A/N: Hello everyone! (promptly hides as everyone gets rotten cabbages ready to throw) I am so sorry I took so flippin' long to update! I'm sorry! I kind of lost the plot and it took seeing the show in London (AMAZING!) to kick me back into gear. So here is the result! This chapter sort of jumps about a bit: from Ellisa being thirteen to her being sixteen, but I do need to move the story on a bit. Erik loses it about halfway through and does something very silly. Well, read on!

Disclaimer: Oh, believe me, I wish I did. But I don't. Own anything, that is, leastways not to do with Phantom of the Opera.

Chapter Nine

Paris Opera House, 1881

At the time of our tale, thirteen years was still, in the eyes of society, extremely young and innocent – especially for a girl. And so Ellisa, at her tender age, knew very little of the world and its prejudices, its cruelties and its dangers.

She knew very little of love. But, curious as it may seem, the same could be said of Erik, her poor, sad Erik. He had never been loved, and he had never dared to allow himself to love – up till now. He knew, deep down, that he had once loved his mother, but that had soon turned to hate, as love so often can.

But love can turn to other things, as well as hate. Love can turn into obsession, and the Phantom had become obsessed with Ellisa, as children so often do. But what he didn't realise was that this was more than just a childish fancy: he needed the light she gave to save him from complete insanity.

But was Ellisa ready to provide that light?

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'O.G's' – he would not be Erik again until she was with him once more – plan was as simple as it was cruel. He knew that Ellisa kept a decanter of water in her dressing room, and it was simple enough to place a sleeping potion – the same he had given her each afternoon those many years ago – in it, and then simply wait for it to take effect. Then he could bind her hands, and carry her down to the cellars. No one would be able to find her, not this time.

The plan took barely ten minutes to play out, and then she was asleep in his armchair once more. It was only at this point, staring down at the red, inflamed skin beneath the rope on her wrists that his conscience decided to prick him.

He sat there for hours, scarcely breathing, as he fought with his guilt. Why had he taken her like that? What in God's name had possessed him? She was but a child…

Then, the child stirred. Erik swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. He was not ready, not ready for her to wake up… he was not ready for her look of terrible hurt and hatred as she saw where she was once more...

Her eyelids flickered, and his hands flew up to his mask. It was in place… at least he could spare her that one horror…

Slowly, she opened her eyes, and stretched in that familiar, cat-like way. But then, as her mind processed what her eyes were seeing, she immediately leapt from the chair with the grace instilled in her by her ballet teacher, but almost toppled over with her bound hands. Almost unconsciously, Erik stepped forward and steadied her, but she stepped away, fear in her eyes. Fear… and something else.

"Erik?" Her voice was disbelieving, and trembling. Erik looked away, his guilt overpowering his courage, and did not see the slow, delighted smile that crossed her face, for just a moment. But then she looked down at her hands, and asked shakily;

"Why have you tied me up like this?" Wordlessly, Erik stepped forward, and as gently as he could, untied the rope. He stepped back, still not daring to meet her eyes. What terrible thoughts were filling her mind, what awful thoughts of hatred and fear?

"There." He said, his voice quiet, with none of its ordinary brilliance. Ellisa flinched away at this harsh metallic soundin a manner she had not from his cold touch. They stood in silence for a moment, neither ready to break the silence,awkwardas it was.

Ellisa glanced around the room, so alien yet so familiar, a room she had visited in her dreams every night for years. And there, in the corner of the room, the piano, the object she had always longed to touch in her dream but which always disappeared before she could. The sight of it brought to her mind a strange calm.

"Erik… why?" Erik looked up in astonishment, not because of her question, but because she had taken in her hands one of his and was now gently rubbing it between hers, as though to warm it. He looked reluctantly into her eyes and was shocked to see not hatred in them, but a gentle compassion, and hope.

But the fear was still there nonetheless. But could he blame her? She was just a child, really… so young. Too young to be hidden there, in the dark. He pulled his hand from her grasp and turned away, his fists clenching in confusion and frustration.

"You are free to go. I will keep you no longer." Hemuttered roughly, but Ellisa was not going to back down so easily. She took his hand once more – such impertinence, others had died for far less at his hand! – and pulled him round to face her. Though the fear was still clear in her eyes, her face was set in the harsh lines of childish determination.

"What about my lesson?" She said simply, then fell silent. At first Erik looked at her in bafflement, but then, seeing her eyes wander to the piano in the corner, he smiled, feeling young once more. He led her to the piano stool, and held it out for her just as a gentleman should.

"Thankyou." She said primly, and Erik felt his heart give a curious lurch of emotion that he could not quite place.

She sat down at the stool, and looked up at him expectantly. And it was only as he lent down to guide her fingers over the keys that Erik realised that it was not just her hands that were shaking... his were too.

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So much had changed. Erik cursed himself for ever allowing his irrationality to take control and to persuade him to kidnap Ellisa.

She was young, yet so brave. He had seen it in her eyes, as he'd gently guided her hands over the keys earlier that night, her fear, her compassion. How was it that one little girl had decided to shoulder without complaint the burden of Erik's loneliness when all others had turned away in revulsion? How could such a small person have so much goodness in their soul?

She was sleeping now, sleeping in his armchair, and he was watching her, his chest rising and falling in time with hers. He absorbed every detail of her face, now thin and angular, all traces of puppy fat gone, her hair, a slightly deeper shade of auburn than it had been, and her thin, fragile limbs. She was by no means a great beauty (a thought which gave Erik a perverse sense of relief, much to his consternation), but she had a sweet, innocent smile and eyes that Erik knew would be the block upon which one day many young suitors wouldunthinkinglystumble.

