Author's Note: This chapter is coming to you late because we had a bunch of HUGE thunderstorms that decapitated our internet connection, and I had huge writer's block. Don't worry; I have all of my chapters' ideas written down on little white, lined, index cards, so I don't have writer's block anymore! And I found a typo in my story. Brian was supposed to stay after rehearsal for stage hand practice. My bad.

Reviewers:

Haley Macrae: Oh yeah? (pulls out machine gun, replica of the one in Scarface and stands in front of tied-up Erik) Say 'ello to mah leeelte friend! MWAHAHAHAHA!

Courtney: Haha.Sucks for you!While you're burnin', I'm brownin'!

AnadeChangy: (bows) Why, thank you for your wondrous comment!

Opal Gimstone: Well, the mask/medicine thing isn't really a cure. It's more like a reliever. The skin tissue is very exposed in that kind of deformity, so it's very susceptible to infection. The medicine is more like an anti-biotic, and the mask is used as an extra guard from infection. Oh, Lord, I sound like my mother (she's a nurse)!

MoonAvenger: NOOOOO! I NEED HIM! (somehow poofs into Erik's and Erika's hiding place, grabs Erik, and poofs back to her computer chair) (huggles Erik) My precioussss…

History Repeats Itself

Chapter 5

OoOoOoO

Since the rest of her family left that same Monday to go to visit relatives in Buffalo for the next week and a half, Tassy was left at home with her neighbor asked to checking up on her every other day. So she didn't have a problem leaving home to go to her tutoring with Erik.

As she left, carrying her folded music that Erik gave her to practice with; she noticed some dangerously dark clouds hovering over her. She sighed, going back to unlock the door she had just locked two seconds before to get an umbrella.

Raining in NYC in the summer? That's uncommon, she thought absently as she grabbed a small, black, collapsible umbrella from the closet in the hallway. She closed and locked the door once again as she walked out. The air was very thick and heavy, a warning of more then a slight drizzle. Tassy started to sweat from the heat, so she stripped herself of jacket, tying it around her waist, exposing her plain black t-shirt. Surprisingly, she found herself yearning for the cool, dark underground where she was headed.

Wanting to keep a stubborn distaste to that place, Tassy quickly forced herself to silently complain to herself that she wasn't driving a nice, air-conditioned SUV. She had her driver's license, but her mom only had a big, dirty, bulky van used to tote her big family around; in this case to Buffalo, New York. Tassy hated driving in that stinky, unattractive monster, though. Off-white didn't even begin to describe the color…

Finding herself unconsciously opening the trapdoor on the side of the community center, her stomach predictably clenched with dread as she entered an atmosphere where she knew she would be battered with criticism by Erik.

But in her shrewd view of Erik, she decided to keep him guessing. If he really did think like the Phantom of the Opera, she knew that he was used to being in control. And that would mean that the best way to crack him out of his shell and notice her as a person worth teaching is to be unpredictable. Then, once she gets his eye, it would be an easier road.

Pleased with herself, she walked though the wooden door, ignoring Erik's annoyed grunt as she slammed it shut…loudly. Approaching the organ, where he was sitting, Tassy placed the piece of music on it in an oddly business-like way, and just stood there, watching Erik patiently. He just stared at her, hundreds of different emotions playing on his features; mostly hovering on confusion. Which she enjoyed watching. Within the passing of a few milliseconds, Erik made annoyed-looking eyebrow-rise when he saw that she was just toying with him.

"Did you practice?" he asked her.

"Yes," she replied coolly, unemotionally. Well, to be completely truthful, she only practiced for maybe less then an hour altogether that day. But she had to help her siblings pack that morning, which was a very trying task, and then she had to go to the rehearsal, go home, make dinner for herself, practice for maybe half an hour, and then come here. She didn't do much, but she still practiced.

"Let's see it, then," he told her, turning to the piano. "Start at the very beginning."

"Yes, sir," she said, her voice hinting only the faintest of sarcasm. Erik began the introduction.

"Alone upon the housetops to the North

I turn and watch the lightning in the sky…What is it?" Tassy asked impatiently when Erik had stopped his accompaniment with a sour note.

