A/N: Another long wait…Once again, my apologies to you all. Fortunately, term is over so I have plenty of time to write. I've also had to get a job though (Tesco again) so I have different shifts at the most random times. Night shifts are not my friend…although I do get paid double… :) Anyway, read and enjoy! Cookies for all!

PhantomFanatic: Yes, summer is upon us indeed! I have melted into puddles with the heat and lack of a decent breeze but I shall survive. Enjoy!

Riolaku: -gives cookies- Welcome! I'm really glad you enjoyed it so far. Hope this chapter lives up to expectations. Enjoy!

SongBirdsGirl: :D Everybody's special! Hope you feel better now. Enjoy!

MysticLadyFae: Oops. Apologies! I was trying to figure out exactly which universe my fic is based on and decided on the movie. Well, you'll have to wait and see how it turns out :) Enjoy!

In His Darkness…

It was midday and the sound of singing filled the air. I had decided that the original cast recording of Les Miserables was my soundtrack of choice while I finished sewing. Unfortunately for Erik, I had decided to sing along.

"On my own, pretending he's beside me. All alone, I walk with him 'til – ouch!" I snatched my hand out of the fabric and frowned down at the spot of blood on the tip of my finger. "Stupid needle."

"Pity. You weren't sounding too bad until then." Erik was leaning against the doorframe as I looked up, a smile on his lips and in his eyes.

"Hmph," I said in reply. "That hurt." I gathered up the fabric again and continued sewing. The head of a rose, the stem and a leaf had already taken shape across the front of the black t-shirt I was working on and I had another leaf to go. I had lightly sketched the shape of the rose in tailor's chalk before using chain stitch in white thread to go over the pattern.

"Are you nearly finished?"

I glanced up again and smiled before looking back at my work. "Yep. Just a few more stitches and I'm done."

"Good because I have the bits and pieces you wanted Guillaume to get for you."

I grunted in reply as he walked away from my room and headed for the lounge. I finished the rose leaf quickly and held it up to look at it. It was only the third that I had done and it was good. I folded the fabric, laid it on top of the other finished clothes, and went into the lounge.

Erik was sat in one of the chairs reading a new book that Guillaume had bought for him. For some reason he had developed a taste for Roald Dahl and had just finished one of his collections of short stories. A bag was on the other chair. I picked it up and sat down.

"Erik," I began. "Have you ever read Fantastic Mr Fox or Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?"

"No," he answered. "Why?"

"Oh, no reason," I replied, pasting an innocent smile on my face. "You know, you should read James Patterson. His books are great."

"Hush," Erik said bluntly, burying his face in the book again. "Let me read and see if everything you wanted is in that bag."

I grinned to myself and opened the bag. Inside was everything I'd asked for; white thread, chalk, a reel of thin silver ribbon, a white rose hair clip, plenty of black paper, three silver pens, and a copy of Le Fantôme de l'Opera. "Great. The man's a genius. You should give him a raise."

Over the top of his book, I could see Erik raise an eyebrow. "€1500 every month is enough for anyone."

I did some quick mental arithmetic and my jaw dropped. "That's just over £2000!"

Erik looked up thoughtfully for a moment. "Yes I suppose it is," he said carelessly and carried on reading.

I frowned and flicked open the new copy of Fantôme, brandishing a silver pen. "You continue to amaze me."

"I do my best."

Always has to have the last word, I thought as I began to write on the front page of the book. On my first trip up to the auditorium after I came back from Monique's, I had overheard a conversation between her and Pierre. She had said that she had never read Leroux's novel, and so I had made a promise to myself to give her a copy. I smiled and blew on the ink to dry it before closing the book again. I tied the ribbon round the book and attached a piece of black paper to it with 'Monique' written carefully in silver. "Perfect."

"What is?"

"Monique's present." I met Erik's eyes over the top of his book. "She said once that she's never read the book so I bought it for her." I leant forward and dropped the book on the table. "I'll leave it in box five after rehearsals."

"Two until seven today, isn't it?" Erik marked the page before closing My Uncle Oswald and standing up, stretching his arms above his head.

