A/N - Le whine, le pout. I don't own the POTO stuff. If I did, I guess I'd be rich. And then, I think, my stuff would be all published and you guys would be waiting in line for me to sign the book or something. As it stands, I do NOT own any of it. I am NOT rich, and instead of signing your books I am begging YOU to review for me! So now. There.

I read in someone else's A/N that you're not supposed to reply to reviews in here. Is that true? Hrmm.. Well, I'll sneak two more in :P

my-echo: It hardly seems fair that I update a zillion times a day (okay, small hyperbole) and you take forever! Okay, okay. Not forever, and sorry if I seem violent. I'm just kind of... fiending away, over here. So pretty, pretty please - more:P Oh. And about my brownie?

Angelic-Flutist: I intend to sneak over and see if and what you write soon, too! Thanks for the glowing reviews, I like all those pretty words you used. Mwaha! I don't want to give away the Erik/Nicholas/Christine/Elizabeth debacle yet - but I expect that there will only be one more chapter (AFTER this one) before we finally see our precious Phantom.

One Month Later

"Time off! Whatever for?" the abrasive man before Nicholas bellowed, with mirth in his eyes.

Nicholas curled his fingers into fists. Life with his 'Master', as it were, had become increasingly difficult. Residing within Nicholas were two distinctly different people. The first and usually most prominent was more of a simpering child, beaten so frequently on the gales of life that he simply cowered and obeyed. Hidden beneath the angst, however, was the man that he found in books. In music, and in Elizabeth's eyes. It had been a month now, since he had seen her, and yet each day between he seemed to grow more assertive. More independent minded. More detestable to those who were accustomed to towering over him.

"Yes, Monsieur. Time off." Nicholas' tone was chilled and threatening, which gave Carwell a start.

"Listen to me boy," he hissed, sliding off his stool. He was shorter than Nicholas by half a foot at least, and plump. He wagged his finger in Nicholas' face menacingly. "I own you, and everything about you. I saved you from that rat infested slump you lived in. I've given you a place to stay, food, an honest job. Don't speak so ungratefully to me! I will give you time off when I see fit!"

Nicholas' vision was clouded with rage, and with the last bit of self-control he could find within him - he simply nodded vaguely, and turned to leave.

"And Nicholas?"

Nicholas hesitated, but did not turn around - fearing he may throttle the man if he did so.

"Take the time, damn you boy."

Elizabeth was curled lazily upon the settee, reading another novel she had fished from the shelves in her fathers study. The words ran together, and she hardly focused on the page. It gave her a good disguise, however, and kept all those passing by from constantly pausing to ask the same, tired questions she had been asked for over a month. What is on your mind, Elizabeth? What trouble's you so? Are you ill?

She was tired of the constant agitation. She simply wanted space, and time. To think. Or, perhaps, mourn. Mourn the loss of something that she never actually had. Tiring of the book, Elizabeth tossed it lightly upon the stand nearby and stood, strolling to the window. She stretched languidly, gazing out into the streets of Paris. Fall was in full-bloom, and the chilly air and rustling of multi-colored leaves was beautiful. Usually, it was her favorite season. She had little desire for it now, though.

How could she explain her desire for the attention and affections of a man she had seen so few times? It would hardly take a single hand to count them! Her affliction was two-fold, however. It was true that she desired his presence, his company. To hear him speak, and watch him smile. All that was of course true! She felt a burden for him now, however. She knew more about his past than he did, and felt strongly compelled to tell him! She had taken a coach toward his residence on many separate occasions, intending to do just that. At the last moment, however, she would hesitate, and simply return home. He had made it clear during their last encounter that he would find her again, not the other way around. Pride prevented Elizabeth from approaching him, and so she had simply shut herself up - scarcely eating and showing little interest in anything else since that time.

This entire day had been no different. Night was falling, and the servants in her home were preparing for their rest. Raoul had been strangely absent for over a week, undoubtedly on some business venture. Christine and Elizabeth had hardly spoken since that night when all the secrets had been revealed. Elizabeth felt isolated, even if it was at her own hand.

Jolted back to present by the approach of a horse down the lane, Elizabeth shook her head to clear her mind of it's cloudiness. She swept to the door hopefully, sorely disappointed when only a messenger appeared.

"Mademoiselle," he murmured breathlessly, extending his hand. "A delivery."

Protruding from the man's crude and pudgy hand was a rose. The petals were the purest of white, it's tips finely kissed with a deep crimson. A pretty bow was tied neatly about it's stem, in white satin. Elizabeth reached for the jewel.

"For whom, Monsieur?" A quizzical expression crossed her features.

"Elizabeth DeChagny," he muttered, seeming irritated at such a silly question. With that, the man bowed low and then swept away in a flourish. Elizabeth lifted the rose to her nose, inhaling deeply of it's intoxicating scent. It was only then that she noticed the tiny card attached to the ribbon. In scarlet ink, and sinfully elegant lettering, it read;

Dearest Elizabeth,

Too many night's have passed.

I am beginning to fear that our time together

was only a dream.

Be it specter or woman, please...

Join me. Midnight, at the hidden marsh.

-N

Elizabeth felt excitement course through her veins, and nearly trembling with delight, she slammed the heavy door and began to ascend the stairs quickly. Suddenly remembering the prying eyes all about her, she hid the rose within the folds of her dress and adorned her face with a more somber expression. As slowly as she could manage, despite the joy within her, she bid those she passed a good night and slipped into her room. There was not much time to prepare!