"You told me you had practiced," he spat oddly through barely moving lips, his eyes locked onto hers.

"I did," she told him indignantly. "What, did you want me to practice ten hours a day or something? I had a very busy day today, anyway."

"No," he said, sounding deadly. "But I do expect you to practice for at least two hours a day. Not at the same interval…" he added, seeing Tassy's mouth opening and ready to argue. "Spread it around each day. Now…" He turned back to the organ. "I suggest you work harder on your opening notes. You're starting too harshly again. How many times must I tell you; let the notes float!"

Tassy decided to say nothing, so she clenched her jaw and nodded slowly. Erik made her practice those two lines over and over again until even he seemed satisfied. Then they moved on to the harder notes and Erik even allowed her to add the teensiest emotion to the easier ones.

During one silent interval, while Erik was writing notes for her in her music, Tassy asked him something.

"When am I going to work on 'Angel of Music'?" Erik thought for a moment.

"Once I see that you are on that level," he told her calmly. But Tassy could see instantly that this guy was trying to push her buttons. Funny, not only did he looked like he popped out of the nineteenth century, but he seemed to think that young woman were just as gullible as they were 200 years previous.

"All right, sounds fine with me," Tassy said in a very uncommon civil tone for her. Two could play this game. Yeah, it was childish, but it did have its satisfactions. For Tassy, it was Erik's brief, but baffled look. As expected, however, he got over it within a blink of an eye.

"Would you like to continue our work on your piece now?" he replied in an equally polite manner. Tassy just offered him something between a nod and a shrug.

They ran through the piece another two or three times as Erik fixed her posture, breathing, dynamics, etc. along the way as she sang. She kept her characteristic resentment of criticism to herself when Erik corrected her. It was almost unbearable, but she kept it up.

Finally, Erik said, "You may run through the piece on your own now." Tassy looked at him in genuine surprise. "I will not be correcting you at all. If you mess up, go on. I will not stop the accompaniment until the song is finished, and you will not go home until you finish the entire song."

Erik started up the accompaniment, and Tassy sang. She closed her eyes, trying to lead the music from her heart and mind, and make it flow out through her mouth. Her heart skipped excitedly as she reached the first high note. But her throat caught on the dip back down to the lower ones, creating an embarrassingly silent gap in the music. Flushed, Tassy quickly picked up where Erik was playing. She could see his jaw was clenched and his eyes sparked with displeasure.

The rest of the short piece went well, but when Erik ended his accompaniment, he just sat there for a few seconds silently.

"You got overconfident," he said simply, quietly. "Again." And with that, he started the intro. Tassy, humiliated though she was, was determined to go through the piece as best as Erik expected her to, perhaps even better. She closed her eyes once more, but this time not to just rely on some miracle that the music would magically flow out of her like some marvelous waterfall without any help from her; she closed her eyes to concentrate.

And as she did, all of what Erik had talked to her about just floated to her conscious, and she sang like she was reading a book. The more she concentrated on what was coming up, not just what she was singing, the more she could see with her mind's eye, and the more light-sounding her voice became.

When she finished, Tassy didn't dare open her eyes. She didn't know exactly why she didn't want to, she just couldn't. It was as if she believed her world was in complete control in the blissful blackness of her mind, and she didn't want to let go of that.

"Good. You've made a definite improvement," Erik said coolly and officially. "Now that you've completed the first step, I'll get you started on the next."

Tassy finally opened her eyes.

"And how many steps 'til I get the 'Angel of Music' level?" Tassy asked almost slyly.

"It all depends on you, Mademoiselle," he told her. "Now…" He stood up, and you could safely say that he literally towered over Tassy, who was a few inches shorter for someone her age. "I believe that since you have finished 'The Song of a Panthan Girl,' you are ready to move onto another for practice." He moved toward a bookcase with many of the shelves containing folders, most likely holding sheet music. As he shuffled through some of them, Tassy sat on the farthest edge of his piano seat, fingering some of the keys on the organ absent-mindedly. She was in deep thought. Should she ask? No! But why not? No. Yes. No. Yes. No.

Yes.

