A/n: I have never before suffered so debilitating a bout of writer's block; I was so close to just giving up altogether, on the logic that I already knew how the story ended, so what did it matter if anyone else did? I went back over some of my reviews, and they gave me the inspiration to continue- in other words, the guilt trip needed to sit down and just write. If this chapter seems strained and broken up, it's because I wrote it in tiny bits and pieces, without being very inspired at the time. So, forgive me for this chapter, I promise not to wait so long before writing the next.

Now, to address some of my reviews-

Thank you so much for your kind words, they have helped me so much!

Queen of Perfectionism- My dialogue tends to be choppy and gross because I hate writing it. I apologize. Also, I'm not sure why, but you and brigand both thought I started Remy out with dark hair. If you guys could try to find where I said she did and tell me, I would appreciate it, because I do want to keep her hair blond- I think it would have made her something of an oddity in the gypsy camp, and made it easier for her to blend in with the blond nobility of the French-German border.

Also, I didn't bother to include a great deal of background, as I assume you all know the story. As a side note, this is based almost entirely on the ALW/Movie version.

Erik was dragging Christine down to his lair after a passionate performance of his opera when Madame Giry's footsteps on the stairs startled Meg out of her story. I was so drawn into her enthusiastic narrative that I stood up with a start, knocking my chair down behind me. Meg also stood, with more grace than I, and we turned simultaneously to face her mother like two guilty schoolgirls caught in some sort of mischief.

"I hope my daughter has been keeping you occupied, Mademoiselle Neuvillette."

"She is certainly the best company I have had in weeks, Madame" She smiled a little at that, and turned her eyes to her daughter. I could not help but note with some jealousy the warmth of affection on her thin face when she spoke to and looked at Meg.

"Oh yes, Meg is quite the storyteller. She was always a favorite among the little ballet girls."

"I can see why. How is Erik?"

"Sleeping. I imagine he will be for quite some time. You needn't worry about his bandages, I already took care of those. I suggest that he not be disturbed for a few hours." I nodded in agreement. "Have you anything less conspicuous you might wear?" She continued, bringing my attention to the fact that I was indeed still wearing my sewer-sludge encrusted clothing.

"I do."

"Well, go change into something else. You are running out of food, and I daresay you don't know your way to the market."

"Really, Madame Giry, I think it would be best if I stayed here, in case Erik wakes up."

"That won't be necessary. I already left him a note telling him where we are. Besides, my dear, he has lived by himself for years, I hardly think he requires your constant attention to survive. Now get changed quickly, so we can be done in a timely manner."

Her commanding tone sent me scurrying to the wash room, dress in hand, startled into attention by her manner. Within minutes, I was ready, as presentable as I could make myself with what little I had. Madame Giry looked me over, and shrugged her shoulders as if to say 'it'll do', and the three of us made our way out of the cave, through the mirrored room, and into the dusty hallways of the erstwhile opera house.

With Meg and I trailing behind Madame Giry like ducklings, we hastened through the backstage, down another hallway I had not seen before, and finally exited through a building that must have been a stable, but was now no more than a charred skeleton. The sun was beginning to dip lower in the sky; it was past noon. I must have spent hours in the tunnel on the way back, and even longer sitting with Meg while she related the details of Erik's tragic past and scandalous obsession with one Mademoiselle Daae, now the Vicomtess de Chagny.

I must admit, I was disappointed to learn the lengths that Erik went to in order to obtain the girl's affection and loyalty. I had rather hoped that the whole affair was more wishing and far less actual contact. The depths of his obsession were horribly frightening; it was always considered romantic to have a husband or a lover who would die for you, but Erik killed for Christine.

"You don't look like a gypsy, Mademoiselle." Madame Giry's voice cut through my thoughts abruptly. Apparently, Erik had shared pieces of my past with her.

"I fear I was cursed with the look of my father, Madame."

"Your father was not a gypsy?"

"No, Madame. A nobleman."

"I see."

She ceased questioning me for a few moments, as we passed out of the nearly empty neighborhood surrounding the opera house, and moved towards th more inhabited part of Paris. She caught me glancing over my shoulder at the blackened building, lonely in its lost grandeur.

