A/N: Hello, everyone. Thanks so much for all the wonderful reviews. Sorry I can't respond to them all, but time is limited, so I'll only respond to the longer, more in depth reviews. Lol- ok, so this chapter is a bit longer than usual, but that's cool, cause the next one will be a little shorter. Also, I forgot to say that in the last chapter, I used a song by Josh Groban. I will use several more of his through out the story, so if you like his music, that's great! Remember to please review! Gracias!

Camlann: Thanks for the review! I got your emails and replied to them on my URL. Just letting you know. Who knows what will become of Claire? Lol.

MaskedRose1205: I try my best, lol. I'm glad you like the story. I like your story as well. I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Countess Alana: Well, here you're getting your wish. Tehehe…pretty soon the Claire and Erik action will get better. For right now (besides this chapter) it is kinda slow, but the wait will be worth it. I wish I could just rush into things with them, but that wouldn't be realistic. Sighs Goodness these people are so darn slow! Lol.

AngelofMusic45: Yes, I love Josh Groban. I can't wait to add in the rest of his songs (not all of course.) I'll probably use two or three more from the album, 'Closer'. I wonder if you can guess which ones? I'm so excited! Lol.

Chapter Seven: The Pit

Claire pushed her way through the much smaller crowd of people on the top floor of the theatre's seating section as the audience trampled their way toward the stairs to the exit at once like a herd of cattle. She managed to slip past Aubrey and his mother unnoticed, which was never an intention, but just so happened. The play had just gotten over, and Claire was growing anxious.

She stopped at the foot of the crimson curtain that divided her from the Box. She took a deep breath, and lifted her hand. Carefully she pulled back the velvet curtains; there was no one there.

She frowned, baffled. He must have left in the crowd, unnoticed, she thought. And as she turned to leave, something bright caught her eye.

There, on the sole chair in Box Seat Five, was a pale envelope, and beside it, a box. Claire glided gracefully towards the chair, curiosity gripping her by the throat, with no intentions of freeing her.

Her eyes could not be torn from the items. She picked up the box and opened it, not caring at all whether she was being rude. "What are these things doing here?" she couldn't help but wonder aloud.

"Those are not for you," she thought she heard a soft whisper behind her. Shuddering, Claire spun around; nothing was there, no one. Her blood ran cold, but she would not leave empty handed.

She placed her slender fingers on the rim of the wooden box, and carefully opened it. Her eyes grew in amazement and surprise…candy! Tiny truffles and hard candies of so many flavors! What on earth were these doing here? Gifts for a kind usher, perhaps? Claire quickly closed the box, not wanting to tempt herself, of course.

She picked up the letter with the blood red wax seal of a tortured skull. A river of ice trickled down her spine as she opened the envelope and read its contents, written with red ink. She recognized the scribbled hand writing and ink almost immediately. She barely breathed, fearing the sound of her rising chest and beating heart in her bosom could wake a sleeping beast.

Dearest Madame Giry, the letter read.

It is to you whom I must entrust my undeniable gratitude for keeping my place intact this evening. I am disappointed to realize that Monsieur Bonamy has still not decided to comply with my simple instructions. The opera was quite well and all, I do agree, but I fear we will have to cut little Arielle's budding career as a singer short; I was not all that impressed. Please do see me after you receive this letter. I've something of great importance to deliver to you, in person.

Your humble friend,

O.G.

P.S. I hope you enjoy the new variety and selection of candies tonight. I rather enjoy the tart squares myself.

Claire closed the letter, not even looking at it. She was staring off the balcony, watching as the last of the audience filed out of the auditorium. Her eyes were wide with wonder. "Madame Giry," she muttered. "Oh my, your…"she glanced down at the exact words on the parchment. "Humble friend?"

She folded the letter and placed it back in its envelope, her breath then returning to normal. She placed a trembling hand over her heart and staggered back into a mahogany beam that aided in holding up the grand opera house.

