A/N: Thankyou for your reviews. They mean very much to me. I apologise for the delay in updating, unfortunately I had few rather… well, crap (emotionally draining) days, and couldn't find the urge to let my muse take my fingers where she chooses. However, I find that writing is better then not writing, so I bring you the next instalment.

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Further notes: Just to restate – this story basically is a follow up to the what occurred in the 2004 movie (with some alterations in the history – which you will learn about later). Basically the story in the movie (with some small alterations) is the story that the girls read about in the book "Le Fantôme de L'Opéra" by Gaston Leroux (Therefore the book, in my story, differs from the actual book by Leroux, which I have read). Apologies if this all seems a bit confusing. There also will be some influences (in terms of Eriks true story) from the real Leroux novel, the ALW musical/movie, and the 'sequel' to The Phantom of the Opera novel, 'The Phantom of Manhattan' by Frederick Forsyth (which is, by-the-way, an interesting read). None of these works do I own – all the characters and plots of those works belong to their rightful owners. I only own my characters and the situations I put them in.

Lastly, aside from the way this name of this chapter sprang forth naturally from the chapter content, I was influenced by a Ballet choreographed by Sir Frederick Ashton of the same name.

Without further ado… please enjoy

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Chapter 9:

VAIN PRECAUTIONS

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A thought had come to Moniques head as Kari and herself had entered their apartment that evening. She had spotted their reflections in the hall mirror and paused, wondering why she'd never looked at it quite that way before. Their reflections were very similar to two people they had read so much about. Kari had mid length wavy dark hair of an almost chocolate colour, and a very classical look, although American, she had the complexion of English rose. Monique on the other hand had long, straight blonde hair, she usually bunched it up into a messy birds nest of a bun, with her hair back, her pale blue eyes set amongst cherubic features were even more noticeable. They were relatively normal on their own, but when the girls were together, Monique had just noticed, they matched, very much, the descriptions of Meg and Christine. She looked sideways at Kari, she was the Christine of the pair, the operatic voice, the classical dark haired beauty. Internally Monique grumbled, for it was Christine, not Meg who got the Phantoms affections. It was then a sudden realisation hit her, something she hadn't pondered before, but now suddenly seemed clear as day. She wanted to look at the end of the book again. She was just about to go into her room to take it off the shelf when she stopped. She had left the book with Erik. "Kari, can I borrow your book for a bit?" they didn't even have to say which book 'the book' was THE book. Kari frowned, "Monique… uhhh, in case you've forgotten – we MET him today. You know… you were there, I was there….. HE was there. We were all there." She explained as if Monique was dumb.
Monique rolled her eyes, "Just gimme the book." She demanded and headed towards her room. She suddenly felt like rewriting history once more.

Monique rolled over onto her back, putting Karis book onto the floor, practically 'rereading' the words in her head: Raoul and Christine had hurriedly gathered the mementos from Christines dressing room that she had wanted to save, and due to the easy access from her room to the outside, Raoul allowed her a quick moment to change from the soaking wet wedding dress the Phantom had forced on her. Fearing the fires hungry flames the two fled, hand in hand, to the outside world, to forever leave behind the events of the doomed opera house, and the treacherous ghoul that lay within it's bowels. As Raoul hailed for the carriage bearing his family seal Christine had spotted Meg Giry running down the front steps of the Opera Populaire.

"Meg?" Christine called to her, her sweet angelic voice trembling with emotion.
Meg had paused beside them, and it was then Christine noticed the half mask she held in her hand. Raoul clutched protectively to his future bride, as if to protect her from the mask itself. Megs face was blanched white with fear, her wide blue eyes laced with tears.

