Hi guys, Hope this chapter is alright. Its mostly description. It was my chance to quicken up the plot a bit.

Thanks to all who answered my Puppy or kitten question! Its should come into play some where up ahead.

Chapter twelve

That night when Manon had gone to sleep, it was music that had shushed her nightmares away and it was music that woke her again. A soft distance melody, from where, she didn't know. But she was drawn to it like a like a moth to a candle.

Manon could hear it softly echoing, an organ, in the darkness when she woke. Driven by a reason now pulsing in the back of her mind, her soul, she lifted herself onto her feet, away from the security and warmth of the bed, blankets, and cloak.

She could feel the cold and hard wood of the floors beneath her feet, as she limped, candle lantern it hand into the unexplored shadows. The music entranced her, and drew her into the darkness, beckoning her to find it source, to hear the melody sung into her ears.

The music was soft, not quite a lullaby, but a haunting quiet berceuse. Manon could now care less about the painful throbbing at her side, her disheveled appearance, or the freezing air about her unprotected skin. All she could feel at that moment was the music.

She limped across the room, raising the candle lantern to see before her. The room was empty, except from a large frosty mirror opposite her and a latched wooden door before her.

Logically, she limped towards the door to find it unlocked, and followed the melody into the darkness.

In the dim light of the lantern, as she moved on, she could see scattered and burnt scaffoldings strewn about the floors and ash filled globe gas lamps that lined he walls. Manon suspected she was in the backstage area of the theatre. The sight of the tattered curtains of the stage confirmed it.

Still deeply overcome by the haunting song she wandered further into the darkness.

She barely acknowledged that she passed the small alcove where the Phantom now known to her as 'Erik' had in a sense, saved her life. But all that filled her mind at that moment was the persistent tune. It seemed to unwind all her fears, all of her past and replace it with a lingering envy for night.

Yet as Manon moved onward, farther away from her room, and farther into the dark, she notice the that the music grew fainter. The fainter it grew the lower Manon's heart sank. She needed to hear it and feel it longer. Manon halted and stood still. Listening closely, she tried to find it again.

Lantern held high, she began to quickly limp back to the room.

Dashing into the pitch darkness of the room, she listened again. The music was certainly stronger. Curious, she drew close the large mirror that hung still against the wall.

The sound indeed grew louder, but still echoing in the distance.

Manon was now in font of the mirror, looking directly at her own disheveled features sharply cast in the lantern light. She pressed her ear again the icy glass. None of this made sense to her at that moment, but it didn't matter. She could still hear it, beautiful and haunting as ever. She slid down the glass, to her knees, not even bothering to wince at the pain that rushed to her side.

And she closed her eyes and just sat there, letting the quiet music softly, and gently surround her. The lingering melody unfurled its splendor, almost to the point that she could just grasp it. It seemed to purge all the thoughts of the past she knew and instead let her feel as if she had no past, only a future filled with a strange new and beautiful world.

Her spirit soared as she listened, and the music caressed her. Manon could almost feel it pass through her skin, every pore. She savored each sensation and hoped this sweet intoxication would never depart.

But it did, as if all the remaining warmth in her body had suddenly been replaced with bitter cold.

Manon furrowed her brow. She could hear nothing now except for her deep shuddering breaths. She could not tell whether it was the pain in her side or the fact that she could no longer hear the music that caused absolute agony to course through to her. She pressed her ear to the icy glass, her breath instantly fogging it.

Silence

And cold,

That was all she could feel.

Once her mind had cleared, she found herself on the cold wooded floor, leaning awkwardly against the freezing mirror, her side throbbing excruciatingly. For the first time since she woke, Manon noticed how cold it was. She began to tremble feverishly on the floor, dizzy from her now open wound, and empty from the sudden absence of the music.

Why had it ceased? Where had it come from?

Manon didn't know how long she sat there, and she didn't know why. No thoughts seemed to pass her mind until, with a curious soft draft of air that snuffed the flame of her lantern, the mirror, in which she leaned, sifted.

She didn't have the strength no jump in fright, or surprise, as her side knotting in pain. She lamely fell forward, the glass no longer there to support her, into what seemed to be a damp passage.

Her eyes traveled up warily and met, with a sinking feeling, the familiar glowing white mask.

She lay there pitiful as before, awkwardly twisted, and trembling in the darkness.

Erik didn't need to wonder why he had found her there. He knew that she had been listening to him play. In the deep silence, even his music from deep in the cellars could be heard.

What could he have been thinking?

He knew not whether he should be angry or softened. Part of him felt violated. His music had not been shared often, and, he felt, to the unworthy ear it should never be heard. What he wrote and played for himself was part of him, a glimpse into his own feeling and soul. Those who heard him were given a glimpse pass his built cold exterior and it angered him they did so.

Yet, simultaneously, Erik could not help think Moreau was indeed a worthy ear, or at least an unsuspecting one. In her desperate state he felt nothing but pity.

He bent down to meet her eye and she spoke,

"It was you…" was what passed her lips before she seemed to crumple back onto the floor in a faint.

Erik was beside her in an instant. She was desperately pale, and a cold sweat had broken on her brow. The room was now exceedingly cold, even for him.

His heart sank; he had left her to freeze to death. And even through the darkness, he noticed blood lightly seeping through her open shift.

Lifting her, he made his decision.

Erik turned, and with Moreau spent in his arms, carried her back into the shadowy passage, the Mirror sliding gently into place behind them.

I integrated the Music of the Night lyrics into the descriptions (if you haven't noticed) But it is however not the song itself that Erik is plaing. Sorry if it's a bit confusing but the descriptions of the song were perfect. Sorry if it was kinda cheesy.