A/N: Sorry this took so long. School (or what passes for school) has been chaotic, there are forty chickens due this week, auditions for a play...Chaos. Love that word. Anyhoo...

Chapter Two

I followed Adele who followed Rose down the hall to the apartments. Rose was chatting about the things girls chat with new acquaintances about. It seemed Adele would get the room that, once upon a time, had been Carlotta's.

"Mlle. Giry said once," Rose said somewhat conspiratorially, "that this was the room Carlotta Guidicelli had. Eleven years ago, the PTO made her sing like a toad because she insulted Christine."

I nearly tripped. So I would have to tell her tonight. Oh well.

"The PTO?" Adele asked.

"Yes, the Phantom of the Opera. Or haven't you heard of him?"

"No, I haven't. Who is he?"

"I don't know that any of us really know who he is. He lives under here somewhere, and we pay him to stay out of trouble—fifteen thousand a month. Ten years or so ago, when I was just starting ballet school, there was a great scandal involving him, a chorus girl named Christine—" I heard Adele jump—"What? And the patron at the time." A pause. "Well, I have to go back to rehearsal—I have a solo two scenes from now. You ought to come soon. I'll see you later." Rose left, and Adele shut the door.

"Papa, perhaps you could explain," she said to the seemingly empty room.

"Perhaps, but not now. Go to rehearsal. I'll bring your things up. You did en excellent job, Adele."

"Thank you, Papa." She went to rehearsal, and I went to get her things.

Late that night, I sat with my composition it progress over her bedroom, waiting for her to come back. I was scribbling notes without really thinking about it. Tonight, I would have to go back and tell her about the year I had been running from since it had ended. I would have to relive each painful, embarrassing moment of the whole thing—yes, now that I looked back on it, I realized that it was embarrassing. Love can make us do embarrassing things, as Shakespeare demonstrates all too well. I like to think of him as a sort of angel of words.

"Father," Adele called softly from below, "I know you're up there. I'm ready."

I opened the trapdoor and jumped down, leaving my composition in the Heavens. "Are you sure you want me to tell you?" I asked her, sitting in a chair. "It's not a happy story."

"Well, I've heard most of it today, so what I really want is your side of it."

I leaned back and closed my eyes. "The years passed above the Opera Populaire, but Erik, now the Phantom of the Opera, did not notice them. His post in the opera house was to cause trouble. He dropped lamps on people's heads, he scared chorus girls with voices that seemed to come out of the walls, he stole things, he forced operas on unwilling managers, and other such petty tyrannies. He was paid generously to do no more. But, when a young woman named Christine Daaé joined the chorus, twenty thousand was not enough, for he had fallen in love. He followed the girl everywhere. One day, he heard her say to her friend that her father, a Swedish violinist, had promised to send her an angel of music. That night, Erik took a violin to the secret room behind her bedroom and played for her, and she believed it was her angel of music, sent by her father from heaven. Every night, he did this, and every night, Christine would sing for him, and every night he would go to his underground desk and compose like nobody had composed before.

"A few months passed like this, and Erik grew ambitious. He wanted to replace the prima donna, a conceited girl named Carlotta, with Christine Daaé. He did this, though it was his downfall, for one night, Christine's childhood sweetheart, now the patron, came to see an opera. He recognized her, and they fell in love. The patron, named Raoul, and Erik fought for many months over Christine, and finally Erik took her below the opera house. Raoul followed them, and Erik caught him with the Punjab Lasso."

"Punjab Lasso?" Adele asked.

"One of Erik's many talents. The Punjab Lasso is a noose, though it is used as a weapon, not merely a means of execution. He told Christine that, should she choose to leave the labyrinth her lover's life would be forfeit, though, should she stay, he would live. She had little time to choose, for the employees of the opera house were coming with the surété to bring Erik, who had murdered two men who worked at the opera, to justice. She chose to leave the labyrinth, but Erik could not bring himself to kill the one she loved. He let Raoul go with Christine, and then…went temporarily insane." I sighed. "Condensed, but there it is, Adele."

"Didn't Mlle. Giry bring you the mask?"

"Yes. How did you know?"

"She told me. How did she know who I was?"

"I told her, since she asked. She's my friend, Adele. Once upon a time, she was my student. She was never very good at singing."

Adele laughed. "I sha'n't tell her you said that."

"Oh, she knows. She doesn't mind."

Adele looked like she was plotting something. I didn't ask what, because I had a shrewd idea. "Thank you for telling me the story, Papa." She kissed my cheek. "Good night."

"Not so fast, Adele. What do you think of the Opera Populaire?"

"Well…it's really…uncivilized under all the airs and graces. Not that it's a bad thing, but there are always two ways a person might act. And everyone gossips too much, but that's all right, so long as they don't gossip about me."

"If they learn about this, they'll spin tales out of clouds to gossip about you. But everyone gets gossiped about occasionally. Particularly me."

"I noticed that."

"Do you like it here?"

She shrugged. "I can't find anything truly repulsive about it yet, though I'm sure I'm missing something. So far, it suits me. I just hope I get good parts."

"So do I. Good night and good luck." I went back to Hell through the Heavens with my composition.

A/N: Is it too short? I do these all in notebooks, so chapters that seem really long end up really short. Next chapter involves...ahm...a strange coincidence. That's what the chapter's called, I think.