Chapter 24

Sleep, however short, is beneficial to all minds and bodies. Elle did not sleep for more than six hours yet she awoke early and refreshed. She dove into her morning activities with a clear mind and energized body. Her spirits were high and as she was changing she was humming a tune to herself. Then she stopped before her mirror, contemplating how to wear her hair by the pale light that was pouring in through the crack in her curtains. The humming gradually turned into Elle lightly singing one of Juliette's arias that Erik had taught her.

"I want to live

In this dream which intoxicates me

This day still,

Sweet flame

I keep you in my soul

Like a treasure!

I want to live.

This intoxication of youth

Lasts, alas, only for one day!

Then comes the hour

When one weeps.

Far from the morose winter

Let me, let me slumber

And inhale the rose,

Before plucking its petals.

Ah! - Ah! - Ah!

Sweet flame!

Stay in my soul

Like a sweet treasure

For a long time still.

Ah! - Like a treasure

For a long time still."

Time passed pleasantly by as Elle dwelled in a world of her own. When she completed her morning routine Elle sat down at her piano. She decided to play music for a bit before she went to eat breakfast. A melodic euphoria was swimming throughout her body, making her only aware of the music and her contentment. It was as if nothing else existed and everything was right with the world. This was not like a forgetful oblivion, for she remembered all that happened the previous day yet still felt tranquil and unperturbed.

For a time she was one with the piano, her fingers extending out into the piano keys; the sound flowing out and filling the room with sweet music. Elle was as unaware of time as much as it was of her until she heard a light knock on her door. The person knocked again, causing her to cease playing and to rise from the bench. As she opened her door she was not sure of who to expect. Standing in the hall was her father. Now that he was in better light she could see more clearly how he had aged. Any vitality that he had when they first moved into the opera house was gone and replaced with a troubled disposition. He appeared to be carrying a burden that was too heavy for him to bear. The man stood, slightly hunched over, warmly smiling at his daughter. She noticed the difference, remembering how he used to stand tall and proud. It was a sad transition to see.

"Elle, it is time that we talk," he stated as the smile vanished from his face.

"Yes, come in," Elle moved aside, making way for him to enter. She was reminded of their last meal together, when he had mentioned that he was attending his last opera before something. Now she was once again curious as to what that something was. Her emotions quickly changed from bliss to gravity as she closed the door behind her father and joined him on the sofa. He sat to her left and reached out to touch one of her hands. She immediately noticed that his hands were cold.

"There is something that we must discuss," he said gravely after they had been sitting for about a minute looking at each other. His expression was serious, which scared Elle. She felt that she was unprepared for this conversation, but was too interested to try to delay it. If there was bad news then she would have to know eventually and she might as well find out then.

"Yes, father?"

"It seems that Mister Tremaine and Bolster have everything under control here, and there is no reason for us to stay here any longer. They have been handling everything since-" He decided to change the direction his sentence was taking. "-for some time and I am not needed here. I think that a change of scenery would do me some good, some place out of the city. I have bought a house right on the outskirts of Paris."

"But papa!" Elle exclaimed once she realized what he was saying. He wanted them to move out of the opera house. Out of all of the things that she had suspected he would say this was not one of them. She had not been prepared for this type of situation. It was understandable why he would want to leave; the place held sad memories for him, but Elle was not ready to. She had just recently had her first appearance in an opera, leaving would be like throwing away all of the energy that she had put into singing well. Not to mention never seeing or hearing her teacher again.

"I had a feeling that you might protest. I know that you have made a home for yourself here and I would not force you to leave if you did not wish to. I have already spoken with Madame Giry and she agreed to watch over you should you choose to stay," the man replied, not wanting or intending to upset her. The last thing he wanted was for Elle to be unhappy. For that reason he was offering her a choice, but either way Elle saw it as she was losing something. If she stayed then she would lose her father, what was left of her family, and if she left she would lose the opera house, her teacher, and any chance of singing onstage again.

