A/N: Hello all my wonderful readers! This chapter took me a really long time to write because I kept on rewriting it over and over. I think I've done the best I can do now, and must move on. Lol. So, here it is. It's kinda long (as you will notice) and I'm gonna be gone for a couple of days (since it's President's Day Weekend) so it may be a while before I post again, but hang on! I'll be as quick as I can be. Please remember to review- I love reviews. Thanks.

-Modesty

Emaily Girl: You just may get your wish! Yes, I do believe that Christine is unworthy, and here's why: first off, she never loved Erik, she was just enchanted by his music, and she kinda loved 'Fabio' so they make a good couple. Besides, Erik deserves someone who can really appreciate him and love him for who he is, not what he does. That's where our characters come in, and in this case, Claire. Thanks for the review! I hope you enjoy this chapter.

MAskedRose1205: I'm so glad you think I'm a talented writer. That makes me happy!

Kamille: Thanks for your review. I hope you read more. I did check out your artwork and LOVED it. The expressions were wonderful and the pictures were very creative. You're a very talented artist. I have not heard Michael Crawford's voice. Does he play the Phantom in the older version? I'd like to see it, but I can't find it anywhere.

Lien Rivers: Exactly…I totally agree with you about Aubrey. He's an ok guy, just a little…well, he's an airhead. Lol. Yes, Christine got her man, now it's Erik's turn to find love.

Marie Erikson: Thanks so much for your review! Well, you'll find out later on that Claire's father is quite, unusual. He has his reasons for what he does. He wants to let her go, but he also wants to 'imprison' her. It's just his nature. Hopefully I'll be able to explain that more later on. He's not really pursuing the mother. He's just making note of the 'fine bloodline' that may be passed on to Claire's children if she marries Aubrey. Alas, the 'show don't tell' rule. Lol. I'll try my best to follow it, but it's hard sometimes. During the period where I wrote chapter four, I had been reading Gaston Leroux's novel, and I don't know if you've read it or not, but he tells a lot more than he shows, and I thought I'd see if I could 'pull it off' but like you said, it's just not good enough. I liked your version though, and your review was really helpful. It's helpful criticism and I'm glad you like the story enough to help improve it. That means a lot to me. Cheers to you! Lol. I would love for you to be my beta reader, but I'm 'not allowed' by me parental unit, sorry. Thanks for the offer though!

Chapter Five: Fresh Gossip

It was mid-afternoon the following day. Claire found Adeline and Arielle in the first loft that made up the entire first floor above the stage. Claire climbed the winding spiral of one staircase to the upper storage area of the backstage corridors. It was there that many set pieces were stored, and handfuls of performers waited behind stage for their cues during a performance. High in the lofts of the theatre, actors and stage hands- and perhaps a certain spying Phantom every now and then- could view the stage below them quite clearly.

It was also the usual location of the chief stage hand, Joseph Buquet who conversed with the dancers, as he loved the ladies' undivided attention. The man usually spent his time wandering about the stage and the rest of the theatre, through all twelve of the theatre's floors (of which three of the twelve were not even traveled by him). Whenever Joseph found the opportunity, he would spend his time in the first loft.

He was in the exact spot Claire had seen him in the day before when Adeline had first introduced her to the lofts. His left arm leaned against the railing of the loft, and he was accompanied by two tall, long haired dancers.

Claire's eyes rolled as she heard the dancers giggling with him. Who knew why they paid attention to the man? Joseph was at least, to her, quite undesirable.

The man was not short in stature; but he lacked the height of taller men such as her father, and he was a little rounded in the middle. His cheeks were often rosy appearing, for he often was in a cheerful mood, and his hair was a rich brown color. It fell a little past his shoulders, and the hair on his face had the color to match.

Claire found him in no way charming either. He flirted with numerous women, whom scarcely denied his invitations to converse. The dancers of the Opera House had grown accustomed to the man's 'unsophisticated' nature, though Madame Giry, and nearly everyone else seemed to find despise for his lack of decorum in their hearts.

Mme. Giry would often sigh and shake her head when she would catch the middle aged man flirting endlessly with any young woman of his choice. "That man must settle himself," she had once told her daughter, Meg. "My guess is that he, and those two Asthore boys have taken advantage of such women as your class mates more than need mentioning. Those poor dears are so naïve in their youth." Meg had solemnly promised she would never allow the man to touch her.

"Claire," Adeline waved, as she noticed her friend coming to her from the spiral stairs. "Madame Giry said they'd found you," she smiled.

"They did," Claire agreed.

"What happened?" Arielle asked, wide eyed. "Where did you go?"

"Keep our voices low, girls," Adeline shushed. "It's probably best that no one else hear us."

