To Live Again 3

A/N- Hello again, dear readers. Now, I'm not entirely sure of Erik's last name. But I vaguely remember reading somewhere that it's Noir, so I'll go with that.

I'll gladly accept a correction if that's incorrect.

I had a copy of Phantom, but it was stolen, so I'm working by memory with Erik's personality traits from that particular book.

Funny thing, I can memorize musical pieces after about four readings, but not books. So be nice, ok?

Moving on, in case anyone has questions as to how the Etiennes would be related to the de Chagnys, Joelle and Dom's mother and Raoul's mother were sisters.

As always, this piece is dedicated to my best friends, Heather and Adam. You guys know you rock, and I know you have a bright future in every aspect. I hope we never lose touch, because your friendship inspires me.

Enjoy.

It was an unseasonably warm night for early January, and the sound of cricket chirps filled the air. Joelle, Christine, and Raoul, (whom Joelle decided had improved considerably since the last time she had seen him) were exchanging stories. Well, rather, Joelle was asking questions about Christine and her past, and how she and Raoul had met… And about Erik, though she didn't use his name. Raoul chimed in now and then, but mostly he just sat back with a relaxed expression and loving looks at Christine, and proud, brotherly glances in the direction of his cousin.

"Tell me more about your Phantom, Christine." Joelle asked.

"Well, he's not really my anything." Christine corrected.

"Nonetheless, I still want to hear. He sounds like a fascinating man. You never did explain why he wore a mask."

"Probably due to the fact that he was hideously deformed." Raoul supplied.

Joelle's opinion of him lowered. "That's not very nice, Raoul." She chided immediately. "The poor man."

"Hey!" Her cousin protested, "That 'poor man' was going to kill me!"

"Even so, it's bad luck to speak ill of the dead."

"You speak badly of Rojer constantly." He pointed out.

Joelle looked down, "Well, he…" She paused, taking a deep breath, "He's not dead.."

"What?" Christine and Raoul both stared at her.

"I spoke with…the police. They investigated the scene and found no body. The weapon that should have killed him was there, but he was gone. I haven't told father yet."

"Uncle Lyle isn't going to be happy." Raoul said.

Joelle shook her head, "Do you think I'm very happy with this? The man ruined my life!" She sighed, "As far as kidnappers go, Christine, you had it lucky. Rojer and E…the Opera Ghost are very different men. At least when He took you, he was gentle and tender. Rojer made me sing at knifepoint and then tried to rape me…" Joelle shuddered, "Rojer is unpredictable… violent, your Phantom never laid a rough hand on you. Sure, he scared you, but as far as kidnappers go, he wasn't so bad."

"We never did hear the whole story." Christine admitted softly, "Would you mind telling us, or is it too soon?"

"I don't believe in 'too soon'." Joelle said. "What's happened has happened, and avoiding talking about it isn't going to make it go away. Nobody seems to understand that. Everybody's just going out of their way to be so 'careful' with me as if it's going to help. Well, it's not." The raw frustration in her voice startled them. She closed her eyes, "I'm not a child any longer. I lost that passive innocence when I found my mother's dead body in our garden, slain because of me. It vexes me that I can't take him physically, but I'll find some way to fight back." Her delicate looking, slim fingered hand curled into a fist. "I have to." She stopped, looking back at them with wide, startled eyes. "Oh! I'm sorry… I seem to have drifted off on a tangent there." She shrugged, "It's the stress, you see, not that that's much of an excuse."

"That's…ok." Christine said. "I remember a time not so long ago when I just felt like exploding. I just turned it inward like a little mouse, though…" She nodded, "I only made myself more helpless. Perhaps it would help you to have someone to listen. Someone you can talk to about what just happened?"

Joelle smiled, blue eyes gleaming like the noon sky, "Thank you, Christine. I thought, once that I had someone like that, but he had…other issues."

Raoul looked surprised, "Dom?"

"No." She said, "We've talked about it occasionally, but he's been scarred by it perhaps more than I, so I try not to remind him until he's ready."

"You two seem very close." Christine remarked wistfully, "I wish I had a brother."

