A/N: Thank you all so much for your responses to the last chapter! Also, I want to thank all of you who have been sending me reviews since the beginning. I sincerely hope that the new names I have been finding in my inbox continue to review as well. And because you have all been so wonderful, I can almost certainly promise you smut in the next installment. Looking forward to hearing from you all soon!

Pierre's regular employment was as one of the scenery shifters at the Metropolitan but when he was informed by Monsieur Dupoix he could earn an extra few francs guarding Adrienne Leveau's door, he had jumped at the chance for the extra coin. It did not promise to be an overly taxing duty since the attack on the woman had occurred far from the opera house. Why would he risk chasing after her here? The man probably thought she was dead at any rate. For that reason he felt no guilt when he allowed himself to fall asleep late last night. When he awoke he went to do as he had been instructed the night before, check on Mademoiselle Leveau and if she was in any distress to fetch the doctor.

The room was devoid of noise when he entered it, and the young woman on the bed lay completely still. It struck him, a man with no education to speak of as not normal. There was something not quite right, and afraid, he poked at her, standing as far away as possible. There was no reaction, and he tentatively lay a hand against her cheek. The skin was cool to the touch. She had to be dead. He automatically crossed himself.

Not certain of what to do, but remembering his instructions, he went for the doctor who had as a courtesy spent the night at the opera house in one of the private dressing rooms. He spent all of a minute in the room and stated that she must have simply passed away during the night, most likely because she stopped breathing. It was not uncommon with people who had suffered injuries such as hers. The doctor calmly gave the sad news to the manager who promised he would make the arrangements for her funeral and burial, since as far as he knew, the girl had no family.

In the wee hours of earlier that morning, Antoinette Giry made her way to the boiler room where the coal furnace was. She was aware she was quite fortunate that it had not been put out. The April nights were still cold enough that the fire was still fed. She had to be cautious that she was not seen, but few were awake at four in the morning. She tucked the pillow she had used to smother Adrienne Leveau with under her arm. She walked swiftly, but not too quickly; she did not want anyone to wonder where she was off to or ask questions should they happen to be awake.

The heat from the furnace room was stifling even though she stood before the iron door wearing only her nightshift and a pair of slippers. The handle on the door would be hot, and Giry used a corner of her gown to protect her hand. The blazing heat hit her hard, forcing her to take a step back. The orange-red depths looked almost alive as the heat poured off in waves. She carefully added the pillow to the fire, and watched as the flames consumed it. She would not leave until she could be certain there was no evidence of the crime she had committed.

A chill ran down her spine despite the warmth. Aside from that, she could feel nothing. It was as if her soul had become numb. Had Erik felt like this when he killed the gypsy who had been his keeper? Probably not. But then, Erik had ample justification for killing him due to the abuse he had endured. She would share this with no one, despite the fact her actions would eat away at what was left of her heart. She had taken this burden on. She had done it out of love for Erik and for Gia. As the last of the pillow disappeared into the flames, she shut the furnace door then returned to her room to dress. No doubt Dupoix would want to make an announcement before rehearsal about the death of Adrienne Leveau.

As Madame Giry had anticipated, Dupoix made the announcement that Adrienne had died during the night not long after rehearsal had begun on the stage. When there were frightened gasps from the assembled company, he assured them that the physician had determined her death had been from complications due to her injuries, and was not unnatural. He went on to add that the funeral would take place at St. Etienne's on Thursday morning. All rehearsals would be suspended that morning so all who wanted to attend the funeral could do so.

Once he left Madame Giry took a moment to address her dancers. "I realize the events of yesterday have come as a great shock to many of you. And although this will seem callous of me, I want to say here and now, I will not allow Mademoiselle Leveau's untimely death interfere with my rehearsals. Save for Thursday morning, all practices will go on as scheduled. I expect ALL of you to attend unless you are gravely ill. There is much work to do. I remind you that the reputation of this opera house may well rest on how well we perform in a little over two weeks. Now, let us begin from the beginning of Act II."

There were some grumbles of discontent, but for the most part, everyone seemed to be in agreement. Mourning could take place behind closed doors, but life would go on. Monsieur Reyer struck up the entr'acte and everyone took their places and the rehearsal proceeded like any other.

In one of the upper balconies Erik found himself stunned. Adrienne was dead! No matter it had not been directly by his hands, he was the supervening cause. He should have controlled his anger. But he knew that he had done what was necessary to protect Gia. It was lamentable that Adrienne was dead, but Gia was safe from her slanders. He should have made a greater effort to control her when he released her, but it had all happened so quickly. In one moment he could think of nothing but squeezing the life from the mezzo's body, and then he had really looked at her and what he was doing, and he found he could not continue.

