I knew there had to be something to these "haunted" rumors floating around the destruction of the Populaire, and obviously someone wanted me to believe I was being haunted. A strange voice when I sing a bit of an unknown opera, someone then stealing that opera... It was all just so strange, and my brain was telling me that I was reading into this way too much, but I was simply bored. Moments not practicing on stage was a waste of time. I just had so much fun during rehearsals, and I learned so much about the world of opera. But unfortunately we had the weekend off, so I was going to do some digging.

As I dressed that morning I wondered whether I was going to have trouble reading anything in French. I spoke fluently in French, but I had not spent that long learning how to read and write it. I considered bringing Alice with me, but I decided against it, since I didn't exactly want her to think I was totally mental. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror and I stared at my face for a moment. My grey eyes blinked back at me, and my normally wavy blonde hair was pulled back into its normal braid, but I had left a few locks of hair to hang around my face. I ran a hand over my braid to make sure it was even and then grabbed my bag and left the room, slinging it over my shoulder.

One at the library it did not take me long at all to find an article on the Populaire accident, though most called it off as merely and accident. Finally there was one that caught my eye, the headline reading The Opera Ghost Strikes Again!

For years the famous Opera Populaire has been haunted by a so called ghost, making demands of the managers and enjoying opera from box 5, insiders report. In an attempt to finally catch this so called Phantom, a team of police officers was sent to apprehend the masked murder during the performance of Don Juan Triumphant, a show featuring for the first time on that night. However the Phantom, alleged murderer of Joseph Bouquet, was able to kidnap lead singer Christine Daae right from under the nose of the police. Once the Phantom had disappeared with the singer, the chandelier came crashing down on the audience, killing one and injuring others. The casualty count was just around 2 dozen. The singer then reappeared around an hour later claiming that she had not been hurt and the Phantom had let her go. A mob had formed by that time and attempted to find the killer, but they returned fruitless and the Phantom remains at large.

The article continued, listing the other people the Phantom had killed and the other crimes he had committed, but I didn't really care about that information.

()

When I returned to the Garnier my head was buzzing. What was mostly bothering me was the name Christine Daae. I felt like I should know that name, but I did not know from where. If she was a famous singer that was probably why, but something told me it was more than that. I put Daae out of my mind as I returned to my room. I stopped dead in my room as I heard the clunk of something heavy, as though someone had dropped a piece wood on the ground. I glanced over to my bed side table, and sure enough that small piece of sheet music was gone. I had purposely set it there, to test if someone was actually stealing those pages. Where had that noise come from? I moved my bed and peered at the floor, since that was where I heard it coming from. There was a line in the wood, as though a piece of it was separated. Curious I stuck my fingernails under the cracks and lifted. A trapdoor swung back, creaking as though the hinges were protesting use. My heart began to race as I looked down into the passage. It was dark, and I couldn't see very far. Why on earth was there a tunnel under my bedroom? And why was someone using it? Something told me it was a bad idea to use this passage, and that I should go for the police. But where was the fun in that?

Against my better judgment, I dropped into the tunnel. As I made my way farther and farther down under the Garneir, I began to regret my lack of a lantern. I muttered angrily too myself, but I stopped when I realized the sound was echoing off the walls. What on earth was I going to do when I came to someone? I didn't have a weapon and I had little to no people skills. The truth was I didn't like people. Or being around too many of them. Then why had I joined the cast of the Garnier? Well I supposed it was because I have been alone for so long...

I saw a small light at the end of one of the passages, and before I could reach it something jerked me up by the ankle and I let out a high pitched scream of terror as I was hoisted into the air and left the dangle there by my foot.

()

Erik jerked his head up as a scream split the silence of his cave and he cured under his breath at his stupidity. Of course she had heard it! Only a deaf person couldn't have heard the ruckus he has made with the trapdoor. He kitted to himself and peered around the corner and saw a woman dangling there by one foot, a golden braid sweeping across the stone floor as she fought to keep her skirts up put of her face. If the situation wasn't so serious Erik probably would have laughed at her. She did look rather comical in that position. Well she knew he was here now... What could he do? He couldn't trust anyone anymore. He thought he could trust Giry, but he had been horribly mistaken.

