Author's Note: To all my lovely reviewers, I never get tired of saying it but thank you, thank you! Your comments all inspire me to keep the words flowing! And to see all the really positive feedback on how I portray Erik is heartening! He is, after all, a really complicated character to write, so to see you people praise my portrayal of him just makes me want to burst into tears of joy!

And for those who are still doubtful, this fic does have a plot and will fuse with the film's events in the future ― of course, obviously with a few changes to the plot here and there along with influences from the musical. I just like to burn things slowly so the characters and relationships can be firmly established and fleshed out first!

Prinzessin Mia: Your review is the longest one that I've received ever on this website! It's really overwhelming and thank you so much for your words and the time you took to review! Hmm, I already have definite plans for how I want every character's relationship with one another to go for this story's end and I can only hope that I deliver justice on what I chose to do with Christine and Erik's relationship!

An Echo In Time: Oh my God. I didn't realize but yes, it does!

( sixteen )

KEYS TO THE HEART

Jovan could not believe her luck. Here she was, down in the cellars of the Opéra Populaire, hand in hand with the Opera Ghost as he led her down to his home. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine this happening to her. Even as she went deeper into the bowels of the opera house, the only thing that kept her convinced that this wasn't a dream was the feeling of Erik's hand holding hers. That felt real.

She crossed over another trap, following in Erik's steps as he watched her in the dark. "How many traps do you have down here?" she huffed.

"Don't worry. That should be the last one. At this point, with all the traps we've come through, I doubt anyone would survive past this point without my guidance." And with that, Erik finally let go of her hand.

"And so we go past the point of no return," Jovan mused out loud.

"I noticed that you seem to have no problems navigating in the dark. May I ask how?" he asked as they approached a staircase that they began to descend upon.

"You may. I trained myself actually," she answered honestly.

"Enlighten me."

"Back... home, I trained myself to read in the dark without candlelight first, just by moonlight behind the window curtains. Then I progressed to exploring the house during new moons, or rooms where little to no light seeped through the windows. It took me years, of course."

Erik scoffed. "Of course it would."

Jovan simply shook her head as they reached the bottom of the staircase. She saw candelabras and torches lining the walls but none of them were lit. She couldn't imagine how someone could bear to live in a place so dark and dank, so far from the reaches of the sun and the world outside. Whatever in the world could be the reason behind this kind of isolation? And was it forced, or of Erik's own choice?

She noticed that, before her, Erik's pace had slowed down. She could only guess that they were near his home. She trained her gaze further and saw that the opening of the tunnel they were currently in had dim light emanating from it. As thrilling of an experience as it was to journey in the dark, being back in the light was a very welcome respite. As they neared the mouth of the tunnel, Jovan found herself not knowing what to expect. And then Erik stepped out of the tunnel, and Jovan followed shortly. The sight that greeted her took her breath away.

She was not expecting this. A large cavern with numerous grottoes, red curtains framing the archways. She saw that there were several full-length mirrors scattered about the place, but whether they were simply mirrors or more passageways, she was unsure. Most of them had red curtains haphazardly covering them. Music sheets littered the floor of the cavern and the desks, divans, and armchairs. Jovan couldn't help but be stunned at the sight before her. There was even a lake! And candles and candelabras... there were so many candles...

She huffed as the smell of candle wax overwhelmed her senses for a split second. Then she realized that Erik had gone ahead of her and was busy gathering the sheets that were scattered upon ― was that a pipe organ? Jovan realized that she had stopped in her steps, and she began to walk away from the mouth of the tunnel hidden in a deep recess of the massive cavern before her. As she looked back, she saw more red curtains framing the passageway from which they had come just from.

"Why so silent, mademoiselle?" Erik called out to her.

"I'm awestruck is all," Jovan answered, clearing her throat. "You have fine taste, monsieur."

She watched as he gave her a bow before proceeding to climb down the stairs that lead to his pipe organ, a bunch of music sheets in his hand which he quickly discarded on a nearby settee. That was when she spotted the breathing ball of fur on the same settee, its eyes shut tight as Erik passed by it.

With a small gasp, Jovan let her feet take her towards the settee, careful not to step on any of the sheets on the floor. She ignored the look Erik gave her as she passed by him and she stopped before the settee, falling to her knees as she observed with wonder the Siamese cat that lied asleep before her. The feline was colored cream and a rich dark brown. Jovan's lips curved upward as the cat stirred awake.

"I see you've spotted Ayesha," she heard Erik say as he walked to her side. "You have seen a cat before, yes?"

"Of course I have!" Jovan replied, shooting him a glare before she returned her gaze to the cat. She was wide awake now and, upon being greeted with a strange face before her, her back arched and she backed a step away from Jovan. The redhead chuckled; it had been too long since she had gotten this close to a domestic animal.

"You're a spoiled little thing, aren't you?" she observed as her eyes spotted the silver chain that hung around the feline's neck where small white gems dangled from it. For now, she just had to deal with the fact that the cat clearly disliked her, but Jovan didn't expect anything else. Felines were fickle creatures after all, and she was well aware of their nature. She'd just have to work for the cat's approval over time.