Joelle nodded, "We've been best friends forever. So we can pick up things that other people can't sometimes. But not quite as much lately, he's been with Colette so much more."

"So who was this other man you mentioned?" Raoul asked.

"Just a man. I scared him off by asking questions he wasn't ready to answer yet. I suppose I was a little too forward. I don't have much experience with men." She admitted.

"Some men don't like things to get too deep too early." Raoul informed her, "But I feel sorry for the guy; he turned down quite a woman. You seem to have grown up so much these past few years."

"You too." She said.

"Most of that's been done in the past few months, actually. It's been a harrowing time."

"I think I'd like to tell you two from the beginning now." Joelle said. "I'll start with before mother was killed, so that Christine can catch up on the background somewhat."

"Thank you."

"Alright, let's see… It started sixteen years ago. I was four, Dom was nine, and Rojer was fifteen, though very small for his age and with a rather beakish nose, which he took quite awhile to grow into. Apparently, he and Dom had been friends for awhile by then, and he brought him home to meet me. Dom's always included me in his life. At first, I was a little afraid because of the looks he kept giving me, but Dom trusted him and that was good enough for me, so soon he became like another brother to me. In my mind at least. He had other plans, and the hints were there, like the fact that he seemed to go out of his way to touch me, the way his eyes lingered in the most inappropriate places…" She shuddered, "The way he practically growled if any other male looked too long at me, or in a way he didn't like. I used to think he was just protective. Then, when I was fourteen, just into my development, he walked in on me when I was readying for a bath. He didn't look embarrassed, or even apologetic. He just looked…approving, as if he owned me and considered it only fitting that he saw me like that. He just kept looking at me… I started to cover myself, but he just smiled and said, "Why bother? Someday we'll be married anyway." He was twenty-five at the time, and I suddenly felt very afraid. My father was away for that month, and he walked in on me another time a few days later, and by then, I just wanted to cry. I was scared, and confused. I didn't know why he kept looking at me like that…like a wolf at a bone. The next week, he confronted me in the library…touched me in places he oughtn't have. I told him it was inappropriate, and I was relieved when he replied "I wholeheartedly agree. A man shouldn't be touching a woman who isn't his affianced or wife in that manner." Then he just smiled, "Just wait here, darling, I'm going to go talk to your mother and see if we can't rectify this terrible situation." An hour later, I was walking in the garden, checking on the flowers that mother and I loved so. I was going to look at her favorites, the white daffodils, when I saw her there, lying so still that something had to be wrong… right in the middle of the irises. I called to her, but she didn't move. Then the moon came out from behind the clouds and something was wet and slick… I ran over and turned her over… There was a knife in her heart. I knew that knife… Rojer used to show off, showing me how he could skewer an apple right off the tree with it… Mama was dead. I screamed… Dom came running… he had been in the stables, talking with Bevan, the young blacksmith journeyman who was shoeing his horse…"

Christine gasped, "Oh…! How horrible!"

"Mama had told him to stay away from me, or so I had gathered. A week after her funeral, Papa sent me away to the convent, in Ireland, where one of our aunts is a Nun. So for six years, I learned Language, philosophy, theology, history, and medicine. And music… I lived for music. I learned the flute, the violin... the bodhran...The people in the village taught me to dance! It was my escape. The first thing I had to do was learn English, so that I could communicate with anyone else but Aunt Marie. Some other young girls were there, most for schooling or protection, and I made a few friends, but for the most part, they found me to be too quiet and serious. But I had letters to look forward to, from Dom, and Papa, and some people around the house, like the Stablekeep before he died. Old Bo had been like and uncle to Dom and I; he was the one who taught us to ride as children." She went on.