"Come with us Meg." Christine implored.
"I must find my mother…" Meg panted, her eyes darting left and right.
The carriage pulled up beside them, the horses whinnying, sensing the tension in the air, and being distracted by the mass exodus of people from the Opera Populaires burning insides.
Raoul pulled his fiancé towards the carriage, "We must go." He whispered into her ear.
"Find me Meg… we wont be hard to locate – I want you at our Wedding."
Meg nodded, blinking slowly, hiding then revealing her eyes, glassy with tears. Before Christine - safe in the protective arms of her fiancé - could say her last goodbye from the carriage Meg took off towards the Opera House once more to look for her mother.
Christine peered from the carriage as the horses hooves clip-clopped against the stones and they pulled away from the grand courtyard of the Opera House. A fleeting view of Megs retreating form disappearing around the side of the Theatre was the last that Christine ever saw of Meg Giry.

Monique sighed, she now saw that last chapter in a completely different light, aside from the gratuitous comment 'safe in the protective arms of her fiance' – no doubt more of Raouls feather fluffing. It wasn't her mother that Meg had been worried about, Madame Giry had made it from the flames just fine. Meg had been carrying Eriks mask, couldn't bare to look Christine in the eye, never bothered to find her way to the marriage of Raoul and Christine all because she had been hiding something… like Monique. Meg loved Erik. She had loved him, but he had loved Christine, and Meg had never let her feelings show. She had known that the Angel of Music had been Christines new tutor, and she had hinted at Christine for an introduction "I only wish I knew your secret… who is this new tutor?" She had wished she knew the secret alright, the secret to Eriks heart, and so badly wanted Christine to introduce her – but it had never happened. So from afar she had felt his presence, even watched and heard him – but never did get a chance to find him. Meg had even been brave enough to try and find Erik by venturing into his lair uninvited, until her mother - thinking it unwise to venture forth without invitation, and knowing full well Eriks obsession with Christine - had pulled her back. So all Meg took with her from the Opera house, was one of Eriks masks when she had forlornly discovered his lair empty, and a heavy heart that lead her to exile Christine from her life. Christine, who had had the love of two men, and finally chosen the safer option, of a rich, supposedly handsome Vicomte.

Monique looked out her window at the inky sky spotted with the beautiful fairy lights of stars, well she had rewritten history already, now she was doing it again – Erik hadn't been unloved, he just hadn't realised he had been loved. Monique wondered if she could perhaps rewrite history once more… with a final look at the stars she smiled to herself and forced herself to retire for the night.

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The next morning Monique sat anxiously in the lounge, it was 9.30 am and she had been up for what felt like half the night, she'd been for a walk, bought breakfast for the three of them and some other groceries, then she'd gone window shopping to pass time, then come home and gone for a swim, then got changed to go and meet Erik, then changed again, and…. changed again, then had stretched out on the fold out couch in the lounge to wait. It was then that she had an idea. An idea that she wasn't sure was feasible, and wasn't sure if she was crazy for even thinking it. So she decided to let the thought sit and ruminate over it for the day, and share it with Kari later.

"I think that's better now… I mean, yesterday Erik said we looked a bit boyish." Kari explained, shrugging. Now they were both wearing skirts, and feminine tops. Monique had put a little eyeliner and mascara on to further enhance her eyes, which she was told were her best feature. Neither girl spoke of their need to impress, nor questioned the other. Just as they were about to leave, the phone had rung.

"So… what'd the Director want?" Monique asked once they were in the car and on the way to the Opera de Pallisade. "She wants me and Yekaterina to do a final sing through of the aria for her today, so she can decide which of us she wants to use for the show, and we're going to do it at the theatre." She replied.
"Ooh, good, we can stay with Erik all day then." Monique seemed rather happy at that.
Kari smiled, looking at her friend out the corner of her eye, she was far too absorbed in Erik for her own good. They drove along in silence for the rest of the journey. It wasn't until Monique had parked the car and they were walking towards the theatre that they began to speak. "I hope he likes what we got." Monique gestured at the plastic shopping bags they were carrying, they contained more then enough food for all of them. Kari just nodded absently. After another moments silence, in which Monique had been thinking about how to ask Erik for a lesson, Kari spoke.

"You know.. Monique, you should know something." Kari finally worked up the courage to say.

