Sorry for the really really long wait! I just moved and my internet is still not set up, so this has been sitting on my hard drive without a way for me to publish until now! Thanks again for those still reading my story! Now, on with the show!

Chapter Six: A Klutz and a Phantom

Deciding to finally put his past behind him, Erik said farewell to Christine the only way he could: through music and song.

You were once my one companion

You were all that mattered

You were once a friend, an angel

Then my world was shattered…

Too many years

Fighting back tears

Why can't the past just die?

Wishing you were somehow here again,

Knowing we must say good-bye

Try to forgive

Teach me to live

Give me the strength to try

No more memories

No more silent tears

No more gazing across the wasted years

Help me say good-bye

Help me say goooood…

Just as Erik was finishing his aria, there was a shriek and a loud thud as the door from the guest room flew open and Rosalyn landed on the floor next to the bathtub. She pushed herself to her knees, only for her eyes to land on a very naked Erik.

"Eek… I'm so sorry. I… uh… I heard you singing and uh… ok I'll let you finish your bath and your… uh song… by the way it was very beautiful. Please don't stop singing on my accord." With that, Rosalyn jumped to her feet, not noticing the water on the floor and slipping unceremoniously into the bathtub on top of Erik with another shriek.

Erik winced as Rosalyn narrowly missed crushing his groin, landing instead below it, between his legs. Neither said anything, but they both grew redder with each passing second, Erik for his nakedness and Rosalyn for her clumsiness in causing such an embarrassing situation and for Erik's nakedness.

God, please kill me! Could I be any more of a klutz? thought Rosalyn. Hmm… this tub IS big enough for two people. I mean… no… what am I thinking about? Get up, Rosalyn!

She steadied herself by placing her hand on the bottom of the tub directly between his knees while the other hand landed on his shoulder. Moving to help her, Erik's hand landed on her bottom, making him blush even more. As her legs dangled over the edge of the tub, she pushed herself up a few inches before falling in the same place again with a splash. When she fell, her position shifted so that her upper torso and head submerged in the water and her legs came to rest over Erik's shoulders.

Instinctively, Erik grabbed her hands to pull her head above water. She coughed and sputtered out water. Unknowingly, as her upper torso moved above water, her legs moved down from Erik's shoulders to land on either side of his legs, effectively straddling him. For what seemed like an eternity, they stayed in that position, gazing in each others' unbelieving eyes and still clutching hands.

Reluctantly, Erik let go over her hands to cover himself, bewildered that there was a woman in his bath. When Erik's hands left hers, Rosalyn moved them to cover her eyes.

Then Rosalyn laughed, finally breaking the silence. It began as an embarrassed stifle but turned into a giggle then a full-blown laugh as she thought about the absurd situation. Erik could not help laughing with her. For a full five minutes they sat in the bath laughing at themselves before it died down into a snort.

Why am I acting like such a schoolgirl? Rosalyn wondered. She could not remember any other incident as embarrassing as the string of blunders she had committed that day.

Erik cleared his throat before speaking. "Mademoiselle, it seems I am finished with my bath."

"Right," muttered Rosalyn. "Okay, I'll stay here with my eyes covered while you get out of the tub and get your towel."

Maneuvering his legs from under Rosalyn, Erik slid himself up out of the tub and grabbed his towel, quickly wrapping it around his waist. He cleared his throat again to get Rosalyn's attention.

She hesitantly opened her eyes and took Erik's outstretched hand before standing up. He put his weight on his good knee to pull her forward. As she stepped out of the tub, Erik handed her the nearest towel. Drying her hair and face, Rosalyn wiped the towel from her face only to find herself three inches from Erik's chest, which was coincidently at her eye-level. She took a step back, her eyes not leaving his torso.

Broad chest, check! Nice biceps, check! Cut abs, check and double check! A few scars here and there, but that just adds to his hotness! Dayamn! Rosalyn had to use all the strength left in her body not to allow her jaw to drop.

Amused that Rosalyn was staring at him, he was suddenly thankful that years of creeping around the opera house involved climbing ropes and moving swiftly so that he was never out of shape. Though he told himself it was purely for survival, he also believed that keeping fit might help his chances at winning over Christine. Christine… He pushed the thought away.

Realizing that she was practically drooling over Erik, Rosalyn turned around quickly to walk out of the bathroom, not remembering the water on the floor. Yet again, Rosalyn fell, this time into Erik's arms.

