Author's Note: Thank you so much to those who have taken the time to write me a review. Please keep them coming. It should also be noted that in this chapter I make allusions to Mozart's final Opera The Magic Flute. I have taken some artistic license in casting Gia as Papagena as the role would normally be sung by a soprano, and not a mezzo.

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The following day passed in a whirlwind for Gia. Rehearsals were in full swing, and between having to learn her assigned part as one of the ladies in waiting to the Queen of Night, she was understudying the role of Papagena. It was certainly not as crucial a part as the Queen of Night which she did not have the voice for, but it was still a principal role. As a result, she had extra costume fittings which she loathed since Madame Beaulieu, the costume mistress, forever chided her about the width of her hips. If by chance she was called on, the costume would have to be radically altered to fit her larger frame. Not for the first time she wished she could have been more like her mother, who had been so petite Gia could nearly span her waist with her hands when she had been corseted. In all the rush of activity, she had nearly forgotten who awaited her that evening.

She instinctively knew that the Phantom would be most displeased if she altered her routine in any way that would draw attention to herself. She behaved as though nothing had changed, that no mysterious gentleman had ever impressed himself upon her. After a light meal at a café close to the opera house, she made her way back to her room, unsure of what would be awaiting her.

When Gia swung the door open, she found the Phantom sitting in her bedside chair, with her copy of Les Misérables in his grip. She had expected he would at least look up at her entrance, but his only movement was to casually turn the page.

"Are you enjoying it, then?" she queried, distain fairly dripping off her tongue. "Perhaps you would like to borrow it."

"I have read it before this. I was merely amusing myself until you arrived." On that note, he stood and carefully returned the book to its place on the second shelf. "You have a most impressive collection for a chorus girl. Can you actually read all of these?" he sneered, gesturing toward the titles in Italian and English.

Incredulous at his insult, she shot back at him, "I will have you know, sir, I can curse expertly in at least four languages. Would you care for a demonstration?"

Erik let out a low chuckle. It would seem this young woman was not the meek creature he had thought following their initial encounter. She was trying to keep her emotions in check, and failing rather spectacularly. Already her face was flushed, her eyes bright, and her hands were shaking by her sides. She was furious, but too well bred to display her temper openly. "And what languages would that be, my dear?" he deliberately mocked, interested in her reaction.

"French, Italian, English, and German," she paused a moment, then added, "I can also read Latin, but alas, my knowledge of cursing in that language is most limited."

"It would seem you are a scholar, mademoiselle. Whatever are you still doing here?"

Gia was slightly taken aback by this. Was he actually praising her? It was the first vaguely civilized thing he'd said to her since she had made his acquaintance. Finding her voice, she returned simply, "Hardly. Mama insisted I learn English in the hope one day my father would come here to see me and I could speak to him in his own language. Since I rarely have anyone to speak with, I read instead. I learned German from all those operas by Wagner and Mozart. It was not overly difficult."

"Still, you seem to possess an intelligence greater than that of your peers. That is most fortuitous." He made a short, mocking bow and gestured toward the wardrobe, "After you."

"I would prefer to follow you, since I cannot be sure exactly where we are going. Besides, I do not know how to open the panel." Gia hoped she was able to put into her voice a firmness that would disguise her fear. He would follow closely, almost hovering, and it would be a distraction. If she could assert some control on their uneasy relationship, perhaps he could come to respect her and her limits. He said nothing, but slid past her, opened the old wardrobe doors, and a moment later she could hear him stepping into the stairwell on the other side. Gathering her skirts, she stepped through the doors and entered the Phantom's world.

Waiting on the landing, Erik extended his free hand to assist Mlle. Burnside but found she pointedly ignored it and stepped down unassisted. In his other hand, he clutched a lantern as the passage contained no lighting of it's own at this time of day. He gave her a moment to get her bearings, and then asked, "Do you know where we are and where this leads?"

He watched her face intently, and she knit her brows together, her face becoming quite pensive. "I believe so. If we were to take these stairs up we should get access to the roof. This staircase will take you to the near the flies. From there, it is easy to get to the stage." He had asked her this as a test, if she lied to him here, he would have no choice but to expose her to ridicule as punishment. However she had answered honestly and to the point his question. He wondered if she would continue to be as helpful when it came to the opera staff.

Erik had deliberately allowed her to think that his only interest in her was to learn the complicated geography of the old building. Just as valuable would be her insights into the main players and the manager. He had no doubts she knew all the gossip that flew about this place, even if she behaved as though she were above it all. Information was the key to his return to prominence. He must know who would be the most vulnerable to his suggestions and what he could threaten them with in order to get their attention. Strange then, this proud young woman, whose life was so dull and colorless had within her brain the ability to cause so much chaos. And all because her greatest fear was that in her spare time she still enjoyed dancing.

