I moved forward, waiting until the carriage had gone. That feeling was back, infuriating, and sharp, rising up from inside to bare its fangs at the surface as I felt my lips draw into a snarl. Jealousy. He had held her! He had been staking a claim on what I had earned! That fool… stop Erik, no, stop. You're overreacting… let it go. The fool, for that is what he is, would not know she is already courting… had no way of knowing… let it go, breath, breath… there. Finished. Well, not finnished, butclose enough. I move forward and hold Diana in my arms, savoring the feel of her pressed against me. She relaxes instantly, going soft, she had not seen my struggle. I'm glad of it. "I'm sorry it's so late Erik, I lost track of time…" I smile (she's falling asleep against me, heh.) "Did you have a good time?" She nods into my shoulder; a murmured yes reaches my ear. It flares up again, that temper! I roar it down. Gently I pick her up, she smiles and lay her head against my chest. "I wish you had been there…"

I couldn't help but sigh as she snuggled against me. (What have I done in life to deserve such trust?) The hallways were dark, the rest of the cast having long since retired to their rooms within or outside the opera. As I walked towards our destination, I reflected over my thoughts about this 'Count' that had suddenly entered our scene. He had seen me, I could tell from the way his breaths had increased. He had wanted to see me, why? (There is something deeply unsettling about this stranger...) "What are you thinking about Erik?"

I looked down into Diana's eyes, was there anything in the world more precious to me? "It's nothing Diana, were almost there." I pushed open her door with my shoulder, laying her on the bed before reaching for the matches and candle. "No, it's alright Erik, I don't mind the dark." I smiled, amusement in my eyes. "Oh? I recall that you had serious anxieties about the darkness." She smiled at me, taking my hand in hers. "You taught me not to fear the dark Erik. Will you stay with me tonight?"

I sighed, "I wish I could Diana, but there are certain matters I must attend to." I squeezed her hand before releasing it. "I promise to be here when you wake up." I move to the door, feeling her eyes watching me. "Goodnight Erik." I smile, "Goodnight, Diana."

The Ghost was silent, his pace increased as the hallways leading to the stage came into view. Another set of feet fell in step behind him, telling of Madam Giry's presence as she too, moved silently. They move towards the main hall, the sound of rustling skirts the only noise to pierce the quiet. The front doors of the opera slide open, and the viscount looks about cautiously. Nothing stirs. He smiles to himself, and removing his hat then moves with confidence into the theater. Daroga looks up from his seat on the stage when the strange assembly enters the opera's heart. "It would appear that we are all accounted for, please, take your seats."

Daroga smiles quietly, takes a seat in the front row, and the others follow his example. "So what have we all gathered to discuss?"

The Phantom hisses deep in his throat, pacing the stage, whether he is excited or agitated is hard to say. He finally stills, and turns his back to us. "It seems a rather bizarre member of the upper crust, has taken a liking to the opera house." Roul raises an eyebrow, "I fail to see the problem here." Giry shook her head, her eyes seeking the Phantoms. "How can you not see the problem! I have watched this man carefully, he is trouble if I've ever seen it. …to be frank, viscount, he somewhat reminds me of you." Roul tries to look offended, he only succeeds in looking amused. "Then there is even less need to worry! After all, I'm harmless!"

The Ghost chuckles. "…Are you now? Good to know Viscount. You may be harmless, he, is not." Roul rises from his seat. "What has you both convinced he is a danger? What is he a danger to?" Golden eyes shut, ashamed. "…to me. He is a danger to me, that is all." Roul falls still. "I don't know why you are here, Viscount. I did not send for you. How you even knew to come is a mystery to me… why are you here?" Roul shook his head. "Madam Giry sent for me… I think I see why." Nadir looks at the ballet mistress, eyebrow raised. Giry clears her throat. "I… I merely thought he might be able to tell us more about this Count, that's all. If this has proved an inconvenience monsieur, than I urge you to forgive me, and take your leave."

