Author's Note: Thank you, THANK YOU so much to everyone who followed and reviewed! I got a really overwhelming and positive response from you guys last chapter and, God, was I so happy! As for this next chapter, I had a real blast writing it. I think you guys will love this. Enjoy!

( fifteen )

WANDERER

Sunday mornings were always quiet in the opera house, save for this particular morning perhaps. Jovan peeked her head out of the door of the dormitory to see what the commotion was about when she recognized Julien, one of the male dancers, running down the corridor only to be stopped by Sara, a member of the ballet corps. Behind Julien were Ilyes and another stagehand who were doing their best, along with Sara, to calm down the panicked dancer.

"I SAW HIM!" Julien exclaimed to Sara.

"It was just a shadow, man," Sara tried to reason.

"Yes, but it was a shadow in the shape of a man! It was the Opera Ghost!"

"Julien, it's Sunday morning, you could've seen―" the other stagehand, whose name Jovan couldn't recall, began but was cut off.

"I know what I saw!"

"See, this is why you go to church," Ilyes commented with an air of amusement.

"I KNOW! I promise I'll go next week!" Julien answered before storming off. Sara, Ilyes, and the other stagehand followed him as Jovan watched after them, a grin threatening to pull on her lips. Just how gullible did the staff of the Opéra Populaire have to be? With a shake of her head, Jovan closed the door and retreated back to her empty dormitory.

Sunday mornings also meant that for the first few hours of the morning, almost every room would be empty and silence would be abound. Save for Jovan, the four awhile ago, and few more handful of the staff, the employees of the opera house would be out attending mass. Jovan mused though that their number would grow less by one person if Julien truly meant what he'd said that he would start attending mass starting next week after his run-in with their resident ghost.

Her mind strayed to their infamous Opera Ghost and Jovan just had to wonder whether he was a man of God. On that matter, she simply had to place her bet that he was not a religious man. She couldn't imagine him being one, no. And especially not after he used the chapel both as an interrogation room and a place to teach her about passion.

As she buttoned up her shirt, her eyes darted around the empty dormitory. All of her roommates had left earlier to attend mass and she doubted they'd be back anytime soon. Almost all of the ballet corps had a tendency to stay out until evening came; they'd spend their time shopping or strolling in the parks, making the best out of a Sunday before rehearsals would resume the next day.

Jovan would tag along with them but aside from the fact that she didn't want to be sighted by anybody who could recognize her, there was the fact that she was an outcast from the rest of the opera staff. Besides a handful of people who actually liked her at best and tolerated her at worst, Jovan was not exactly someone majority of the opera staff wanted to be associated with. She didn't blame them. She cross-dressed, she was volatile, and she was the only female stagehand. Hardly a criteria for someone one would want around them.

Maeva's words came back to Jovan. It's all gone down the gutter, darling. Jovan shook her head, knowing that her roommate was right regarding her reputation.

Once she was done with her outfit ― trousers, boots, and a white shirt without her usual vest ― Jovan sat back on her bed and stared blankly at the empty space around her. As much as she enjoyed resting on Sundays, it was only so long before boredom overwhelmed her. She found that happening to her at that very moment. She had woken up early that morning, early enough to help Elea and Tess into their dresses before they left for mass. After that, she had failed to return to sleep and was left to spend the next hour writing in bed until she'd heard Julien running down the corridor outside.

Jovan gave a groan, growing restless by the minute. She even found herself wishing that Erik would happen upon her at that very moment, and perhaps she could try pushing a few of his buttons with talk of his religious beliefs.

She internally slapped herself. Where had that come from?

But she could not lie to herself. She did enjoy the Phantom's company even if his temperament was as mercurial as hers. They were an erratic pair, and the encounters they had were more so. Ever since he had obliged her request to hear him sing, the moments that they would have to themselves increased in number, no longer spaced apart by months or weeks, but mere days. When no one was around, he'd come out of the shadows of the rafters to point out to her something about the pulleys, along with a droll comment or two. More than once had she arrived to the dormitory earlier than the others after dinner and found him waiting inside, after which he'd scold her lightly about how she had zoned out again during rehearsals, or how she was a second too late in her cues. But, sometimes, he merely came to chat with her.

