Another chapter for my lovelies! I'm sorry for this chapter and the last for being short...they should really be together but since it's from two different view points I split them up.

Claire slowly opened her eyes. She had suddenly been awoken by a foreign sound. She lifted her tired head from the pillow and propped herself up. For a moment she was unaware of where she lay. Her eyes darted around, helpless and lost. Black curtains hung around her, obscuring the sights which lie beyond it. Claire felt the covers which were silky and warm. These were not the covers she had in the dormitory.

Then it dawned on her. She was not in the dormitory. In fact, she was no where near there. She was below ground, in the Phantom's lair.

"How odd to awake to such nice conditions in such a lonesome place," she said softly. The music that had woke her still played on. The notes crescendo in one long, angst filled note, and then fell back into a soft and lonely melody. She silently got out of the bed, which she took in for the first time. It was in the shape of a swan, a prop of some sort that was adorned with many exotic looking pillows and fine linen. It was almost inviting enough for Claire to get back in and fall asleep.

"No," she reminded herself and looked to the black curtains. She reached out her hand and felt the material. It was rough and choppy and felt nothing like anything on the bed. She looked around for a way to raise it and found a tasseled rope. She looked above and noted it was attached to some sort of mechanism. Being the only thing in sight that could even be connected to the curtains, she gave it a pull. The curtains rose slowly.

She stepped out of the small chamber and was immediately assaulted by the image of Erik sitting at the Organ. He looked so absorbed in his music, his body moving with the notes. She couldn't help but smile at this sight. She tread as lightly as she could but she knew he'd hear. The music stopped and she stopped with it. She watched as Erik turned around and gazed at her, his eyes burning into Claire's own.

"Your playing woke me," she said softly, not wanting to anger him. She watched as his expression softened and then harden just as quickly. He rose from his seat and began to pace, his head in his hands. One side of her wanted to run to him and hold him, the other wanted to turn away and ignore him.

"I am sorry," she heard him say, his voice barley a whisper. He turned his back to her. Claire was at a familiar cross road, her heart torn in two different directions. This man had taken her hostage, treated her coldly. He had also shown her music and love in such a way Claire never dreamed possible.

She moved towards him. She knew it was foolish but her heart was in play and she could not deny its will. Claire now stood behind him. She took her hand and placed it on his shoulder. It was the most innocent of things, a kind gesture. So, when Erik viciously shoved her to the ground she was stunned. She fell in an awkward position, her hands catching her before her face slammed into the ground. The ground was cold and wet with moisture. She did not care. Claire felt as if she'd been shot through the heart and left for dead. She turned her head from him, not wanting to see his anger. That was when the tears begun to start. She couldn't stop them from falling. She was silently sobbing over a man whom she barley knew. How could she have been so naïve as to think he'd actually treat her with an inkling of kindness? Her hair hung in her face, shading her world in streams of black.

Then she felt the hand press lightly on her bare skin. The first reaction that passed through her was confusion. This hand, Erik's hand, was ungloved and touching her. It was cold, winter confronting a summers day. She accepted this icy hand and gave into the sensation of such contrasting temperatures. Her tears had subsided. She was wholly focused on his hand running down her arm. It stopped at her hand. She didn't know what to do. What did he want from her? Claire would have normally taken the hand without a thought, but this was different. Erik was no normal man. But, as always, reason flew out the window and she gently took his hand in hers. There was a moment of silent understanding and then she felt herself being helped to her feet. The instant she was standing upright on her own, he rather bitterly removed his hand from hers. Disappointment and shame flashed briefly in her eyes before she masked them with an uncaring gaze.

Noticing this Erik said,

"You have been a delightful guest but I fear it is now time for you to be leaving. Come, you are more missed above then below."

Claire didn't say anything in response to this. All she could do was accept the cold and uncaring answer and move on. She wished this to be the end of it all, this little game he was playing, but she knew it was not to be so. As she watched him walk over to a throne like chair stationed close to his Organ and pick up his cloak, she knew it had only just begun. She was now caught up in the sheer madness that called itself the Opera Ghost.