Authors Note:

gerfan: Kinda, my username is the name of Aragorn's horse from LOTR, and it also means 'to ask' in Latin but I just liked the name. (Sort of funny isn't it? I'm named after a horse! Haha!"

xxXGoddessXofXdeadXloveXxx: Thanks for your review! And I think I will need your help later on! :)

Lady Nessa: Here you go! Just what you ordered. With a cherry on top!

daddies-little-girl90: Keep writing I will. I will try to write longer chapters, Master. (I'm a Star Wars fan too!)

Thank you so much to all who reviewed! Thanks guys! I LOVE YOU! gives all of you a big group hug

Chapter two

Manon had lain on the dusty carpets of the theater for only a few moments more while she regained her breath. Bruised, bleeding and dizzy she dared not stay any longer. With a faint head and a particularly bruised pride she got up and retrieved both her foil and sack, and quickly took her leave from the opera house. It was not until she a found a water pump a few streets away did she truly comprehend what had happened.

She pulled out a simple piece of white cloth from her ruff sack and drenched it in the cool water that sputtered from the spout. She sat down; back against the pump and began to gently clean the blood from her face. It was in the freezing cold that Manon closed her eyes and started to think.

This is ridiculous; I must have been dreaming she thought disbelievingly for a moment. Yet is the soft street lantern light she looked at the blood that stained the white cloth in her hand. It appears I did not,

Many questions streamed into her head. Who was he? That was actually a question that she thought she new that answer to. He must have been The Phantom of the Opera, the one that Charles talked of, or at least a lunatic that thinks he is the ghost.

Then the image of his face hovered in her mind, haunting her. It had been dark in the theater but she had seen him, glowing mask and all. She remembered his eyes, his left eye some shade of brown, the other one, the one behind the mask, a misty gray. Now that she thought of it, she noticed the memory of the left side of his face to be… distinguished, perhaps even handsome. Manon almost gagged.

Goodness, this ghost, this man, whatever he might be, tried to kill you, she paused but he didn't. She remembered his blazing eyes as he choked her, she remembered how they faltered before he let her go. Touching her throat, she could almost feel his firm fingers still clutching. Manon, pulling out a broken piece of mirror from her sack, lifted her head and examined the purple marks of his hand on her neck.

Her eyes glazed over for a moment as she remembered how it felt, death. No air, no thought, only the will to live. She didn't understand, she always thought that she would welcome death when came. Manon never thought she would be struggling for life on her knees, like a fool.

Perhaps it would have been better if he had just killed me, I would be no loss to the world, and I would deserve it… .

He had by prowling the passages under the foyer that night. The Phantom had taken habit to this over the past years. And at times he ventured up into the seen floors of the opera house, partly savoring the chance to walk about the once public corridors and rooms that he had never freely been able to go without the concerned of being seen.

It was a late night that heard a sharp crack of a noise from the boarded entrance of the opera house. He recognized the sound immediately. A Gun.

The Phantom of the Opera threw himself into a dark corner in the balcony when he heard a shift in the boards that blocked the entrance. And from his hiding place he watched in disbelief as a young woman came stumbling in through an opening in the wood. It took him only seconds to recognize the flowing brown hair and lithe form of the woman who had trespassed not a fortnight ago. She was breathing heavily when she landed on her knees, as if she had been running.

A pounding came from the other side of the boards and he heard a mans voice call out,

"She went in there!" Seconds later the cracking sounds of breaking wood could be heard in the foyer. The Phantom heard the woman gasp as she stood anxious and exasperated, eyes riveted on the boarded entrance. She ran, stumbling up the grand staircase. Within moments three armed Parisian police officers in full blue uniform burst into the foyer though splintering boards, their eyes centered on the now running woman. One of the officers stepped forward and drew a pistol from deep inside his cloak. The other two followed. Loud cracks from their guns rang throughout the once silent entrance hall.

The Phantom, who was already fuming snarled in rage. He had never taken a liking to the Parisian police ever since that night of the fire. He never did enjoy the memory of being shot at. His lip curled in disgust, nails digging into his leather gloves.

The girl stumbled on the curving stairs as the shots rang out, she cried out in surprise and pain yet did not hesitate but continued to run. Their bullets missed her.

"Come back here you dim-witted witch!" thundered an officer savagely, taking aim again. Yet this woman had already disappeared into the grand theater. They didn't hesitate following her.

Manon ran as fast as her legs could carry her though the theater. Why had she tried to take shelter in this place, in this death trap, she didn't know. Her legs felt as if they were going to give way. They had been chasing her for avenues and streets. The aching in her legs were so sore, tears threatened to fall from her eyes. Manon let out a sardonic laugh as she ran; she would rather die running that cry.

Manon let out a soft gasp as she felt a bullet wiz by her ear as she scrambled over the orchestral pit and up the stage. Manon heard the thundering footsteps of the officers behind her. Faltering as she ran across the stage, she dashed through the tattered curtains.

Yet as Manon curved to flee back stage she felt a powerful hand pull her into a hidden alcove behind several curtains. She opened her lips to shout but felt a firm hand clamp over her mouth. With horror running though her very veins she saw a glowing white mask emerge from in the darkness before her very eyes.

The Phantom watched as her eyes widend when she saw him. She recoiled in horror and then began to struggle in the small alcove. They were already compressed tightly together and as she thrash about the Phantom gritted his teeth as he felt her knee embed itself into his abdomen. He was growing increasingly irritated.

"Be Quiet!" he hissed as he pressed himself harder against this woman to still her. She continued to struggle against him for a moment, then stilled, studying him with uncertain eyes. The Phantom released her mouth from his hand. They listened in silence for a few moments as the men continued to hunt for her throughout the theater. He closed his eyes, denying he noticed how firmly he was pressed against her soft bosom. He looked down and was surprised to see her eyes were full of pain. He didn't know why.

"Wait here." Phantom whispered harshly and he disappeared from the alcove.

In the darkness, the lieutenant searched for that bitch. Pistol out, he drew back the large heavy curtains warily, pointing it into the shadows. This woman was dangerous they said, so he took caution. As moved behind the curtains, he continued to feel uneasily. His uneasiness did not last long as he felt a rope tightened about his neck.

Within minutes, all three officers were dead, their bodies strewn on the floors of his theater. He had his revenge, yet he would have to clean them of his theater floors before they started the reek.

The Phantom started to make his way back to the small alcove, not particularly expecting the girl to still be there. Yet as leaped onto the stage he caught sight of a red satin on his white shirt. Pausing, he put a gloved hand to the stain on his lower abdomen. His eyes furrowed as he tasted it. Blood. It could not have been the blood of those stupid men for he had used his lasso, not a blade or gun. Yet he himself felt no pain. He checked his skin and there was no wound to be found. It was then he understood the blood was not his own.

Dadada!

A/N: I hope you liked this chapter! I'll update as soon as I can but I'm back to school this Monday. I'll try to write as much as I can under my desk during my classes! Please review and tell me what you think of this new chapter!