"Hello?" She yelled, "I know you are there, so let me down!"

Erik hesitated for a moment. He couldn't cut her down and he couldn't reveal himself to her... Perhaps he could reason with her, and make up some dumb story about looking for rats and that was merely a rat trap. She would probably see right through him. What rat was so big that they needed a lasso to string them up?

"I know you have been following me. And I would very much like to know why."

Following her? More like she was following him. He sighed, and against his better judgment l, he stepped into the corridor and faced her. She gasped and let her skirts fall back over her face and she just hung there lumpy for a moment.

"You're him," she whispered, once she had uncovered her face, "you're the Opera Ghost."

Erik groaned, running a hand over his face. "Listen," he said quickly, "you can't tell anyone that I'm here."

"Oh?" She said stoutly, crossing her arms. "And why should I? Give me one good reason I should not run to the police once I manage to get myself down."

"Don't you think that of you could cut yourself down you would have done it before yelling for help?" Erik said dryly. She went silent for a moment.

"Look," Erik said before she could say anything else, "if I let you down, will you let me explain?" This was a bad idea, all of it.

"I suppose..." She said slowly, but she still peered at him suspiciously. He sighed, and he grabbed the end of the rope and lowered her to the ground. She climbed to her feet, brushing off her skirts with slightly shaking hands, but if she was afraid her face did not betray any fear.

"What is your name?" He asked.

"Alanna." She replied curtly, crossing her arms and glaring at him. She was very short, at least a head shorter than Erik anyway. Her cloudy grey eyes peered at him, and she seemed to have dominance about her, despite her height.

"What is your name?" Alanna asked in turn.

"That is not-"

"Well you know my name, so I should know yours."

Erik ground his teeth in frustration. "Fine. I am Erik. Happy now?"

"No." She looked him up at down. She couldn't be any older than 21 or 22, and yet she had a maturity beyond her years behind her eyes. What an interesting woman. Alanna tapped her foot. "Well?" She demanded. "Give me a reason I shouldn't report you to the police."

"What do you know of the Opera Ghost?" Erik murmured.

"That he killed people, and caused the accident at the Populaire." She said simply. "Are you the Opera Ghost?" She asked cautiously.

Erik nodded slowly. Alanna uncrossed her arms and held them at her sides in white knuckled fists.

"But I have come to the Garnier to take refuge, not cause trouble."

She sneered at him. "And what have you done to deserve refuge?"

Erik wrung his fingers in frustration. This woman was sharp. And that was not good if Erik wanted to continue to go unnoticed at the Garnier.

"Because I repent my actions. I just want to live out the rest of my life quietly and alone, in penance for my actions." He looked her squarely in the eyes, looking for the slightest change in her composure. Her eyes remained icy however, her face placid.

"And why should I trust you?" She said finally.

"I let you down, didn't I?" Erik said, "If I was still truly a cold blooded murderer I would have just done away with you,"

Her eyes softened for a moment, but they hardened in an instant. "I have no sympathy for murders." She said coldly.

"And you shouldn't." Erik agreed. "And I don't deserve it. All I ask is that you just leave me be, and I will do the same in turn."

"Why did you steal Don Juan Triumphant?" She demanded, hands on hips. "How is that 'leaving me be'?"

"Don Juan is my work. Therefore it is mine to take."

"You wrote...?" Her question trailed off and she looked wonderingly at him.

"Yes," Erik sighed. "Music is my passion. I wrote it a few years ago, and it was only ever performed once. It is the greatest sorrow for a composer. For his music to go unheard."