"Nope," I said, picking up my new hair clip and playing with the catch. "The orchestra's in from two 'til six. We're running through the whole thing and I'll see what needs looking at next week."

"Keep an ear out for the bass trombone. I have very little faith in his tuning skills."

"'The man could not be deafer, so please preferably one who plays in tune'," I said. "That sound about right?"

Erik looked rather scared. "I think Monique got it right when she called you an insane Englishwoman."

"Yes, probably," I replied with a smile. "I'll see what she and Pierre are up to when I drop off the book. But I'll come straight back after I've left a note for André."

"You seem to have a full afternoon planned out." Erik ran his fingers through my hair and I closed my eyes like a particularly contented cat. "Will you still have time for me?"

"Of course," I murmured. "I'll even do my flute practise now so you can have me all to yourself this evening." I opened my eyes and twisted my head round to press a kiss to his palm. "I'll always have time for you, Erik."

-8 -

"You look wonderful."

"Are you sure?"

I looked down at myself - black trousers, black slash-neck top with a white rose embroidered just below the left shoulder, bare feet. Nothing special. I had pinned the dark brown wig into my own hair and put my new hair clip in place. The cream mask hung from my right hand and a bag with notepad, pen, Monique's gift and a short-score for The Devil's Child was in my left.

"Very sure." Erik held his arms out and I went to him easily. He hugged me and dropped a kiss on my forehead.

"Why I made such an effort, I don't know," I sighed. "It's not as if anyone's going to see me."

There was a thoughtful silence. "How about letting one of the cleaners catch a glimpse of you when you drop off Monique's book?"

I nodded slowly. "I'd have to make sure the corridor outside the box is empty though. I'm not coming home down that awful ladder," I added with a shudder.

"Be careful." Erik bent his head and pressed his lips to mine in a lingering kiss. "I'll see you this evening."

I nodded breathlessly. "Why don't you choose a film to watch? They're on the bookshelf in my room."

He nodded and kissed me again. "Go. You'll be late."

I squeezed his hand gently, murmured a goodbye and pushed open the door in the wall that led up to the mirror.

-8 -

I winced as another wrong note from the bass trombone stood out a mile and settled back down against the wall of the passage. In the light of a small, dim torch, I scribbled down things to tell André when I spoke to him. 'Have strong talk w/ b. tbn' and 'whack oboist w/ own inst' were amongst other, more constructive, comments. I circled the dynamic under the bassoon solo in Act II, scribbled in my notebook and then glanced at my watch. Half past four. Definitely time for a break.

"André," I said, making my presence known for the first time, "I think your musicians need a break. As do I." I stood and stretched out my arms. "Well done for a first go through. I'm quite impressed."

"You have a different technique to your boss," said an unfamiliar voice. I stood on tiptoe and looked through the vent. The bass trombonist was speaking to me.

"Would you care to elaborate on that?" I asked, a threatening tone in my voice.

"Well, he wouldn't praise us. He'd just tell us what we're doing wrong…"

"Rest assured," I interrupted, "I will be letting you know what is wrong. But André will know first and will pass on my comments in a far more tactful way than I ever could. Trust me," I continued sourly, "you, particularly, would not like to hear what I have to say."

The man reddened, laid his instrument in its case and left the room carrying a bottle of water.

"Half an hour, André," I said.

"As you wish." He began to leave but turned back at the last moment. "Oh, when will you want to talk to me?"

I laughed softly. "I'll find you." I grabbed Monique's gift and the torch, and headed along the passage to the end nearest to stage left. I slid the mask over my face before tugging the door to one side.

The corridor was deserted as I made my way through the stage wings and out towards the auditorium. I climbed the spiral staircase and the sound of voices became louder as I got closer to box five. It was empty, as was the corridor outside it, but the cleaning crew were going about their jobs in the auditorium. I slid into box five and into the shadows at the back of the box. Across the auditorium, a cleaner was in box eleven vacuuming the carpet. He looked familiar and as I squinted, I saw it was Jacques, the man in the shop who had recognised me. I stepped into the light and dropped Monique's book onto the chair in the front row where I had been sitting for the auditions. I stepped back towards the shadows of box five but not completely into them and looked across the auditorium, fixing my eyes on Jacques.