They were the eyes that he had already stumbled at. They were the eyes that had implored him to save the girl's life all those years ago, the eyes that had brought into his dark world a ray of pure bright light.

The eyes that had taught him to love…

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He had sent her away, after two days of music. He had sent her away… on the understanding that she would return, for a further two days, when next she earnt a reprieve from dancing. It was all that kept her going through the long, exhausting nights beneath the eyes of the aristocrats of Parisian society.

Ellisa, lacking any emotional vocabulary save that of a child, could not explain what it was that drew her so to the man in the mask. She did not realise that she recognised his loneliness, empathised with his love of music…

She had forgiven him for kidnapping her, just as she had forgiven him long ago for hitting her. She would go on forgiving, because a very deep, wise part of her knew that whatever pain he had dealt her was but a fraction of that which the world had heaped upon him.

It was only a few more weeks until she would see him again…

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Years passed in such a vein, with Ellisa going down beneath the Opera House whenever she could to lose herself in the music that she and Erik created together. She was a ready and eager pupil, and he a skilled, if somewhat feverish, tutor. Erik did not change: he cared not for the outside world or its influences. But Ellisa was slowly changing into a young woman, and her innocence, which had protected her from seeing all that was foul and degraded in 'her Erik', was slowly fading away. But what would take its place?

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Paris Opera House, 1884

Their lesson was over for the day, and as Erik closed the heavy manuscript with a slight smile, Ellisa asked him a question she had been longing, but never quite daring, to ask him for weeks.

"Erik? May I ask you something?" Erik looked down at the girl, frowningslightly beneath his mask. The changes in her over the past few months had been disturbingly sudden... it seemed to him that one moment she had been a plain, solitary little girl and the nexta confident young woman who received flowers every night from doting young menwho hadadored her from afar in the ballet.Yes… he knew all about her suitors. Whatever she lacked in looks she more than made up for with personality.

"It would seem you already have, my dear, but do go on." Erik replied after a short pause, determinedly pushing away his sudden rush of fear. She was going to ask him what lay beneath the mask… she had never asked before, but…

"Will you take me to the masquerade ball?" Well. Somehow, he hadn't been expecting that… but somehow, he would have rather she'd asked about the mask. He sighed imperceptibly and turned so that she could only see the masked side of his face, and not his emotions. She continued; "Well, you see I'm sixteen by then, and then it will be permissible for a man to take me out, and I've had one or two invitations already, but I would so love it if you could take me…" and so on.

Erik turned back to the girl, sighing as he saw the look of pleading adoration in her eyes. If you knew what others do, child, you would not look upon me in such a way…

What could he do? Already he was weakening to that look… how was he to push away the affection – perhaps even love – of the only person who had ever shown him kindness?

"Very well." He said gruffly, astonished when she leapt from the stool and hugged him tightly. They rarely had any physical contact -for his part, Erik shied from it out of habit, and she out of a deep, long-forgotten fear.

"Thankyou." She whispered, still not pulling away. Erik swallowed nervously, wondering what he was meant to do with his hands. Eventually he decided to pat her head in a paternal manner.

And as he grew accustomed to the feeing of her arms around his body, Erik wondered why she hadmade such a request, and why he had so readily acquiesced to it, despite the risks. He wondered what it was about this girl that made him forget about his mask.

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They were to meet outside the Rue de Commune. Ellisa rubbed her hands – encased in white gloves up to the elbows – together in a mixture of nerves and anticipation. She was wearing a petite powder pink dress she had bought with her savings from the past two months. And as she had stood before the mirror earlier that evening she had decided it had been worth every franc.

The mask she wore was simple, plain, black – covering the left side of her face. The half-mask both unconsciously mirrored and contrasted with Erik's white, right-side mask.

"My child?" Ellisa jumped and whirled around to see Erik standing before her, an odd expression she could not quite decipher upon his face.

The two stood in silence for a moment, each drinking in the appearance of the other. Erik was dressed in his finest dress coat and a long, flowing black cloak lined with red satin. A sword hung from his belt in an ornate scabbard. Upon his face he wore his customary white mask. An air of mystery hung around his very persona. Unfortunately the effect was ruined by the fact that he also wore his battered fedora upon his head, but Ellisa didn't mind. She knew her friends in the corps de ballet would be green with envy at the sight of her being escorted by such a striking figure.

Erik, for his part, could not quite place the feelings that coursed through him at the sight of his young protégéé. She looked… charming, he thought. Swallowing his anxiety, and determinedly pushing away the somewhat inappropriate thoughts running through his head to the very deepest depths of his mind, he offered her his arm.

"Shall we?" He asked, suddenly excited as a little child. Ellisa laughed gaily, and took his proffered arm.

"Yes." She said, smiling. She looked up at him, and reached a tentative hand up to stroke the left side of his face – the side not covered by the mask. "Thankyou." She whispered. "For everything."

Erik said nothing, merely looked away awkwardly and tried not to think how much what she was saying sounded like a goodbye.

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A/N: Please review! I'm trying to walk the fine line between making Ellisa realistically likeable from Erik's point of view (and let's face it, you'd need the patience of an angel to put up with him!) and letting her become a Mary-Sue, which I know annoys a lot of readers. So I need you to be my watchdogs!