"I presume that you had a cat before?" Erik asked.

Jovan stood to her feet as she faced him. "I did, yes. Her name was Eden and she was a Burmese cat. All black with golden eyes. I picked her off the streets when I was seven, I think." A smile ghosted on her lips in remembrance of her old companion who had died two years before she moved to the Opéra Populaire.

He gave a hum. "That explains a lot of things."

Jovan's attention was claimed next by the bookshelves in a corner where a vast collection of books were displayed on. Striding across the cavern, she became aware of Erik trailing behind her. As she approached the shelves, she gently ran her fingers on the spines of the books before her, her eyes perusing the numerous titles. Her lips were parted in a small smile of excitement.

"These... science, architecture, mathematics ― you have everything here! I ― is that Farsi?"

Erik chuckled as she carefully pulled out a book. She opened it and gently leafed through its pages. It was as if she were handling a glass figurine, and her eyes were wide with wonder and curiosity as she devoured the words on the pages.

"What languages do you speak?" she wondered out loud as she glanced at Erik.

"French, English, Italian, Russian, German, Farsi, Latin. I've been to many places."

Jovan blinked. "I only know French, English, Italian, and a bit of Latin."

"I could help with your Latin."

"I would like that, yes. Thank you," she answered as she shut the book close and returned it to its place. She tried to ignore Erik's stare at her, which was probably the result of her immediate agreement to his offer of teaching her Latin. Or, maybe, he was surprised that he even offered ― Jovan was too. Shrugging, she returned her attention to the shelves and began to scour through the titles once again.

This time, she took notice of the pieces of fiction on his shelf. Among the names that she spotted were Tolstoy, Homer, Poe, Dumas, Shakespeare, Chaucer, and Alighieri. Her mind raced at the titles that she saw, and Jovan itched to take one of them and read them on the spot, but there would be a time for that later. Well, that was if Erik ever gave her another chance to visit his home.

Biting her lip, she finally broke her gaze away from the bookshelves and turned to Erik who had stood behind her the whole time. He arched a brow at her.

"Fine taste, indeed," Jovan commented as she passed by him and walked towards the lake. She ran her fingers down a nearby candelabra and took a moment to take in her surroundings once more. She was well aware of the salary the Opera Ghost demanded once a month, a sum of twenty thousand francs. She reckoned that he must have spent a good amount of his salary in decorating this place. This haven, this lair of his.

It amazed her how Erik was able to create beauty out of the dullness of the cellars and the cavern. But that was perhaps another one of his talents ― creating beauty where it could not be found. Now that she thought of it, she realized that everything that surrounded him was pleasing to the eye. His aesthetic was satisfying to the senses as Jovan saw that he liked to surround himself with beautiful things.

A soft note broke the silence before it was followed by several others, creating a mellow tune that rang out in the cavern. Jovan turned behind her to see that Erik had sat himself on the bench before his organ and was playing. Her feet began to lead her towards him and, as she neared him, she grew mesmerized by the grace and agility of his fingers as they danced across the keys of the organ. He played with such confidence and dexterity that it made her wonder, not for the first time, what he was doing down here when she thought that his place was up there, in the opera house with the orchestra.

Before she knew it, she had climbed up the steps leading to the organ. Jovan stood behind Erik as she continued to watch him, transfixed by his playing. Not only that, but the music that he was playing was a delight to her ears, leaving chills crawling beneath her skin. It made her feel as if she were soaring, or perhaps falling. She didn't mind either ― all that mattered was the warmth that filled her chest at hearing the music. Jovan had to wonder whether he had composed the piece himself as she had never heard it before.

She reached out to touch his back when he flinched away from her touch, and she backed away a step to give him space. Erik stopped in his playing as he glanced at her behind his shoulder, a haze hanging over his eyes. Jovan was sorry to hear the music end but she just couldn't help her own curiosity.

"May I ask you something?" she inquired.

At her words, Erik gave a scoff. There was touch of bitterness to his tone when he spoke. "I reckon you're going to ask about the mask."

Jovan's eyebrows knitted in confusion until he angled his entire upper body towards her, granting her a view of the mask that covered one side of his face. The soft candlelight bounced off the white porcelain as Erik stared at her, waiting for a reply. But all Jovan could think was how she had long stopped wondering about his mask after the first time they met on the rooftop, during the onset of a storm. She had come to just accept it as a part of him, she realized. It no longer stood out to her after their second encounter and she hadn't given it much thought ever since.

She gave a furious shake of her head. "What? No."

His eyes betrayed him as Jovan watched surprise flicker in them, but his face was devoid of emotion. "What is it that you wish to ask then?"

Jovan blinked at him. Now that he had mentioned it, her thoughts strayed to the mask on his face, and her curiosity grew. But when he had mentioned the mask, she had noticed the acid note in his voice when he spoke. It was obviously a sensitive topic for him which Jovan decided not to bring up at that moment. Although her question might have to raise some questions about the mask all the same.