He had hoped that Adrienne would recover from her injuries eventually and that Gia would be able to forgive him. A reconciliation was unlikely now. She would blame him, no matter what the doctor had said. He deserved every bit of hatred she heaped upon him. He turned his focus back to the stage and watched Gia at work. While some of the other ladies of the corps de ballet were decidedly distracted, her thoughts looked to be on the task at hand. Gia was beginning to make the role of Myrta her own, and her confidence appeared to be growing. At least he had given her this. She would finally have her moment in the spotlight, and she would rise to the occasion.

The thought she might never speak to him again caused his entire body to shudder. How would he live without her? It was not just the physical intimacy they shared, but over the weekend they had become as one. He could not imagine finding that closeness with anyone, even Christine! He had to convince her to come back to him. He could not live without her!

Listen to yourself, you melodramatic bastard! This is what years of living and breathing opera has done to you. Can you not recall what happened the last time you tried to force your affections on a woman? Distraught, Erik found himself unable to watch the rehearsal any longer. It was simply too painful. He retreated to his lair to think about what his best course of action would be to try to win Gia back. He was not even certain if he should try. It might be best to simply leave.

The news that Adrienne was dead had wounded Gia. Her first instinct had been to rush off, find Erik, and scream at him for what his actions had caused. She could not prevent the dark thought that perhaps her death had not been natural as the physician had decreed, but that during the night he had stolen into Adrienne's bedroom and finished what he had started. Even more unsettling was the knowledge that he had attacked Adrienne in order to protect her, or so he said. He had just as much to lose as she did if she had been successful in summoning the gendarmes to the Metropolitan.

The thought he was willing to kill for her was an unsettling one. He had killed before during his obsession with Christine. Did he think of her the same way? Was it only a matter of time before he began festooning his lair with drawings of her and composing music for her?

That would never happen. She did not possess the sort of beauty that inspired men in that way. He loved her, but it was a quiet, intense love, not the all consuming lust he'd once had for Christine. A part of her envied Christine for that. Certainly he had never failed to satisfy her when they made love, but she wondered if he had been holding anything back. Was there a part of him still saving the full measure of his passion for Christine? Would that always be the case?

Gia pushed that aside and concentrated on the rehearsal. It was much easier to get lost in the music and the steps of the dance than to think of the implications of what had happened the day before. She had removed herself after Erik made his confession because she had not wanted to say anything that would make it impossible for them to be together again. One night alone without his presence had been uncomfortable. Her life was cold and empty without his embrace and his hot green eyes to warm her.

She should hate him and want nothing to do with him after what he had done to Adrienne. Instead all she wanted was to forgive him and somehow forget the entire incident. But Adrienne was dead. Her soul had left this life and passed into the next one, and he was at least partially responsible for it. How could should forgive him and not hate herself for it? Would that not mean she was condoning murder?

Her mind awhirl with all these questions, Gia approached Madame Giry after practice backstage. The ballet mistress did not look the same as she did yesterday. She moved as if there was some heavy burden on her shoulders, and yet her face was almost a complete blank. The knuckles on her right hand were bone white from clutching her cane so tightly. Gia even thought she heard an audible sigh come from the woman who had always been the picture of restraint when she drew near.

"Madame Giry, may I speak with you for a moment, if it is not too inconvenient?" Gia asked carefully.

For a moment Giry seemed to become her old self, relaxing slightly, but the tension returned the moment she began to speak. "I have an excellent idea of what you wish to discuss my dear. You looked rather shocked at the news of Mademoiselle Leveau's untimely demise. Surely you know that such deaths are not uncommon given the extent of her injuries?"

"Still I fear that Erik was involved in some way. And even if he was not, he was the one who put her in that position! And what of me? He did it to protect me! How am I supposed to live with that?" she implored the older woman, her eyes swimming with tears.

Giry replied flatly, "There is no reason for us to doubt the doctor's medical opinion. If it had been murder, I would have thought there would have been some evidence of it. She just stopped breathing, Gia. You must not destroy yourself over this." Seeing how beside herself the young woman was, she took her by the hands and led her into one of the deserted practice rooms. "If you had not left so quickly last night you would know that Erik did not mean for this to happen."

"What on earth do you mean?"