"Except for me," snapped Emily, strutting towards them with a grin. "Now tell me- what's all the whispering about? Come on, I need fresh gossip!"

"Shush!" hushed Adeline, glancing at Joseph and the other dancers; they seemed to be too busy to even notice her existence.

"Well what?" Emily inquired again, determined to receive an answer.

"Should we tell her?" Arielle asked.

"Well…" began Claire.

"Oh, tell me girls," Emily begged. "You know I can keep a secret, her eyes twinkled.

"Only if you promise not to tell," Adeline whispered.

"Tell who?" asked Emily, standing on her toes, stretching her ankles.

"Anyone," Adeline answered her eyes serious.

"Alright, I promise."

"Yesterday we found a secret passage in the prop room," Adeline began.

"Well don't tell her where," Claire muttered too late. Adeline ignored her.

"A secret passage?" Emily questioned, seemingly mystified.

"Yes," Adeline breathed in awe.

Emily turned to Claire, "and where did it lead?"

"Well that's the thing," said Adeline, turning to Claire for an answer. "Claire was the only one to go in it, and we were just asking her what had happened."

"So?" Emily asked, asking Claire.

"Well," Claire began. "I," she stared down at the floor, then up again at Adeline and then the others. "It was just a tunnel," she lied.

"That's it?" asked Emily, disappointed. "Nothing? Come on, you can't be telling the half of it."

"No, it's the truth," Claire said. "It was just an empty, abandoned tunnel."

"What is a tunnel doing in this opera house?" Emily rolled her eyes.

"Where did it lead, Claire?" Arielle begged to know.

"It led to a room…and a hallway, and from there I found my way to the lobby," Claire confessed with honesty.

"And," Adeline chose to answer Emily's question herself. "Don't you know that many theatres have tunnels leading from the prop rooms to the stages, and all over underground, so the performers can go to and from the stage without being seen by the audience?"

"Oh, of course," Emily muttered in agreement.

"Did you give your father the letter?" was Arielle's next question.

"Letter? What letter?" piped Emily.

"Oh, sorry," Arielle clasped a hand over her mouth. Claire cast a swift glare in her direction, but Emily had already heard her, and now she wanted more information, as she always did.

"I gave it to my father," she said, with coldness in her voice. Emily already knew too much, she thought. Arielle and Adeline had better keep their mouths shut tighter.

"If you don't mind my asking," Emily began. "What was the letter about?"

"Nothing," Claire shook her head. "It was nothing."

"Was it from the O.G.?" Emily asked.

"O.G.?" Claire recognized the initials from the day before; her father had mentioned that was who had signed the letter.

"The Opera Ghost," breathed Adeline.

"Oh, then yes; it was from him," Claire confirmed. "But I don't see why it should muster all this attention. Father thinks it's just a practical joke- or worse. You people actually believe in something that isn't real."

"He is real, and you don't see why?" Emily asked, her mouth gaping slightly. "Well if the Opera Ghost sent a letter, this certainly would be good gossip."

"But you promised not to tell," Adeline snapped.

"Of course," Emily promised again, drawing back slightly. "I said it would be good gossip; don't worry," she added with a smirk. Claire frowned, she couldn't trust her. How could the queen of gossip pass this news up? "It's too disappointing anyway," she lied.

"Disappointing- what- the news?" asked Claire, titling her head.

"Well, yes," Emily said. "If you didn't find the Opera Ghost in the tunnels," she grinned. "Then there's nothing worth telling anyway. You girls need not doubt my word. I will tell no one."

"I hope so," Claire said, with a threatening glare at the dancer.

"You worry too much, Claire," Emily told her. "But if you ever do have an encounter with him, be sure to let me know- I won't tell, if that's what you want," she forced herself to add.

"Why is everything about him such a big deal to all of you?" asked Claire wondrously.

"Don't you like a bit of excitement?" asked Adeline.

"Well yes..."

"Oh, it's more than just excitement," explained Emily. "It's pure fear."

"Fear? But why?" asked Claire.

"Perhaps we should ask Joseph to explain?" Emily suggested.

"No!" both Adeline and Claire answered at once.

"Very well then," Emily said, cynically. "I shall do my best to explain." Claire listened intently, though she wasn't sure if she's believe all the gossip Emily might have tucked under her tongue.

"The opera ghost is treacherous. He always gets his way," Emily began. "He's practically been running this theatre for as long as Madame Giry's been here."

"And that's a long time," Arielle butted in.

"No one knows his real name, or where he came from," Emily continued, talking as if she were a story teller. "But he seems to know everything that happens here," she quieted her voice. "He knows this theatre like the back of his hand, and the ghost plays his cards right all the time."