"I do not wish for you to leave either," she said sadly. She had already lost a mother and now her father was leaving her as well. Her family was slowly diminishing and soon she would have none left. This thought frightened her. Without family she would be alone in the world, which would be a first for her. Elle would not know what to do.

"I will not be far off, an hours ride at most. If you do stay then you can visit me any time you want," He noticed the look on his daughter's face and he tightened his hold on her hand. "Do not fret my darling; everything will be fine, I promise."

Elle stifled her tears and leaned in to hug her father. Her head rested on his chest as he stroked her long hair. His comforting words did not do much to change how she was feeling, but she appreciated them nonetheless. They were in that embrace for several minutes, neither one wanting to let go for fear of that being the last one they would share. Elle was not sure whether she would stay or go and she knew that she would not have much time to decide.

Finally they broke apart and Elle helped her father get up from the sofa. He made for the door and then stopped, as if he remembered that there was something else he had to do. Then he turned around again, looking at his daughter, and his lips curled into a grin. "You were magnificent in the opera. Your mother would be proud."

"Thank you."

"I am leaving in several days. Think about what you want to do and make your decision, I will be waiting." He continued for the door and left, leaving behind Elle who was standing at the side of her room. Life was not getting any easier and every situation seemed to be trying to get her to leave the opera house, which was the last thing that she wanted to do. She sighed, falling back down onto her sofa, and rested her head on a cushion.

Elle was expecting a lesson that night. The lessons were to continue down in Erik's home at the same times that her lessons were before. Her day went by slowly as she anxiously waited. She did not feel like being around anyone and so she kept to her room. The opera house was not busy; everyone had the day off and so many were out. People were recuperating from the previous night of celebration for the performance. Elle had not participated in any of it and her spirits were once again dampened by the news of her father.

She thought the situation over, but could not decide what to do. All she wanted was for things to go back the way they were, yet that could never happen. Her mother was dead, Hector was gone, and now her father was going to leave as well. There was not much she could do and the only person she felt she could talk to about it was her teacher. So the only thing that Elle looked forward to was her lesson and when she started lighting candles she knew that it would be soon.

Finally the time came and Erik appeared in the secret passageway, ready to guide Elle back down to his musical lair. They arrived in silence, an air of unspoken understanding surrounding them. Erik helped her out of the boat and she watched him from the shore as he tied the boat and jumped out. The lesson went as usual; Erik picked the songs and Elle sung them along with his accompanying music. Neither of them could deny the power of the music, and neither of them wanted the lesson to end. Erik had decided, even before their last time together, that Elle was ready to sing his music- the music that he had been working on privately- and that he was ready to listen. The previous night had brought him a kind of joy that he had not felt in a long time, the joy of hearing a piece that he wrote sung by someone with talent- someone who he helped reveal hidden talent.

Elle felt delight as well, but in a different form. She simply felt happy to have the opportunity to be taught by such a musical genius and to be able to sing with him and for him. His music was magical; it made her forget all of her worries and focus on the wondrous feeling that it created. Even though it had such a strong hold over her, on this particular occasion Elle was distracted. Her mind could not stop dwelling on the difficult decision that she would need to make, and soon. She wanted to turn to Erik, for he seemed to be the only other person who mattered to her and whose opinions held heavy weight. This was kept in the back of her mind as she waited for the time to come.

Then, when the lesson was coming to an end, Erik stopped playing. He turned in his seat, obviously bothered by something, and studied Elle. She simply looked back at him, wondering what he was thinking. Erik noticed instantly that his student was not putting her all into the music. It was apparent that she was thinking about something other than the lesson and that worried him. Usually the music drew her to it and wiped her thoughts clean, but this time was different. He spoke to her as her instructor, in an authoritative tone of voice. "What is it that is distracting you? You must not let your mind wander."

Elle's face became somber and for a moment he thought that she would cry, but instead she spoke softly. "Erik, I have to talk to you about something."

"What is it, my dear?" he asked, wondering what it was about. Erik was no longer speaking to her as her teacher, but instead as a friend.

"It is my father. He is moving out of the opera house."