She dropped the envelope to the floor, and did not pick it up. "You should not be here…"

Claire spun around again. It seemed almost as if the voice came from the beam. How could that be possible? She studied it a moment, and then took a step backward, shaking her head slightly. "Who's there?" Was she going mad?

No one answered. Claire spent a moment in silence. She didn't know what to do. Should she leave? Her father was probably searching for her. No, she changed her mind. He would be too occupied by others at the moment to notice his daughter's absence. She hadn't been gone that long.

Her hands moved through the air, and swept the side of the beam delicately. A trap door came to mind- just like the one in the prop room. The Phantom must have had one to gain access to this box, this specific box! That's why he requested it so adamantly!

Claire's hands glided all over the beam, around its smooth edges and elongated curves; she found nothing. She looked on the ground; no lever of any kind. She rose up her head; still nothing.

She turned around to see if she could find anything else. As she did so, she noticed a place on the wall where the curtains met with it. Attached to the curtain was a golden string, almost as thick as a rope. All boxes had this feature; they were meant to be pretty, decorated pieces, tassels.

She wrapped her fingers around it and gave it a good tug. Nothing happened, so she tried again. She pulled down with every ounce of strength in her. Her knees bent and she collapsed to the floor.

With a grunt, she looked up at the beam, and where there once was a wooden surface, then was an empty hole; a hole into space.

She glanced down the- what looked like- the bottomless pit. Her heart beginning to race, Claire imagined this was yet another secret passage. But, how did anyone get…she stopped, noticing something she had not seen before.

It was a hollow beam; that Claire could tell, but she wondered how anyone could climb down. She didn't have to wonder long. Tiny steps lined one side of the beam, somewhat like a ladder.

Claire's first instinct was to climb down and see where it led. Of course, she followed it without much thought of what she might find at the bottom. Carefully, she stepped into the beam, placing her foot on one of the ridges of the steps. Then she took another step downward, and soon she found herself climbing down in the beam!

She shivered with apprehension, and she pasted her eyes to the darkness below her; she could not see all the way to the bottom for it was quite far down. Her chest rose and fell as she climbed. She took deep, slow breaths. More than once the tips of her boots would slip, sending her heart racing, but she continued without any hesitation.

As before, Claire was shrouded in darkness. She did not know when the 'ladder' would come to an end, but after several more minutes she finally felt solid ground with her boot. She smiled, relieved that the end had come.

She turned her head upward; a tiny rectangle of light was small as a star in the night sky above her. She must have been far below the auditorium, for it was only two floors below the highest box seats.

She glanced around her; darkness. Claire let out a sigh. She was in a hallway, she knew that much. It was similar to the previous one she had entered; only this one was slightly better lit. She followed it, warily.

Flickering candles stood tall and proud in their mounts on the walls on either side of her. Claire licked her drying lips. Following the gloomy route before her, Claire soon found herself at the end of the hallway.

She cocked her head, baffled. There was a door- a sliding door! She grasped its edges and pulled it upward. It made a loud scratchy sound as it slid open, and Claire gritted her teeth. She hoped no one had heard her!

Slipping quietly through the doorway, Claire found herself in a very peculiar hall. She was standing on a series of slender stone steps. The walls, she could tell were made of stone. The stairs curved to the left. Claire slowed down, her chest heaving.

"What is this place?" she panted aloud.

Then she started to walk again, and as she traveled down the stairs; her pace quickened. All too suddenly, she felt the floor slip away from underneath her.

Claire screamed as she fell into a trap- a pit of water. Her entire head was forced underwater, and the water was deep.

Gasping for breath, she came out of the cold water. Her long silver earrings dangled on the surface of the water. Claire gasped; it was cold. As shivers ran down her spine, Claire looked up to where she heard a noise.

A sudden creaking rang in her ears, and she noticed the bars coming down over her. "Oh no," she gasped, spitting out water. The bars dropped closer.