"Why live like this?" she asked.

One end of his lips tugged into a humorless smile. "Why not?"

"Erik, truly. Why? You're a genius, you've many talents and exquisite taste ― your place should be in the theater above us and not... here."

She watched as Erik stood up from his bench and began to take heavy and deliberate steps down the steps, his head bowed down. He began to twist a black ring on his right little finger. Jovan knew then and there that she had hit a nerve, but she didn't know whether she was willing to take back her question. After all, curiosity was indeed her gravest sin.

His voice rang out, clear and cutting, as he had his back turned to her.

"Stranger than I dreamt it
No, they couldn't dare to look
Nor bear to talk of me.
This vile, ghastly visage
the Devil gave―"

"Erik!" Jovan called out, unable to bear the words that were escaping his lips; they oozed with rue, shame, and anguish, his every word a dagger to her and himself. He stopped in his steps but didn't turn to face her as Jovan hurried down the steps and strode towards him. He had stopped before a mirror, a mass of red fabric draped over it.

His stare switched from the ground to her as she neared him, and her steps came to a halt before him. If Jovan was putting together the pieces of the puzzle correctly, then this seclusion from the world was brought upon by whatever he hid behind his mask. A vile, ghastly visage? It made sense ― why else hide your face if not for a deformity that marred it? But if the world shunned him for his mere outward appearance...

Jovan found herself scowling at the thought. She knew very well that the world above them was not a kind one, having experienced firsthand a handful of cruelties that fate chose to deal her. She pushed these thoughts away as she willed herself to focus on the man before her, his eyes downcast once more as he stood still before her, lost in his own thoughts.

But as Jovan parted her lips to speak, she realized that she had no words to say. Perhaps the moment called for mere silence. Besides, she doubted she could say anything to comfort him if his melancholy had rooted itself this deep. Instead, she took his hand, grasping it in hers, and led him back towards the organ. Erik let himself be pulled back to his bench and he found himself sitting down on it with Jovan by his side.

She gave a small smile. "Will you play something for me, please?"

She spent a good amount of time listening to the music Erik played on his organ which she later learned were his own compositions. She let herself drown in the beauty of his music while he seemed content and pleased to play for her. Her ears were graced with an assortment of tunes that had varying moods ― some were gentle, some were romantic, some were heated. Nevertheless, she enjoyed all of them and hoped to hear more from him on another day. She'd always appreciated music, but hearing Erik's own compositions was something that stood out to her. His music was a breath of fresh air that she didn't know she needed, and now that she had tasted it, she found that she couldn't help but long for more.

But the hours went by too fast, too fast for Jovan's taste. Soon, Erik told her that it was time for her to return, at one in the afternoon. She didn't even realize that lunchtime had passed by and she hadn't even had her breakfast yet. At hearing this, Erik immediately left her and came back a minute later with a rose red apple in his hands. This time, Jovan accepted it without any hesitation.

As they made their way back through the tunnels, Jovan did her best to remember where all the traps were as Erik guided her through them, the same thing she did on the way to his lair. The apple he'd given her was clutched tight in her hand as they traversed the passageways in the darkness.

"How did you manage to build these tunnels?" she asked as they climbed up a staircase.

Erik snickered. "Simple ― I pulled them from thin air! Did I not tell you that I'm a magician?"

"Really, Erik."

"Really, Jovan," he sneered. "I just made a few revisions with the blueprints when the Palais Garnier was being reconstructed into the Opéra Populaire."

With that, they continued their ascent into the opera house above them while Jovan was careful to keep up with Erik. Soon, they were in the same tunnel where they had collided into each other earlier. Jovan couldn't help but feel the heat rush to her cheeks at the memory of what Erik had done to keep her away from one of his traps and the aftermath of his actions. She made sure to skip over the last trap before the secret entrance to her dormitory. Ahead of her was Erik who was unlocking the two-way mirror from its place, the black curtain pulled aside.

"Erik, I want to tell you something," she said as she reached him. Her heart roared in her chest.

He paused as he turned to look at her. "What is it?"

"My real name. I ought to tell you it after what you've shown me today."

Jovan knew that there was no danger in divulging to him her real identity if he chose to isolate himself from society. Besides, it was one more thing to get off her chest before the weight she carried with her succeeded in pulling her down. She watched as surprise flashed across his face before his features contorted into an expression of irritation which puzzled her.

"Your real name? So you lied to me?" he said in a low voice.

"I ― what? No!"

"You said Jovan was your real name."

"It is," she said with a huff. "I didn't lie to you. Jovan is my second name."

"Oh," he simply whispered, the sound of it almost causing Jovan to chuckle. But she restrained herself from doing so as she watched his features soften.

"So, who are you, truly?" he asked, genuine curiosity tainting his voice.

"Nathalie," she answered with a smile. "Nathalie Jovan Sauveterre."