(A/N: Hullo there everyone! I hope you've enjoyed the story thus far. All the reviews have been appreciated greatly! It's a good thing I got them when I did, because I was beginning to get a bit discouraged.

To Shell: hullo dahl! I'll be sure to keep writing. It's good to know someone is enjoying this.

To dkuhs: Not too many of the original cast will be in here, at least I hadn't planned it that way. Who knows, maybe I'll throw them in later. After seeing more than just two people are reading this, I'll be sure to continue!

Chapter six: Pitiful Guest

'Twas a late night; a very tiresome night. The new manager of the Opera Populaire was walking down the great staircase, quite ready to get home to his wife and children. After a day of tireless arguing with his mediocre Spanish diva, he had finally managed to assure her that Jennet's remark was not true in the least bit. Truthfully, he had to look down at the floor when saying that. Jezime had a horrible liar. He had hoped to have a word with the dancer in privet, but Madame Giry had informed him that the woman wouldn't leave her chambers for fear of young Miss Geovinna's life.

That was a story within itself. The ill dancer. It was a shame really -she was such a pretty little thing. From Jennet's reports, she hadn't recovered in the least bit yet. Madame Giry had visited only once, and she was disappointed to see that Anika wasn't even out of bed yet. Antoinette had reluctantly given up Miss Geovinna's part to another dancer, for she supposed the girl was not going to recover. A serious waste of talent.

Placing his black hat on his head and flipping up the collar on his coat, Monsieur Jezime sighed to himself. Stopping to view the breathtaking glory of the grand staircase in moonlight, he placed his hands in his coat pockets and yawned. What time was it anyway? Checking his watch leisurely, he read the time aloud.

"Seven past eleven.. What a day what a day."

Placing the timepiece back in his pocket, he shook his head before turning to walk out the door. His carriage had been called five minuets ago, but he knew the driver wouldn't be here for another three. Not only was hismanor a bit of a distance away, the driver was young and inexperienced. He hadn't quitelearned the motto, "time is money", as of yet.

Why expose himself to the chilly night air? Glancing around at the various paintings on the walls, he tried to amuse himself. Sadly, it was in vain. He had no interest in them. Now the large naked women sprawled about the place --that was another matter entirely... Suddenly he heard a groan behind him, and turned to see a suspicious looking man slumped on one of the banisters of the staircase.

"Monsieur? May I help you?"

He asked in an authoritative voice, taking a few halfassed steps forward before deciding to find out more about this man lest he continue on. The figure was dressed in a ratty black suit, a gray woolen traveling cloak thrown over his shoulders. The hood on the cloak was oversized, and was placed over his head -thus cloaking the man's identity in shadow. Tricky indeed. Jezime was wrought with a sense of undying curiosity.The man groaned again, a melancholy sound of pain. Clasping both hands to the banister, he moaned before pitching forward down the stairs.

Monsieur Jezime gasped, rushing to the man's side. He had collapsed at the bottom of the stairs with a nasty cracking sound, one of his legs was bent at an awkward angle, and his bruised arm revealed.

"Sir! Oh my God, oh my God!"

The manager cried, collapsing in a couch at his side. Looking at the hideous arm, he bit back a gag of disgust.It was utterly hideous!Jezime tried to reach out and take the hood off the man's face, but his hand was knocked out of the air as the man growled a name under his breath.

"Giry. Get me Giry."

Pulling back his arm and trying to stand, the man wheezed dreadfully. He was held down by Monsieur Jezime who urgently reassured him he would get the ballet mistress.

"Don't move. You might hurt yourself further. I will go get Madame Giry, please please stay put!"

Standing and rushing off towards Madame Giry's chambers, his boots clicked loudly on the tiled floors. Reaching her door relatively quickly, he knocked loudly. His heavy breathing could be heard through the wood, and she answered with a satin robe over her sleeping gown. Seeing the desperation in his eyes, she followed without question. As the pair hurried to the lobby of the opera however, she tried to get some answers.

"What has happened Monsieur? Was there another accident?"

They rushed around a corner, Madame Giry's slippers making a dull patter on the floors. When he struggled for an answer, she placed her hand delicately on his shoulder.

"Monsieur, please tell me."

The manager waved her hand off, quickening his pace to reach their destination. He did not want to try and explain. Besides, he hardly knew why he was bending over backwards for this mystery man. There was something in his tone that commanded respect, as if he were famous. Pointing a finger at Madame Giry, Jezime growled an answer under his breath.

"He asked for you. Just wait until we get there, your quest for answers will get you nowhere with me."

Madame Giry's eyes widened at the mention of a he, but she questioned Jezime no more. Could it possibly be him, the man she had not seen since the great disaster? For some reason her mind and heart soared, but at the same time she knew it was not him. He would never show himself to the new manager in the wide open opera lobby. Besides, why would he ask her assistance now? In the middle of the night?

Monsieur Jezime grabbed her by the hand and pushed her forward into the lobby gently. Madame Giry looked upon the man sprawled at the base of the stairs with caution, then placed her hand over her mouth.. One word escaped, echoing around the large room with a surprised twinge in her heavy accent.

"ERIK!"

(A/N: What a horribly suspenseful way to end a chapter, no? I love to do that! Mwahaha. Review please! The more I get, the more I am inspired. I'm sure the next chapter will be heavy with Giry-scoldings.)