"Do you want to leave?" Erik was almost positive of what her answer would be, but there was always the possibility that she changed her mind. The way she spoke he could tell that she was upset about her father's decision. He had overheard Monsieur D'aubigne speaking to a man in his office about buying a home out of the city a couple weeks ago, yet he did not know if Elle would be joining him. Lately she had been so involved in the establishment that it seemed a crime to take her away from it.

"Oh no, of course not!" she exclaimed, surprised that he would even think that. "He said that I could stay, if I wanted to, but that he was leaving either way."

"That is your decision to make," he replied, getting up from his organ and walking by her. Erik picked up several sheets of paper from a pile and then returned to his instrument and sat down. He arranged the sheets on the organ, pretending to be indifferent to the situation. He did not want Elle to leave, but he could not bring himself to tell her that. It was hard for Erik to put his trust in anyone, especially after what happened with Christine. As he sat on the bench he stared into the music sheets and thought back to before he met Elle.

Christine had betrayed and abandoned him, and he let her go. He let her go because he loved her, her happiness came first. The only condolence was that he knew she was happy wherever she was, married to Raoul. That name still ran a surge throughout his body whenever he thought of it… So he was left to pine away down below the remains of L'Opera Populaire in the cold damp passages that he was so accustomed to. With no rays of hope, and only his music for company, he was determined to slowly wither away into nothing, until he would finally be free of his pain and suffering. Each day his vitality slowly left his body, making him weak and unable to take long trips among the remains. He was certain that he was to die, to die along with his one and only mistress, the opera house.

Then one day, he began hearing voices echoing through what was left of the remarkable structure that had been left undisturbed for some time. Soon he found that the opera house was to be restored; some reasonably wealthy man had bought it intending to restore the edifice to its former glory. After that discovery, Erik's health began to return to him. With each stone set into place, each foundation fixed, each day that the building start to rise back to its towering height, more strength in his body was gained. The blood in his veins ran smoothly once more, his muscles no longer ached, the constant throbbing in his head ceased, and his heartbeat pounded rhythmically. He found the energy to join in the construction secretly, making sure that his previous hard work of creating hidden passageways for his own use would not be destroyed by mindless workers.

The sharp pains in his heart continued, but they stemmed from a mental illness not physical. His suffering was something that no doctor or medicine could cure; there never was a cure for love… But now his body had found a reason to live after all, God did not see fit to take him off the earth just yet. Despite the thoughts that death would be his only salvation, Erik knew deep inside his mind that there must be a reason that he did not die. He had come quite close to death, but was disturbed by the newcomers. There was something he must do, something that was keeping him alive and restoring his body along with the opera house. Suddenly he was filled with a purpose, to wait for the day when the building once again opened itself to the public, pouring out the music that had since left his life.

Erik longed to see his home returned to its former grandeur. For two long years he watched the construction take place from in the corners of the building, and not once had he come close to being discovered by the workers. He had not thought about his music for months after Christine left, eventually turning to his organ for comfort that it no longer gave him. When the masons came he had to cease playing his organ for a time, not wanting to risk them finding his abode, which they never did. Rarely did they descend past a certain point in the cellars, there was no need to. Not to mention some still had superstitions about a ghost haunting that area, even though Erik had not been heard from or seen since the night that the place was set on fire. Most of the damage had been done to the upper layers; Erik's home had been completely untouched. For that he should have been grateful, but he found it hard to thank God for keeping him safe and living.

His heart still clung to the memory of Christine, although he had given her up long ago. He kept the ring that she gave to him the last time that he saw her; it was all that he had left. It was safe inside a box that Erik placed in a closet in his room where it had been sitting for some time.

"Christine…" he whispered to himself, the image of her in his mind. She was looking at him, with pity and compassion, and then handed him the ring. Then she left him and he could hear her off in the distance with him.