Giry looks away, Daroga sighs, Roul seems unsure of whether to stay or go. "I fail to see what we can do about this situation, if I may get back on track. The company managers are going full fledged to grab the Count as a patron." Giry moved from where she was sitting and picked up a scrap of paper from the floor. "You must be aware of this Erik, can he not be dissuaded?" The eyes flash, then still, "No Daroga, he cannot be dissuaded. He spotted me tonight. He has the look of a hunter, but I will not be the prey." Roul sits back down. "I think I will stay, thank you. Don't look at me that way Phantom, I have a debt to pay, and I will pay it." Erik stands still, stunned. "A debt? What debt! You owe me nothing Viscount! Let's have no mistakes made on that!" Roul smiles, "Oh? I still need to repay you, and I need not say for what. Christine knows it, as do you. Say what you will, I will not be swayed."

Erik stays still, but finally shakes his head amazed. "…it is your decision viscount. As long as you understand, I guaranty you no protection. Throw your lot with me, and you will risk everything in time. You accept this?" Roul nodds, "For the will to live, for a friend of Christine's, I will take such a risk." Nadir coughs, "If I may return to our focus once more?" The others nod. "Now, Erik, what are you planning? It will not be easy to fight a man of his stature, and I do hope, that we will avoid violence. So what shall we do? It seems our options are few."

I nod, Daroga is right, in a way. But perhaps… even without violence. "I am aware that there is little it seems we can do, however we have more power here than I think you realize." All three returned their attention back to me. Daroga seems especially interested. "So what is this untapped power that you speak of? I'm yet to discover one." I can't help it, I chuckle.

The viscount sighs, and looks up. "I also have no idea what power you are referring to Phantom." His eyes are troubled. "I see where you have some power, as well as where I stand... but what about The Persian and madam Giry?" In the darkness, perhaps my imagination runs a little wild, but my! Aren't we the perfect group of conspirators? "It's very simple really, just think about it." Their confused expressions are beginning to annoy me, exasperation etches itself in my form. "Madam Giry, is in charge of all the ballet dancers. Daroga has the trust of every stagehand and helper. You viscount know your influence, and I, mine. Do you see now?"

Daroga leans back into his chair, a smile playing over his features. "You have a point there Erik." I nod, "Together, we have an amazing amount of influence!" Madam Giry remains silent, then skeptical. "The Count has quite an influence himself. Do we really want to pit ourselves against that?"

The ghost falls still, a sigh hisses slowly from his throat. "Commonly, I would say no. The risks are quite high; make no mistakes about that where it is concerned." A sound echoes throughout the room, a clang, like metal being dropped. Three of the four fall still, the Persian ducks. The last disappears into the shadows. Not a sound, not a breath. Nothing. Timidly, the shadow stirs, releasing the specter within. "…is it clear Giry?" The ballet mistress stands, looks about slowly. "…no, we must move."

There is a soft brush of wood and cloth. The door to box five shuts with a soft click. Inside the dark is left undisturbed. A thud, and a curse of pain. "Watch yourself Viscount, that's my innocent chair you're attacking."

"A chair? It felt like a wall!"

"Then that is my innocent wall you're attacking! Enough! Is all still?"

They grow still, finally a whisper. "…we should be all right now. Where were we?" Giry sighs.

"O.G? You do realize that this is a battle we may not win."

He smiles behind the mask.

"Well, we still have to try."

I woke the next morning to the sound of gentle breaths, the sunlight filtered threw my window and across the mask of the man who lay beside me. I smiled, my finger twirling lazily in his hair. "Erik? Are you awake?" a half murmured protest reached my ears. "What was that? I couldn't hear you." One eye opened and regarded me with mild annoyance. "dosh syou ave any ides sthwat time its ith..?" I giggle and wrapped my arms around his waist.

"So Diana, how did you sleep?" I look at him and laugh, "Oh so now you're awake! I feel so honored!" His smile of annoyance was so amusing! I know that he knew I was only joking; his eyes were clear and soft. If he had actually been annoyed there would have been a spark in them. "You're in a very playfull mood this morning. I take it you slept well?"

Erik and I shared our normal morning routine, I got dressed while he waited outside. He came back in when I had finished and we agreed to have our lessons at the same time as usual… but something seemed amiss… Erik was not mentioning anything about the many hours we commonly would spend together after lunch. He seemed tense, almost anxious, and excited… what on earth is happening? "Erik? Is something happening? You seem, tense, for lack of a better word." The smile he had been wearing faded. "It's nothing Diana." I could see right threw that maneuver, I knew how he thought. "Are you sure? Maybe I can help?"

