A/N: Thanks UNSEENxGENIUS and Emma-J-Riddle for your reviews!

Chapter Eight

"Questions"

Claire tried to sit up but she was still wearing all her clothes (corset and all) and so was uncomfortable and sore allover. She lay back down with a frustrated sigh. She had been so…'in the moment' the night before that she had completely forgotten to be mad at Erik for trying to rule her life at L'Opera (she had also wanted to ask him about something that was eating at her). She found it completely impossible to be angry with Erik while she was with him. But now that he was nowhere in site or ear Claire let out her frustration by slamming her fist down on the bed. She tried sitting up again by once again fell back with a groan. She made a mental note to never fall asleep fully dressed again as she finally forced herself out of bed.

"I didn't see you come in last night." Amelie was awake and starring at Claire suspiciously.

"I was out walking." Said Claire not caring that her story was not in the least believable.

"Must have been a long walk." Said Amelie getting up to dress.

Yes, it was. Thought Claire.

Rehearsal that day was tough to say the least. Mademoiselle Giry was hell bent on blocking the rest of the Opera before the end of the week. That meant blocking a whole act in one rehearsal and they were also measuring for costumes as well. So as Claire was off stage waiting for her cue seamstresses were measuring her bust line and sticking needles in places they shouldn't go. And this was the cause of Claire missing a cue for the first time in her short carrier and for it she got a sever tongue lashing from Mademoiselle Giry. Claire just had to stand there and take it as Amelie whispered about bad omens. So after rehearsal Claire was glad to get away from the staff and cast members. The problem was she couldn't seem to get away from them at all! She shared a room and the corps de Ballet and chorus seemed to be all over the place. So in the end Claire found herself running down a spiral stairwell until she came to what seemed to be a small chapel inside the Opera. As she went to light a candle for her mother she saw none other then Madam Giry kneeling in front of her own lit candle for her own mother no doubt. As Claire lit her candle Madam Giry turned to her.

"I thought I might run into you here sooner or later." She said smiling. "This was your mother's favorite place to spend her free time."

"I have been meaning to ask you about her." Said Claire kneeling next to Madam Giry. "If it's not too bold…where you good friends with my mother, Madam?"

"Oh, yes, the best."

"What was she like? My mother I mean."

"She loved music above all." Said Madam Giry her bright smile turning to a sad one. "She was gentle and kind…but passionate underneath. She was a grand singer, one of the best to ever grace the stage. But then she met your father…and everything changed. She disappeared in a performance and never showed up again until years later when she was the Viscomtess de Chagny. She died two years after that." As Madam Giry finished she wiped a tear from her eye. But even so she looked as though there was something, something she wanted to say but dared not.

"What was her relation to the Opera Ghost?" Asked Claire, she had yearned to ask someone that ever since Vianne had given her that warning and then what those scene-shifters had said. She had begun to wonder if Erik was in fact a real Ghost as well.

Madam Giry gave a great start at the mention of 'the Opera Ghost'. "Why would you think they had anything to do with each other?" She asked clearly shaken to the core.

"Your mother, two nights ago just hours before she passed away, told me something…about the Opera Ghost. And then I heard two scene-shifters talking—"

"Oh, you mustn't listen to scene-shifters. They just like to talk nonsense." Said Madam Giry her voice seeming even weaker then ever.

"Madam Giry, I know you believe in the Ghost and I think there's a connection between him and my mother."

"There is no connection." Said Madam Giry suddenly firm.

"Sorry to have bothered you then." Said Claire as she left the chapel with now even more questions. But Madam Giry had, unknowingly, proven one thing; something had indeed happened between her mother and Erik. But what? And what was the connection with them and Vianne's death? She had to talk to Erik; she had to ask him. So she did the one thing she knew might call him to her. She began to sing.

And sure enough in the shadows a figure appeared.

"Erik, I need to talk to you." Said Claire almost pleading.