"Well, in any case, I was growing up, and time didn't simply stop in my absence here. Dom went to the University… met Colette while waiting for a carriage… fell in love. Meanwhile, Rojer had gone missing. His ship was last seen in pirate waters. I knew he wasn't dead, but figured he had forgotten about me in favor of piracy." She shrugged, "So, a few months after my twentieth birthday, Papa sent for me. It was nice to be back. I loved Ireland, its people, its rich heritage, it's very spirit… But France was my home, and I missed my home, and my friends on the house staff and in the village. People I had known all my life. For the first time in years, I was home, and I loved it! A few weeks after I arrived, Dom took me to the Opera, knowing my love for music… Mama used to love the Opera…" She shook her head, as if to shake away the memory. "And Dom promised I would finally meet the woman I'd heard about from him for so long. That day started like heaven! The show was amazing, the Opera House was unquestionably exquisite, the company was great, and Colette was nice, if a bit too chirpy. Everything was finally perfect. That night, I was sitting by my window, brushing out my hair before bed, and I saw an odd shadow, but thought nothing of it. Five minutes later I was being carried out the window. I screamed and bit and clawed and hit everything –and I mean everything—within my reach. But his years as a pirate had made him much stronger, almost inhumanly so. He tied me up and held me still on his horse. For some reason then, he took me to the Opera House. Later he explained that he planned to use the underground passage to the catacombs to escape the city, then on to the shore and to a boat to his castle in Spain. Then he told me to sing. I told him never, and he pulled out this horrid notched dagger and said he could make me…" Her eyes widened.

"Was that the same dagger he stabbed Dom with?" Raoul asked, "Or did he have more than one?"

Joelle shrugged, "I wouldn't be greatly surprised if he did have more than one, but this was the same one, or else very similar. I doubt that, though. I memorized that dagger… I had to obey. So I sang, and he started kissing me, and cutting off my nightgown with the dagger. I knew what would happen next… I just wanted to die… Then Dom came. They fought… neither of us saw him draw the dagger until it was too late… Dom fell. Everything turned red. I lunged at Rojer, at some point, I got cut, but pretty soon he just picked me up and threw me on the ground on my back as if I was nothing. He was standing over me, covered with my brother's blood, and he said he was going to "Claim his prize." That's when it happened…"

"When what happened?" Christine breathed.

"When my Angel saved me. Oh god, he was glorious! Like some great avenging spirit from heaven! Like some god of battle ripped straight out of legend!" She sighed, "Oh… He took care of Rojer, and then untied me. His hands were so tender, so gentle… Then we looked over Dom, and he said that Dom needed to get to a hospital, and he gave me his coat to cover myself, and carried Dom for me. When we reached the hospital, he laid Dom in my arms, so gently… and he leaned over and whispered in my ear, bidding me tell no one his identity, nor describe him. I kissed his cheek before he stepped back, swearing not to. Then he swept off into the night, with the grace of a cat…" She stopped, staring dreamily into the starry night.

"I must ask again, Joelle." Raoul persisted, "Was. He. Wearing. A. Mask?"

Joelle thought carefully, choosing the right words, "Raoul… Dear cousin, I've told you this already, I did not see the Opera Ghost that night. You said yourself he was dead, remember? The one who saved me that night was a living man… and Oh! What a man he was! The only ghoul present was Rojer, and he, unfortunately, is not dead. Hopefully, at some point in the near future, that will change."

'There.' She thought, 'technically, not a lie. Erik himself told me that he was no ghost. And living indeed he was.'

"Do you have feelings for that man?" Raoul asked gently.

Joelle shrugged, "What girl doesn't dream of being rescued by her knight in shining armor? I know nothing can ever come of it, but it doesn't hurt to dream, does it?"

Raoul and Christine, caught up with dreams of their own, exchanged amorous looks.

"I don't suppose so." Christine murmured breathily.

Joelle looked away, "He had the most remarkable eyes, too…"

"Uh huh…" Raoul and Christine were too busy staring into each other's eyes.

Joelle groaned, rolling her eyes, "Aaargh! This house is entirely too full of lovers! I'm… going to leave you two alone!" She threw up her hands in frustration, stalking out muttering something about oversexed gerbils.

She decided to head to the stables.

She was enjoying the smells and sounds of the stable, arms around her favorite dependable mare, Ula, when she heard footsteps. Adrenaline rushing, she stiffened and backed up… and suddenly, she saw him: Him being singly the most incredibly handsome man she had ever seen. He was tall, with broad shoulders, mahogany hair and moss green eyes. He smiled when he saw her.

