A.N: I chose the Sonata form for my second movement. This usually entails contrast between two or more themes and/or tonalities. I tried to do this by using two mediums, written correspondence and normal prose.

Second Movement -Sonata

November 9, 1871

My dear Vicomte,

No doubt you are surprised to hear from me once again. How is dear Christine? I do hope she is well. I would ask that you give her my regards, but I suppose that you will not be overly disposed to grant my request, given the history between you and I.

The reason for this letter is that I wish to come to terms with certain injustices I have committed against you in the recent past. I wish to arrange a meeting, just the two of us, so that we may talk of the past, the present, and the future. I shall send a carriage to your estate one week from today, at precisely eight in the evening. It shall take you to a neutral location where we can discuss things in peace. I request that you arrive unaccompanied. I shall know if you are being followed. What I have to say is for your ears and yours alone.

I remain, your obedient servant,

O.G.

Erik watched the ink dry slowly on the parchment, its wet sheen slowly but surly turning dull and dark. When it had finished, he carefully folded the parchment and slipped it into a small envelope. Next, he dripped a pool of red wax over the back of the envelope, and stamped it with that familiar seal, the blood-red skull grinning almost mockingly. Involuntarily, Erik felt a shudder pass through his bodyClosing his eyes, he inhaled deeply and willed his trembling hands to be still.

Outside, the boy was waiting. Erik paid him the usual sum, both for his service and for his silence. The boy took the letter, and after a few whispered instructions, set off to deliver it to its final destination. The wheels were set in motion, the deed begun, and Erik felt almost giddy. It was literally out of his hands now. Now all that remained was to wait, and to watch, two things that Erik knew how to do only too well.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When the boy came to the doorstep of Raoul's estate at such a late hour, part of him knew the reason, even before the child handed him the letter with that damnable grinning skull seal on it. The boy turned to go, but Raoul called him back sharply.

"You, boy…wait here a moment," he said, trying to keep the tension out of his voice.

"Please pardon, monsieur, but my instructions were…" the boy began, edging towards the door.

"Whatever he's paying, I'll double it," Raoul snapped impatiently. The boy's eyes lit up, as Raoul knew they would. The boy stopped where he was, and stood at attention, looking at Raoul expectantly.

Raoul tore into the letter, and read it quickly, then re-read it, more slowly this time, its words burning. Yes, that was the familiar script, the customary ending, no doubt it was him. Damn it all to hell…would he never just…disappear?

Raoul sat down at his desk, and whisked out a sheet of paper. Dipping his pen into its ink well, he began to hastily jot down a reply. To hell with formality.

O.G, Phantom, or whatever the hell your name is…I want to make one thing very clear. I shall play along with whatever twisted game you have in mind, but I want you to understand one thing. This is the end of it. If you ever attempt to contact Christine, I will not hesitate to have you killed. She, in her womanly weakness may have some feelings of pity for you, but I assure you I suffer from no such emotions. I know she gave you the engagement ring…I want it returned. This is not a negotiation.

Raoul folded the letter and sealed it in an envelope, and gave it to the boy, along with a large bag of coins. The young man happily pocketed the money, and took of running into the night. Raoul thought briefly of having him followed, but decided that it would be wiser to wait. There was no rush, after all, the Phantom would soon come to him. And regardless of the promise he had made in the letter, Raoul planned on being prepared. He would not let that monster slip away again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A hesitant rapping on the door brought Erik out of his half-dazed state. He shook himself grumpily, and warily made his way to the door. He looked out the window beside it, and snarled in a sudden fury when he saw the boy standing outside. He wrenched open the door, and dragged the frightened boy inside before slamming the door behind him.

"What in the HELL do you think you are doing?" he growled, as menacingly as possible. "I believe I made my instructions very clear. Yet what do I see standing here before me? A little fool who decided to disregard said instructions, and tempt my wrath by returning here uninvited. Tell me, little fool, why I should not string you up by your thumbs and hang you over the edge of my balcony?"

The boy had turned several different shades of white during this tirade, each paler than the one before it. When the angry man before him finished his ranting, the boy spoke up timidly,

"P-please, m-monsieur. He p-paid m-me g-good money, and I thought-" At those words, Erik's eyes narrowed and the boy finished hurriedly, "H-he also g-gave me th-this…" the boy held out the letter with a trembling hand.

Erik's eyes fell upon the dancing piece of paper, and the edge of his mouth twitched ever so slightly. He snatched the letter from the boy, who jumped backwards a couple of steps as the masked figure came near to him. Erik glared at the boy for a few seconds, then snorted and grabbed the boy's right hand. The boy let out a strangled shriek that quickly died as Erik enfolded another purse of money into the boy's hand.

"Go now," he told the lad sternly, "And don't come back."

The boy didn't need to be told twice. He was out the door like a shot, and down the street and out of sight before Erik could count to ten. Erik watched him go, then shut the door and locked it. He had no fear that the boy would reveal his presence, after all Erik had paid him a small fortune. Erik also knew that the boy most definitely would not return, which was all for the best as he had been entirely too quick to disregard the orders given to him.

"And if there is one thing I cannot stand," Erik mused to himself aloud, "It is someone who fails to follow orders." The comical faces of Richard and Firman as they read one of his letters flashed through his mind, and he chuckled at the memory. Erik tore open the letter from Raoul and read it. For a moment, he was silent.

"Ah, so angry my dear Vicomte," Erik whispered. "Such fury…but then, fury is akin to passion, is it not?" A smile played across Erik's lips. "And you need have no worries for Christine. But as for the ring…" Erik reached into his pocket. His fingers caressed the beautiful piece of jewelry as he thought. "Perhaps an agreement can be reached in that regard," Erik pulled out the ring, and slipped it on his little finger. He smiled. "Yes, I believe it will."