Claire quickly glanced around, looking for an exit, but she saw none. Dunking her head under the water, she saw that there was no escape there, either. She did notice, however, a circular latch. She swam over to it, trying to turn it, but it would not move.

Running out of air, Claire swam back to the surface for the last time; the bars were only inches from her head. "Help!" she gasped, choking on the icy water. "Help!" the word was gurgled under water.

Claire quickly swam back to the latch. She gripped it tightly and pulled with all the strength left in her, but it still refused to move.

Claire gasped couldn't stop herself from gasping for breath, only letting precious bubbles of air out and deadly water in. She felt her eyes rolling to the back of her head, and the last thing she heard was a terrible screeching.

Erik yanked tighter on the chain pulley, lifting the metal bars from the water. The rusted chains bit into his fingers. He let out a grunt as he gripped the chain tighter, pulling with all the strength he had.

He could see the bubbles of air rising and popping at the surface of the water. For all he knew, the girl he heard screaming could be dead, but he had to try.

As the metal bars lifted, Erik slid them aside on the stone step, taking a giant leap into the cold water. He immediately felt Claire's limp body. He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her to the surface of the water.

He suddenly felt her chest rising and falling as she gasped for air, and life slowly filtered back in her.

"Give her to me!" ordered Madame Giry from above. She reached her hands down as far as she could; she could barely reach Claire's arm.

Erik did as he was told, lifting Claire upward by the waist, his mask threatening to fall. Mme. Giry stretched her arm out, grabbing Claire's wrist and pulled her up. Erik then reached down to the latch, using up his strength again, by pushing it away from him. Slowly the latch turned and the water began to drain out. A trap door opened at his side.

Claire gasped for air as she stood, still spitting out water on the stone steps. She turned her head upward. "Madame Giry?"

"Do not follow him!" the woman said, coldly.

Claire slowly brought herself to her feet. She leaned over the edge of the trap, seeing that it was empty. "It was him," she gasped. "It was the Opera Ghost, Madame Giry! Where did he go?"

"He has left us," was the woman's reply.

"He saved me," Claire breathed; her dress clinging to her soaking and cold body. "And you- you saved me. What are you doing down here?"

"I followed you," snapped Mme. Giry. "You should not be down here. I don't know what foolish thoughts were going through your mind, if any thoughts at all, but I strongly urge you never to come down here again."

"I-I'm," Claire stuttered, shivering in the cold. "Sorry."

Mme. Giry sighed, placing her arms around the shivering girl. "Come," she said, seizing her arm and leading her up the stairs. "You must take off these clothes, or you'll freeze. Come with me. Forget all you have seen."

Claire glanced back at the trap door. So, the Phantom wasn't as cold and heartless as they say, she thought. He may have been a murderer, but he's saved a life as well. How could she forget that?

"Come in here, quickly," Mme. Giry opened her daughter's dressing room door, leading Claire inside.

"What are we doing in Meg's room?" Claire asked after reading her name on the door, her skin tingling with the cold.

"We need to find you some new clothes," Mme. Giry answered simply. She began searching through Meg's dresses. "Here," she pulled one from the rack. "Take this," she said, handing it to Claire.

Claire took the light blue dress, staring at it. "I'm sopping wet."

"Here's a towel," Mme. Giry handed her a towel from the bathroom across the hall. "Dry yourself off, and get changed. They will be wondering where you are. You must never tell anyone of what just happened- do you understand?"

"Why?" asked Claire.

"I have my reasons; do as I say," Mme. Giry instructed.

"Madame?"

"Yes?" Mme Giry snapped. Claire turned her back to the woman.

"I need assistance with my corset."

"Of course," Madame Giry was in such a rush of amazement, she had forgotten about that.

She first helped the soaking girl to dry herself with the towel; then she helped her undress, and dress again in her daughter's own, dry clothing.

Claire patted her face with the towel and then attempted to dry her hair with it. Though she tried her best to dry her hair, it was still damp by the time she got changed, which took many minutes, for it is very difficult to dress in such complicated clothing.