It took a while for him to feel that someone was watching him but when he did he looked straight across at box five and saw me. For a moment, I didn't think he was going to say anything but I was wrong.

His shout echoed round the auditorium and I stepped back into the shadows, pressing the wooden panel and stepping inside the wall. I slid it shut behind me and clicked on the torch. Seeing the long drop down the ladder made me swallow hard and I pressed myself against the wall, concentrating on the voices outside.

I could hear faint voices saying "Where?" and "Don't be stupid!" and, a few moments later, footsteps into the box.

"Jacques, there's no-one here!"

I recognised that voice instantly. Pierre's warm voice was unique.

"Although, someone has been here," he said to himself before raising his voice. "Monique! There is something here for you!"

Pierre wandered round the box, waiting for Monique to climb the stairs. She arrived quickly but sounded nervous as Pierre handed her the book.

"For me?"

"It has your name on."

There was a long pause, and then, "Look what is written here;

Monique,

You once said that you had never read this book. I give it to you now in the hope that you will learn to love it, and him, as much as I do.

Yours in friendship,

Operetta.

And a rose drawn in silver."

I smiled to myself as she read the words I had written earlier.

"'In friendship'," said Pierre thoughtfully. "What does she mean?"

"I don't know. I suppose I will find out."

"Not today," laughed Pierre. "Everyone is too scared to come up here. The corridor will be deserted for at least a week now."

I sent up silent thanks, safe in the knowledge that I wouldn't be stuck inside a wall for much longer. I heard my friends leave the box and waited until I was sure that they wouldn't be coming back. I slid the wall open and left the box silently. I ran down the stairs, through the stage wings and back to the passage behind the rehearsal room with two minutes to spare.

At five o'clock exactly, there were five people missing. When they arrived six minutes later, I said, "I had expected a prompt start. If anyone is late again, I shan't bother letting you have a break."

The musicians sat down quickly and I settled myself on the ground, tugging the mask from my face and leaning against the wall again with my notebook in my lap, a pencil in my hand, and the torch next to me.

-8 -

"Right, everyone, well done today. Same time next week."

There was a rustle of pages, creaking of chairs and general chatter from the orchestra as André called the rehearsal to a close. I stayed seated on the floor and stretched out my arms and legs to loosen up, shaking the pins and needles out of my right hand. I twisted the top of the torch so it shone brighter and pulled out a sheet of black paper and a silver pen. Carefully, I wrote up the notes I had made during the rehearsal, leaving out the one about the oboist but writing the one about the bass trombonist in capital letters and underlining it. I signed the note, tucked it into an envelope and sealed it before writing André's name on the front and a rose in the place where a stamp would be.

The corridor I was in stretched the length of the four small and two large dressing rooms on one side, and the dance studio, rehearsal room and rec room on the other. If I chose, I could see into each room and could leave the passage at either end. I stood, slid the mask over my face again, and left the passage through the door nearest stage right carrying my bag over my shoulder. I passed the rec room and headed up the flight of stairs in front of me. I stood at the top of the stairs and listened carefully. I could hear the voices of the two managers coming from their office and I was about to step out into the light when the door opened and M. LaCroix stepped out. He knocked on the door to André's office and walked in.

"How did the rehearsal go?"

"Very well," replied André. "The new ghost was quiet but I think she will have some good ideas for improvements."

"Good. André, would you mind coming into our office for a minute? There are some problems with your required holiday time in June."

A chair scraped on the floor as André got to his feet and the two men left the room. "I've told you over and over again, Charles, that if the timing is awkward I can change the flights."

"Nonsense, André,…"

The door to the managers' office closed behind them and I crept into the corridor towards André's office. Thankfully, his was the first room on the left so I didn't have to risk anyone seeing me through open doors. I stepped into his room, raised an eyebrow at the mass of unorganised papers strewn across the desk and laid the envelope on his computer keyboard. I left the room quickly and went back down the flight of stairs again, past the first aid room and into the small practise room behind it. A quick turn of the mirror and I was in another passage that led back to the cavern.