Erik was snapped out of his reverie when he heard Elle speak. "That is all you have to say?" she asked, unaware of the thoughts and memories that were running through his mind. She felt that there should be more and felt hurt that he was acting cold towards her. How could he not care that there was a possibility he would never see her again? She knew that it would torture her to separate herself from him, but feeling like he did not reciprocate those feelings was just as painful. The story that Meg told of him came back to her, the story of Christine. Elle heard him say her name just then and knew that he was thinking of her.

"I understand that you loved her,

And that you still do.

But do I mean nothing to you?

Does this mean nothing at all?"

"What are you speaking of?" he asked angrily in response, not turning his head to look at her. He knew who she was referring to, but he did not want to talk about her- not to Elle, not to anyone. Christine was now no more to him then a shadow and a feeling. It hurt enough simply thinking about her.

"You still love her," Elle replied, forgetting her place out of hurt feelings. She knew then that she was jealous; she was jealous of someone who chose someone else over him. The thought of never seeing him again, never hearing him sing again- the pain it brought her- made her realize that she did care for him. It was a new feeling, which she was not sure of how to describe. Could it be love? "You still love Christine."

"Do not speak that name!" he growled from his seat. Why was she doing this? What did she care about his past and who he loved? Why did it matter to her if he loved anyone, regardless if it was Christine or not? These questions puzzled him, but the all that he cared about at that point was that he did not want to think about Christine. He did not want to hear her name spoken in Elle's sweet voice. He did not want to dream of her and have all the agony return as if it were a fresh wound.

"Sorry… I did not mean to…" she attempted to respond, but could not finish a sentence. To witness the raw anger and pain again made her remember how bad she felt last time she saw it, and again it was provoked by her. She did not mean to upset him, at the time she was only thinking of her own emotions. Now she saw with her own eyes how that woman he had loved, and probably still did, had tortured his heart and she wanted to help. Yet there was nothing she could do, so Elle stood there and wished that the circumstances were different- for all of them.

Erik finally turned to look at Elle, and the sight of her sorrow calmed him down. He remembered what happened last time he became angry around her, and did not want that to happen again. Truly he did not want her to view him as a monster, but sometimes it was hard for him to control his temper. This time he was able to regain his cool composure. "What is it that you want?"

"I want to know the truth," she answered, her eyes searching his for answers.

"You know enough already," he replied coldly, pulling himself up off of the bench and standing at his full height. There was silence for a moment, each of them staring at the other. Her expression was one of sadness and his was one of reserve. He was holding himself back, refusing to let himself be affected by her evident emotions. Elle broke the silence first, she could no longer hold in what she was feeling.

"If you asked me to then I would stay," Elle cried, tears now rolling down her face.

"There is nothing more I can say."

At this point Elle felt like she had been stabbed in the heart. All she wanted was for him to show her in some way that he cared, but he could not- or would not- do that. She felt like she meant nothing to him, like he did not care what she chose to do. For this reason she was miserable and could not stop herself from crying.

Erik could not bear to sit there and watch her tears flow freely. He may have acted like he had not heart, but in reality it pained him to see her so sad. There was no way that he could tell her the truth, it was better for both of them that way, therefore there was nothing he could do. Soon he took her back, neither of them speaking, and left her outside of her room. He could still hear her weeping through the wall after it closed behind her. Quickly Erik returned to his lair and pounded away at his organ, letting his mixed emotions out through his music.

A/N: Sorry for the wait, the website wouldn't let me sign in to update. Thank you for the reviews.

mrmistoffelees- Thanks for reviewing.

Kate- Why thank you, lol. You'll see.

Anri- Yes, well you got what you wanted. About the phantom, you'll have to wait to find out what happens.

CeleryBunch- Sorry, we can't kill Hector, but that is the last we see of him for some time. Glad you love the story.

Captain Oblivious- I love my phantom soundtrack. Anywho, thanks for the review.

TheWyldeWestWynd- Yes he is.

fay-sheik-kikyou-chan- Thank you. Yes, things are chaotic here too. The song he played was new, not one of his old ones. I just didn't feel like writing it so that was why there were no lyrics.

Hikoku- Thank you so much! I'm really glad that you like my story.

Priestess-Taisho- Thanks!