"Ah, hella lass." He said in english, with an unmistakable Scottish brogue.

Her throat went completely dry. 'oohhh...'

"I was lookin fer yeh." He said softly. "I'm Haral Slannidhe, I'm here fer the Stablemaster position, but yehr good father dinnae speak but the barest of english. 'E told me teh speak teh ye. Ye are Lady Joelle, aren't yeh?"

She nodded, scrambling for her english. "Yes…yes I am. And you're obviously from Scotland, correct?" 'damn, I've got hay in my hair!'

He nodded, "From yer own accent, I'd say ye learned teh speak english in good ol' Ireland."

"Exactly." She replied, "Now... is it just you applying?"

"No, I and me twin, Willem."

'Twins' She though, 'good god if there was ever a cause for sinful thoughts!' She cleared her mind. "Alright, then, I'll need some information for the records."

"Alrigh." He said good naturedly, "I'd be glad teh help ye, I would."

She swallowed hard,"Okay… Now… Age?"

"Twenny-six, the pair of us."

"Marital status and present family members?"

"Unmarried, and the only family with us is our ol' Fa, Aram." He responded. "Ah'm afraid Fa and Will only speak English as well."

"Not a problem. As Chatelaine, I can alsoserve as an interpreter. Well, depending on your next answer: How much experience do you have?"

"We 'ad a farm, before the fire. Half the village burned that night. There was nothing left but teh leave." His voice was sad.

"I'm sorry." She murmured. "But you do meet the requirements, if the two of you still want the jobs."

His eyes showed slight humiliation, "Weh need it."

She reached out and took his big hand in her own. "Unofficially, Haral, if you ever need anything, ask me. Everything would be much smoother if we could be friends. Makes things so much more relaxed. You and your father and brother can move into the cottage adjoining the stables. I oversaw the redecorating and updating inside myself. You'll be the first to live there since…Bo…" She said softly.

He squeezed her hand, eyes shining with gratitude. "My most sincere thanks to yeh, Lady. Yeh don' know how many turned us away."

"People in this area are somewhat suspicious of foriegners." She said sadly. "Our village is a rare exception. My father sets an example, and the people adore him, so they follow his ways." She smiles, "And call me Joelle. I'm not quite used to bein 'Lady'd yet. Not to mention I hardly fit the part, particularly at this moment and I'm rambling. Sorry!"

"Joelle, then." He kissed her hand and swept away, eyes twinkling with amusement.

She stared after him, "Maybe Dom was right about moving on…" she murmured. Then the image of Erik's deep, profound golden eyes danced in her mind. Tears filled her eyes, sinking to her knees in the hay.

"Why?" She whimpered, looking to the sky, "Why can't anything be simple? Why can't I just forget him?"

"Forget who?"

She looked up, "Oh.. Bevan… What brings you here?"

"Your father's gelding tossed a shoe. I'm here to fix it." He said.

"Oh. How are Chera and the baby?" She asked.

He beamed, plain face lighting up with pride. "Little Jolie's growing like a weed and my own darling is expecting another, in fact. I'd love a son to teach my craft, but I'd be just as happy with another lovely daughter."

"Congratulations, old friend."

"Now tell ol' Bevvie what's bothering you." He cajoled.

"Ah, well, man trouble."

"What sort?" He asked.

She sighed, "The sort where I fell in love with this tall, dark, mysterious singer who rejected me, and I simply cannot forget him. Then there's that handsome, good-natured, stable Scottish man who's definitely very charming and easy to get on with. And yet the first man's still on my mind. I feel as if I'm betraying him."

He nodded thoughtfully, "Not if he was dumb enough to reject you. If you really want this first guy, give him a warning, drop a few hints, then, if he's foolish enough to ignore that, forget the arrogant bastard. You deserve to be appreciated. Since you've returned, you've fallen right into your duties as Chatelaine. You've been good at it, too, for a beginner. You deserve someone special."

She hugged him, "Thank you so much, Bev. Where would I be without you?"

"Lost and lonely."

They laughed.

She thought a moment. "Bevan, can you keep a secret?"

"Haven't I always?"

