Guess who's back? Back again? The authoress is back! Tell a friend!

Erik: I hate that song…

Hi everbodyyyyyy! Did you miss me? Here I am, back home in Canada! I love Canada! Canada, Canada, Canada! Oh Canada! Our home and native land!

Erik: Must you sing?

Is it my fault that I have national pride and you don't?

Erik: Whatever… How was Brazil?

Beautiful! Absolutely beautiful! The only sucky thing that happened was trying to get home again!

Erik: Why is that?

Well, they delayed our flight from Sao Paulo to Miami because of the hurricane… But they didn't change the connecting flight from Miami to Toronto, or get the plane to wait for us, so ten of us were left behind and had to get a later flight! We were stranded for five hours!

Erik: Ten Canadians stranded at an American airport? Must have been interesting. Who was with you?

Oh, a few other members from Jubilance Singers and Orchestra. We were in Brazil on a music missions trip.

Erik: You, a missionary? God help us all.

Oh, be quiet you! Anyway, I'm back! Erik's back by popular request.

Erik: It's good to be loved. Anyways, I had a pleasant summer.

Why, because you got some privacy without adoring phan-girls knocking down your closet-door?

Erik: Oh, no. Believe it or not, I actually missed some of those girls. You know, eating popcorn, watching cheap horror movies–

Getting free massages?

Erik: Oui… But I still had a nice few weeks… Your b/f came over and we watched horror films all summer…

What? You watched scary movies with Cody! But he and I do that!

Erik: (scowls) Yeah, and all he did was talk about you all day and night!

Awww… He lahves me! Well, with no further ado, I present the new fic! I hope you all enjoy this one! Remember, all girls who review get to spend some time with Erik in his closet! So bring your rentals and bring some popcorn, and don't forget the clodhoppers! We're expecting a big party in the closet tonight!

Enjoy!

XxXxX

Erik pulled his scarf up around his face as he stared at the massive building in front of him.

The Opera Populaire…

It had been five years… Five years since he'd last laid eyes on this place…

Five years since Christine had left him for that fop…

Erik ran from the Opera Populaire when Christine left. There were just too many painful memories for him to stay. Even now, he was unsure as to why he was drawn back to this place.

Erik had spent the past five years travelling throughout the country. He usually spent his nights on the slimy streets with other vagrants, lacking money or employment to earn lodgings. He stole his food… All the years playing ghost at the Opera Populaire had made him an expert at not being seen. His once-fine clothing grew worn and ill-fitting as he lost weight. He washed often, but there was always that lingering stench that accompanies one who lives a life on the streets. When he was tired, he usually slept in a box in an alley, or under a bridge, or – if he was lucky – in an abandoned building.

He was perceived as a beggar, and was therefore treated like a beggar. Those righteous rich citizens hurried past him everyday, not even bothering to look at him. He was nothing to them. Every now and again, a clergy would throw a few francs to him, though Erik knew that these men were simply trying to earn points for the next life. Not even his fellow drifters spoke to him. Life on the streets was a dog-eat-dog world. Everything was a competition. Survival of the fittest, as it were. To the others, Erik was just one more meaningless life form with which they would have to compete for food, money, and a place to sleep.

Erik could only think of one person who had shown any interest in him during his time on the streets. She was just a little girl who had wandered from her mother as she shopped at the market. Erik supposed she noticed his mask as he sat alone on the curb and, like a curious little kitten, came for a closer look.

Naïve little child. Were he one of the other vagrants with whom Erik shared an alley at night… he hated to think of what they would have done to her. Grabbed her, raped her, or worse… Erik himself had been assaulted numerous times. Some of those men had tried to do unthinkable things with him. Few walked away unharmed. But he was a full-grown man. This was just a little girl. She wouldn't be able to defend herself against street filth like them. He silently scorned the child's mother for letting her out her sight.

"Hello," the little girl smiled at him.

Erik favoured her with a brief glance, then went back to staring at the pavement.

"How come you're wearing that?" she indicated his mask.

"Did your mother not counsel you against conversing with strangers?" he asked coldly.

She cocked her head, studying him. "You're different from the others," she declared. She put out a little hand. "My name is Elise. What's yours?"

He stared at her hand for a moment. He finally shrugged and took it. "Erik."

"Where's your mommy and daddy, Erik?" she asked.

"Who knows?" he said bitterly. "Who cares either?"

She peered at him. "Are you lonely, Erik? We could be friends!" she offered enthusiastically.

"No, child. I rather doubt you would want to be friends with me." He loosened his grip on her hand to let her go. But she held tight to him.

"Are you sad, Erik?" she asked. "Do you have a family?"

"Elise! Get away from him!"

Elise's mother finally noticed her daughter was not at her side and found her holding hands with the strange masked tramp. She pulled her daughter away from him. "How dare you try to steal my daughter, you wretch!"

Erik stood up, his fury overmatching the angry mother in front of him. He towered over her, imposing. The mother shrunk back, putting Elise behind her as Erik glared.

"Perhaps you should keep a closer watch on your child!" he spat. "Then scum like me would not have the opportunity to snatch her!"

The woman whimpered as she slipped away, pulling Elise along with her.

"Wait!" she cried. "Erik!"

It was the last time Erik ever saw a friendly face.