"What about that one song?" she asked him slowly. "The one you sang when Ken and I first met you? 'Believe Me All Young Charms' or something like that?"

Erik froze. He stood silently for a few agonizing seconds. Tassy tensed with a comeback for anything he had to say about her suggestion.

"'Believe Me If All Those Endearing Young Charms'," he corrected her, but sounding as if he was turning over the idea in his mind.

Okay, maybe she could save the retort.

"Why would you choose such a song to practice your vocal technique?" he asked her slowly. This question was one she didn't have a ready answer for, so she also waited a while to reply.

"I'm…not sure," she said quietly, yet keeping some of her confidence in her tone, and found eye contact with him. She took a deep breath, like someone about to reach their hand in a dark, black hole to retrieve some precious thing that they had dropped in there. "I think that…it's just a very beautiful song, and I want to learn it."

Erik thought again for a minute.

"It would be very complicated for your voice range," he said, musing more then stalling. "It's short, but the notes range from a low A in your voice area to a high C. You'll have to work on your habit of scooping your voice to sing something like that."

"'Scooping my voice'?" she repeated.

" 'Scooping' is when you don't go immediately to the correct note from another. You scoop," he replied, 'scooping' with his hand, and with his voice to match.

"Oh, okay," Tassy said, not exactly sure if she should say more on the matter. "Um…how does the song go again?"

Erik took a folder from the bookcase and brought it over to the organ. Tassy stood up to move from the piano bench when he sat. He cast a quick glance at her before he took out a couple sheets of music and started to play.

"Believe me, if all those endearing young charms,
Which I gaze on so fondly to-day
Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,
Like fairy-gifts fading away,
Thou wouldst still be adored, as this moment thou art,
Let thy loveliness fade as it will,
And around the dear ruin each wish of my heart
Would entwine itself verdantly still..."

Tassy felt almost like she was in a trance, but refused to close her eyes to show how much the music wracked her heart with pleasure. But even without closing her eyes, she could feel Erik's voice and the haunting music from the organ combine as it did that Sunday.

"It is not while beauty and youth are thine own,
And thy cheeks unprofaned by a tear,
That the fervor and faith of a soul can be known,
To which time will but make thee more dear;
No, the heart that has truly loved never forgets,
But as truly loves on to the close,
As the sun-flower turns on her god, when he sets,
The same look which she turned when he rose."

"Very short, but it seems Monsieur Moore did a good job writing it," Erik said quietly once he had finished. As he looked up, Tassy quickly pushed away the dreamy look in her eyes to be replaced with an expression of mild gratification. "If you would like, we can start to work on this piece now," he asked her. Tassy offered him a 'sure' in the form of a shrug.

"Can I have the sheet music for it, though?" Tassy asked. "It would be hard to practice if I don't know the lyrics." Erik nodded and gave her the music. The paper felt very old and delicate. She made a quick promise to herself to be careful with it.

"I think that I can let you look through it until Wednesday when you and Monsieur Johnson come to practice with me," he told her. "You may go."

Tassy nodded and swiftly walked out of the room with her music. For the first time in a week, she felt genuinely happy.

OoOoOoO

That was actually much better then yesterday's lesson, Celia said.

"Yes," Erik admitted. "She was a lot more cooperative today." He casually stretched out his legs from out of under the piano bench.

I think this century is getting to you, Erik, Celia teased. You're getting lazy.

"Well, what else do you expect me to do?" he asked. "I am left down here in my cavern with almost nothing to do except play music. Even after two days I'm becoming restless. I don't even have…" He stopped himself, not bearing to speak her name. So instead he changed the subject. "How long am I to be here?"

As long as it takes, Celia said sternly. You'll have to find something to do between lessons and watching rehearsals instead of mourning your loss over Christine. Erik flinched. This is not where he wanted the conversation to lead.

Erik, she told him softly. I know it's hard for you, but Christine can't be a part of your life now. She has made her choice, and it's useless to…

"Are you saying I am to forget her?" he spat, his face turning red. Not just from anger, but also from his embarrassment and sorrow. "Just like that? Forget my love, my sorrow, my pain? Just like that? No. I'm sorry, but that's impossible."