"Well. I'm furious with Rojer, and very, very tempted to hunt him down and do horrible, painful, eventually deadly things to him with a garden trowl. Then pesky logic comes back and reminds me that I'm only five feet two inches, and he's a strong, ruthless pirate."

"Yes, I know that he is. What are you leading up to?"

"Let's just say quite a few pieces of china have gone missing…"

He laughed, "Slinging rocks again? As I recall you had a very good aim."

"….Guilty." She blushed.

"Just try not to break too many things. You remember what happened last time."

Two days later, she went to the Opera House, cursing all the way for her poor logic.

He was beginning to notice again, how lonely it was in here. Erik sighed, half wishing that odd, fey young woman would return, with her quiet charm and her big, intelligent blue eyes. It had been nice to maintain the delusion that he might actually have a friend, but plainly, he'd scared her off for good.

"I'm getting too old for this." He muttered. "Too old to keep getting my hopes up about young, pretty women, even just as friends."

Alone again, all he could do was mourn the loss of Christine and despise humanity in general. He was beginning to hate the darkness and to wish he was really as dead as everyone thought. He didn't know who the man was that they found, but the poor soul had obviously just had too much. He knew that feeling, he thought, envying the man's courage and the peace he now had in death. He looked at the mask on the shelf before him, running a hand over his disfigurement.

Yes, death would certainly be preferable to living like this, if living indeed you could call it. He didn't like to sleep, because he dreamed about Christine… And about Joelle calling him a monster… hurting him as young women had when he was a young man. He had nightmares about being in the freak show again… Joelle and Christine fainting at the sight of him, Dom shaking his head in disgust and pity, Raoul holding Christine close as if Erik were some insane beast… and Rojer's evil laughter in the background.

"Erik?" A plaintive voice called.

Putting on the mask, he looked outside.

There, on the other side of the lake, was Joelle.

For the first time since he told her to leave, a smile crept across his face.

Perhaps he was not so alone after all.

For now.

When Erik got out of the boat, the first thing she did was apologize for her prior behavior.

"It's alright." Erik said, "I shouldn't have encouraged you under false pretenses."

She smiled. Somehow, she couldn't resist the man. There was something absolutely magnetic about him.

Then she saw his face. The part not covered by the mask, anyway. The last time she had seen him, she'd thought he was a little thin, but now his face was positively gaunt, with dark circles under his eyes.

"Oh Erik…" She murmured, "Are you alright? You look awful."

"Thanks." He said sarcastically.

"Don't be that way. I'm worried about you!" She snapped.

He appeared to be examining her eyes. Under the annoyance…Concern? "You… really are, aren't you?"

"Of course! What's the matter?" She asked exasperatedly.

"Nightmares…" He gave in. "The last few days have been rougher. When I'm alone, I think about… things I wish I didn't."

She hugged him, "I'm really sorry now." She replied.

"Is that why you came?" He asked bitterly. "Simple guilt?"

"I missed you." She confessed.

"I missed you."

She smiled ruefully, "But I should warn you, Erik…"

"About what?" He asked.

"My cousin's name is Raoul de Chagny." She said softly. "He's in town, with Christine, and he suspects that you are alive. He's not happy about it. I did what I could to dissuade him, and dismiss the notion that you could possibly be alive, but I don't think he was entirely convinced."

"Wh..What…?"

"Don't worry, Erik." She felt compelled to comfort him. "I stand by you. If he wants to get to you, he'll have to go through me. I know somewhat of your past now. I'm sorry I asked and I can see why you wouldn't want to talk about it, so I won't ask anymore. Just tell me when you're ready."

"Thank you."

"Hey, I don't like it when people pry too much into things I don't want to talk about. It's only fair I give you some time."

"I can't believe you're related to that ass." He remarked.

"Dom thinks he's a changeling. And possibly a gelding."

He raised an eyebrow. "Your brother seems to be an interesting man."

She rolled her eyes, "You have no idea."

Laughing, she followed him into the boat, and, back at his house, they spent hours talking.

Neither suspected that, back at the manor, her cousin was getting worried, and had suspicions where to find Joelle.