Disclaimer: Why must I resort to this every single time I post a chapter?

–gets down on knees pleading to stuck up lawyer guys in their schnazzy Armani suits, who shake their heads—

DRAT! I can't escape from the demand for disclaimers! What is this world coming to?

–Lawyer men grin evilly—

gulp.

A/N: Well, anyway, -looks nervously at malicious desk knights- ahem. Umm, yeah. I KNEW YOU GUYS WOULD ABSOLUTELY LOOOOOOOVE THE CLIFFY!

BobMcBobBob1: Oh. I didn't know there was a second one…hmm…maybe I'll go try and find it at the BX…but I don't think they would have it there. ZUT! That means I'll have to make a trek with the family into civilization CoughRosevilleCough. Sometimes it really stinks living way out here on the base. But it's really pretty out here, so I guess it KIND OF makes up for everything I'm missing…like going to a REAL high school, having a NORMAL life. Alas, that is not what the Fates have in store for me, unfortunately. I am doomed to a life of un-normal-ness. I've got Passion play practice tonight, so I tried to squeeze this in for you!

ShadowFairy101: Same goes for you! See? I UPDATED FOR THE BOTH OF YOU! Harrumph. Your review tickled me ALMOST to death. If it had, I wouldn't be able to post this for your enjoyment! Do I sense another cliffhanger in the VERY near future?

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!

-Alianne

A Question of Honor

Last time:

The hair on the back of her neck prickled. Christine whirled around but saw nothing except the crowds hurrying by. She resumed her walking and came upon a deserted alleyway. She remembered that it was a shortcut Anna had showed her, just in case the crowds got too big for Christine to get home quickly.

She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise again, and before she could register what was going on, she was slammed into the brick wall by a strong pair of hands wrapped around her throat.

Erik didn't know what possessed him to abandon his silent mansion and stroll down the streets of the French Quarter, but somehow he found himself doing exactly that.

Years…centuries had gone by…and he had lived through them all. Never growing older, never dying…just…

Existing.

Two hundred years he spent wandering the earth, a lost soul yearning to be found once more. Although, the pain had lessened over the centuries. Christine and her husband the Vicomte had died, their sons traveling to America to seek their fortunes, and most of all, to get away from him. He knew there had been books written about him, oh yes; and movies as well as a musical. He had never seen Monsieur Andrew Lloyd Webber's musical, himself. Quite ironic, he thought. Maybe I should see this rendition of my pitiful story. Lord knows I could get a laugh out of it.

A stray tourist accidentally bumped into him, and she looked shocked for a moment, but shrugged it off and merely went on her way, accompanied by her boyfriend.

Erik was shocked, needless to say.

He passed by a group of ridiculously costumed street performers clad in vibrant masks, and his questions were answered.

It seemed everyone was strange here in the French Quarter.

He turned a corner and heard a woman's scream of rage muffled amongst the din of the clubs in the chilly night air. It was faint, but it was still there. He tried ignoring it, but it became louder as he approached an intersection. There was a red light barring the pressing crowd from crossing the busy street. His winced as another scream tore through the air, a high unbroken soprano filled with an even more enormous amount of rage. It sparked his interest, and he pushed his way through the crowd of tourists and party-goers as soon as the green man flashed on the post across the street.

It is definitely a woman, he thought to himself as he stepped back onto the pavement of the sidewalk. What other kind of creature could make such racket?

He was horrified at what he saw.

The bitter smell of alcohol assaulted Christine's nose, ragged breathing accompanying the disgusting stench of a man not washed for what smelled like weeks.

Ewww…Christine thought, before her eyes widened, shocked at the situation she was thrown into. Rage flowered from her in waves.

HOW DARE HE? Christine thrashed against his iron hold, kicking him everywhere she could find, hard. But no matter what she tried, his hold on her gripped tighter, forcing her to breathe short shallow breaths.

"Dear little girlie, we ain't gonna hurt you. We's just gonna have us a little funnn, aren't we boys?" the drunken man said to his inebriated companions, who were laughing their heads off, amused at the girl's desperate attempts to shake off her captor.

"DON'T YOU DARE TOUCH ME!" Christine screamed furiously.

"My, you're a feisty one, ain't ya?" the man gripping her throat moved a hand down her shoulder and down her side roughly.