Monique hesitated at the tone of Karis voice, then turned to look at her, "What's that?" she asked, a look of concern crossed her face. But Kari saw something else behind the concern – it was a 'I'll grit my teeth and get through it' sort of air. She was preparing herself to be very suddenly and awkwardly disappointed and let down.
Kari felt pangs of guilt shoot up and down her spine and lost heart. "The director also said I got my wish…" she finally said, with a smile, relieving the tension.
Moniques eyes widened.
"We're having a Bal Masque to celebrate the opening of the show!" she added with excitement.
"YES!" Monique squealed, already conjuring up the sort of costume she wanted to wear. And then there was the date issue…

"Does that hurt?" Kari pulled Monique out of a daydream as they wandered through the Opera de Pallisade. Monique realised she was talking about the burn mark across her neck. She shook her head, "Nah… only if I touch –but it's not that bad. I got a bit of a bruise on my hip though, from when he got a little pissy after I touched his face."

Kari shook his head, "Well.. you know, you shouldn't have touched him. I mean do you normally grab complete strangers faces?" she ventured.
Monique shrugged, letting the comment roll of her shoulders, "I don't consider him a complete stranger." She replied ambiguously, her tone effectively closing that conversation, but it wasn't long before she was speaking again.
"How is it that he is still… like… alive?" She wondered aloud.

Kari shrugged, "Coma? I dunno. He was asleep – like deeply asleep – he didn't wake from our voices or your scream, nothing. Until you touched him. Kinda like those bears y'know? The ones in America that sleep all winter."
Monique snorted, "You mean hibernate?"
Kari looked offended, "Well, in their deep sleep their hearts slow right down, their body effectively shuts down save for breathing at a very reduced rate. They're barely alive until something triggers them to wake."

Monique considered a moment, "Yeah, I see what you mean now…" she trailed off.
"Thankyou." Kari replied.
Monique snorted, "… Erik's part man-part bear." She continued on. She let out an evil laugh and pushed on ahead.

Kari rolled her eyes and followed.

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"I hope he knows we're here." Monique whispered as they began down the first stone corridor, of the level just below the auditorium of the theatre. As they rounded a bend a soft yellow glow reached out into the darkness. Erik had lit some of the candelabras along the walls to provide light for them. "He must do." Kari replied distractedly, still thinking about what she had pondered about saying to Monique earlier.
"I hope he's waiting for us at the lake." Monique whispered again.
Kari had no reply, and silence descended for a few moments, as they continued down the stone corridors – this journey much easier then their initial descent into the deep bit of the theatre.
"I hope he doesn't mind us coming." Monique whispered once more.
"OKAY! I get it!" Kari bit sharply.
Monique recoiled and looked at her, upset.

"Sorry…" Kari responded instantly, "Just tired… couldn't sleep well last night."

Monique nodded, "I know the feeling." She had barely slept the previous night at all, she kept thinking about Eriks lair, about Erik, Meg Giry, and lastly how she felt about it all. And then when she'd finally got to sleep she'd had a crazy dream that Erik was giving Kari a singing lesson again, then suddenly stopped and asked her to marry him and live with him down in his sanctum. She had agreed instantly, and they'd both sent Monique away so they could live their life in peace. After that dream, Monique had stayed up all night trying to shake of the residual feelings of betrayal.

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As they passed more floors and drew nearer to the lake Moniques pace had picked up, like a drug addict knowing his next fix was just around the corner. They rounded the last corner, and there, holding a candelabra in one hand, and a rope tied to the front of the punt in the other, was Erik. He looked as if he'd know the exact moment they would round the corner, as if he'd just readied himself for their arrival of that second.
"Bonjour Erik, how are you this morning?" Monique walked straight towards him, all smiles.

Erik took in their appearances rapidly, this morning they were very different to yesterdays surprise visit. Today they were dry for a starters, but dressed much more like ladies, and looked much more vibrant. Still, they were strange creatures, invading a place they didn't belong. But, my, they looked so happy about it all.

"This morning finds me well Mademoiselle." Erik replied gentlemanly like, though he had considered answering that he was not, nor ever had been, a bear.

Monique dropped her shopping bag into the punt, "I told you," she turned and looked up at Erik, then put one hand on his arm just above the elbow, "Call me Monique, not Mademoiselle, that just sounds weird."

