A/N: This one is a little longer. I debated splitting it but decided to keep it intact. As always, I'd love to hear the feedback. I'm glad you guys are enjoying it so far. I'm stuck on Chapter 29, so I'm waiting for some inspiration to come to me. I'm hoping it comes back once the DVD comes out. crosses fingers

Chapter 19 – An Old Friend

The sun had just set over the countryside. On the outskirts of Paris, when night had drawn no one even thought of traveling there. The outskirts contained hoodlums and thieves. If anyone of 'proper' blood dared travel there, they were sure to return to Paris with none of the belongings they had traveled with.

Very few houses lied on the outskirts of Paris. If one wanted to be alone, it was the perfect place to be. A wooded area stretched for miles around, barely untouched by architects and the like. It was an area left naked and undiscovered. Paris was the life and no one wanted to be away from the excitement.

Couples and many single men had made their living outside of Paris. Many traveled there every morning to make their living and brought themselves home again to stay away from the high life of Paris. Small stone cottages occupied the wooded area. Most had smoke rising from chimneys to keep out the cool night air.

A cottage, the farthest from Paris, sat nestled in the middle of the woods. Very little smoke rose from the chimney and weeds had begun to grow along the walls of the cottage. The windows were dirty and had not seemed to be cleaned in ages. Cracked and aged, the door sat on broken hinges but continued to do its job and kept everything outside there and everything inside contained in the small cottage.

Inside, candles burned everywhere. There were no separate rooms. A stove and fireplace was off in the far corner of the cottage while a bed and lone chair were opposite them. The bed was neatly made with a handmade quilt of many colors on top. On the wall near the bed were several shelves all containing pictures of various people. One was of a young girl dressed in a white dress and a blue cape hung over her shoulders. The others were of various times and places.

A fire was dwindling in the middle of the fireplace, the owner not keeping it up. The chair the figure sat in – in the dark – was as far away from the fireplace as they could be. The figure looked around the room, as if anticipating someone was coming.

The door opened and through the darkness, the figure smiled.

"I was wondering when you would come."

Erik stood in the doorway and looked toward the darkest corner of the room. The candles illuminated his mask and his face. It was solemn and in thought. Can she see how much pain I am in? He closed the door behind him and stood near the doorway. Afraid of what could happen, he stood near the exit to make sure he could run if necessary. He knew that she was as far away from civilization as she could get. No one could come to her if the need arose.

"It took longer then anticipated."

"I have been occupied."

"So I have heard."

He heard the rustle of her gathering her skirts and standing up. The figure stood and moved into the light. Erik could not remember her being that old and that worn. She still continued to radiate beauty as she did when he had first met her. They were long time friends and she did everything he had asked of her. He did not want to ask her for another favor but he had no choice.

"You are doing the same thing to my daughter as you did to me, Erik."

The Madam Giry turned to Erik and looked upon his face. He has not changed in seventeen years. His face…

"A new star has come to Paris. And you occupy my daughter's mind with your obsession."

"This is different."

"How? Angelina de Chagny is the daughter of the woman you love. Do not presume to tell me that this is different."

"Angelina is very much like Christine."

"As I have gathered from what Meg has told me."

"Her voice is unparalleled. It is unmatched by anyone in Paris."

"Brigitte seems to think otherwise."

"That untalented whale! How that woman could grace a stage is beyond my understanding."

Madam Giry laughed to herself and watched as Erik's face grew angry at the mention of her name. She had known Brigitte when she was still a background singer in some of the operas that she choreographed. Brigitte had a commanding presence and would not be denied when she was on stage. Many divas before her were the same way. The only one she had ever known not to be was Christine.

"Have you finally let go of Christine?"

"No."

He still loved her. Knowing what happened and how much Christine gave him and then took away, she could not believe that Christine still held a place in her heart. Erik had refused to tell him what happened that night. Erik had sought her out and told her that he was ok and he was going to find somewhere to go until Paris was once again safe. Five years and Erik had finally returned. Ten years had gone by until once again the rumors of the "opera ghost" had begun.

Meg had come to her, frightened that he had returned. Christine had seen to it that she told everything to Meg. Meg had then told her of the fears Christine had and that her daughter was looking to come to Paris. Madam Giry had kept track of everything going on within the city limits. It was Erik and his heart that she could not keep track of.