"You MONSTER! Get OFF!" she screamed again, thrashing, trying to bite the hand that was pinning her to the wall.

The man's hand found the hem of her white sundress and began inching his way up her thigh, looking into her eyes all the while. Christine's eyes burned with hatred, his merely mocked her.

Christine took advantage of this, and spit right into his face. Her attacker howled and she was thrown unceremoniously into the side of a dumpster.

The pain was excruciating, but she knew she had to get away from these, these, creatures. She ignored the pain sprouting from her back and sprinted out of the alleyway, not noticing a man clad in black watching the whole scene take place.

The girl's attackers recovered from the shock quickly and chased after the redhead.

Erik decided that he couldn't let this go any further and ran after the gang. A wave of tourists blocked his way, making him lose sight of the girl and her assailants. He swore under his breath until a soprano's yell caught his attention again. This time it came from behind him?

Ah, a smart girl, that's for sure. Crossing the street and going back the way she came. Brilliant. Most brats would have just kept running their legs off in one direction, and get caught. Hopefully, this girl would escape…

He spun around and walked swiftly towards the still sprinting redhead. My, does she have some endurance! He thought. His strides became longer, and he caught up to the girl, who suddenly turned into another alleyway, and jumped behind a group of large crates stacked upon one another beneath a metal fire escape.

Erik raised the eyebrow on the unblemished side of his face. What is she doing? Those men will surely find her there. Perhaps she's not as bright as I thought…

He heard the girl climb atop a crate jutting out towards the ladder, groaning with the effort it took to scramble onto the rungs of the metal ladder.

It seems I was proven wrong yet again. He thought, smirking. He leapt onto the stack of crates and grabbed the struggling redhead with ease, climbing the ladder with a catlike grace he had perfected over the years. Of course, it was not as easy, because a certain girl with dark copper hair fought in his arms still, thinking he was one of her attackers.

"Get off! Please!" she cried, noticing the ground pulling away from her.

"That's no way to treat you rescuer, is it, my dear?" Erik raised his eyebrow again, a lopsided smirk crossing his features. He reached the roof, still carrying the girl in his arms. He set her down, but quickly regretted it, as she flew at him, raining blows to his chest.

"YOU! I TOLD you, just leave me alone!" she cried furiously, bringing her hand up to slap him.

He caught it, and told her, "Stop it this instant, little lioness. You are safe here. Do you think I would do to you what they almost did? You think my honor as a gentleman would allow that?"

Christine turned towards the edge of the roof, her red curls soaked with sweat, breathing heavily as she looked out over the city.

"I was doing just fine on my own, you know. I didn't need your help," she said.

"Maybe next time I'll just leave you then, hm?" Erik replied, his French accent showing through, frowning at her audacity. He had expected at least some sort of gratitude, but with this girl, he wasn't getting any!

She controlled her breathing and her voice was strong, unwavering as she spoke, even though she was silently marveling at the man's voice. It was amazing! Like velvet, only softer, silkier, more enchanting…I guess velvet's not good enough a word to describe it. She thought to herself.

"Thank you…"

His eyes snapped to the illuminated figure of the girl, who still stared out at the city of New Orleans in all its glory.

"If you hadn't shown up when you did…I would have suffered a face worse than death. So, thanks for you help…"

Erik's amber eyes softened a little as a chilly breeze whipped the tendrils of her copper locks and sundress around.

"Even though I was doing fine on my own," she continued.

Erik rolled his eyes. My God, this girl is stubborn.

Her voice traveled from her place next to a winged gargoyle.

"Quel est votre nom, Monsieur?"

He blinked behind his half mask. So she knows French?

The man was silent for a long moment before he answered.

"J' ma pelle est Erik, mademoiselle."

The redhead didn't turn around, but spoke again, echoing his previous thoughts.

"So, you indeed know French? I thought you had an accent about you. I'm still learning, but I guess it comes easily. I can understand what some of the shopkeepers here say, but I still get lost halfway through." She chuckled, seeming oblivious to the fact that just a few minutes ago, she was running for her life.

The man once known as the Phantom of the Opera was stunned.

"But aren't you afraid, little lioness?" he inquired, walking over to the girl.

