A/N: If you have not seen the Phantom special edition, go find yourself a copy now! It has a deleted scene with just the Phantom, singing a song. So beautiful. I thought that having it would inspire me to write more, but free time is at a premium right now. Give me a week, and things will improve.

Call Me Camille, Mowgui, Kate September and Jinx-you win a prize! Yay for you!

WriterR, Jaini Kenobi- No fair making more than one guess. There are only so many people it could be.

LenisVox- there is enough gore and raunch floating around in the fanfic universe that I don't feel obligated to make them big in this story.

Just don't think about it, I admonished myself, feeling somethingbump against my leg in the murky water. If I didn't look, I could pretend it wasn't there. Whatever it was. My morbid imagination quickly conjured images of giant water-dwelling snakes, schools of flesh-eating fish, and hordes of rats that just happened to enjoy swimming underwater. It was just a piece of garbage, something non-living and not at all dangerous. Maybe it was a corpse.

I knew I was being completely idiotic, but my courage had disappeared once the light from Erik's candles had faded, leaving me with only one pale lantern for guidance and safety. At least I couldn't get lost, small comfort though that was. The tunnels seemed to extend interminably in either direction, and I was surrounded on all sides by utter darkness, the potent kind so alive that it stirs the mind to create such fantastic creatures as I had.

The smells didn't help much, either. A vast array of aromas, each one more piercing than the last, invaded my senses, making me feel as though I might faint, despite my disgust for women who did so. I prayed that I was nearing the opening of the tunnel, but in this blackness, I had no sense of distance traveled or time elapsed. I could have gone one mile or a thousand for all that I could tell. The scenery never changed, and the only differentiating aspects to be found were the cracks in the walls and the amount of slime that coated them.

If I had only had to walk, this distance would not seem so insurmountable, but the combined effort of slogging through the thick water and pushing the boat before me threatened to make me collapse before I reached the end. Sometimes the water only reached calf depth, but at points, it went up to my waist, making my journey painfully hard. My arms and shoulders, already worn from dragging the bodies into the boat to begin with, ached, and the rough wood of the boat was slowly rubbing away the soft skin of my hands. The water did nothing to make my boots more comfortable, and I could feel blisters forming on my heels and toes.

Finally, when I thought I would cry from sheer desperation, I saw a gleam of light, far away but getting steadily stronger. My energy was renewed by this hopeful sight, and after my eternity in darkness, found myself at a covered sewer opening that spewing its contents into the river. The neighborhood, or what little I could see of it from my sheltered location, did not appear to be one of great repute. All kinds of garbage floated in the murky water and lay strewn about the shores. From this, I assumed that I was far away enough from the opera house that no one would make the connection, and in the sort of locale in where a few dead bodies would not be of any great note.

The very faintest glimmer of light was beginning to show around the edge of the horizon as I slashed holes in the thin bottom of the boat and pushed it away from the sewer entrance. For a moment, I watched as it slid into the middle of the river, getting lower every second until it disappeared completely. I didn't wait to see if the bodies would float as Erik had warned they might. With one last breath of fresh air, I returned to the darkness I had emerged from. The walk was faster this time, with no boat to push, but I was more tired this time, and my steps were slower as I pushed through the slime.

I felt as though I had been walking for days, and my arm was beginning to get tired from holding the lantern aloft, so I paused for a moment, and leaned against the wall, too tired to care that I was probably getting all manner of sewer filth on my clothes. In that moment, I once again felt something brush against me, and this time it seemed to wrap around my legs. All my capacity for logic gone, I screamed; the wretched creatures of my imagination once again springing to my fevered mind. In my haste to scramble away from whatever it was, I felt the lantern slip through my unsteady fingers, and fall with a splash into the water. For a split second, it remained on the surface, lighting the water beneath it, and then it was gone, extinguished, leaving me in total darkness.

I am ashamed to say that I panicked. The light gone, my sanity left as well. With a strength that can only be fueled by fear, I ran; pushing through the darkness with mad force. I stumbled once, landing on my hands and knees in the murky water, splashing my clothes and face. When I got up, I felt disoriented, and realized that I wasn't entirely sure which way I had come from; my intuition told me to move forward, and I followed it, praying that I hadn't somehow been turned around in my fall. I kept my hands pressed to the wall, fearful that if I did not, I might loose my sense of direction once more, and make a terrible error.

I can only imagine what a horror I must have looked when I finally saw the glimmer of candlelight beckoning me forward. My clothing was wet and torn, my hair had come loose from its careful braid, and I was literally shaking with terror. I resolved in that moment that nothing in the world could induce me to live in this place. Erik would have to be mad to stay once I offered an alternative. I would not-no, could not-live like this.

I pulled myself onto the dry rock floor and sat there, silently letting tears stream down my face as the water from my hair and clothes dripped off my soaking body and pooled on the cold ground. I took deep breaths, trying to calm myself; I hardly wanted to admit that I was horribly frightened by nothing more sinister than the dark and my own imagination.

As I sat, collecting myself, I heard a voice, coming from the bedroom. At first I thought that it must be Erik, for who else would be here? It was silent for a moment, and then I heard it again, louder this time. It was clearly a woman's voice.

I did not even wait to think, or to ponder my actions in any way. Getting abruptly to my feet, I dashed up the steps as quickly as my tired legs would allow, and threw myself into the room.

I also very nearly though myself into a thin, stern looking woman who was standing by Erik's bedside, but the very intimidating expression on her face stopped me. She was neither very tall, nor very old, but something about her made me feel like a school girl about to get scolded by her teacher. I felt her eyes travel from the tips of my soggy boots to the top of my scraggly head, and a blush rose to my cheeks. This was ridiculous; I was no child, but her gaze made me feel foolish and immature. I recalled having seen this look on the faces of society matrons, and it always made me feel less than important.

"You must be the Mademoiselle Neuvillette that I have heard so much about. It is a pleasure to meet you in person." Her voice had the same ice as her eyes, and she spoke with the perfect Parisian accent so prized in high society.

I swept her a brief curtsy, letting my eyes drift to Erik to silently plead for help. He was wearing his mask again, but I could still make out the amusement in his eyes and the wry almost-smile that played about his lips.

"A pleasure to meet you as well, Madame..."

"Giry. I assume Erik has not mentioned me to you."

"No, Madame, I fear Erik is hardly conversational." I don't know how I managed to spit out a coherent sentence when she was so clearly appraising me with her eyes, her nose slightly wrinkling in a face that would have looked childish were it not for the sharpness of her features.

"Of course, he has little practice, you must excuse him." She smiled then, almost kindly, as if our shared experience of Erik was enough for her to forget that I was standing before he dripping in sewer sludge. "Really, Erik, what have you been making this poor girl do? She looks terrible!"

Well, maybe not.