Author's Note: Regarding the last chapter, Monsieur Lefèvre finding a photograph of Jovan's parents in the archives of the Opéra Populaire isn't as random as you think it is if you paid close attention to the details in Chapter Five, Before The Storm. *wink* Thank you to my readers for everything! I just can't express how helpful you all are with your reviews and notifications!

Le Fantome: I think you'll love this chapter as well, it has loads of Erik in it!

( twelve )

LULLABYE

It was another success for the Opéra Populaire on opening night for their latest opera. Nothing less was expected of the performers as they received a standing ovation from their audience. The gala and the celebration that followed was just as terrific as one could expect when Christmas was near. The halls and the ballroom echoed with merriment and high spirits as the night grew older. The situation was the same backstage and in the cafeteria where the staff were limited to. While they were separated from the opera house's prestigious audience, their celebration was not any less delightful.

Two hours after Elea had brought Jovan to join the celebrations, the ballerina wasn't sure whether to regret her decision. Like the previous premiere, Jovan was inebriated again, although tonight was worse. Last time, she'd only had one bottle of whiskey, but Elea was unsure how many she'd drank down tonight until she approached her. Elea simply had to lead Jovan away from the celebration after the feisty redhead ended up almost knocking out one of her fellow stagehands. The high-spirited and similarly drunk crowd had cheered Jovan on, and Elea had taken their chants as her cue to call it a night for Jovan.

They were currently on the corridor leading to their dormitory when Jovan stumbled on her own feet. A chuckle escaped her lips.

Elea groaned as she helped her friend back on her feet. "I never took you for a tippler, Jove," she muttered under her breath.

"A tippler? But I've only been drunk twice!"

"Yes, twice. But you overdo it each time," Elea scoffed.

"No, I don't," Jovan replied dramatically.

"And I thought you said you were never going to drink again," Elea commented with an amused smile, to which Jovan scoffed at in reply. In the distance, Elea heard her name being called. She immediately recognized the owner of the voice as her suitor, Aldrich. A blush tainted her cheeks at the thought, and Jovan managed to catch it despite her intoxicated state.

"Ooh, Prince Charming's calling for you," Jovan snickered. How the redhead managed to be coherent in her words even after God-knows-how-many bottles of liquor, Elea would never know. Instead, she poked Jovan's side with her elbow to silence her.

"I'm here!" Elea tried to call out in response, but she doubted Aldrich heard her. Jovan then gave a groan as she untangled herself from the ballerina and nudged her back towards the direction they came from.

Elea shot her a look. Jovan gave a wave of her hand. "Go on, go to Prince Charming. I can manage the rest of the way. It's not far now."

"Are you sure?" Elea asked, her words laced with concern.

"Of course!" Jovan huffed, but maybe it was the alcohol talking. She leaned against one side of the corridor near a candelabra. "Now go."

The ballerina was clearly torn, but after receiving Jovan's reassurance, Elea gathered up her courage and ran back to the direction they came from. Jovan was about to shout a taunt towards how unladylike Elea was but she simply grinned to herself at the rare sight of the ballerina picking up her skirts and running down the corridor.

Once Elea was out of sight, Jovan resumed walking towards her room. Given her surroundings, she was able to make out that she wasn't far now. The key to the dormitory was in her pocket, and Jovan gave it a pat to console herself. Without wasting another moment, Jovan continued to make her way as quietly as she could manage while doing her best not to stumble on her own feet again.

Until she did.

But before she could fall, Jovan felt a sturdy pair of arms catch her in the darkness.

Erik let out a sigh as he broke the stagehand's fall, a groan leaving her lips as he caught her in his arms. He quickly pulled her back on her feet and met her eyes in the darkness. He instantly smelled the alcohol on her breath. What on God's green Earth could've possessed the girl to give her the courage to drink herself to the point where she could no longer walk straight?

"Tripping on air now, aren't we?" he quietly berated her with an arched brow.

"Talking to shadows too," she muttered with a giggle as she leaned in close towards the side of his head, her lips near his ear.

Erik cleared his throat. It seemed that even in an intoxicated state, she was able to hold on to her wits. He became aware of his arms wrapping her in an awkward embrace, his hands holding on to her arms. Jovan's hands were pressed against his chest for support.

"I heard you almost got into a fight, you foolish girl," he remarked.

She gave a smirk, not looking ashamed one bit. "Damien was acting like a swine."

The moment the words slipped from her mouth, Erik felt a shiver bolt down his spine as he felt her hot breath on his skin. He stiffened. While her voice was distinct for being low and husky, he couldn't help but notice the slight change in her voice now that she was drunk. There was a sultry edge to it now that the alcohol in her veins had made her more confident.

Erik's pulse escalated as he pulled away from her. He moved to her side where he draped her arm around his shoulder to support her as he accompanied her to the dormitories.