"Simply this: Erik told me that while he had every intention to kill Adrienne when he first took her from the opera house, he was not able to do it. He released her and then she ran off and fell. He brought her back to St. Etienne's out of guilt, not that he would ever admit to that aloud. You have changed him, Gia. At any other time I have known him, Erik would not have hesitated. He would have killed that girl and left her in some alley and not thought twice about it."

It had been an accident? She should have stayed and listened to what he had to say. He deserved better than for her just to run off thinking the worst of him. She could only hope that he would not stay away for long. He had to know that she had already forgiven him. Christ, she had forgiven him before she had known he had not meant to kill her! If she knew him, he was probably down in his home at this very moment torturing himself, channeling his guilt into his music.

Gia bid the ballet mistress adieu and thanked her for the conversation. That night she knelt before her bed and asked God to bring Erik back to her. She needed him.

The rehearsals went on as scheduled on Wednesday, and still Gia saw no sign of Erik. She was not even sure he was watching them practice. She prayed at every opportunity that he would not stay away much longer. She needed to speak with him, if only to hear that mellifluous voice of his. His absence had only magnified what a stark, lonely existence she had without him. Being alone had once been a comfort, but now she found it intolerable. Even her books had proved to be ill company.

Thursday morning dawned warm and lovely, and Gia arose early to dress for the funeral. She may have not liked Adrienne Leveau in life, but she had been a colleague, and good manners, nay more than that, her soul demanded she attend, even if it was uncomfortable. She wore one of her best black gowns, and wore no adornment. Her only accessory her reticule in which she had placed her mother's rosary beads.

She arrived at the church early, and the place was nearly filled with the various employees of the Metropolitan. Everyone was dressed in the best dark clothing they owned, and more than a few looked uneasy simply sitting in the church waiting for the Mass to begin. Gia did not doubt that many of them had not been inside a church in years. When she went to sit in the back of the church, she caught a flash of blonde hair in the corner of her eye and saw Meg Giry gesturing for her to take a seat with her and her mother. Gratefully Gia sat next to them, but she could not help noting that Madame Giry looked incredibly worn.

There were dark circles under her eyes, and the woman was working her own strand of rosary beads feverishly. She was so lost in them, that she did not even bid Gia good morning, and Gia was not about to interrupt her. It was only when the strains of the entrance hymn began that the older woman even looked up. She gave Gia a world weary smile, and they watched as the coffin was borne in by six pallbearers.

It was strange, despite the somber occasion, the church itself was beautiful. The nearly cloudless day had caused the church to be filled with light, setting off the stained glass. The colors fell all over the mourners and the cotton draped casket. At the altar, there were large wreaths of flowers, no doubt paid for by the opera house. And when then coffin came to its rest at the front of the church, a small bouquet of white roses was laid at the center of it. Obviously someone had loved Adrienne a great deal to go to such expense. It made Gia feel all the more wretched that she had despised the girl so much.

Father Lessard presided over the Mass, but Gia was barely able to concentrate on what was going on around her. It was the first funeral she had been to since her mother's, and the familiar prayers brought her no comfort. What would her mother think of the situation she had put herself in? She would be appalled that her daughter had taken up with a man who dare not show his face in public. She would have castigated Gia for sleeping with a man who was not her husband without even the hint of a promise of marriage. Gia thought back and recalled that he had once said he would take her with him if he was going to leave. That mattered more to her than a ring and some words mumbled before a priest or magistrate.

An hour later the Mass had ended and Gia found herself out on the street in the full sun. The birds were singing, unaware of the tragedy of the say. The burial was going to be private, with only Adrienne's close friends attending. Truth be told, Gia was relieved to be free of her obligation. Outside the church, she murmured another prayer for the peaceful repose of Adrienne's spirit. The last thing she needed was for a real ghost to start haunting her, she thought with a half-hearted laugh before she made her way back to her room at the opera house. There she divested herself of the gown and put her practice things back on. Madame Giry was sure to be testy at having lost the morning to the funeral.

As Gia had predicted, the stern ballet mistress worked them hard during the afternoon, but upon seeing that the corps de ballet was unfocused she abruptly dismissed them saying they were wasting her time. Her face had become red with fury, something none of them had ever seen before, and even Monsieur Reyer looked shocked. She spent what was left of the rehearsal with the principle dancers who were so stunned by her outburst that they jumped whenever she opened her mouth, afraid she would find fault with them. Something was wrong with Madame Giry, Gia realized, but she doubted that she would share it with anyone.

