Chapter 3: Down Once More

Just as Christine and little Clarissa were passing by the side of the opera house, they heard a PSST! Clarissa stopped and looked about her.

"Hello?" Christine pulled on her hand.

"Come along. We've got to find your Papa."

PSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST! Clarissa leapt out of her mother's arms and to an old grate near the back of the Opera House. Two eyes peaked at them.

"Erik!" Christine glanced around and knelt by the grate.

"What are you doing in there?"

"Visiting my old domain. Would you care to join me? He opened the grate.

"NO! It's too damp and dark for her, she'll be scared." Christine frantically looked around for anyone in the streets. There was no one.

"C'mon, she's not scared. I think you are." Christine gasped and walked into the opening he held for them.

"It stinks, Mama!" Clarissa seemed only upset by the smell, and not the darkness.

They slowly made their way to the chapel, where Christine began to cry softly. She spied her father's portrait still sitting next to it's candle. The chapel had not been destroyed.

"Don't cry, Mama." Clarissa looked close to tears herself. Erik took her and sat her on the seat by the stained-glass window.

Christine moved to sit next to the portrait as she used to. Erik knew she needed this time so he spoke softly to Clarissa, who was still frightened. She climbed in his lap and touched the mask the one he hardly wore around her.

"Hiding, Papa?" He nodded and she buried her face in his chest. He began to sing to her softly, an old lullaby.

Christine lit the candle in front of her father's picture. She bowed her head and prayed for him and thanked God for her many blessings. She still cried for her precious father, but was comforted that Erik and Clarissa were there.

She let the candle burn, not knowing if she would return. She stood and turned to her husband.

"I'm ready."

Erik picked up the now tired Clarissa and moved to the hall. Christine looked out to see if it was clear. It was, and they picked their way to her old dressing room. It was empty and dark, it was restored though. New paintings were hung and there were fresh flowers everywhere. The Opera was prepared for La Carlotta.

Erik growled under his breath. "If they think I'll let her…" Christine glanced sharply at him. He cleared his throat and moved toward his mirror.

They went to his old mirror passage, and tried to pry it open. It had been bolted shut. Erik gave a now sleeping Clarissa to Christine. He felt around the mirror until he found a latch which opened the entire frame of the mirror, and not just the glass. He swung it wide open and moved inside the damp passage.

Christine followed and handed Clarissa back, feeling her weight now. Christine was exhausted…emotionally and physically. Erik noticed.

"Christine?" She nodded to him.

"I'll be alright, Erik. Please just hurry. I'd like to sit down." He nodded and continued through the passages.

When they reached the lake, Erik pondered how to get across. He remembered an old passage he barely used, as a shortcut. He moved to the walls and felt them, shifting Clarissa. He found the old passage, very close to one of the rock columns underneath the grand house. He pushed the small rock he found in, and the passage door moved. Christine gasped.

"Mon Dieu." She moved behind him though the passage until they turned and met a solid rock wall.

"Oh Erik…" Christine sounded disappointed, but Erik made her gasp again. He pushed in yet another rock, and the door slid open, revealing the back of his organ.

He stepped around the cobwebs, dust, and scattered music, into his home. Candelabras were broken, music ripped, his curtains torn. The mob had obviously taken his palace apart. Christine's hand flew to her mouth. Erik moved around his old home and looked about.

"It's destroyed." He led them to the room where he had kept Christine once and put his daughter on the swan bed. The same bed he'd laid his wife when he had first brought her to his lair. He looked up at his wife and she smiled sadly.

"I'm so sorry. At least they did not ruin the bed." She sat on it, and tucked Clarissa in, who stirred. She opened her eyes briefly.

"Mama?"

"Yes, bebe?" Clarissa reached out a little hand and stroked her arm, where the lace of her dress was flowing out of the sleeves. Clarissa didn't want to take her nap.

Erik went off and brought back a small music box, in the shape of a barrel organ. Attached, the figure of monkey in Persian robes and playing the cymbals. Christine smiled.

"Here bebe." she wound it up from it's bottom, and the monkey began to play.

Clarissa watched the small monkey until her eyelids drooped and closed finally. Christine set the box by the bed and took off her daughter's little ballerina shoes. Erik laughed softly.

"She didn't seem so shy performing for the ballet tarts, did she?" He sat next to his wife. "You've taught her well." Christine nodded and looked down at her linked hands.

"Erik-" She stopped, uncertain of her husband's reaction to her question.

He took her chin in his hand and pointed it toward him. "what is it? Too many memories?"

"No," she took the gloved hand that held her chin and slowly removed the gloves. She looked up and his face and sighed. "I want Clarissa to train with Madame Giry."

Erik's face hardened for an instant and he came off the bed. He paced around the room, then sharply whispered to Christine, "How could you think-" Then he stopped. A light came into both his eyes.

"I wonder…" He looked down at his angels. The one asleep, and the one pleading with her eyes. His little daughter was an exceptional dancer for her age. She paid attention, she liked to dance. This could also help Christine, if she were to stay in the opera scene, to return to the stage. Perhaps even start out dancing. He might not have to resort to "ghostly" schemes after all.

"Alright Christine. But only a couple times a week." She smiled. He sat on the bed once more, carefully so as not to wake his little one. "After all, you teach her so well, how do we know if another teacher might ruin her?" Christine laughed and hugged her husband.

"Oh, thank you, Erik." She rubbed her eyes lightly.

"I think my other angel would like some rest as well." Erik said. Christine took off her own shoes, and lay next to Clarissa.

"What will you do, love?" Erik took her hand.

"I believe I might explore a bit, perhaps set things to right. We'll stay here the night, I'll send word to the carriage. It might be nice to stay here at my old home once more." Christine yawned and nodded.

Before he could leave the bed, Christine reached up and grabbed the side of his face. She kissed him when he bent down then carefully removed his mask.

"Please," she remarked. He nodded and set the mask by his bed.

"Sweet dreams." He closed the black curtain around the bed and watched as his wife curled up with his daughter.

Erik moved around the lair and took in his destroyed home. Yes, his home. The other's never seemed real, but here, where music was worshiped, he felt at home. And nothing could deter him from staying a while and feeling whole again.