A/N: Thank you to my readers, and especially to my reviewers:

theblackswan—thank you for your encouragement, I really appreciate it.

chudesnaja—I'm so pleased you appreciate the similarity between Erik's situation and Lucette's. I plan to further develop that soon. Thank you.

Disclaimer: I own nothing of the Phantom of the Opera

Il Muto and the Uneasy Peace

The final day of rehearsals had passed. It was now less than two hours before the curtain rose on the first performance of Il Muto. From the moment I had finished playing for the ballet warm up, I had been offering my services anywhere I could possibly be of assistance. I helped sew final hems; I held hot irons while wigs were styled; I helped hang curtains on the huge bed set piece; I was now assisting one of the dressers in lacing dancers into their peasant bodices.

Everyone was full of thanks for my aid, but I was not being kind. I needed to keep active. I had resolved the night before that I would not suffer any more on account of Erik. I was determined to keep this resolution, but I found I could not do it when I had no occupation. Indeed, the night had been a dreary battle with tears and dreams. I know I must have got some sleep, but I did not feel at all rested. Now I was determined that my days would not be as miserable as my nights.

I wished I could have more mental labor, as I found my mind wandering back to Erik as I preformed all the menial tasks. I tried to distract myself as I worked backstage by thinking about what the stage and costumes would look like for Lisa and Erast, but I found that the memory of Erik was interwoven with my opera. For now, at least, I would do better to think of things entirely unconnected with Erik.

Despite my resolve, I wondered what was going to happen with Il Muto. I had expected some accident this morning at the rehearsal, which would require Christine play the countess; but all had gone smoothly. Now, as I finished lacing the last ballet dancer, I thought that Erik must have surrendered the scheme. At this point, even if Carlotta were to leave right away, we would hardly have time to get Christine into the complex countess costume. Perhaps Erik was saving his tricks for later in the run.

I glanced at Christine who was standing but few yards from me looking lost. She really did seem anxious, and considering that she had had more contact with Erik in the past few days than I, her anxiety disturbed me.

Just then, Carlotta pushed her way through a group of dancers as she made for the stage. She was doing her frightful "warm-ups," which really sounded like they did her voice more harm than good. She was clearly in the best of spirits. It did not seem that Erik had even tried to get rid of her since his original note before rehearsals had started. I was not sure if I found relief in this knowledge. If Erik was quiet, he was up to something.

Finally the curtain rose, and I took a breath. If this opera closed without a hitch, Christine would be free of the cloud that surrounded her after the accident, notes, and disappearance surrounding Hannibal.

I was soon to realize, however, that Il Muto would be far more damaging to her than Hannibal was. We were not even halfway through the first act when Erik's voice boomed through the theater. I cursed his vocal talents, for it was impossible to pretend that no one heard him. A commotion went through the audience. The cast actually paused on stage, and a few of them let slip exclamations. Carlotta rebuked Christine for hers calling her a little toad, I sincerely hoped the audience missed that.

The moment had passed, however, and those not familiar with Erik thought the evening's disturbance over. I knew better, and from the look on Christine's face so did she. I would never have thought that Erik would be so imprudent as to replace Carlotta during a performance, but it was clear to me that was precisely what he was going to do. There was nothing I could do to stop it, however, so I simply waited and prayed that no one would be injured.

The opera had resumed, but I was not paying any attention until I heard the most disgusting sound come from La Carlotta. Her sounds were not pleasant in general, but this was worse than anything I had yet heard. Normally, she at least sounded like a rough imitation of an opera singer. This sound was a…a …croak. There was no other word to describe it. To give credit where it is due, Carlotta was professional enough to take a breath, collect herself, and start again; only to have the awful noise repeated and repeated again. She was finally forced to abandon the stage amidst uproarious laughter. I actually pitied her in that moment.

Total Pandemonium had broken out both backstage and on stage. Finally someone had the sense to close the curtain. I heard the managers announce that the performance would continue with Christine playing the countess.

I had no idea how he had done it, but I knew Carlotta's failure was Erik's doing, and I was relieved he had done no worse. I was not sure how this would affect Christine's career, but at least there had not been any "accidents" in the usual sense of the word. Paris would probably only hear that Carlotta had a touch of laryngitis.

The ballet rushed onstage to keep the audience amused while Christine was hastily put into a costume. I thanked God that we had dressed the ballerinas early, and settled in to watch the rest of the performance.

Within only a few minutes, however, it became clear that Erik was truly insane. The lifeless body of Joseph Buquet dangled for a few moments in a hangman's noose, and then dropped to the stage. The chaos of a few moments ago was nothing to what now happened. There were screams, ladies in the audience were fainting, and the managers were trying to claim it was an accident. I knew it was not.

I stared in dumb horror. Everyone around me was moving, some were trying to get away from the stage, others were trying to get to it. I was the loan stationary figure. All I could think was that Erik, my Erik, was a murderer.