Once they arrived inside her room, Erik made sure to lock the door to keep out any intruders who had any vile interests in mind. He watched with narrowed eyes as Jovan stumbled towards the bed nearest to the door which he presumed to be hers. But before she could climb on it, Erik grabbed her arm to stop her.

"What?" Jovan whined, tugging her arm away.

"Take off your boots, you'll dirty your sheets."

With a groan, Jovan ignored Erik's words as she simply collapsed her upper body onto the mattress, her legs dangling off the edge of her bed. Erik gave a roll of his eyes until his gaze landed on her head. Her beret had fallen off the moment she fell on her bed and her red hair became visible to sight. He instantly noticed something different about her locks, however. He approached her and, in one swift move, pulled away the black ribbon holding her tresses together, and her hair came loose.

Erik was stunned to see that her hair no longer reached past her shoulders but a mere inch below her chin. His eyes widened in surprise before Jovan's hand grabbed the ribbon in his hand and swatted him away. He quickly backed away to compose himself as Jovan curled into herself, her ribbon balled in her fist and her eyes shut tight.

He heard her mutter something as he neared towards her nightstand.

"What was that?" Erik asked as he pulled at the first drawer. He saw a dip pen and a glass inkwell occupying the drawer along with an unsealed cream envelope, a few more black ribbons, and a silver chain with a small, round, white moonstone as its pendant.

Jovan gave a hum. "Do you have a cat?"

Erik was taken aback by the unexpected question as he slammed the first drawer shut. He gave her a glance and saw that her eyes were still closed but there was a smile playing on her lips. Could it be the alcohol talking?

"Yes, I do," he answered honestly, surprising himself as he opened the second drawer of her nightstand. His eyes scanned over a matchbox, two candles, a silver and intricately designed letter opener, and several folded sheets of paper, until his gaze finally landed on the item he was looking for.

"Can I meet her? Or him?" Jovan asked. Erik gave a scoff as he eyed the slender silver object in her drawer. It glinted and grinned wickedly at him, sharp and beckoning. He quickly snatched the pair of scissors and slipped it into one of the hidden pockets of his cloak before Jovan could blink her eyes open.

"No, I don't think so. Wandering away from my home is not a habit of hers," Erik answered as he neared one of the posts of her bed and leaned against it.

"So your cat's a lady?" Jovan snickered as she uncurled from herself and lied flat on her back, her distant gaze glued to the canopy of her bed.

"Her name's Ayesha," Erik found himself gracing her with an answer. His wary stare never left her as his eyes wandered to her hands which were placed on her stomach, her fingers idly playing with the black ribbon.

"Can I meet her?" she parroted her question from earlier. He heaved a sigh, but, at the same time, he could not ignore the small spark of amusement he felt at witnessing Jovan in her inebriated state.

An idea intruded his thoughts and he decided to let it take root as a grin placed itself on his lips. "Since you're so keen on meeting my little lady, I offer you a challenge."

Jovan seemed to perk up at his words as her gaze switched to him. Erik was startled to see her wide-eyed gaze, her eyes tainted with a little red that showed off her drunken state. But it seemed that her condition was not enough to stop her from taking on a challenge. If there was one thing that he learned from their little encounters, it was that she loved to be challenged. Why else would she keep up with his banter? He knew that he matched her level of wit.

"What challenge?" she asked.

Erik doubted she'd remember their conversation when morning came, but he decided to simply live in the moment. "If you can find where I live, I'll gladly introduce you to Ayesha."

Jovan gave a triumphant cackle. "Easy! You live in the Opéra Populaire!"

He narrowed his gaze at her, a glint of irritation in the green and amber of his eyes. "I meant literally find where I live within the opera house."

She was silent for a brief moment before her lips formed into a small 'o.' "Accipio te provocatione, Monsieur le Phantom." I accept your challenge.

Erik gave a nod before his mind processed the words that had just slipped from her mouth. Had she just spoken Latin? Fluently? He couldn't help but stare at Jovan with an aghast look on his face as the redhead shut her eyes again and grabbed the nearest pillow to her.

Too clever for her own good. Erik's own words from his conversation with Antoinette came rushing back to him as he continued to stare at the puzzle before him. His curiosity was going to be the death of him if Erik let himself be taken over by the urge to know more about Jovan. What secrets did she hide behind lock and key? What would it cost for her to spill them to him?

"I shall make a virgin sacrifice to purify myself once again," she suddenly exclaimed, eyes blinking wide open as she had been in thought.

Erik resisted the urge to rub his temples. Jovan in a sober state was enough of an enigma but talking to her in an intoxicated state...

"And where do you plan to get a virgin?" he answered, deciding to humor her.

Her piercing green eyes darted to him. "You. Aren't you one?"

Good God. Erik didn't even want to know where she got the idea, but he resisted the urge to correct her and deny her claim. He did give in to the urge of planting his face into his palm though. The sigh he gave only seemed to amuse the redhead further as she gave a chuckle.