"This is just getting ridiculous!" she laughed. "You must think I'm such a total fool!"

"Not at all, Rosalyn," Erik let her name roll from his tongue.

She righted herself, leaning against the wall for support. This time she turned away slowly, not looking at Erik as she spoke. "I lied about not having any clothes that will fit. I found a pair of my brother's old sweats and an oversized t-shirt I got at some fair a few years ago. No boxers though. You'll just have to go commando until my brother gets back." She smiled slyly, trying to sound seductive but realizing a second too late that Erik did not understand.

"Commando?"

"You know, no underwear."

"Oh." It finally dawned on him.

"If you don't mind changing in your room, I'd like to jump in the shower before my brother gets here," she tried to change the subject.

At the mention of a shower, Erik thought back to the first time he opened his eyes and found her standing in just a small top in front of him. He shook his head and tried to focus on something else.

"Of course," he finally managed to utter. He walked into the guestroom, closing the door behind him.

Rosalyn clicked the lock shut before shedding her wet clothes and stepping into the shower. She let the water wash over her, leaning on the tile to lay her head on her arm. What are you doing flirting with him? You just made a complete ass out of yourself!

As she shampooed, she tried to forget about him, unsuccessfully. Throughout the rest of her shower she wondered what had caused his scars, both external and internal. Judging from the song she had overheard, she assumed correctly that he had just lost someone he loved. She wondered if she could heal his broken heart. Ha! You barely know the guy! Who wants a klutz like you, anyway?

She berated herself for thinking foolishly as she dried off and put on her robe. In her room, she thought of wearing something a bit more conservative than her bikini and boardshorts, finally deciding on a black off-the-shoulder t-shirt and her most comfortable pair of dark-washed ripped jeans. How 80s! she thought as she faced the mirror, combing her wet hair and twirling it into a low bun. Finishing her look, she put on a thick gold woven belt over the long t-shirt and let it hang loosely on her hips, gold hoop earrings, and three gold necklaces of different lengths with a jade circle, a small ivory horn and the letter "R" in Swarowski crystals.

All but ready to leave the room, she suddenly ran up to the mirror to apply no less than two coats of mascara and red lip gloss. Not once did she consider why she was taking the effort to look good when her usual attire consisted of tank tops, shorts and flip flops. At second glance to the mirror, she decided she looked like she was trying too hard to look good. Immediately she tore off the jewelry and clothing and stood in front of her closet, scanning its contents.

Her eyes fell on a simple strapless white sundress that fell to her knees. That'll do nicely. She dressed herself and settled on a "less is more" look sans jewelry. Finally satisfied with her outfit, she left her room to check on her new friend, not knowing exactly what would happen when they came face to face.

Meanwhile, Erik had found the pile of sweats on top of the bed of the guestroom, which, to his dissatisfaction, consisted of a size-large gray t-shirt with the words "Ask Me about Studying Abroad" emblazoned in red and a pair of faded black sweats. The t-shirt fit him almost perfectly, a bit too snug to his liking but showed off his impeccable muscles. The sweats, however, fit too tightly and fell mid-calf.

Grudgingly, he looked into the mirror and barely recognized the man staring back at him. Gone was the frightening yet majestic opera ghost in his tailored suits, flowing cape and stark white porcelain mask. In his stead was a broken man. Time travel had not changed his disfigured face, but with all that had happened with Christine and the opera fire, the stress aged him considerably. Wrinkles lined his bloodshot eyes, which before were vibrant emerald but now looked a dull gray. His hair fell haphazardly into his eyes, however hard he attempted to brush them back.

He felt pity for the creature that stared back at him, pity for the troubles that plagued his entire life and pity for the love that seemed to loom just beyond his grasp. In this new time, fate had given him a second chance but without a mask to hide behind and without shadows to blend into. It seemed to him that fate had a twisted sense of humor.

Thinking back to the strange scene in the bathroom, he wondered at how much he had changed already. The opera ghost would never have allowed a stranger to intrude on him, much less at such a vulnerable time as during a bath. That intruder would not have had a breath left to gasp as his Punjab lasso would have done him in. The opera ghost would never be caught dead in anything but tailor-made suits.

Yet he had to admit it to himself. The opera ghost existed no longer, and the reflection in the mirror only confirmed that truth. The only person staring back at him was Erik, just Erik the man, Erik the stranger in a new time, Erik the lost.