Eriks eyes dropped to the hand that was on his arm. Why was she touching him? She was quite possibly the strangest creature he had ever come upon. She was already very different from the day before. She was like… a strange butterfly, he finally decided. A beautiful, and curiously evolving creature to look at, but unpredictable. Was she venomous? Would she unfurl the most beautiful delicate wings and fly away?

He finally found his voice, "As you wish," he gave a slight bow of his head.

Monique smiled, then released her hand. Meanwhile Kari watched on, barely able to stop herself rolling her eyes.
"Hi Erik" she said finally.
"Good morning to you, Mademoiselle." He replied, then shook his head, "My apologies, it is Kari, I believe."
Kari nodded, "Yeah, but I don't mind the mademoiselle thing… it's cute." She shrugged.
"Shall we?" Erik gestured towards the punt.
Monique hopped over the edge and into the front of the boat, sitting just before the lit lanterns.
Kari held her hand out to Erik, and he held his own hand out to help her into the boat.
'Damn!' Monique cursed in her mind, 'How could I have forgotten that?'

Kari smiled to herself contentedly. She was really quite enjoying the gentlemanly manners.

Once they were seated comfortably, well, as comfortably as one could in a oddly shaped wooden boat, Erik placed the candelabra back into it's place on the wall, stepped into the and punt used the pole to push off from the ground. They moved smoothly through the water, never once rocking, or veering off course. Monique had often heard that steering a gondola was actually quite difficult, but Erik made it look nothing but easy. Eriks eyes dropped from the lake ahead, to the two passengers in his boat; he didn't need to sight navigate his tunnels – he knew them in his minds eye. They were both calm, relaxed, lost in their own thoughts, wordlessly taking in their surroundings, now that he had lit some of the torches along the walls they were afforded more a view of his refuge, his prison, his home. His eyes dropped to Moniques neck, he felt an emotion wash over him that he didn't like the feeling off, the nervous pangs of guilt. He had marked her. But she had not reproached him, not shown fear or anger towards him, nor even mentioned it. He decided he would have to do the gentlemanly thing, though he was anything but a gentleman. He was a monster, through and through. Perhaps these two strange creatures, the diva and the butterfly, were blind. No… they had looked right into his eyes, and their eyes moved in natural ways. Again Erik couldn't help but wonder if their eyes had been cursed to not know danger. But then, his butterfly had been – Erik stopped. The pole dragged across the slimy stones beneath them, in his surprise had he almost released it from his grip. His passengers turned to eye him as the boat slowed, and he quickly regained his composure externally, steering effortlessly once more. Outside, he was the perfect image of poise, but inside he was suddenly writhing, seething, fighting himself. NO! How could he have done that? It was a mistake! He knew it to be. It had to be. How could he have said HIS butterfly. No… not again. He couldn't go through this. Couldn't do this to his Diva and his butterfly. Erik fought the urge to cry out in frustration. He had done it. He had somehow let his defences fall enough to think them his. To call them his. His diva and his butterfly. How could he? He had tried all precautions. In vain. Erik closed his eyes tightly, navigating blindly. He had to put an end to this. Send them away, bid them to never return. He wouldn't do this again. But…

No.

But-
NO.

But… they had come here of their own volition. Twice.
Erik opened his eyes once more, knowing them to be close to his 'shore'. It was true. They had come there of their own volition. They had bought him breakfast.
Erik was reminded of the kindness of Antoinette Giry, all those years ago. She had saved him, then kept him alive. Perhaps there were still people like that, perhaps two girls of the most purest heart and found him. But what good would it do? Surely they'd soon see how horrid he was and disappear. The diva to her stage. The butterfly to her meadows. Both, to the garish light of day.

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Thanks for reading. Please, please let me know what you think. Nothing encourages… or kicks me up the butt to update like a review does. Reviews don't give me the option of ignoring my muse or desire to write. Ignoring me, however, does. :P
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And last words from me today:
Reality is an interesting place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there.
Amen.