"That is correct," he returned in response to her answer.

"So you were testing me, then?" she added, displeased that he did not trust her. She had done nothing to make him think she would ever disobey him. Clearly, he was not aware of the depth of her fear of the world outside the opera house. If he was, he would have known there was no danger of her betraying him. Gia, being a clever woman also realized that she must do her best to conceal this fear from him if at all possible because he would be sure to exploit it.

"It would have been foolish for me not to. I needed to know if you would, in fact, be of any use to me. I know you have lived in this place your entire life, but I could not be sure how well you know it," he concluded with a mysterious half smile.

"When I was small, I used to make Mama crazy by disappearing for hours at a time. Sometimes I would just go into the attics where the old props and costumes are stored with my books to read and get away from all the insanity. But once I began ballet training, I was able to get away less and less. I miss that. That feeling there was no one alive in this place but me," she said as she lowered her eyes toward the floor, clasping her hands tightly. Seeing this, Erik's eyes softened slightly. This woman seemed to long for the very thing he despised society for. It had decreed that men like him must hide and not show their face in the midday sun, and here she was perfectly content with a life filled with nothing but loneliness, her books, and her work. At her age it was unnatural. He stifled the desire to grab her and tell her just what it was like to live a life alone in an opera house. Instead he nodded in acknowledgement and began to make his way down the staircase.

Soon they came to the top of the flies and the main staircase that led backstage and to the ballet rehearsal rooms. Walking ahead, Erik moved swiftly and noiselessly and soon they were in the deserted corridor near the dressing rooms that some of the members of the opera company would use for trysts. Gia had made it a point to avoid this area for nearly ten years, and felt uneasy as old, painful memories assaulted her senses. Suddenly, the Phantom stopped and drew from his cape a black domino mask. However, there were no eyeholes so the wearer would be completely blind. The simple command came, "Put this on," and she did not hesitate.

It slipped on easily, and she immediately threw her arms out, grasping at the air so she could find something to hold on to only to find he slipped his leather clad hand into hers. She resisted at first, trying to snatch her hand away, but his grip was far too strong. No doubt from years of practice climbing the Opera Populaire. He gently began to tug her, and since she could not see, she would have to force herself to rely on him. Her palm was sweaty, and she flushed, hoping he would not notice. To end the uncomfortable silence she spoke, her voice slightly tremulous, "Where are you taking me sir that you do not want me to see?"

"To where I live. There we can speak without fear of anyone taking notice of us. Perhaps in time the mask will no longer be necessary between us."

"I thought you wanted me to show you around the opera house. It would seem you know this place well enough without my assistance."

"Perhaps I want something more from you than just a tour," he purred, choosing his words carefully knowing the impact they would have. As expected, she turned away from him in an attempt at escape. "Calm yourself, woman! You allow your imagination to run wild. I have no debauchery in mind." The words seemed to soothe her, and they resumed their journey down into the bowels of the opera.

No longer did their steps resound against squealing wooden floorboards, but instead echoed through the stone caverns Gia was aware lay beneath the building. The decent was steady and she was thankful the ground was fairly even, for she shuddered to think what could happen if she lost her footing with only him to break her fall. She silently berated herself for getting into this position. She had taken a vow never to be at the mercy of a man, and here she was, one misstep away from falling into the grasp of a dangerous one. With her eyes unavailable to her, Gia pricked up her ears memorizing the sounds of where they were going. Unfortunately, the only sound came from her footsteps and the sound of their combined breathing. If she hadn't been so nervous she could have counted the steps so that she might retrace the trek on her own.

In the distance, she could hear the faint sound of water dripping and she wondered if the Phantom expected her to swim in her dress. Quickly she realized he must have a boat of some sort since he had always appeared to her dry and neatly attired. The sound of water grew louder and soon they stopped and he let go of her clammy hand. Gia heard a couple of thunks, and then his voice, "You need to take two steps forward so I can assist you into the boat."

"I wouldn't need your help if I could take this damn mask off!" she said shortly, with more than a trace of exasperation in her voice. Nevertheless, she did as he bid, and this time she did not flinch when their hands made contact.

"Raise your foot." When it scraped along the side of the boat, he bent over and urged her, "Higher, Gianna," the sound of her name rolling off his lips. This time her foot made contact with the stern and he pulled her up. Knowing she would weigh far more than Christine, Erik overcompensated and found his arms filled with the quivering Mlle. Burnside, much to his chagrin. Her body was pressed up against his and her left arm had wound itself around his neck. From afar, they looked like lovers about to share an ardent embrace. Without a word passing between them, he gently removed her arm from around his neck and helped her sit down. She sat still as a statute, her hands resting in her lap. Turning his back to her, he picked up the staff and began to punt them toward his lair.