"No. I'm terrified," she replied simply. Erik was once again stunned into silence. Christine turned her face to see her rescuer and her breath hitched in her throat.

He was TALL!

She saw the mask, the elegant sweater and tailored slacks, the golden eyes. The uncovered side of his face was the most handsome she had ever seen…this face was familiar…she had seen it in her dreams ever since that stormy night four months ago.

"You're…I…" her voice trailed off.

"Yes, mademoiselle? I'm what?" he asked, amusement and confusion dancing in his eyes.

Christine recovered her bearings and answered, "Nice costume ya got there. Suits you! Will you be in the parade tomorrow night? There'll be lots of guys dressed as the Phantom of the Opera, well, come to think of it some girls might, too, but gee, you've got it down! All you need is the suit and cape and you're perfect!"

Erik spluttered. She thinks I'm dressing up? "I assure you, mademoiselle, you are mistaken. What makes you think I am in costume?"

Her eyes grew comically wide and she stuttered.

"But…No one could look that good in a mask like that. Umm…well, what I mean to say is…drat." Christine's face steadily took on a pretty pink tinge and she tore her gaze from his and looked back out over the city. She jumped when his hand covered her shoulder.

"You were brave, little lioness. You need not be afraid of me, as I have said before."

"But I'm not!" She protested shaking her head vehemently as she walked over to the ladder. "And my name, Monsieur, is not 'little lioness' as you so charmingly put it."

"Then may I inquire as to what your name truly is?" he asked, following her to the fire escape. She took the first few steps down the rungs and looked up again and gave him a brilliant smile.

"It's Christine. Christine Chagny." With that, she finished her way down the ladder and walked out of the alley, waving up at him before she turned a corner, vanishing out of his sight.

Erik felt like a knife had plunged through his heart, opening wounds that had never truly healed.

Chagny?

They came here? Of all the places in the entire United States of America, they had to come here?

Erik felt another headache coming, but couldn't shake off his curiosity. He needed to find out more about this Christine Chagny girl.

He climbed down the escape and hid in the shadows, following the redhead down the streets of the French Quarter, past a neighborhood of newly painted Victorian houses, until she came to a yellow two-story with a quaint white half fence surrounding the front yard. She slipped through the front door, and crept up the stairs.

Erik saw a light turn on from an upstairs bedroom with a small balcony, and the form of Christine Chagny opened the French doors, allowing the curtains to sway delicately in the breeze. She stepped outside, turning her face towards the quarter moon, slightly shivering in her white nightgown. She began to hum softly, closing her eyes as the pale moonlight washed over her face. She didn't notice the shadow with golden eyes watching her intently underneath the tree that grew right next to the balcony.

Her voice…what would she sound like if she sang? He found himself thinking.

She spoke to the night, enjoying the caress of the breeze gently picking up wisps of her long red curls and tossing them into the air.

"I met the most wonderful person tonight…He reminded me so much of Erik, the Phantom of the Opera…but that's not possible. I guess I'm just excited about seeing it this Friday night at the Amphitheatre. I can't believe Daddy's actually letting me go…Well, I guess its goodnight, for now."

She smiled up at the moon, and went back into her room, leaving the balcony doors open.

She crawled under the covers, reaching over to turn off the lamp. Christine fell asleep fairly quickly, and Erik could stand it no longer. He swiftly climbed the magnolia tree and stepped onto the balcony. He walked over to the sleeping girl's form and his heart tightened as he gazed at her peaceful, smiling face. From somewhere in his coat pocket, he dug out an untouched rose that he had never remembered putting there, so dark red it seemed almost black in the moonlight. He set it down on her nightstand and brushed the curls from her forehead. He silently exited the girl's room, taking care to close the French doors before climbing back down the huge magnolia tree and walking back to his mansion in the outskirts of the other side of the French Quarter.

He would be seeing this girl again, make no mistake.

YAY! I just finished typing this at 10:03. TEN O'CLOCK AT NIGHT, PEOPLE! I would really like to see some reviews after this, if you don't mind! I think this has to be THE longest chapter I've EVER written!

How do you like it? Is my version of Erik adequate for my raving readers? I happen to like him very very very much! Tell me if you have any ideas for what could happen next! I DO have plans, but I think any additional insight would really help!

Now,

REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!

Thanks!

-Alianne