"Go to sleep, Jovan," he scolded her with a light tone as he pulled his hand away from his face. He watched as Jovan pulled up her legs and feet to her bed and tried not to wince when her boots landed on her white sheets.

"I don't want to," she softly whined, burying her face into the pillow her arms held as she curled into herself again. "Even in my dreams, I'm at war."

Erik froze as he listened. She had whispered those last words, but his ears had caught them with perfect clarity. He felt his heart stutter as he watched her form on the bed grow still. He thought that sleep had finally claimed her until he heard the softest of whimpers.

Was she crying? Erik found himself taking a step closer towards her, wanting to reach out and brush away her red locks that shielded her face from him if only to confirm his suspicions. It was a sudden and surprising change of mood when, only a moment ago, she had been teasing him about his virginity, but he knew he shouldn't be surprised. After all, drunk people were prone to sudden mood swings, going from laughter to tears in a matter of seconds.

Erik really couldn't care less when this thing was a normal occurrence for drunk people, but something about Jovan's words stilled him. Even in my dreams, I'm at war. She'd sounded genuinely scared when those words slipped from her lips that they couldn't help but pique his concern.

He perched on the edge of her bed as he hovered over her and reached out, but the moment his leather-gloved fingers touched her, Jovan pulled away from him with a small, muted cry. He knew now that she was indeed crying, but he took a moment to tell himself that it was likely that she shrank away from his touch because of... other reasons. But definitely not because she was scared of him. She wasn't, was she? After all, she hadn't seen the monster that hid behind the mask yet.

After an intake of breath, Erik decided to remove his glove. This time, he moved slowly until his fingers finally touched her flaming hair. Erik held his breath, but she didn't flinch at his touch. Then as gently as he could, he brushed them away from her face until he saw her tear-streaked cheeks.

Erik wanted nothing more than to wipe away her tears at that moment but he restrained himself. But there was nothing he could do to restrain the way his heart raced at the sight of her. He could see that she was trying so hard to calm her breathing but she was failing, her breaths growing more shallow with each breath as he noticed her grip on her pillow tighten.

How could he calm her? It was the least he could do ― leaving a girl crying in her bed wasn't exactly something he wanted haunting what conscience he had. No, he refused to let Jovan cry the night away while merriment commenced outside of the dormitories. But what could he do? She was visibly hurting and there was nothing he could do. Unless...

An idea slipped into his mind, quiet and soothing. Suddenly, he knew what he needed to do. A mellow note escaped his parted lips.

"You were alone, left out in the cold,
Clinging to the ruin of your broken home.
Too lost and hurting to carry your load;
We all need someone to hold."

As the words rolled off his tongue with a gentle tune, Erik turned over the lyrics in his mind. It was an old lullabye that he had composed but had long forgotten, until the need for it arose and the notes instantly came back to him like he'd only composed it yesterday. He couldn't even remember why he wrote it, not when he had no need of lullabyes nor did he have anyone to sing them to.

"You've been fighting the memory, all on your own.
Nothing worsens, nothing grows.
I know how it feels, being by yourself in the rain;
We all need someone to stay.
We all need someone to stay."

Lullabyes. Erik often regarded them with a bitter note as they were the songs that a mother would sing to lull her children to sleep, and Erik had a woman give birth to him but never once had she sung him a lullabye. Not even when he went on his knees and cried at her feet. But as he sang to the red-haired angel before him now, he found that there was not an ounce of malice tainting the thoughts in his head. At that moment, all he wanted to do was to share his gift of music to her, even if tomorrow's arrival did not guarantee the memory of that night.

"Hear you falling and lonely, cry out:
Will you fix me up? Will you show me hope?
At the end of the day, you were helpless;
Can you keep me close?"

Erik paused. The song was not yet finished. He knew very well that it wasn't. And yet, he found himself hesitating as the last words of the lullabye sat on the tip of tongue, threatening to escape at any second. He gazed down at Jovan and saw the steady rise and fall of her chest, indicating that she had finally fallen asleep. Her lips were parted and the grip on her pillow had loosened. Reassured that she was no longer conscious to hear him, he let the last lyric slip from his lips. But whether or not they held weight, Erik was unsure himself.

"Can you love me most?"

Author's Note: Erik sings! *screeching in the background* Well, this was emotionally draining to write. Anyways, the line 'Even in my dreams, I'm at war,' was inspired by a poem titled 'Rest Achilles, the world will wait' which was written by Tumblr user lostcap. You should check out her poetry because she is one of the finest writers out there in my opinion! The song that Erik sings here is 'Someone To Stay' by Vancouver Sleep Clinic. It's a song that I highly recommend if you want some feels. Lastly, Erik is simply sharing his music with Jovan in this chapter, alright? Nothing more ― that last lyric is not a confession of love or anything of the like. Don't forget to review!