She had feared that once he found out Christine's daughter was coming to Paris that Angelina would become his next obsession. She feared the heartache that Erik would once again go through. His heart would not take another blow as it did with Christine. Whatever had happened after 'Don Juan' would not happen to Erik again. She vowed that to herself and to God. The disfigured boy she saved from a carnival would not be damned to spend eternity in solitude and pain. He deserved so much better.

"Erik, this cannot happen again."

"It is different."

"You believe it is and it is not. Angelina is no different then her mother."

"I told myself that at first. But she is different."

"Are you so sure of that, Erik? Can you truly say to yourself that you are not seeing Christine in Angelina?"

Erik leaned against the doorframe. He had hoped that Madam Giry would be on his side and would help him figure out the feelings that lied within his soul and heart. There was a part of him that told him that this was nothing more then an infatuation and that he just longed for someone who was like Christine. Angelina was her daughter and looked almost identical. Everything about her screamed Christine from her looks to her demeanor.

However, his heart and soul screamed that he was just denying everything. Angelina was nothing like Christine and he had only told himself that to push away the feelings that he felt. With Christine, there was something there that just clicked. Angelina was different. His soul sang when he heard her voice. His heart stopped every time he looked into her eyes. There was a merging of talent there that he had with Christine but not quite as intense. Everything was different about Angelina – including his feelings.

"I wish I could say that I saw Christine in Angelina, but I do not. She is different, Madam Giry. I would not be here to see you if it was that easy."

"You are here for something then?"

"I need to ask you for a favor."

"I am through helping you, Erik. I do not want to see you get hurt again."

"Please, I have never begged you for anything."

Erik walked in front of Madam Giry and looked at her. She had aged with grace and style but he could still see the young woman who saved him so long ago. Would she save him again?

Getting on his knees, he looked up at her with child-like eyes. He rested his head upon her stomach and wrapped his arms around her. His vulnerability was laid out in front of her. Would she embrace it and help him or would she throw it off to the side as many others had?

"I am asking you for help. Everything I am is because of you. You have made me into the man I am today."

"I will not take credit for your genius, Erik. You have done that on your own."

"You set me free and let me live my life."

"It is not a life that you have led, Erik. You merely lived under an opera house. I did not provide you with a life. I provided you with an outlet."

"An outlet in which I embraced my talents and desires. I would not be who I am today."

"Erik, please do not ask anything of me. Let me rest in peace."

"All I ask is that you help your daughter create a dance in which Angelina might perform."

Madam Giry looked at the helpless man who had knelt down in front of her. She watched as a tear streamed down his unmarred cheek. Maybe she had been wrong. Maybe there were feelings there in which Erik did not understand. Could the feelings he felt for Angelina be truly different then the ones he had felt for Christine? She would have to observe and then decide.

"Brigitte had seen to it that Angelina would not perform in Faust. I have pleaded with the managers, even with your son-in-law, but to no avail. They cannot change Brigitte's mind. I need to show the world what Angelina is capable of."

"If I do this, Erik, and something happens, I am not taking responsibility."

"You have my word that I will take on any problems that might occur."

"What is it that you wish me to do?"

Meg stood on the stage and watched her dancers perform. Several were working on the dances from Faust while others were practicing a routine from the "special performance" which would be performed in a week.

Off to the side, Angelina danced but showed sadness in every step. Although Meg had told her she was the lead in the "special performance", every step that Angelina took held anger and sadness in them. Meg knew that she had wanted to perform in Faust. It was even worse when Brigitte saw to it every day to tell Angelina she was not welcome on stage.

Anger pounded into every step that Angelina took. Meg had seen bruises and cuts all over her feet when Angelina had taken off her ballet slippers. She had told Angelina to take a day off and let them heal but she would hear nothing of it. Angelina continued on through the pain and took out everything in her dance routine.

Meg could not get through to Angelina. Everything she said had fallen upon deaf ears. She knew that the "opera ghost" would not be happy. Angelina only had come to the stage when called upon. Her usual practices had ceased and when she did practice it was only for a short amount of time.

