I turned back to the vent as Mme. LaCroix spoke.

"Good afternoon, Monsieur." She sounded nervous. "I didn't realise you were there."

"Evidently," replied Erik, his voice coming from all around me. "You should realise by now, both of you, that I am everywhere."

A chair scraped across the floor and I heard M. LaCroix get to his feet. "Our apologies, Monsieur," he said. "Is there anything we can do for you? Something you wish to alter in your opera, perhaps?"

"No!" snapped Erik. "My opera is perfect. If you are suggesting that I give Carla the role of Natalie then you are treading on dangerous ground, Monsieur." His voice went so low it was almost a growl. "I have made my decision."

"I wasn't suggesting anything." Now M. LaCroix sounded nervous. "Recently you only seem to be speaking us to sort out the opera."

"You sound disappointed, Monsieur," Erik replied dryly. "I shall be sure to pay you a purely social visit every so often."

I nudged him gently with my elbow and whispered, "Play nice."

He took my hand and squeezed it gently before speaking to the managers. "However, my opera is not the subject of my visit. I should like to formally introduce someone to you."

"Your…um, companion?" said Mme LaCroix. "I believe we met her at the ball."

"You did," replied Erik. "Briefly. She will be taking a more active role in rehearsals for The Devil's Child – more specifically with the orchestral rehearsals. She also has some knowledge of lighting and sound equipment. I expect her opinions to be as listened to and as respected as mine."

"They will be," said M. LaCroix confidently. "We look forward to hearing from her."

I sensed that this was the chance to speak. Thankfully I'd only spoken to the two of them properly once before so I was pretty sure they wouldn't recognise my voice. Still, I didn't want to take any chances.

"Well, I wouldn't want to keep you waiting, Charles," I said quietly, pushing my low alto down to the bottom of its range. "Nor you, Hélène." I made sure that they could hear the smile in my voice as I added, "It is good to see you again."

"And you, Madame," replied Mme. LaCroix. "In a manner of speaking, of course."

"Mademoiselle," I corrected quickly. "And I should hope so. I intend to take a large role in the production of my master's opera, especially the orchestral rehearsals."

"And the sound and lighting set-ups?"

"I have faith in your technicians, Hélène," I replied. "Any corrections in lighting and sound levels will be made by my master and told to you by me."

"Well done," whispered Erik, making me jump. I had almost forgotten he was there. "You make an excellent ghost. Madame," he continued loudly, "Monsieur. I thank you for your riveting conversation, as always."

"You're leaving?"

"Don't sound so pleased, Monsieur," replied Erik in an icy tone, "or I will make sure that it is you who is leaving."

"My apologies," he said. "I meant no offence."

"And yet you caused offence," I replied. "It is a thing that happens far too often and therefore it is sometimes better not to say anything at all."

I couldn't turn and look at him – the space was too small for that – but I could hear the smirk in Erik's voice as he spoke. "I will be paying close attention to the dance rehearsals and the vocal training that, in some cases, needs desperately to be given. My companion will be overseeing the orchestra."

"I shall," I agreed. "I look forward to the first rehearsal."

"As do I," said Erik. "Goodbye, Madame, Monsieur. I…We will be seeing you again."

"Goodbye, Monsieur, Mademoiselle." The two managers sounded extremely relieved.

I prepared to crouch down and slide under the floorboards again, sweeping all thoughts of spiders from my mind.

"Wait!"

I stood again and waited for Mme. LaCroix to finish.

"Do you have a name, mademoiselle?"

I smiled. "My name is Operetta. Remember it."

I began to crouch again but Erik stopped me. "There is a better way out." He reached up to the top corner of the wall next to him and pressed a switch. The wall slid to one side leaving just enough space to get through and stand in front of another wall. He pulled a rope that was attached to the wall and it too slid to one side revealing the room next door to the managers' office.

It was full of filing cabinets, each with different labels describing their contents. I looked at one; "Cleaning staff (joined 2000-2005)". I supposed that my name and information would be in there somewhere, along with Pierre's. I turned to Erik, who was putting the wall back into place, and scowled. "We couldn't have come through here in the first place?"

He smiled at me. "What would have been the fun in that?"

I groaned and rolled my eyes. "Can we go home now, please?"

"Of course." He held out a hand to me and I took it.

We left the room through the door – not a secret door, but the door that any member of staff would use – and turned left, following the well lit corridor as it curved in an S-shape and led to the top of a flight of stairs. We went down the stairs, listening carefully for any sounds of stagehands or dancers, and took another left. Erik led me along the corridor past the instrument store and props stores, until we came to my old dressing room.

It was empty and unlocked so we simply went through the mirror and down the passageway back to the cavern. I pulled off my mask as we walked and enjoyed the touch of Erik's hand on mine.

Erik pushed open the wall at the end of the corridor and stood back to let me pass. I looked around with a smile and a happy sigh, walking over to the organ stool and dropping my mask onto the red velvet cushion.

"Home."

I turned and looked at the man behind me. He was watching me with a soft smile on his lips and love in his eyes. I held out a hand to him and he walked towards me, tangling our fingers together. I slid the mask from his face with my spare hand and placed it gently next to mine.

"Yep," I sighed happily, wrapping my arms round Erik's waist and kissing him soundly on the lips. "I'm definitely home."

-8 -

A/N: The lyrics are from Gloomy Sunday which can be found on Sarah Brightman's album, La Luna. Although Sarah is so well known for her work on stage, especially Phantom, I really recommend listening to more of her work. She has the most amazing voice and sounds great singing in any genre.

Hurrah it's Easter and Lent is over! I made a deal to put £1 in a tin every time I mentioned Phantom and then give all the money to charity. I got up to £35 and that has been given to MacMillan Cancer Research :) And I get all my DVDs and CDs and other bits and pieces back. Yay!

Sorry I didn't update exactly on Easter Sunday (or anywhere near it for that matter) but I've had essays to write, flute practise to do, presentations to prepare for, jobs to apply for and an opera libretto to write as well. Oh, and I had to finish writing this chapter. Don't expect regular updates either. Life is hectic.

Hope you all had a good time over the holidays and thank you again for being so patient! --hands out cookies--