Once the rehearsal had mercifully ended, Gia went back to her room, anxious to get away, even though she dreaded another night of solitude. She was quite taken aback when she opened the door to find Erik sitting in her bedside chair, looking immaculate, his hands neatly folded in his lap with his head bowed low. She would wager he had been here some time waiting for her. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with emotion, but he said nothing.

"Erik," was the only thing that came to mind, and she said it softly, almost unbelieving he was there. She closed the door which made a soft click as it shut.

"I know you cannot stand the sight of me now, but I had to see you. If only to say goodbye to you. I could not leave Paris without speaking to you again."

"You are leaving?" she replied, her voice shaking.

"I believe it would be best. I do not want to endanger you any longer. You will be better off without me," he said in response.

Immediately she could feel her temper rising, angry he would make such assumptions about her, even if she had given him ample reason to believe he was unwanted here. "How dare you make such an assumption? I am offended you would make such a rash decision that would affect both of us without talking to me first."

"That is why I came. I felt you should know. I could have just left a note and left during the night. You deserve better than that, Gia. Better than me," he said, his eyes once again trained on the floor.

"Look at me in the eyes when you tell me that, damn it! And damn you, Erik!"

"You should keep your voice down, my darling. People will hear," he said gently.

"I don't CARE anymore. All this hiding, slinking about the corridors at night is beneath us. They can all go to hell for all I care! I do not want you to leave," she stated stubbornly.

"I want to do what is best. You know this is for the best. What kind of life can I offer you? If you had any sense in that pretty head of yours you would realize that. You should despise me for what I've done," he scolded her like a schoolmaster does to his best pupil when he is disappointed at the results of an exam.

At something of a loss, Gia could no longer hold back her discussion with Madame Giry. "I spoke with Madame Giry the other day. She told me what really happened that day. How could I hate you? It was an accident. You let her go. She fell and died in her sleep."

"Yes, but I brought her there to kill her. It was only at the last moment I released her. I wanted to kill her. I am culpable for everything that happened. Any court of law in France would find me guilty," he explained.

Finding this conversation all too painful, Erik made for the wardrobe door, the word goodbye poised on his lips. But before his tongue could make out the word, he was forcibly turned around, and her hands and mouth were all over him, every touch begging him to stay. How the tables had turned! Now she was the one using her body to seduce him, and he found himself unable to resist her. He walked her over to the bed, and they fell in a heap, causing the springs to squeal. But just as their clothes were coming off, she stopped him from going any further. He looked at her, genuinely puzzled.

"We really shouldn't do this right now. It would be not wise," she said, shy about revealing why now was a most importune time to make love.

"A moment ago you were telling me you did not care who heard us. And now you shy away? You have no idea how much I want you right now," he breathed huskily, and went back to caressing her breasts through the thin fabric of her bodice.

Good gracious, this was embarrassing! She had never said anything like this to anyone, save her mother when it happened the first time and she had been certain she was dying. "Erik," Gia stammered, blushing, "I, I have a woman's indisposition at the moment."

It took a moment, but his eyes widened in recognition at what she was saying to him. No wonder she was hesitant! He got up off of her, and adjusted himself, placed a warm kiss on her lips, and once again made to leave, but she stopped him.

"You can stay if you like. I would not object to you sleeping here. I have rather missed waking up to you in the morning," she said, her blue eyes still glazed over with lust.

Erik needed no further encouragement, and he quickly removed his mask, cravat, waistcoat, shoes, and stockings so he could lie with her. They simply basked in the glow of each other's company for a few moments, words not needed to express the feeling of contentment spreading between them.

"I am glad you asked me to stay. It has been hell sleeping without you. You keep away the nightmares," he murmured, drawing her close against him as though she could protect him.

"Nightmares?"

"At night, in my dreams, I see, I hear," he choked out, "The faces and the voices of the people I have killed. Only you keep them away." Gia said nothing, only squeezed him in return. "Last night, I saw Adrienne. Her face, that scream! I can still hear it ringing in my ears!"

Gia flipped around so that she was behind him, and kissed him along the side of his neck. "Hush, my love. Sleep now. I forgive you, Erik, I forgive you everything. I love you. Do not leave me again. Promise me that. Promise me I will not wake up to find you gone forever."

"You would take the word of a killer?"

"No Erik, not a murderer. I would take the word of the man I love," she said as she nestled against him.

He turned to face her, and looked into her eyes, "I promise you. I do not think I could live without you anyway. I am yours."

"If you are mine, than I am equally yours, Erik. Mind, body, and soul, I am yours," she whispered against his lips. They fell asleep like that, face to face, all their masks set aside until the world forced them back on when morning came.