It was amusing, really. Who knew that the feared Phantom of the Opera would turn out to be such a clever yet sardonic man? Granted that he obviously preferred to keep to himself, Jovan enjoyed for now the air of mystery that surrounded him. Then there was his conceited side, although Jovan thought that he had every right to be proud of himself if he was indeed as brilliant as he claimed to be. And, so far, she had seen nothing that showed otherwise.

Musician, artist, magician, inventor, architect, ventriloquist... As her thoughts ran in circles around Erik, she couldn't help but wonder if her theory about his whereabouts was correct. All logic pointed that he did dwell within the Opéra Populaire and she had figured out as much, but how or where exactly, she couldn't yet fathom.

In my opera house, walls have ears and doors have eyes. If she were reading his words correctly, then he must have some sort of secret passageway (or should it be passageways, plural form?) that was hidden within the walls of the opera house. It would explain how he'd been able to get inside the dormitory and the chapel without passing through the visible entrances during their previous encounters.

Jovan stood up from her bed and paced towards the center of the room, her mind whirling and her eyes scanning her surroundings. He had a secret entrance! Her mind couldn't help but race in excitement at the very prospect of it, but as she scrutinized every inch of the dormitory, she couldn't help but grow frustrated with each passing second. There were no panels in the wall or the ceiling or the floor, no outlines of anything that could be an indication of a secret door. Was she wrong? She couldn't be!

She huffed a sigh and saw that she stood a few feet away from the wall mirror. It was the only full-length mirror they had in the dormitory and it stood in the center of the wall that was opposite where the door was. Jovan stared at it with narrowed eyes, not to inspect her reflection but the mirror's design. Like every other wall mirror in the dormitories, it stood against the farthest wall. This one was framed with brass and was elaborately designed with swirls and spirals.

The possibility crossed Jovan's mind and she marched closer to the mirror until she was only inches away from it. Could it be? She ran her fingers down the intricate design of the brass frame before she peered closer between the wall and the mirror. With both hands, she grasped the edge of the mirror and gave it a weak tug. The mirror stayed in place, not even budging one bit. She tried to pull the mirror away from the wall with greater force but her attempt was fruitless.

So the mirror was stuck to the wall. That fact was enough to confirm her suspicion that this was the hidden entrance towards her dormitory. A smile curved her lips as she began to examine the mirror's ornate brass frame, her fingers running through every swirl and spiral in hopes of finding something that could unlock the entrance.

The sound of an alarm broke the silence as Erik dropped his pen to massage his temples. The shrill ringing could only mean that another miscreant had somehow found one of his secret entrances or even landed themselves beneath one of his trapdoors. This was an extremely rare occurrence but it was one that Erik didn't want to have to deal with at that moment, not when he already had the misfortune of running into one of the members of the dance troupe earlier that morning, which had resulted in the poor fool scampering away from him in fright. Didn't anyone go to church on Sundays anymore?

With a grumble, Erik rummaged through the numerous drawers of his desk before he finally found a small bottle of chloroform. He then stood up from his bench and picked up a rag from somewhere before striding towards the tunnel where the alarm had come from. He didn't even bother to put on a a jacket or a cloak, wanting the situation to be immediately done with. All he'd have to do was to render the intruder unconscious before he could drag them back to the world above.

As he trudged through the tunnel, Erik recognized the passageway as the one that led to the dormitories. As he made his way through the darkness, careful to avoid the various traps that he had lying around, he saw that whoever it was that triggered the alarm had not yet made their way past one of his hidden entrances, if there was something to go by the silence that resounded in the tunnel. One by one, as he came across by them, he pulled back the curtains that shielded the two-way mirrors, but saw that each dormitory was empty. He was about to pull away the next black curtain when he heard it.

"Good God."

Erik blinked as the voice echoed off the tunnel walls, unmistakable by its familiar husky quality. He felt his heart stutter as he pocketed the bottle of chloroform and the rag. He let go of the curtain in his hand and walked towards the source of the voice, stepping over one of his trapdoors. He almost refused to believe his own ears. Could it be?