His thoughts were disrupted with a soft knock at the door. With the grungy outfit she had left him, Erik was completely caught off-guard at the sight of Rosalyn in a shoulder- and knees-baring dress. He felt himself even more under-dressed and blanched slightly.

"Hi," she said smiling. "Coffee?" Turning around, she marched into the kitchen, not checking to see if he followed. Erik could do nothing but sigh and follow her.

"I feel…"

"Sorry I…" they interrupted each other.

"No, you go ahead," they mumbled at the same moment.

Erik sighed again, motioning with his hand for her to continue. Rosalyn adamantly shook her head. "No, please, I interrupted. Please, you go."

"If you insist. I was just about to say that I feel slightly underdressed, plus these clothes don't exactly work with my figure."

Rosalyn giggled, trying to stifle it with her hands. Erik was a comical sight in his barely fitting clothes. She just shrugged her shoulders, trying not to look at what was clearly outlined by the tight sweatpants. "Sorry, buddy. You're stuck with those clothes until my brother arrives."

"Very well. Now, what were you about to say before I rudely cut in? If you were going to apologize about eavesdropping on my singing, then forget about it. I already have…. By the way, a cappuccino would be lovely."

"One cappuccino coming up." Phew! We can just pretend it never happened!

Erik walked around the counter separating the kitchen from the living/dining room and sat at the dining table facing the Rosalyn. The open plan style of the condo gave it the feeling of a studio. There were no walls enclosing the kitchen, living room or dining room. It was one big room with several sections: the kitchen counter stood between the kitchen and a black dining table with eight matching chairs, which in turn stood just beyond a large T-style leather sofa that encompassed the living room area. A black entertainment system, complete with a flat-screen television, a DVD player and several rows of DVDs, stood in front of the sofa. Rather than a wall enclosing the entire room, the side of the house that stood behind the entertainment system was all window with a breathtaking view of the ocean and a sliding door that led to the patio.

Once the cappuccinos were done, Rosalyn took a seat across from Erik and slid his mug over to him. He brought it to his nose, the scent at once familiar. "Want to tell me what you were doing in the ocean besides almost drowning?" she said softly.

"If I must, though you must promise me you will not interrupt and will only speak when I have asked you a question. Agreed?" he asked, looking into her eyes to make sure she complied. She nodded her head.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this but you've been nothing but kind to me. Whatever you choose to do with the information I give you, I am forever indebted to you for saving my life. My life began sometime in the 1830s." She opened her mouth to question but was shushed by his hand in the "stop" position, palm facing her.

"You agreed not to interrupt." Dejected, she stared at her cappuccino. "I don't know how I ended up here but the last thing I remember was being on a ship, somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean in the year 1871. I have been many things in my life: a freak show in a traveling carnival, a mason, an architect, a musician and composer, but I will forever be known as the Opera Ghost in the Paris Opera House.

"You see, I helped build that opera house, and when I designed it, I created for myself a hidden lair. You can understand from my unfortunate disfigurement (adding extra emphasis dripping with loathing) I was shunned by society. By having this hidden lair, I had a place only for myself and no one else knew about it save a few souls I had no choice but to trust.

"The only thing I loved more than sketching was music." He closed his eyes, thinking of how the acoustics of his beloved lair allowed the music from the opera stage to echo throughout his home. "I became the Opera Ghost and fell in love with a ballerina, who had ambitions to be lead soprano."

I know this story, thought Rosalyn. Where have I heard this before? Opera Ghost… soprano…

"Christine," she said slowly, not realizing she had said it outloud.

Erik gasped, staring at her wide-eyed unbelievingly. "What… what did you say?"

"I've heard this story before. The Phantom of the Opera stalked Christine Daae and tried to kidnap her… Wait a second! Are you telling me you're the Phantom of the Opera?"

Enraged, Erik stood up suddenly, causing the table to quake. "How do you know about this? Who are you? Why do you know about me?"

"What are you, delusional?" she snapped, standing up and backing away, grateful the dining table stood between them.

"How do you know?" he screamed at her, ready to leap across the table.

"What do you mean how do I know? I saw the freakin' musical in San Francisco with my mom the day before she died!" she yelled back, tears streaming down her face. Panic filled her mind. How the hell did the situation go from a romantic comedy to a deranged killer flick?

A/N: I changed the lyrics to suit Erik's song, rather than Christine's song to her father.