Alanna stared at him for a moment longer. "Well, can I have it back?" And before Erik could protest she said quickly, "It is really beautiful work, and I would like to study it more. And if you do, I promise not to tell a soul about you,"

Erik hesitated. He did not want to part with what was left of Don Juan, but he knew he had to if he wanted Alanna to keep her mouth shut.

"Fine," Erik said resignedly. "Follow me,"

()

Erik led me back down the tunnel. I moved forward, and I didn't realize that my knees were shaking before, and I tried to steady myself as I followed him. He was tall, and my head probably only reached his shoulder, and he had black hair than he had slicked back. The most peculiar thing about his appearance however was the white mask that obscured half of his face. Erik's eyes were also the lightest of blue that reminded me of ice. I almost gasped as I entered the cave, since there was a giant lake spread out across the floor of the cave; it was thirty feet in each direction, but I could not calculate the depth since the water was murky and green.

Erik said something, but I had been so engrossed with the lake I hadn't heard him. I looked up and took a step forward, but at that moment my skirts twisted around my ankle and I toppled into the lake with a scream. The water was icy cold, and it stung my skin as I hit the water. Gasping for air, I bobbed to the surface of the water, waving my arms frantically to try and keep my gown from pulling me under. I didn't know how to swim. I had never had the opportunity to learn when I was younger, and I didn't like water so I never really wanted to learn. I let out another yell as something brushed against my leg and I almost slipped back under the water.

"Something touched me!" I screamed with terror and I saw Erik walk to the edge of the lake.

"That would be the catfish."

"Catfish?" I squeaked.

"Yes, now just let me pull you out and-" he held out his hand but I shied away from it, despite my struggle to stay afloat.

"I can do it myself." I said, attempting to make my way over to the edge. I did not really want him to be near my when I as in the lake. I did not know how deep it was since I couldn't touch the bottom with my feet.

"If you say so." Erik shrugged and watched as I tried to swim the edge of the lake. Eventually I made it. I pulled myself out onto the stone floor, shivering and completely soaked. I had lost my flats when I had fallen in. Erik tried to help me to my feet but I waved him away and managed to straighten up, running my hands over my arms, which were covered in goose pimples.

"You should probably get out of that dress before you catch a cold." Erik muttered.

"A-and cha-ange into w-what ex-xactly?" I stuttered, my teeth chattering. I was not going to stand in my shift with him here.

"Hold on a second." Erik murmured. He moved into one of the back chambers of the cave and returned with a dress. It was a peach color, with a dark brown corset and lace ruffle along the sleeves and swooping neckline. The skirt was layered, the same lacy material bordering the bottoms of each layer. It was beautiful. Where had he gotten such a gown?

"It may be a little big, but I'm sure it will work," he said, handing the dress over to me. I took it and he turned away from me so I could change. I desperately wanted to remove my soaked clothing, so I accepted his offer and undressed quickly and slipped into the gown he had given me. It was loose at the shoulders, but once I had done up the corset strings it fit a little better, but I could tell the dress was tailored for someone taller than me.

"Alright," I muttered, and Erik turned around and stared at me. His eyes looked lost and unfocused for a moment, but after a second his face returned to normal.

"Where did you get this?" I asked, running a hand over the material of the bodice.

"It was actually a costume from Don Juan Triumphant," Erik explained.

"Oh," I said. Erik stooped and gathered my wet gown in his hands.

"I'll keep this until it is dry and then return it to you," he said, hanging the dress from a little notch in the rock. I nodded, not sure what I should say. He was the strangest man I think I had ever met. He seemed so kind a gentle, how could he possibly be a murderer? But of course it could just be an act. Or maybe he could truly feel sorry for what he had done... There was really no way I could know.

"Here," he said, roughly shoving the leather folder that contained Don Juan Triumphant at me. I grabbed it quickly, as though I expected him to jerk it away and made sure all the pages were accounted for.

"Well I suppose I should be leaving now." I muttered, rocking back and forth on my heels.

"Yes, I suppose so." Erik said. "And remember, not a soul can know."

"Of course." I murmured, not looking at him. And with that I left.