"What does that mean?" asked Claire.

"It means he gets what he wants," said Adeline. "And if he doesn't…"

"Disasters have been known to occur," Emily smiled sadistically.

"Like what?" Claire whispered.

"Well," Emily continued. "He steals things; things go missing, props, costumes, food, and set pieces. Things break, and fall on people," she snickered, remembering once when a fake wooden cloud nearly crushed La Carlotta after she'd spoken ill of the Opera Ghost.

"All that you've said seems to me to be a series of practical jokes," spoke Claire.

"Do you think death is a practical joke?" spat Emily rather haughtily. The fire burning on her lips as she said this startled Claire, so the girl remained silent. What did Emily mean by this?

"Yes, it's true," said Adeline, her face somber and her words full of sorrow. She lowered her gaze. "The Opera Ghost is a murderer, among other things."

Claire's jaw hung loose, her mouth opened up like a gloomy cave. Her spine tingled of winter's chill, her face froze in disbelief, and her heart seemed to sink in her chest. She swallowed hard, waiting for someone to explain further.

Arielle glanced immediately towards Joseph Buquet. Then she looked back at her friends, her face was paler that the others, and she leaned against the wall to keep her balance.

"Arielle, are you alright?" asked muttered Claire, almost breathlessly. The poor girl looked as if she were bound to faint.

"Arielle saw it happen," breathed Adeline. All eyes were on petite little Arielle, and she squirmed. In the mirrors of her eyes reflected sadness, memories, and a flash of brutality.

Flashing through her mind was the memory of what had happened that night. It took Arielle several minutes to answer. After standing still and quiet, she finally glanced up at her friends, and back to Joseph, who was still buried in deep conversation with the flirtatious dancers.

"He did it," she finally said in a hoarse whisper.

"Joseph?" exclaimed Claire, after following Arielle's gaze.

"No!" Arielle shouted so abruptly that it startled Claire. "The Ghost."

"He- he killed…someone?" Claire inquired a little shakily. Arielle slowly nodded.

Claire had no doubt that the man's voice she heard only the day before, in the dreary shadows of the labyrinth below the lower levels of the theatre had belonged to the Opera Ghost. She realized this the first time she heard him, and it never crossed her mind that the voice could have belonged to any other.

Who else could it have been who sang to her? Who asked her to leave his domain, and never breathe a word of his existence, though many were suspicious of him already? The flesh on Claire's arms and shoulders grew cold at the thought of him, but though his existence was shrouded in mystery, it did not frighten her.

She felt her face grow as pale as her friend's, and Claire had to lean up against the wall to keep her balance. She could feel her limbs warm and numb. Her stomach lurched.

Killed? He- he killed someone? It can't be…it couldn't have been him!

But it was- as Arielle then explained:

"I won't speak of it now…Claire are you alright?" Claire nodded slowly. Arielle continued. "All I can say," she shot a fiery glance at Joseph for some unknown reason that Claire couldn't see. "All I can say is that he did it- the Phantom. And I-I saw," her voice trailed off, hoarsely, as though the words were being scraped against her weak throat as she spoke them, unable to keep them locked inside her.

"My God," was all Claire could say. She put her hand to her stomach. "It couldn't have been- him?"

"It was," Arielle reassured her, the color coming back to her face, though it was not the same for poor Claire.

"Was it an accident?" Claire forced herself to ask, hoping to God it was- but she already knew the answer.

Arielle frowned; her eyes reflected the deeply felt pain for the loss of that man's life. "No," she said surprisingly firmly, her words no longer as raspy as before. They were then filled with a heat of anger. "It was no accident! It was murder," her eyes lit on fire as she said this.

Joseph Buquet couldn't have drowned out the anger in the petite girl's solid voice. The two women had just seconds before bid him farewell and had made their merry way down the staircase to the floor below.

Joseph strutted over to Arielle's side. He put an unwelcome hand on her shoulder. Arielle made a feeble attempt to shrug it off, but it didn't move from its place.

Claire frowned, the white of her face draining away with anger for her friend. What had gotten into Joseph that had encouraged him to touch Arielle with out her consent?

"Have my ears deceived me," he began with a sly grin. "Or did I hear you speak the word 'murder' Arielle?"

Arielle's voice lost its luster and all potency vanished from her words. "Yes, Joseph," she said, her voice quavering. She glanced downwards. "All I said was-"

"No one needs to be talking of such unfortunate occurrences," he continued, not allowing Arielle to finish.

"She wasn't telling us anything, Joseph," snapped Adeline, now with a burning glaze in her bright hazel eyes. "And you can keep your snooping nose out of our business."

