Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with the Gaston Leroux estate, nor do I pretend to be. Please don't sue me.

Author's Note: This will be the third chapter. I believe there will be six, just to let you know. Thank you very much to all of my reviewers, an author could not ask for a better crowd of polite phans. Please continue to read, review, and enjoy!

Janette

The days that followed Marie and Lisette's telling of their encounter with the Opera Ghost had been high strung, to say the least. Whereas the ballet girls had previously been brave enough to walk through the halls with only three other girls for company, they now could not even leave the dressing room without at least six companions at a time. Knowing that Lisette and Marie had run into the Ghost only half a hallway down from their dressing room put a new trepidation to their steps, a timorousness that even La Sorelli's presence couldn't remedy.

Janette, seventeen years old and far more world wise than the other girls, prided herself on being braver and more rational than her younger peers. As such, today, when all the other girls had already gone home for the evening and Janette still sat at her vanity fixing her powder, she was not at all concerned with having been left behind and all alone in the dressing room. On the contrary; she was glad for the absence of giddy shrieks and twittering giggles that the girls emitted as they flounced about the room, frightening each other and gossiping. Janette was relieved to have a moment's peace in which she could primp and gaze at herself in her peer glass without interruption.

She began to hum to herself as she stood and walked behind the changing screen. She took her time getting dressed, careful not to ruin her dress by smudging it on her freshly applied powder. Once she had straightened her skirt and situated her (somewhat immodest) collar, she went to fix her hair. She took her time again, basking in the idleness that she could take to get ready to leave. Pinning her curls up away from her face, she began to sing full out, not caring how loud she was because she knew that no one could possibly hear her.

"O how strange, like a spell

Does the evening bind me--"

But abruptly she stopped, because she was almost certain that she had heard something that sounded oddly like laughter coming from the walls. Glancing about herself, her eyes suddenly wide and frantic, she cleared her throat and went back to her hair.

"And a deep languid charm

I feel without--"

This time she was sure she had heard a laugh, mocking and cold, coming from the wall directly behind her vanity. She dropped her hands from her hair and glanced about once more. With a deep ignored fear suddenly creeping to her heart, she started to sing again.

"I feel without alarm

With its melody--"

This time, it was a voice that interrupted her.

"I beg of you, mademoiselle, do not slay that song anymore than it has already been slain. We have singers to do that for us."

Janette screamed and jumped to her feet. Gasping and looking around herself in alarm, she stood in the middle of the room, safely away from the talking walls.

"Who's there? Who is that?" she demanded, not at all amused. "If this is some type of silly prank, I don't find it very funny."

"Why, it isn't a prank at all, mademoiselle. It is simply I, your resident Opera Ghost, making a very simple request."

Janette blanched. "The Opera Ghost?" she choked out, her hand flying to her throat.

"Yes, indeed. Now please, will you obey my request?" the Ghost asked in a polite voice. "I already have to tolerate your abysmal dancing, please to not make me endure your even more abysmal singing as well."

Janette's jaw dropped in indignation. "I beg your pardon? The absolute nerve! There's absolutely nothing wrong with my dancing!"

"I beg to differ," the Ghost laughed, obviously enjoying himself. "Your dancing is quite atrocious. Didn't little Giry relay my message to you all?"

"What? No, she did not."

Janette was getting uneasy. She had believed that Meg had been making up that story about her encounter with the Ghost in Box Five. She also thought that Lisette and Marie had been encouraged to make up their own story of meeting the Ghost after they had seen what a stir Meg's story had caused. She thought they had all just been seeking attention, but that their stories were quite untrue. Now she knew for a fact that they weren't...

"Oh, that's really too bad. You'll have to ask her to tell you what it is that I said sometime. I'm sure you'll be most amused."

"I'm sure I will," Janette replied, beginning to scowl.

"But really, mademoiselle, I'd like to return to my request. Please do not sing. It's enough that I have to listen to La Carlotta destroy perfectly harmless music, it's another thing entirely that I have ballet rats to worry about now."

Janette scoffed. "I didn't ask you to listen to me! It's your own fault for eaves dropping!"

"Frankly, mademoiselle, your voice is rather hard to escape. It pierces one's ears in a most unpleasant way."

"I never!" Janette marched over to the vanity and gathered up her gloves. "I don't have to stand here and listen to a ghost insult me!"

With that, she marched proudly out of the dressing room and began to walk furiously down the corridor.

As she began to pull her gloves on, she was most dismayed to realize that a voice was following her.

"You'll find that I'm rather hard to get rid of. Will you agree to my request or not?"

Turning sharply in the direction the voice was coming from, Janette looked blankly into thin air. She turned her head in confusion, expecting to see the Ghost standing there. Lisette and Marie had said that they'd seen the Ghost, and that he looked like a regular man. Janette saw nothing.

"Where are you?" she asked lamely, turning about in all directions.

"I'm right here," the Ghost said, his voice coming from beside Janette's left shoulder.

"Why can't I see you?"

"Because I don't want you to."

"Are you afraid to show yourself to me? I already know what you look like."

"That's not it at all. I just simply don't want you to see me. It's very easy to understand."

Janette put her hands on her hips and stared at the empty space to her left. She scowled and then began to march off again.

"I don't know why I continue to waste my time here. If you'll excuse me, I have better things to do than banter with the air."

"You are excused, only if you answer my request."

"What is your request?" Janette snapped, not turning her head.

"You know very well. I want you to promise me that you'll never sing again. You'd be doing us all a favor, you know."

"You're quite a rude spirit, are you aware of that?"

"Yes. Please stop trying to change the subject, I'm not easily thrown off."

Janette walked faster, hoping that she would get rid of the Ghost once she exited the Opera. She all but ran down flights of stairs, until she stood on the Grande Escalier. The Ghost, it seemed, had run along with her.

"Please do not think of leaving until you have answered me, mademoiselle."

Janette sighed. "If I answer you, will you please leave me alone?"

"That has been my intention from the start. You made it far more difficult than it had to be. If you had answered my back in your dressing room, you wouldn't have had to run down all those stairs."

Gasping, her corset never feeling tighter, Janette nodded her head in the direction she thought the Ghost might be in, and gave another sigh.

"Fine, monsieur. I concede to your request. I shall never sing in this House again. There. Are you satisfied?"

"Most intensely. You see, mademoiselle? That wasn't difficult at all, was it?"

Janette glared.

"I shall take your silence as a 'No, monsieur.' Splendid. Very well, mademoiselle, you may be on your way."

Janette put her hand to her forehead in exasperation and began to walk down the stairs. She was almost all the way to the bottom when the Ghost called out to her, stopping her in her tracks.

"Be sure to tell all of your friends that you have met the Opera Ghost. You could be the star of the corps for a whole week."

Janette stepped off of the staircase, not looking back up towards the voice. "I'll remember that."

She wondered why in the name of God people were afraid of that Ghost. He was nothing but an annoying nag.

Erik watched as the little ballet rat flounced out of the Opera. Safe in his dark corner, he laughed richly to himself. She had put up a good fight, and she had made it quite hard for him to stay concealed. However, he was much too skilled to let a little girl's storming and raging get the best of him. He allowed himself a few more chuckles, then made his way back to his lair.

Perhaps now he could compose in peace without that girl's horrible voice echoing down into the cellars.

Hopefully she would hold true to her word. Maybe, if Erik was lucky, forever.

Finis

Author's Note: Like it? Hate it? Tell me. :)