The smile returned and he laughed softly, "Perhaps there is a way for you to help, don't distract me with your beauty!" He dodged the tackle I aimed at him and grabbed me before I hit the floor. "Women in corsets shouldn't roughhouse!" I smiled sneakily, "Oh really? I don't think you know very much about women! Or corsets, for that matter." He scoffed playfully and turned to leave. "Are you sure everything's alright Erik? If there's something you want to tell me…" His eyes were soft and warm as he looked at me, and I felt myself on the inside reaching out to him. "Don't worry about me Diana, I can handle myself."

I nodded, of course he could! He's Erik! There's nothing in the world that can touch him if he doesn't let it! I already hear the voice in the back of my head saying, "Now here you go worrying about nothing again:" I watched him vanish into the mirror and left my room. The opera house was quiet this morning and I made my way to breakfast without seeing another soul. There was a sense of uneasiness that seemed to fill the air wherever I walked. I looked around the dining room and saw that I was not the only person feeling this way, every member of the ballet were huddled into a protective group. The stagehands were behaving in very much the same manner, whispers circulated through the tense air.

"Diana! There you are! You have to hear this!" Kirsty ran over and handed me a slice of bread, her eyes wide with fear. "What is it Kirsty? Why is everyone acting this way!" Kirsty took my hand and pulled me into a corner. "They say the Ghost has returned! And that he is in a rage!" I shook my head in shock, Erik in a rage? I couldn't even picture it! My traitorous memory returned to the confrontation with the Viscount, I remembered the power in Erik's form, and I shuddered. "People say it's the fault of the Count Emorenth!" Here I made her stop. "Why would the Ghost be angry with Jonathan? He's done nothing but be kind to everyone here!"

Kirsty shrugged, "All I heard is that the Ghost doesn't want him to become a patron!" I sat down into a chair, was this what had been bothering Erik? He hadn't seemed angry when he had left me this morning… "Kirsty, how does anyone know the Phantom is angry?" Kirsty stared at me in mute shock. "By the note of course! The notes that are written in blood! Andrea and Firmin found one on there desk this morning, it's been posted in the hallway for everyone to see!" With renewed strength, she grabbed my hand and pulled me out of the room. "Common! I'll show it to you!"

We ran down the hallways to the front foyer, a crowd was gathered around a note tacked to the wall. "See! There it is!" I moved threw the crowd to get a better look.

To my incapable Managers,

There is a stranger that you have allowed to wander in our midst! A foolish newcomer has come to Paris, a man who threatens the delicate balance of our coexistence! Weed him out from amongst you! The Count Emorenth is not to be received kindly within my Opera house! He is not to be accepted as friend or acquaintance by any within these walls! If these demands are not met, then I need not tell you what will occur…

I remain your observant specter,

O.G.

Also, have this notice posted at the grand foyer for the entire cast and crew to see. Remember, I am always watching.

Andrea sighed and sank down onto the over chair before the fireplace, with his right hand he wiped the sweat from his brow. Firmin looked over at his partner and sighed, "We have no choice Andrea, we can't risk another disaster of that magnitude." Andrea nodded, his head bowed with defeat. "I know that Firmin, but why must he choose to forbid the valuable patrons!" Firmin shrugged. Both the managers looked up as Roul and the Persian entered the room. "Is it true what they're saying has happened!"

Andrea nodded, the Persian and Roul both exchanged glances. "What are you planning to do managers?" Firmin laughed, "What do you think we can do? We have no choice but to comply with his demands! I think that this has been proven more than once." Andrea let out a frustrated groan and walked to the window, "So much stress isn't good for a man of my age… perhaps we should follow Lefevre's example…" Firmin blinked, "Are you proposing that we sell out?" Andrea nodded, his eyes light for the first time in a long time. "Yes, that's exactly what I'm proposing! And I know the exact person to sell to!"

So it came to pass that over the next few months arrangements were discussed, prices were set, and the opera house was purchased.

It became the cherished property of a man so devoted to the arts that many thought him eccentric. Perchance you remember the Count Emorenth?