"This used to be a lovely neighborhood, you know. After the fire, though, and all the rumors surrounding it, several businesses closed or moved, and people just stopped coming here."

"I'm very sorry to hear that." I wasn't entirely sure what kind of response she wanted from me, and I was too distracted to really bother entering into a stimulating conversation.

"I'm sure that it will find it's feet again soon enough. Only a few buildings outside the opera house were damaged. The superstition was more harmful than the actual fire, I believe."

This time, I said nothing at all in response, and she let the silence lie there.

Meg's story still filled my mind, and the more I reflected, the more anxious I grew to return to the opera house and to Erik. Perhaps he had learned his lesson; perhaps I need not worry that he would revert to his previous ways of interacting with people, especially women. At this point I couldn't really be sure, but knowledge of how he had seduced Christine with music made me all the more anxious to remove him from the opera house, abandoned though it may be. Furthermore, I had no idea what had happened to Christine following the performance of Don Juan, and feared it might be something terrible. There was only a certain amount of corruption I was willing to forgive before I resolved upon leaving for my own safety. To satisfy my curiosity, I asked Madame Giry what had become of the pair after Christine removed Erik's mask on stage. She looked as though she knew the question was coming, and wasted no time in answering it.

"No one knows but Christine, Raoul, and Erik himself; what happened directly after he abducted her has remained their secret. All I know is that Erik allowed Christine and Raoul to leave, and Christine has assured me that he did nothing to defile her honor, that he actually wanted to marry her. Other than that, she told me nothing before leaving with the Viscomte."

"So she and the Viscomte were married?"

"They are. Very happily so, I am told. Meg gets letters every now and then, but I believe the Viscomtess would rather forget this part of her life and move on."

"Understandable." I was suitably relieved that Erik hadn't done anything horrible to Christine after dragging her to his lair. And I took it as a positive sign that his intention had been marriage; that desire indicated a certain amount of honor, I thought.

By this time, we had reached a small business district, crowded with tiny stores, even smaller produce stands, and people. More people than I had seen in a long time. The crowd was not large, considering the surroundings, but I felt a disconcerting rush of something that felt like fear. I didn't like to think of the implications that arose from this emotion; if my small dose of solitude was enough to make me suddenly uncomfortable in a crowd, then how much more nervous would Erik be if I managed to reach my ultimate goal of prying him out of his lonely existence?

As Madame Giry and her daughter took the actual act of shopping into their very capable hands, I simply watched, and absorbed the sights, sounds, and smells that I had been denied these past weeks. The longer I just allowed myself to breathe it all in, the less nervous I became, and hope began to seep into my soul. This was how it would be for Erik, also, I decided. He would be scared, and he would resist, and he would try to make himself invisible again, but once he realized the joy of ;living in the daylight, of walking in a crowd, he would thank me.

Madame Giry broke my reverie by handing me a basket laden with a wide variety of fruits, cheese, and bread. Without a word, she led me out of the crowd and back towards the opera house, with Meg trotting merrily along behind us. We traveled in silence, each of us consumed by our own thoughts. The only sound now was the fading noise of the marketplace, and Meg's absentminded humming of some obscure opera tune.

Before I even knew it, we were at the entrance to the stable, and Madame Giry was asking me if I could find my way in alone. I responded that I could, and she told me that she would leave me to go see Erik alone, as he had probably had enough company for the day. I nodded an assent, and turned to go, but she grabbed hold of my hand, and told Meg to go on ahead.

"There is something you ought to know, Mademoiselle." She took a breath and her eyes bore into mine. "The Opera has been purchased by a rich English investor, who lacks the superstition that kept all other buyers away. He intends to rebuild it within a year; a daunting task, I might add. Then he wishes to reopen."

I just looked at her.

"I told Erik, so I thought you might wish to know."

"A year? Reopen the opera house?" My mind was too busy processing the danger of this new information to say anything except repeat what had already been said.

"I don't know what your intentions with Erik are, my dear, but I fear you may have underestimated his attachment to this place, ruined and lonely though it may be."