My first rehearsal and haunting had gone smoothly.

-8 -

"I am the second best ghost in this whole opera house!" I said loudly as I pushed the wall open, the mask and bag dangling from my hand.

"If only you were a ghost, then life would be so much easier." The bitter response wiped the smile from my face and it was replaced by a fierce scowl.

I stomped into the lounge and saw Erik glaring daggers at Nadir. I did the same. "Well, fortunately for both myself and Erik, I'm not. I guess you'll just have to get used to the fact that I'm alive. And here permanently."

"So I've heard," he replied dryly, a sneer pulling at his lip.

I dropped my mask and bag on the table before perching on the arm of Erik's chair and beginning to pull the grips out of the wig. "Just out of curiosity, Nadir…"

"Monsieur Khan."

"Nadir. Why don't you like me?" I was genuinely curious. As far as I knew, I had given the man no reason to dislike me and at our first meeting he seemed very open and friendly.

"You told those two friends of yours about Erik." His dark eyes flashed coldly and his hands clenched on the arms of the chair.

"Oh, pfft," I said, waving a hand airily. "You know Erik and I have moved on from that, right? Why can't you?"

"You betrayed his trust and undid nearly a hundred years of work by my ancestors to keep his presence a secret." He was nearly shouting now and I was not happy, but neither was I going to be goaded into an argument.

"Look," I said calmly, "I don't want to fight with you. I don't want Erik to be stuck between two people who he cares about that are arguing all the time."

"I'm sure I can keep control of you both," Erik interrupted sulkily.

"I know you can, Erik," I said kissing the top of his head, "but it would still be horrid for you."

"If you two are going to start being…like that, then I'm leaving." Nadir stood and fixed his eyes on Erik. "I wish you the best of luck, my friend. Women are bad-" he flicked his eyes in my direction "- but children are worse." He turned and left.

I waited until the wall had closed before exploding. "HOW DARE HE?" I jumped up, threw the wig onto the table, hair grips flying everywhere, and began pacing the room, a glare firmly fixed on my face. "I am not a child and he has no right to come in here and start preaching about other people's relationships. I cannot stand that man! He is just so…"

I was cut off mid-rant when Erik pulled me into his arms and kissed me. It took a split second for the shock to wear off and I responded willingly, winding my arms about his neck and opening my mouth under his. I was completely breathless by the time he pulled away. "Wow…"

"Quiet." Erik pressed another kiss to my lips and hugged me close. "I missed you."

"Really?" I said, snuggling into his chest.

He nodded. "Silly, I know. You were only gone a few hours." He tightened his hold on me and tears pricked at my eyes as I realised that he never wanted to let me go again, even for a few hours.

"Well, I'm all yours this evening," I said, blinking furiously before looking up into his face. "Did you choose a film?"

He nodded. "It's on your bed, although you may not like my choice."

"Nonsense," I said bluntly. "If I didn't like the films I own, then I wouldn't own them. If that makes sense."

"I know what you mean." Erik relaxed his hold and I pulled out of his arms.

"I'll just go and change out of these things." I gave him another quick kiss and went to my room. Lying on the bed was the 2004 film of The Phantom of the Opera. I quickly changed out of my black clothes and into something more colourful, not bothering to close the drape. I picked up the DVD case and chewed my lower lip thoughtfully.

"I didn't think you'd be happy."

I shook back my hair and smiled. "Nonsense. I love this film. And I suppose it had to come to this sometime."

"We can watch something else if…"

"No," I said firmly. "You should watch it. I think some parts you might enjoy," I added, remembering the scantily clad chorus girls in the Hannibal scene. "Why don't I get this set up and you go make us something to eat? Haunting is hungry work."

Erik smiled, relieved, and nodded. "Of course. Anything in particular you fancy?"

I looked him up and down and winked. "Something tasty."

-8 -

A/N: Ok, so I was going to put the film watching in this chapter but decided it was way too long. Although it is written…sort of. Ok, as I'm writing this, I'm about to start watching the film and make notes. Once again, I'm sorry for the horrendous wait. I hope it was worth it!