A/N: If you can't understand a word Charlotte says, there will be a glossary at the bottom. Also, I hope this shows Erik a bit more compassionately.

When she first woke, she had no idea where she was. It was dark, and she was moving. It was only until she heard the ripple of water that she realized she was on a boat. She hated boats. She leaned over the side and was sick. Most unfortunately, she was still disoriented, and was a little messy about the whole business.

"Are you alright?"

Charlotte jumped. It had never occurred to her that the boat wasn't moving by itself. "W-w-ho's there?" She asked, meekly, still leaning over the side of the boat.

"Your new teacher." He replied, his voice deep and soothing.

"Hr Opera S-s-s-pøgelse?" She was too dazed to realize she was speaking Danish.

"Yes, that is I. Now, go to sleep. I'll wake you when we get there."

Charlotte was cold when she woke. It was for two reasons. One, it was terribly chilly down there, and two, she was wearing a white shift that wasn't hers. Even in her still drugged state, she knew that shift was not her own. It was made for a body shorter than hers, and with more of a figure. It was too short, and while it stretched tight across some areas of her block-like figure, in others the dress hung limp, like where her waist should be, and most disappointingly, in the bust. Another thing she realized was that it was terribly dark where she was, and it frightened her.

"G-g-goddag?" She asked warily, still speaking in her native Danish. "T-tat-teh?" She switched to Yiddish. Then back to French. "Is ther an-an- yone her-e?"

She heard footsteps approaching and tried to hide. It was useless, but she wasn't sober enough to realize it. "Mlle Dubois?"

Who was Mlle DuBois? Surely he wasn't talking to her. Who was he, anyway? "Papa?" Her speech was still halting and mismatched.

"I'm not your father, Charlotte, I'm your teacher. Come with me." She was being lifted.

"Who is C-C-C-Char–?"

"You are." There were candles where she was now, and she saw that the man who was holding her was dressed nicely, but he had on a white mask covering part of his face. She would ask him about that later, but first she had to clear up this nonsense about her name.

"My n-n-n-am is-n Ch-a-r."

"Then what is it, then?" He was just humoring her, but she had to tell him.

"Tikva."

"And, why, Tikva, was I told your name was Charlotte?"

"Be-c-caus they a-a-r'n s'p-p-os t' k-k-no!"

"They aren't supposed to know what, Tikva?"

"This." She reached her hand down the front of her shift and fished out her necklace. She waved it slowly in front of his face, before putting it back down and lifting a finger that felt as heavy as lead to her lips. "Shah. T-t-el no-on!"

"I won't tell anyone Tikva. Are you feeling any better?"

"A lit-lit-little. I dun like b-b-oats."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Wh-wh-why ar yo we-wear-ing tha- mask? I-i-is it a c-c-c-costu- ball?"

"No, it isn't a costume ball, Tikva. You see, we both have a common bond, we both are hiding someone. You hide your true identity with a false name, and I hide my face behind a mask. You still don't seem to be feeling well. I'm assuming the fools that run my opera gave you the whole bottle and didn't tell you to stop when you reached half."

"B-b-bott? Wha– bott?"

"Oh no. What did they give you when you went to see them? A glass of water?"

She nodded slowly, before her head drooped to her chest, and she felt unable to bring it back up.

"The fools! They drugged you!"

"I can see we won't get anything done at all today. Why don't we let you get some more rest and sleep this off?"

She didn't say anything, just moaned. She felt herself being lifted again, and then it was dark.

The third time she woke she felt completely normal, if very confused. She couldn't remember anything at all, and was very startled when she heard someone walk in.

"Are you feeling any better now?"

"Better? Oh, yes, thank you. And you are?"

"Erik. But, if I remember correctly, you called me Hr Opera Spøgelse."

"What? I don't remember anything."

"Ah, temporary amnesia. Often a symptom after one wakes up from being drugged."

"Drugged?"

"I'll explain it in a minute. Perhaps first you would like to get dressed in your real clothes?"

Real clothes? She looked down. She wasn't wearing her dress, only a shift. She felt so violated.

"I'm truly sorry, Mlle. I only removed them so that they could be cleaned. I figured that you would be more comfortable this way."

Cleaned? She felt something being thrust into her arms. It was her dress. And it was damp. "May I have some privacy, monsieur, wherever you are?"

"Certainly. Come out when you are ready." She heard footsteps walking away.

Charlotte pulled on her dress. Her head ached, however, and she couldn't do up all the buttons. She was glad to see that she was still wearing all her undergarments. He had only removed her dress. Still, at the thought of it, she shuddered. This strange man, whom she had never seen, knew only his first name, removing her clothes while she was drugged? It was barbaric!

"Monsieur?" She stepped out into a room lit with many candles.

"I'll have to send you back soon. I'm terribly disappointed that we accomplished nothing."

She looked at him. One half of his face was covered with a mask, how curious. She thought of asking him about it, but decided that it wouldn't be polite. "How awful. What do you mean about my being drugged?"

"Well, Mlle, I greatly regret this, but I was afraid that you wouldn't want to come see me, so I gave the managers something to give you. They gave you too much, and you were quite ill, and seemed unable to think correctly."

"You what? They what? I what? Did I do anything?"

"You did nothing shameful other than be very sick on a boat ride, which was something you could not control. Therefore, I removed your dress so that it could be cleaned. I apologize if I frightened you."

"N-no."

"Really, Tikva, it wasn't my intention."

She was about to say that it was nothing to worry about, but she stopped, and her mouth dropped open. "What did you call me, monsieur Erik?"

"Tikva, it is your name isn't it?"

At that moment, Charlotte realized something. Her necklace. She didn't remember seeing it. She began tearing at her collar. She didn't notice the fabric was ripping, only that she didn't see the thin chain anywhere. "How do you know? Where is it? I know you have it! Give it to me you thief!"

"Give you what?"

"You know!"

"This?" He pulled out a necklace, her necklace and held it up. "You were moving around when you were unconscious and I didn't want you to strangle yourself, so I removed it. Don't worry, your secret is safe with me."

She raced over to grab her necklace. He was standing there, holding it out for her. Her arm stretched out to grab it, but because she was so tired, and her head was in so much pain, that she missed. Falling forward, she reached out, her arms flailing about wildly. Finally, she connected with something, and held on for dear life. Most unfortunately, what she grabbed was his porcelain mask, and she tore it off before falling on the floor.

A/N: Here you go. I've even translated the stuttering bits for ou all.

"W-w-ho's there?" = Who's There?

"Hr Opera S-s-s-pøgelse?"= Hr Opera Spøgelse=Mr. Opera Ghost [Danish]

"G-g-goddag?"=Goddag?=Hello? [Danish]

"T-tat-teh?" =Tatteh?=Father?[Yiddish{American Transliteration}]

"Is ther an-an-yone her-e?"=Is there anyone here?

"Who is C-C-C-Char-?"=Who is Charlotte?

"My n-n-n-am is-n Ch-a-r."=My name isn't Charlotte.

"Be-c-caus they a-a-r'n s'p-p-os t' k-k-no!"=Because they aren't supposed to know!

"Shah. T-t-el no-on!"=Shah. Tell no one.=Quiet. Tell no one. [Shah=Quiet/Hush in Yiddish]

"A lit-lit-little. I dun like b-b-oats."=A little. I don't like boats.

"Wh-wh-why ar yo we-wear-ing tha- mask? I-i-is it a c-c-c-costu- ball?"=Why are you wearing that mask? Is it a costume ball?

"B-b-bott? Wha- bott?"=Bottle? What bottle?

Hope this helps. Maybe you learned some Danish or Yiddish. I did.