The sound of the rapid approach of footsteps towards him stilled him and before he knew it, something ― or, more likely, someone ― collided against him. He took a step back to steady himself as he instinctively reached out to grab the arms of the person before him. She gave a startled gasp.

"Erik?" Jovan asked.

In the dark, Erik had no trouble making out her stunned features. There was a smile on her face, a triumphant and a rather smug one. He gave a look of disbelief as he tightened his grips on her upper arms.

This girl...

"Are you mad?" he seethed. "You could've gotten yourself into a trap!"

The smile vanished from her lips and was replaced by a frown. Jovan pulled herself away from Erik's hold and he let her go. "A trap? You have traps here?"

Erik simply gave a snarl as he turned away from her and walked toward the entrance to her dormitory. When he approached it, he saw that the two-way mirror was locked in place. How did she even manage to unlock it in the first place? He shook his head at himself as he felt Jovan approach him.

"These are all two-way mirrors, aren't they?" she asked him, gesturing to all the entrances hidden by black curtains that were all on one side of the tunnel.

"You're not blind, are you?" he retorted with mild irritation. In all honesty, Erik didn't know whether to feel admiration, worry, or exasperation towards the girl beside him upon realizing that she had finally found one of his secret entrances. What was he honestly going to do with this girl? He really didn't think that she'd take on his challenge when he'd told her to find out where he lived. He didn't even think that she'd remember him giving her the challenge alone!

He blinked in surprise as the realization dawned on him. She remembered? He turned to her and was about to ask when he saw that Jovan was no longer by his side. He looked further down the tunnel and saw that she had left him behind and was walking in the darkness just fine. Quite fine, actually. Was she really able to see that well in the dark? It wasn't actually that dark, seeing there was little light filtering through the black curtains veiling the dormitory mirrors, but still... He had so many questions but he had none of the answers and it was beginning to get on his nerves.

With a roll of his eyes, Erik began to walk towards her when he realized that she was only a few steps away from a trap. Ice shot through his veins as he broke into a run. When she was within his reach, he stretched out his arm and grabbed hers, pulling her away from the trap. But Erik realized his mistake too late ― he had pulled Jovan away from the trap and towards him with too much strength. She lost her balance and toppled towards him.

"What―"

Jovan turned towards him with an unexpected force as she lost her footing. Her hands landed against his chest as she slammed against him, and before Erik could process what was happening, his back made contact with the ground. A groan left his lips while a startled cry left Jovan's.

Every inch of him screamed in pain for a second. His heart hammered hard in his chest and his bloof roared in his ears. As he assessed what just happened, he realized that he was lying on his back on the cement floor of the tunnel while there was a weight on his chest. Jovan was pinning him down, her body pressed against his and her hands tightly clutched to the fabric of his poet's shirt, her thumbs grazing the skin of his chest.

Her face hovered above his by a few inches and her green eyes were as wide as saucers. His breath hitched at their proximity.

"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed and Erik was quick to notice the color rushing to her cheeks. He'd never seen her blush before and it was quite a sight.

"You reckless girl," he bit out as Jovan sat up. But she only made matters worse as she ended up straddling him. Erik felt his face heat up.

Jovan groaned as she climbed off him as quickly as she could before standing up, leaning against the wall for support. Erik followed suite as his hand flew to the deformed part of his face. But he felt the smooth porcelain in place and relief flooded him; despite what happened, the mask hadn't fallen off. He proceeded to smooth out his shirt and his hair while the redhead did the same.

Erik knew he ought to scold her but he was out of breath. "Just what on Earth were you doing?" he hissed.

She gave a deep inhale. "We had an agreement, don't you remember?"

His eyebrows furrowed as he stepped closer to her. "Agreement?"

"I mean ― your challenge," she huffed. "I... what's her name again? Was it Ayesha ― yes! Ayesha! I would like to meet her."

Erik scoffed as he pieced together what she meant. Was he in a dream? He really didn't think she'd remember that! But apparently she did, seeing that she did just speak about his 'challenge' for her.

