Author's Note: Okay... It's Wednesday. So here's your Wednesday post. Thank goodness I'm ahead, because I haven't had much time to write lately. Please be patient with me.

Humor Warning: While this one isn't QUITE as funny as some of the others, be careful anyway. After all, some of you folks find stuff funnier than I expect you to.

Disclaimer: I hereby dis-claim everything.

When I saw him next, the stress was gone, and I easily reached the obvious conclusion. At first he told me only, "It is finished. I have released her." When he closed his eyes I could not tell if it was with exhaustion or relief.

Gradually, things reverted to normal. The house on the lake resumed its prior occupation. Our friends, the scene-shifters, returned before and after shifts. In the day, little breaks and brief naps occurred in various bedroom areas. In the evenings, parties commenced, usually filling the parlor and spilling into other areas. Fortunately only seven of us were assembled (though we were behaving a bit uproariously) when Christine Daaé returned.

Returned!

It was Erik's first word aloud: "Returned? Returned to me, my Christine?" But that came after he froze in place for an instant as though in fear at the high feminine voice calling his name boldly from the entrance to the parlor. "Hide!" he ordered in a harsh whisper and we all rushed for our escape route. "Stay here," he hissed as he bustled the six of us into a hollow wall, "and wait until I give word to come out."

The others shrugged at one another. It was obviously Christine Daaé, I am sure they guessed, for she had disappeared suddenly, and as it had been attributed to the Opera ghost, if none of them had done it, it was surely Erik or me.

"But how did you get in, Christine my darling?" I heard him say. "You must never, never come when I am not expecting you. It is quite dangerous. The siren.... and other things... But how did you get in?" Then, "Ah ha. And where did you get that, my little pickpocket?"

He sounded almost menacing and I wondered what it was she held in her hand.

"I—I took it, Erik, when you sent me away. I was certain I heard you say it unlocked a gate on the Rue Scribe. I didn't mean to steal it, Erik. I was going to ask you. I was going to tell you that I would—Oh, but Erik! I couldn't bear the way we parted." She was silent a moment, then, "I worried about you."

His voice was far from where hers had been. "Christine, Erik does not need your pity."

"Perhaps it isn't pity, Erik! Perhaps it is something more!" Her voice moved as she followed him.

He gave a bitter-sounding laugh. "Something more than pity? Be careful what you say, child!"

"Oh, Erik, how do you call me child after—after—"

I could hear the smirk on his face through the tone of his voice. "How can I call you more than a child when you cannot utter the word? Oh, Christine, really, you must go. Erik may be a monster, but he is also a man, and men have certain needs. If you were to stay, surely what happened once would happen again."

Silence.

Then, in a very quiet tone: "I understand that, Erik." Pause. "And I-- I know that married women have such duties..." Longer pause. "I know that some of the chorus girls engage in such activities as well." A very long silence. "At the risk of being unseemly, Erik... No, I shan't say it. I shall say only that—that—well, Erik, I cannot claim that it would upset me... if it happened again."

In the dark of our hiding place, we men snickered and nudged one another at the inappropriateness of lady's words. Then someone—Jean Claude, I believe it was—struck a match and we could see each other's faces for a moment. In the dim light, I saw five maddening grins and I am sure my face was a perfectly mated match.

"No, no, Christine," Erik tried. "You have always been a good girl. And Erik... Erik is a monster."

"Yes, a monster," Francois said in a whisper that conveyed the inappropriate nature of the joke he was about to make. But then Jean Claude drew in a sharp breath and shook out the match as it began burning his fingers, and suppressing our laughter took all our control after that.

Meanwhile, Daaé continued to refuse to go and their voices moved a little further away as they retreated toward the bedroom with the Louis-Philippe furniture.

Michel decided they were far enough away to risk a whisper. "I can't see why we have to hide if it's just some little singer," he muttered.

"Truly," agreed Francois. "There is no reason the celebration cannot continue. We might invite a few more girls as well."

Suddenly Erik appeared and confirmed our suspicions. Christine refused to leave him tonight. The party, he said, would have to continue at the flat without him and resume in its appointed location after he could send her above again. I was nodding my assent when I noticed the atmosphere of the cramped secret room had changed upon Erik's opening the hidden door. The expressions on the faces of the other men fell, the good-natured joking instantly ceased, each one stiffened and looked away uncomfortably. My skin turned to gooseflesh. Something terrible had happened but it took me a moment to realize what. I looked from them to Erik and back again in confusion. Erik's face mirrored my confusion, until slowly my mind caught up with my vision. As casually as I could I moved my hand to my mouth as though to stroke the beard I do not have. As I did so, I met Erik's eyes meaningfully and massaged my nose between my thumb and forefinger.

His eyes widened and he stiffened as the others had. Then he disappeared suddenly as the wall panel slid closed.

The uncomfortable silence lingered after the man was gone. No one spoke. No one even made eye contact for a long time. At last I managed to remind everyone that we were standing in a very cramped area for no real reason when we could be making merry in an entirely available flat. When no one responded to that, I offered, "You can bring as many girls as you like there." Still no response. I rolled my eyes unintentionally. "So, he has a prosthetic nose, eh? There are worse things."

There was another long silence. At last, Jacques, (bless him!) uttered, "And here, all along I thought he had just made up that description of the ghost!"

Everyone laughed, and I felt that perhaps things might simply return to normal. But considering Erik's sudden disappearance, I offered my key to Jacques and asked him to give word to Darius that I would be late. I set off to find Erik.

I found him at the organ with his face in his hands. I made as much noise as I could falling through the secret entrance so he would know I was there. When he looked up, his expression was dry-eyed mortification.

Shameless Begging: Oh no! Poor unhappy Erik! Well, you couldn't expect that everything could go right all the time for him, could you? He's been under too much stress and he's starting to let things go. Hope this isn't the beginning of a trend... What ELSE could go wrong...?