Nothing is impossible, Celia said quietly. I had hoped you had come to realize that, considering all you have witnessed. She began to walk, almost glide to where he sat. Then she stopped. But it seems we will have to discuss this another time. And with that, she promptly disappeared.

OoOoOoO

"Uh, hello? Anyone here?"

It was Tuesday; seven o' clock, and Kennedy had just descended the stairway from the trapdoor, half-expecting Celia or that strange man to show up. Nervous about his first lesson with his odd tutor, he slowly made his way along the dim corridor to the wooden door.

As he reached it, however, he could hear nothing but the scratching of a pen on paper on the other side of the door. He gingerly opened it, peeking cautiously into the room, like some small child sneaking into a kitchen to steal a cookie.

The man sat in a large armchair in a distant corner of the room, holding a notebook and an old-fashioned feather quill in his hand. A small pot of black ink sat on the small side table beside the chair, accompanied by a small, undecorated lamp.

"Um…sir…am I early?" Ken asked hesitantly in his deep, soft voice. The man paused with his writing and looked up. The man's face still chilled him of how similar it was to his own face…minus the white mask, whereas Ken had a clear one.

"No. You are very much on time," the man replied. "And you can call me Erik. Your feisty young lady friend calls me the same." Erik grinned slightly as he stood up. He was wearing a loose, white, buttoned shirt and the same black pants from the last time Ken had seen him.

As he walked toward his piano, Erik asked Ken, "Do you know your voice range?"

"Ah…no," he replied slowly, slightly embarrassed of his ignorance.

"Well, let us see then. Come here," Erik told him, gesturing to him to come over.

"Beside you or the piano?" Ken asked as he walked unsurely toward him.

"First of all, it's a pipe organ, not a piano," Erik corrected him. "And second of all, I can't hear you as well beside it then if you are standing beside me, can I?" Still very embarrassed and uncomfortable, he obeyed.

"Now, I want you to follow the organ with your voice," he told him. "Here's your first note…" He played middle C. Ken matched his voice with it. "Very good. Now I'm going to play that octave. You might have to get into your falsetto, that's your highest pitch range, while singing it. Don't be afraid to let your voice crack. Let me play it first…" He played the octave once, and then let Ken sing it. He did this with higher and lower octaves until he found his range.

"You have a range froma low Cto a high A in your range," he muttered, though he seemed to be talking half to himself. Erik was staring down at the organ, rapping his fingertips on the ivory keys. He stopped after a few seconds and looked up sharply. "To begin your tutoring," he began in a strong, authoritive voice. "You will select a piece from the…musical. I will teach you how to sight-read, posture, breathing and vocal techniques, and other assets that I have recognized that you obviously do not have."

Ken bit the inside of his cheek. This 'insultation' wasn't the best way to teach him.

"Which piece of music would you like to learn first?" Erik asked.

"Uh…well…the first piece that the Phantom sings in the play is the 'Angel of Music' reprise and 'Phantom of the Opera'…" he stuttered, half-mumbling. "But the reprise is just two minutes long…so I guess 'Phantom of the Opera would be a good thing to sing first…"

"Well then," Erik said. "Let's get started, shall we?"

OoOoOoO

Kennedy Johnson was a fast learner, Erik found out, considering he was coming from almost no prior musical tuition. But Erik also found that Ken might have more then a good memory for instruction, but may have a natural gift of singing, much like himself.

"Try to round your voice," Erik told Ken after the first hour of teaching him the first verse. "Make it loud and powerful, but don't push. Mademoiselle Williams has the same problem. You both need to fix it drastically."

"Yes sir," Ken replied meekly. Erik found an obvious change when the young Phantom sang again.

Erik was happy. He enjoyed teaching this talented boy, a young man who's unsowed genius of music could compare to his at that age. Tacita Williams, on the other hand, could compare to his stubbornness and hot-headedness. But, as much as he hated to admit it, she had the potential to sing like…like his angel.

OoOoOoO

Author's Closing Note: Okay, I'll promise I'll try to update at least once every weekend!

Peace, and don't forget to turn your clocks one hour forward!