But as the figure stepped into the light…oh, horror of horrors! It was not Erik but the Comte de Gabriel!

Claire gasped. "Comte…I…what are you doing here?"

"I was told I would find you here." Said the Comte simply.

"What do you want?" Asked Claire trying to regain her composure.

"Well…" Said the Comte wiping his forehead. "I just…thought it would be nice…to see you. And…well, I mean, you're in L'Opera! I would have never guessed!"

Claire, who was now convinced that the Comte had a nervous disorder, decided to be kind to him this one time. "Yes, I was rather surprised myself." She gave a faint and fake smile.

The Comte wiped his forehead again. "Yes, well…you see I had come her in hopes of, um, asking you if you are still coming with me to the Masquerade."

Claire's smile faded. "Oh, of course." She forced her smile back into place. "Well, I really must be going." With that she hurried passed the Comte. And when she rounded a corner nearly shrieked as someone whispered in her ear,

"Well, he is an insolent fool of a boy!"

"Erik!" Gasped Claire turning to him. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" Claire looked around nervously. "Could we talk in private?"

"Of course." Erik led her to an old dressing room (it had not been restored yet). It was dark but a window provided some light.

Claire felt the sudden urge to just say what was bothering her so she did. "Erik, why are you teaching me music? Does it have to do with my mother? And about Vianne…how does she factor in? I need answers, Erik." Claire felt a bit out of breath. Come to think of it this was the first real time she was talking to Erik about anything other then music. It felt slightly odd but she kept going. "Vianne Giry told me that you were dangerous, that I should stay away from you. She told me you were confused and I wasn't the one you wanted. I need to know why she said that. Is it true or not? By God, Erik, say something!"

"There is nothing I can say." Whispered Erik.

Claire starred at him, amazed. "You could give me a reason why. Why do you hide everything from me? Erik, I…I feel as though I'm losing myself in all these unanswered questions. Can you not at least answer one?"

"No." said Erik softer then ever.

Claire looked into his half-covered face, her hands itching to tear away the white mask. She had to know she had to see what it was he hid. His mask seemed to taunt her with what she did not know. "Let me see your face…" said Claire walking towards him. "Let me see the truth."

"The truth isn't what you want to see." Said Erik shaking his head.

"But I do. I want to know." And as quickly as she could she lunged forward and tore the mask from Erik's face. A scream of pure agony came from Erik as his hands flew to cover his revealed face but Claire had already seen him. Her own hands went to her mouth to suppress her scream as the mask hit the floor. His face, so distorted, so scarred, so haunted! But it was not the face itself that caused her tears it was the cries from Erik.

"Are you satisfied now!" He cried coming up to her. "This is what you wanted to see is it not!" His hands left his face and grabbed her by the shoulders forcing her to look at him. "Feast your eyes on the disgusting truth!"

Claire could not answer through her tears. She wanted to tell him that he did not disgust her but every time she opened her mouth a sob came out instead of words.

"You little demon! Damn you! Now you too can never be free!" he threw her away from him as he fell to his kneels and cried.

Claire sat where she had been thrown down unable to move. What had she done? Why did she have to see? Why couldn't she have let it be? Why did she have to be so damned curious? How could she make this right again? She slowly crawled to Erik. "Erik…" She was still trying hard to speak through her thick tears. "Erik, listen to me. You don't disgust me…no amount of ugliness on the outside can change who you are. You are still the same man who sings me to sleep, who watches over me, who…who freely gives me his beautiful music. And I…my feelings for you have not changed. I still care deeply for you, Erik." Claire took Erik's deformed face in her hands and looked him in the eyes. "And nothing can change that." She held out his mask to him, which she had picked up.

Erik looked as though he couldn't believe what he was hearing, as though what was happening was impossible. "Come," He said wiping away his tears and taking his mask. "It is late. You must get to bed." He placed his mask back on his face and disappeared leaving Claire along.

She buried her face in her hands and sobbed. "Oh, Erik! Erik! Please, forgive me!"