"You took that seriously? How do you even remember that?" he queried, trying to minimize the shock lacing his tone.

"How could I not?" she retorted.

"You were drunk!"

He watched as Jovan shook her head as a chuckle rolled off her tongue. That's it, Erik thought. He quit. This girl was utterly unpredictable. He swore to himself that, starting from this moment onward, he would stop guessing what her next words or actions would be. He watched with a blank expression as she caught her breath in the darkness of his tunnel.

"By the way, what happened back there? Why did you pull me back like that all of a sudden?" she inquired with an arched brow.

"You were about to step on a trap," he simply answered, refusing to let his mind wander back to the aftermath of his actions.

"Oh," she replied, looking behind her shoulder towards the spot on the floor where she had almost stepped on had Erik not pulled her back. There was a small panel on the cement floor that was ten inches in height and width with small holes dotting it. Erik had designed it that when someone placed their foot upon it, it would trigger a column of fire to erupt from below.

Jovan turned her back to Erik as she proceeded to step over the panel. She looked back at Erik who simply gave a nod before he followed in her footsteps, careful to step over the panel as well. He was beside her once again.

"So... are you going to lead the way?" she quietly asked.

Erik sneered. "I believe that my terms were for you to find out where I live. So far, all you've found is a passageway."

Jovan scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's hardly fair, seeing how you designed this tunnel like an obstacle course. I'll be dead long before I reached your home."

"Oh, dear me. But that's your problem, not mine." With that, Erik began to walk away from Jovan. As he skipped over another trap, he heard Jovan's footsteps behind him, and he turned to see that she had skipped over the trap as well. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she stopped in her steps to meet his gaze.

"You said that this was my problem," she began to explain. "This is my solution."

"No. I will not allow this," Erik replied as he grabbed her wrist and began to walk her back towards the opposite direction. He tried to pull Jovan away with him but she stood rooted to her spot.

"Do you have any intention of keeping your word?" she whined, pulling away her wrist but Erik refused to let her go. She only succeeded in pulling him closer towards her.

He rolled his eyes. "To keep my word means teaching you how to avoid my traps and to lead you to my home, something that can only happen in your wildest dreams."

"I thought we trusted each other," Jovan grumbled, and Erik froze at her words. Trust?

She trusted him?

A humorless chuckle rumbled in his throat but he couldn't find it himself to spit out the venomous words that sat on the tip of his tongue. Trust? Trusting me is the biggest mistake you can ever make. But the words didn't come, and Erik even found himself doubting his own words. Was trusting him indeed a mistake? Or was it something he just wanted to say in order to keep her away?

Instead, his voice lowered into a solemn whisper. "You trust me?"

Jovan looked taken aback by his question, but she also seemed to consider his words for a second. "I ― yes, I do."

Erik heard himself scoff. "You trust me? The feared Opera Ghost? Have you lost your head, you foolish girl?"

She narrowed her gaze at him. "My head's right here on top of my shoulders, thank you very much. And no, I don't trust the Opera Ghost. But I trust Erik."

And just like that, with those four words that left her lips, Erik felt the walls around him crack. God was indeed cruel if he woke up now, if this all turned out to be dream. But the moment was truly real as Jovan stood before him now. She felt real as he held her wrist in his hand. She trusted him? Even after he'd taken advantage of that same damning conviction by luring her into the chapel to interrogate her?

He felt his heart clench as an unfamiliar feeling filled his chest. He could find no name for this feeling and knew nothing of it, except that it was warm and that it left a buzzing in his head and quieted the villains in his mind. It was a pleasant feeling, knowing that someone trusted him, someone new for a change. Someone who wasn't Antoinette, and not someone who simply trusted him because he had disguised himself as an angel.

Without another word, he let go of Jovan's wrist but found her hand in exchange. He realized he wasn't wearing any gloves, and the unfamiliar sensation of someone else's skin against him was an unfamiliar but soothing one. Her hand was warm in his as he gently wrapped his fingers around her, careful not to be rough or too tight in his grasp. Then he turned to the direction that led to his home.

"Follow me."