Mme. Giry frowned, picking the damp towel from the bed and rustling it around Claire's loose hair. "I don't think it will get any drier," Claire complained.

"Very well," Madame Giry thrust the towel on the bed. "You can make a quick lie, if anyone asks about it. Come now; you're late for the reception. Remember what I told you."

"I won't breathe a word," she promised. "But I must know why," Claire's eyes fell downward, and then she stared Madame Giry in the eye. "I read the letter for you- and I saw the box." Madame Giry sighed. "Why are you helping him? Why did he call you friend? Madame Giry-"

"Silence!" Mme. Giry placed a hand on her stomach, feeling quite faint. "Please Claire, I will explain all in due time, but for now, you must go to your father!"

"But, I want to know! I deserve to know the truth!"

"Now is not the time!" Mme. Giry ushered the girl out the door.

Both ladies left Meg's room, walking swiftly to the entrance hall of the theatre. Light filtered the hall throughout. Over fifty people were there, all dressed in fine attire, drinking from wine glasses and eating off of expensive plates.

"I leave you know," Mme. Giry said. Claire turned to her, a look of confusion on her face. "I have some business to attend to. Remember what I told you."

"You're going to see him?" Claire asked.

Mme. Giry's lips curved into a tight frown. "Speak nothing of it!" she whispered, turning on her heels, and leaving poor Claire with all her unanswered questions.

Turning back to the excellent party, Claire searched the crowd for a familiar face. She caught sight of one after only a few seconds of searching. Aubrey walked toward her, smiling.

"Where were you?" he asked, reaching her. "And why is your hair wet?"

"Oh," Claire had to think of a lie, quick. "Well, I had to take it down…a-and wet it," she stuttered. "It was far too…umm…frizzy."

"Frizzy?" Aubrey asked, baffled.

Claire gave a nervous smile. "You know how it is when the air is dry…"

"No, I don't," Aubrey shook his head, still quite unsure of what she was trying to say.

"Well the air up in the seats…it's terribly dry, and anyway, I looked dreadful…so I-I had to wet it," Claire tilted her head slightly.

"Well I think its looks fine," Aubrey said. "Can I offer you a drink?"

Claire's eyes widened. Thank god, she thought. "Yes- I'll come with you."

The two of them slowly made their way through the crowd of people toward the table that displayed the food and drink for the party. Aubrey poured a glass of white wine for Claire and handed it to her, and then he poured one for himself.

Claire immediately put the glass to her lips, taking in full gulps of the wine. Aubrey raised a brow, but said nothing. "Shall we?" he asked, his hand gliding to point away from the table area.

"Yes," Claire too wanted to go where it was less crowded.

She stepped quickly in front of Aubrey who looked down at the floor. A series of puddles trailed on the floor after Claire. He sighed, wondering what was with her, and then followed. He could hear a man slip and fall behind him.

They both stopped near the closed doors of the theatre. "What did you make of the opera, Claire?" asked Aubrey.

"I thought it was wonderful," she answered with a grin. "Arielle was amazing."

"Arielle?"

"She's a friend of mine," Claire stated, rolling her eyes.

"Well, your father is very pleased," said Aubrey. "It was almost a full house tonight."

"Yes, I'm quite pleased myself," Claire said, taking another sip of wine, this time more graciously. "It was quite unexpected." Claire glanced off into the distance, reflecting on all that just happened. She hadn't yet taken a moment to stop and ponder everything.

"You look quite frazzled," Aubrey stated, his voice seemed distant to Claire, and she didn't hear it through her cloud of thought. "Are you alright? Claire?"

"Hmm?" Claire turned to Aubrey, her one earring dangling. She hadn't noticed it, but her right earring had fallen out in the water trap.

Aubrey chuckled. "Never mind; what's on your mind?" he asked with a hint of concern.

"Just tonight," Claire said with a nod.

Yay! Erik saves the day…Lol. He's so cool…Please tell me what you think.