The sound of a cane hitting the stage floor knocked Meg out of her thought process. Every dancer on the stage slowly stopped what they were doing and turned toward the back of the stage. Even Angelina had taken notice and saw and older woman standing there – cane in hand.

Meg's eyes went wide as she watched the figure in a long black dress; begin to walk toward the center of the stage.

"Mother?"

"Gather your dancers, Meg. I wish to watch them perform one-by-one."

Meg could not believe who stood in the center of the stage. Madam Giry, her mother, stood there. Her presence came upon the opera house as if she had never left. No one had known who she was but her voice and presence had sent every dancing running into a straight line on the stage. Angelina slowly joined them and Madam Giry noticed her lack of enthusiasm.

Madam Giry joined her daughter off to the side and smiled at her.

"Mother, what are you doing here?"

"I have come to help you. It seems as though your dancers are tired and unmotivated. I have come to remedy that problem. I want to see their abilities. Direct your company, my dear. Let me see what they are capable of."

Meg directed her dancers as one-by-one they performed for Madam Giry. Gabriella had impressed her as did a few others. She watched as Angelina stepped off to the side as Meg directed them to do a short dance from Faust.

Madam Giry pointed at Angelina. "You, my dear. Step forward."

Angelina glanced at Meg and waited for her to tell her to do the same. She took center stage and Madam Giry noted her stance – unmotivated and tired. The bruises she bore on her feet were beginning to show. Erik, if you only knew what she looked like now.

"I want you to dance to the same song they just did."

"I am not a part of Faust."

"Same song, different dance. Dance."

The orchestra began the same song that the rest of the dancers had just performed. Madam Giry and Angelina had locked eyes for a moment before Madam Giry gestured for her to begin.

Angelina began her dance slowly. The knocking of the cane against the floor had Angelina looking at Madam Giry.

"I have heard you are one of the best dancers in the world. I do not see that before me!"

Angelina continued on the pace that she had started out with. The cane continued to knock against the wooden floor, echoing throughout the opera house.

"No wonder they do not want you in Faust. You are falling behind. I have seen better."

Meg grimaced as Madam Giry glared at Angelina. Angelina stopped her dance and looked upon Madam Giry with anger and contempt.

"What would you have me do, Madam?"

"Dance like you have been. I have heard many good things about you. I do not see them before me."

"Maybe I have changed."

"Then a pity. You could have been a great star. I suppose Brigitte will continue to be granted the leads of every opera since there is no one to challenge her. Even your mother continued to do her work even though she became discouraged at times."

Madam Giry began to walk away. Erik had told her to be hard on Angelina. His new "assistant" had given Erik word that Angelina had been falling behind on her dancing and her singing. Angelina had missed lessons and practices. Her depression was taking over and Erik knew that in order to get Angelina motivated once again they needed to be hard on her.

Her cane continued to echo as she began to walk away. The tapping of a ballet shoe began to join in rhythm with her cane. The orchestra began a dark and intense song. This is not from Faust. Madam Giry slowly turned and watched as the rest of the dancers and Meg walked off to the side.

"I am not my mother."

Angelina slammed her foot against the stage, echoed and sent shivers down Meg's spine. She knew that Angelina hated that more then anything. She hated to be compared to the talents of her mother. She loved her mother dearly but hated the fact that everything she did was compared. She was not her mother and never would be.

Her dance became dark and intense. Her pirouettes and jumps were filled with anger and intensity. Every step she took she doubled. The song ended and she ended her last step right in front of Madam Giry.

Madam Giry smiled and turned and began to walk away again. "I suggest, Mademoiselle de Chagny, that you continue you're dancing. Practice makes perfect. If you fall behind again, you will sit out an entire season and not just an opera. Do I make myself clear?"

Angelina did not answer and watched Madam Giry walk away. Meg walked along side her after she dismissed the rest of the company. She put a gentle hand on Angelina's shoulder.

"You needed this, Angelina. I hate to agree with Brigitte, but you are falling behind. You need to snap out of the depression you are in and get back to the status you were at. For all of our sakes, Angelina, find your soul again before it's too late."

Angelina watched as Meg began off of the stage. Her legs buckled and she fell to the stage floor. Her eyes began to burn as tears streamed down her cheeks. Practice. Her mind screamed it. Practice!