Joseph looked surprised. He let go of Arielle's shoulder and took a few steps back. "And what ever did I do to deserve such treatment?" he begged to know.

Adeline's threatening glare only grew more intense. She took a deep breath. "Just leave us be, Joseph," she spat.

"I just don't see why you girls have to be so rude!" Joseph shot back. "Foolish girls," Joseph said with a light chuckle. "You know so little…"

"Leave us, Joseph- please," said Arielle sternly, but calmly.

Joseph scowled and backed away. "I've got my rounds to make, anyhow," he said as he left, walking down the spiral staircase and disappearing from view.

"What was that all about?" asked Claire, watching the man climb downward.

"Nothing," said Adeline abruptly.

"It obviously isn't anything," shot Emily. "The man isn't that bad you know? Just because he's a little grungy…"

"Grungy has nothing to do with it!" Adeline retorted with heated anger. It stunned Claire how emotional she was getting in such a short time. She wondered if something terrible agitated her.

Claire glanced at Arielle, who stood silent, staring at the floor in what looked like despair. What did they know that she didn't?

"That man has no kindness or honor left in him," Adeline said coldly. "He thinks he owns this opera- just because he's been here so long, and the women just adore him!"

"It's because he's nice to us!" Emily shouted.

"Nice? How has that man ever been nice?"

"He's kind to me," Emily retorted arrogantly. "He can appreciate a woman's true talent."

"He only showers you with compliments so he can get what he wants," Adeline scolded. "He doesn't care how wonderful a person you are. All he appreciates is the way you look, and your naiveté."

Emily's brow furrowed. "I don't know what's gotten in your thick skull that would prompt you to be as rude as you just were," said Emily. "But I hope you understand that Joseph is not a bad man, though I'll admit he does have his faults."

Emily stood tall, pivoted on her heel, and simply walked away. Claire could have sworn she saw steam flying from the dancer's ears.

Adeline grunted with frustration. "She only likes that man because he's friends with Aubrey!" she retorted.

Claire stood straight at the sound of his name. "Aubrey?"

"Yes," Adeline assured her. "He, Joseph, and Gaston were rarely apart. And where Aubrey was- Emily was there trying to catch his attention."

"Wait- Aubrey Asthore?"

"Yes. You know him?"

"I do," replied Claire. "He had dinner with me just last night. I knew he worked here once, but I didn't know you knew him."

"I did," Adeline said. Arielle remained quiet, lost in deep thought. "I'm actually glad he left though. I mean, I suppose he was kind enough, but if he was anything like his brother…"

"Which he was," Arielle suddenly butted into the conversation, her voice sounding dazed.

"True," Adeline agreed. "Well, all three men I never really liked. Emily, however, is a different story," she rolled her eyes.

"How so?" asked Claire, her mind still teeming with thoughts of the murderous ghost.

"Emily said she loved Aubrey once. I don't think she ever did. I think it's best the Phantom got rid of him."

"What?" asked an astounded Claire. "What do you mean, 'got rid of him'?"

"Oh, sorry. Let me explain so you're not as lost," said Adeline. "After the murder- the one the Phantom committed- Aubrey swore he'd avenge his brother-"

"His brother was murdered?" Claire's eyes widened.

"Yes," Adeline cleared her throat. "I thought I'd said that?" Claire shook her head, as if in a daze. "Anyway, the Phantom, as is expected, wasn't very comfortable with Aubrey in his theatre. He wrote a letter to the manager then, asking him to fire both Aubrey and Joseph, or he'd rid the theatre of them himself.

"The manager, of course fired Aubrey immediately, but he didn't want to let Joseph go, for Joseph was his friend, and he liked him much more than Aubrey. So, the manger struck a bargain with the Phantom. I'm not really sure what his half of the bargain was, why O.G. eventually agreed to allow Joseph to remain at the Opera, as long as he bothered him not."

"I can't believe it," mumbled Claire. "Are you sure that's why Aubrey left? It could have just been a rumor?"

"No," Adeline shook her head. Trust me, I know. That is why Aubrey left- he was forced to."

Why did he lie to me? Claire asked herself. Why? Was it the embarrassment that kept his mother from telling the truth, or was there some other reason for his secrecy? She did not know- but what she did know was this: Claire was sick of lies.

A/N: And don't worry, I promise you'll be seeing A LOT more of Erik in the next chapter. This chapter is sort of the last 'boring' ones, and all the goodies come next! Wipee! Please tell me what you think and what you hope for. Cheers!

PS: Wish good luck to 'Dear Frankie' a movie that's premiering at a film festival this weekend. Hopefully it will do well! Gosh, I want to see it so bad!