I was recalled to my senses when Christine rushed past me pulling the young Vicomte with her. From the look on her face, she also realized that this was Erik's work. A sudden fear gripped me. What if this was the beginning of a rampage. What if Erik would next be after the Vicomte? He was clearly not in his right mind. If he had left Joseph Buquet alone, Christine would right now be singing the part of the countess.

I did not know what to do with myself. Silent tears were running down my face, and I began to feel as though I was being suffocated. I had to get out of here. I needed air and time to think. My only thought at present was to escape from the wretched squeeze of hysterical bodies back stage. I took the nearest exit from the backstage area, which happened to be the iron staircase that led to the corridor by the ballet rehearsal room.

From this corridor I knew my way to the roof, and it was there I headed. I did an abrupt about-face, however, when I opened the door only to see Christine kissing her Vicomte. I silently closed the door, grateful that they had not seen me.

The short blast of cool air from the moment I opened the door had revived me considerably. I wished I could have stayed out there, but I blushed at the thought of interrupting a couple employed as Christine and the Vicomte were.

I decided to go to the ballet rehearsal room and wait there. I knew Christine could not spend long with Raoul: she was still required to play the role of the countess as though tonight's tragedy had not happened. I would be able to hear them pass the rehearsal room door, and then I could go to the roof. I needed the air and time to myself.

I was correct in my conjecture. I was not in the room more than a few minutes when I heard Christine and Raoul pass. I caught a few words of love exchanged between them before they descended the stairs. Despite his hideous conduct, my heart felt a pang for Erik: he had really lost her.

I stumbled to the roof, and took a deep breath as soon as I opened the door. The air was bracing, and the thin layer of early snow gave the roof a wintry beauty I always imagined belonged to the Snow Queen's palace. I looked up at the stars, only slightly dimmed by the city lights, and brought my mind to contemplate what I must do.

Erik was now a murderer. It was, no doubt, my duty to see him apprehended. I scorned my heart for shrinking from this task. "He is nothing to you; he does not want to be anything to you! And even if he were, it would not change the fact that he has killed a man and must be brought to justice."

After these thoughts, my own reason turned traitor and began to extricate myself from having anything to do with capturing Erik. "You really have nothing of use to tell them," my mind told me in the same tone, no doubt, that the serpent had used on Eve. "After all, others have received notes as well, and he no longer visits you in the piano room on a regular basis. Let Christine be the one to lead them to him, she has been to his house. Your evidence is nothing to hers!"

I convinced myself that there was no need for me to force my meager testimony on anyone. If asked, I would tell the truth, I would not lie for Erik, but until asked I would keep my mouth shut.

I rose from the step I had been sitting on, and made my way over to the ledge. I felt satisfied with my resolutions, but I was in no way ready to face the crowd downstairs.

It was as I approached the edge, that a voice, my favorite in the world, broke in on the silence by roughly asking, "What are you doing here?"

I held perfectly still. I was overcome by so many emotions at once I hardly knew where to begin. I was afraid, I was disappointed, I was angry, I was overjoyed, and I was heartbroken, only to name a few. I wanted to let my fear and disappointment win out and leave without answering, but it is an unfortunate trait in my character that I often allow my passions to get the better of me as they did in this case. Instead of simply turning and going, all of the vehement anger burst forth.

"What am I doing here? I am a free human being with no horrific crimes on my conscious or mortal sins on my soul; I feel I may go where I please in my own place of employment. What are you doing here is more to the purpose. Basking in the afterglow of you artistic handiwork I imagine."

"Leave now." His voice was low and deadly, but the same recklessness that possessed me the other day again took control.

"I intend to. I find your presence abhorrent; the very sight of you makes me sick!"

As soon as this last phrase escaped my lips I realized it was the wrong thing to have said. I meant only that his actions were so repulsive to me, but I knew he would think I meant his face. Despite everything, I would not leave with him thinking that is what I meant.

"Erik, I did not mean that the way it sounded!"

"Lucette, go now! I do not want to hurt you."

"Then don't." I knew I was taking a horrible risk. If he was genuinely criminally insane, I should probably be found dead tomorrow morning. I believed, however, that his crimes resulted from the life he had led. I knew he had psychological wounds, but I did not believe that he really had no control over his action. Control could only be gained through practice; well, I would give him practice. "I cannot believe what you did tonight! I literally feel sick at the thought."

"Joseph Buquet deserved to die! He is unworthy of your pity!"

"Erik it is not for you to decide who lives and dies. Your insufferable arrogance is the only reason you even imagine such a thing, and it is time you began to spare a thought or two for others!"

"No one ever spares a thought for me, so I don't see why I should spare a thought for them!"

"First of all, even if no one cared for you, you would still have no right to be so violently selfish. Secondly, people do care for you, and would show if you would let them."

"Do you know what I just witnessed on this rooftop? My Christine, making plans with that boy to run away! She betrayed me!"

"No you betrayed her!" here Erik lunged for me, but he did so with an unusual clumsiness, and I sidestepped. I continued speaking as I moved to put a skylight between us. "It is simply the truth, do not blame me. She trusted her angel. Even after she learned the truth, she could have been brought to trust you as a man, but had you methodically set out to destroy her trust, you could not have accomplished it so well as you have!"