That brief contact with society made him crave it more than ever before. Erik longed to escape the gutter, to leave behind this pathetic lifestyle and return to his former life. How he despised associating with the vermin and scum in the alleys at night… How he hated the insanitariness of the streets… How he loathed the prostitutes that offered themselves to him nightly!

So by the end of the week, Erik began making his way back to Paris. It was time to come home.

His journey was a long, tiring one. He had to travel almost entirely on foot. He did manage to hitch a ride with a man and his son who were travelling to a small town just on the outskirts of Paris to sell their fresh produce. They were kind people who could see how weary he had grown. They didn't even question why Erik kept his face covered. The truth was, Erik feared being recognized with his mask once he reached Paris, so he did not wear it as he travelled. He pulled his threadbare scarf up around his face and allowed his hair, which had grown rather long over the past five years, to fall forward, distorting his features. The man and his son offered to take him all the way to Paris, kind men that they were, but Erik would not allow it. The less time he spent with anyone, the better. Besides, part of him loathed letting anyone go to extra trouble for him.

After the farmers dropped him off, it was another two hours on foot to his destination. Now here he stood. The darkness of solitude never seemed more inviting. And soon the Phantom of the Opera would reign again.

Curious to see how his Opera was doing, Erik slipped into the theatre and entered the auditorium, staying in the shadows and keeping out of sight. He observed the scene before him. Rehearsals were currently underway for an opera Erik was unfamiliar with. It must be a brand new production he decided.

Well, Andre and Firmin were still around. Madame Giry was still there, banging her cane as she shouted at a lazy ballerina. Meg was still there… Prima ballerina, he noted. He always knew she would do well. Reyer, too, was still kicking around. Erik was rather amazed that the little old man was still among the living.

"Well," Erik mused. "At least when they receive my notes again, they'll know enough to take me seriously…"

They had a new prima donna. Madame Minetta, who was currently singing a note that Erik was certain should be reserved for calling dogs. As a matter of fact, he would not have been surprised if one of Carlotta's revolting poodles suddenly ran past. Oh, why couldn't they get a soprano with a half-decent voice?

The tenor singing opposite Minetta was rather good, though. His posture was a bit lacking, but he had good tone and sang with a passion that few singers were capable of. However, Minetta did not seem to appreciate the boy's talent very much. She threw her hands up in the middle of his aria.

"I give up! He is hopeless! Must I sing with him?"

Firmin rang his hands nervously. "Please, Madame… You know we have no choice… Monsieur Robert was chosen…"

"You and your superstitions! I'm sick of it!"

"Madame," Andre said darkly. "You do recall what happened last week…"

"An accident!" Minetta said nonchalantly. "You people!"

"You would do well to hold your tongue, Minetta!" Madame Giry snapped. "He hears all!"

"He is a myth!" Minetta shot back.

"You would not say so it you were here five years ago!" Meg jumped in.

"Those who have seen know what he is capable of," Reyer added. "Those who have not seen have no opinion worth hearing!"

"How dare you?" Minetta shrieked.

"Enough!" Firmin cried. "The Opera Ghost wants Robert to sing, so Robert shall sing! I am certainly not going to disobey his orders!" Firmin glanced at the floor. "Not again…" he added quietly.

Erik raised an eyebrow. So they still believed he was there, after all this time? It didn't surprise him. Erik found that, as the years went by, every little thing that went wrong within the walls of the Opera Populaire was blamed on the Opera Ghost. When a soloist caught a bad cold on the night of a performance, the Opera Ghost caused it. When a ballerina's lucky toe-shoes went missing, it was O.G.'s doing. When props were broken or misplaced, or when the hemming in an actor's costume came undone, or when ballerinas fell during a performance, the Phantom did it. Obviously, some strange turn of events led the managers to believe that their ghost wanted this 'Robert' to sing for them.

Erik smiled as a malicious thought came into his mind. He backed out of the room and made his way around to Box Five. As he entered the box, he discarded his scarf and reached into his cloak, pulling out his mask. He slipped the cold leather onto his face. Time to have some fun…

"I tell you," Minetta shouted, "this Phantom is a fable!"

"And I'm here!" Erik's voice boomed from Box Five. He was pleased when he heard the terrified shrieks of the cast. They all cowered in fear before the shadowy figure that stood in Box Five, glaring down at them.

"And let it be known," Erik continued, "that should my commands be disobeyed, the people of this opera house will feel my wrath!"

Chuckling, Erik slipped out of the box. An excited, cold rush of delight flowed through his veins. The life he had been living on the streets had caused him to forget how much he enjoyed other people's fear of him. He slipped into Christine's old dressing room and entered the secret passage through the mirror. He shut the cold glass behind him and leaned against the cool stone wall. He smiled to himself as he remembered their shrieks, their expressions of pure horror.

They were terrified…

"Yes…" Erik breathed. "I've still got it in me!"

"Yes, that was a cute little trick," a voice spoke out into the darkness.

Erik jumped, his hand immediately going his sword.

"But now, Monsieur," it continued, "I must inquire as to why you are here in my home!"

XxXxX

Your comments, Erik?

Erik: Oh, I'm intrigued. Who's in my house?

Check in tomorrow to find out! Don't forget to review for some closet-time with Erik.

Erik: And don't forget the popcorn!

And if you own a good horror movie, bring it along! Erik's watched a few good ones… His favourite is The Ring.

Erik: Seven days, Authoress… You will die in seven days…

Whatever, loser… See you all tomorrow!