A/N: Thanks for all the lovely reviews, I really appreciate them.

Sbkar: I am glad you enjoyed their little debate, and there will be more like them

Aranel Abeille: I love getting any kind of positive review, even without constructive criticism. Sometimes a girl just needs some applause.

Anti-Sheep Cheese Muffin: Don't count on Remy being the one doing the bowing.

MajickAlianne: My ego forces me to agree.

Rachel: If you want quicker updates, you could volunteer to do my homework for me ; )

What in God's name was wrong with me? I had just escaped the clutches of one psychopath, and here I was throwing myself headlong into the grasp of another. No, I stopped myself, that was not a fair comparison; Erik was not like Leon, and I had not loved Leon. Wait–did that mean I loved Erik? No, no, no, that wasn't true, couldn't be true. I was attracted to him, yes, but that was because I was starved for affection, and desperate for love. You couldn't fall in love in an instant, in the space of a conversation and a song. I was going crazy in my old age, I had left my sanity behind in Alsace. I could fight this; just because my damned emotions were telling me that I ought to love him didn't mean I had to give in.

Would it really be so bad? A little voice in the back of my mind asked, but I pushed it away before I could answer the question. I had shunned love before, at the age of sixteen. I had taken the heart that had been offered to me and thrown it to the ground; I did not deserve love now.

I couldn't think about that now, I was too tired, in both mind and body. I didn't even bother to undress, just took off my shoes and slipped into bed. I drifted into sleep almost instantly, but even then I could not escape Erik; as I dreamt, I saw his face and heard his voice, but those faded away, and in the darkness of my subconscious, I could hear Stefan's pleading voice, asking me why I had to go, why I had to leave him.

Erik had never known that having a woman disagree with him would be so riveting; there was something very attractive in the way she rose to his every challenge, her eyes sparkling. And when she asked him to play for her, he thought he was dreaming.

But then, when he finished his song, she was gone. He assumed she had returned to her room while he was absorbed in his music. He told himself that she was tired, that she just didn't want to disturb him, but doubts played in his mind all the same. He knew there was nowhere she could have gone and no reason to have left, but he still could not shake the fear that she was truly gone.

He asked himself why he even cared, whether it would make such a difference if he were alone again. He had not wanted Remy here to begin with, so in all reason, he ought to want her to leave. But he enjoyed her company, and even now, when she was just in the other room, he missed her presence. It was as though she lit the room in a way that dozens of candles could not, and when she wasn't there, his eyes had to readjust to the darkness that she left behind her.

That was, of course, the danger of such light; if you became too used to its presence, then you began to rely on it, and once it left, as all things inevitably did, you would find yourself groping in the darkness for something else to light your way.

"Madame Giry?"

The woman in question peered cautiously through the small crack of the open door at the man outside it; he looked well dressed and respectable enough.

"Yes, please come in. You are looking for a ballet teacher, yes?"

"Not exactly."

Before she even realized what was happening, the man had forced his way through the door, and another man entered, this one rough-looking and badly dressed.

"Now, Madame Giry," The wealthy looking man began, "My name is Leon Villeforte. This is my associate, Henri. If you do exactly as we say, and tell us all we need to know, no harm will come to you."

She nodded, her eyes filled with quiet rage.

"We are trying to find a man, and we are told you are the only one who knows where he lives."

"Really?" She replied, her voice dignified and calm.

"A masked man, who supposedly lives in the Opera Populaire building. You know him?"

She gave a sarcastic smile. "You mean the Opera Ghost? You gentlemen are wasting your time. The man is a legend, nothing more. If you wish to search for him, you may, but you are chasing a phantom invented to frighten ballet rats."

"Your words sound true enough," Leon replied with a sinister smile of his own, "but your eyes betray you; this Opera Ghost exists, and you are protecting him."

"Monsieur, I have no idea what you are talking about, and if you continue to..."

She was interrupted by the appearance of a petite blonde poking her head through the open door.

"Maman? What is the matter?"

Before Madame Giry could warn her daughter, Henri had grabbed her by the arm and hauled her through the door, pulling a knife from his boot, and holding it to her throat.

"Now, who is this little angel?" Leon asked, running a long finger down the girl's cheek.

"Meg! Let her go, she has nothing to do with this, she knows nothing!"

Meg was sobbing quietly, her blue eyes filled with frightened tears.

"Ah, but Madame, you obviously care for the girl, so now she has everything to do with it. What would you say to a bargain? I will keep Henri from slitting her pretty little throat, if you will tell me where the masked man lives."

Madame Giry was silent, her head bowed, as if concentrating very hard would free her daughter. The only sound was Meg's quiet crying, filling the small shabby room.

"Very well; I accept your terms. Now let her go."

"You will tell me how to find this man, and then I will tell Henri to free her."

"Backstage at the opera house, there is a long hallway full of dressing rooms. If the signs are intact, it should be easy to find. Each door is marked with a name or a number; you will find one near the front of the hallway marked 'La Carlotta'. Inside, on the wall facing the door, there is a very large, gilt-edged mirror. Behind that mirror is a tunnel, which we lead you straight to him."

"There, that wasn't so hard, was it? I knew you would be reasonable about this."

"You have what you came for, now leave us!"

"Very well, Madame. Henri, let the girl go."

Meg fairly flew across the room to her mother's arms, where she buried her face in her neck.

Leon was about to shut the door behind him, but he paused briefly, and looked Madame Giry in the eye. "If you have lied to me, I will come back; I will find your pretty daughter, and I will kill her. Then, once I have let you weep over her body, I will kill you. Au revoir, Madame."

"Oh, Meg, what have I done?"