Erik had sat down heavily on the stone ledge that surrounded the skylight as I spoke. I hated myself for wounding him thus, but I felt that it would be for his own good in the long run.

"If she was with the Vicomte tonight," I continued, "It was because you yourself drove her to him."

My anger was spent with these last words, and I was now simply miserable. I was not cheered any when I realized that Erik was crying.

"Erik, please, I'm sorry. If I did not care for you so much I would not tell you these things."

I received no reply. I hesitated a moment, then went and sat beside him on the ledge. He did not acknowledge my presence, but neither did he spurn me. I put a hesitant hand on his shoulder. It seemed that in touching him, I had somehow made him regain his capacity for speech.

"It is war between that boy and I; I have declared it so and I will not be swayed!"

"But Erik, think of Christine."

"Christine is all I think about!"

"No, I think your feelings for Christine are all you think about. I mean think about her; think about what she feels and desires."

He was silent for a moment after this comment, and I realized with a rush of hope that he was considering what I had said. His answer showed me clearly that I could not reason with him.

He said: "She does not know what is best for her. She does not know what real love is. I will teach her. She will be made to make the right choice."

I sighed; I knew this was the end. It was futile to try and say anything more. I simply prayed in my heart that one day Erik would understand what real love was.

I looked over at him. He was involved in some sort of abstraction. I felt he was no longer aware of my presence. The cold air which had been bracing at first was now chilling me to the bone, for I did not have my cloak with me. I shivered, and rose to go. Erik caught my wrist to prevent my leaving.

"Lucette, you said earlier that you cared for me. I wanted to thank you for that. I do not believe I have ever heard those words spoken to me. Whatever happens, I will always be glad to have you for a friend."

I was touched, and felt the tears rise to my eyes at the thought of no one ever letting this remarkable man know that he was worthy of human affection. The term 'whatever happens' sent a shiver down my back, but perhaps with a friend in his life Erik could be kept from repeating tonight's crime.

"You will always have my friendship. Please do not do anything that would cause your friends unease." I said this lightly, not wanting to start another argument, but needing to say it.

"Goodnight, Lucette."

"Goodnight, Erik."

And with that I left him there on the roof. I longed to stay with him, but when he bid me goodnight, it was clearly a dismissal. I decided that 'goodnight' was a much more human dismissal than his usual 'leave.' I would never remove myself when he barked the latter at me, but I would respect his wishes for solitude when he invoked the former.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

I wondered at myself for letting Erik back into my life so easily after all of his transgressions. I made excuses for him in my mind. I told myself that he had never been taught right from wrong. From the little I had gathered during our former acquaintance, it seemed that he never had parents worthy of the name. It also seemed that he had traveled a great deal: I thought, perhaps, that, as he was poorly raised, he was never in one place long enough to develop a sense of morality on his own. I believe the main reason I was so ready to have him as a friend again was that it seemed natural to have in my life. Besides, I thought, he was now very well behaved in my presence.

All that said, I wish I could say that our relationship went back to its former ease after that conversation on the rooftop, but it did not. While he would talk to me sometimes (as I mentioned, always on his best behavior), he did not come with nearly the frequency that he did before, and there was always a certain restraint between us.

I got the impression that he was working on an opera of his own. I was glad to hear that he was doing something good and productive with his time. Indeed, it seemed that was the only thing he was doing with his time. No one else in the opera had had any contact with him since the opening of Il Muto, not even Christine. I certainly did not mention my contact with him.

It had been many weeks since the opening night fiasco, and the management were congratulating themselves on having bested the Phantom. It seemed that they had not even been called on to pay his salary. I thought about asking Erik about this, but I decided to leave well enough alone. Overall, I felt I had done quite well regulating the place Erik occupied in my heart.

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

I was done with Lisa and Erast. I was simply spending my evenings polishing the piece. I had never finished an opera so fast, and yet I believed that Lisa and Erast, might be my best work to date. Erik in one of the few times he had spoken with me agreed, and his praise filled me with pleasure.

It would be completely finished in another day or two, and this time I was determined to see it performed. Admittedly, my choices for a venue were growing few in number, as many other opera houses had turned me down in the past, but I was not yet completely without resources.

I had decided to aim for my highest choice: Teatro alla Scala. It was a center for culture and the arts in Milan, and one of the greatest houses in all Europe. The Italians wanted to be involved in the new vogue of French Operas. Moreover, La Scala credited itself for discovering new talent. They would want my opera. It was the best new work they would see, I felt sure.

I did have another reason for choosing La Scala, however. It was far away. I prayed that all contracts would be taken care of through letters. Perhaps I could avoid personally meeting anyone from the company until after they had already invested too much in the opera to pull it from the schedule.

Finishing my opera and planning for its performance filled my days so I did not notice Erik's absences as much as I might otherwise.

The day that I sent a perusal of my score and a letter introducing L. Sauvon to the Teatro alla Scala, I received my invitation to the annual opera masquerade. I thought it sounded like it would be quite fun, and I began planning my costume even though it was still almost a month off.