Chapter Five : **Why Can't the Past Just Die?**

Erik let the last note drip from the organ pipes before lifting his hands from the ivory keys. Elissa waited with flushed cheeks, her chest rising and falling quickly with the exertion. Sweat tinged her brow and a sense of excitement made her grin in satisfaction. But she waited for him to turn around, somewhat nervous of his reaction. He'd expected her to do well, since she'd been allowed to audition late, but what if what she had wasn't good enough, what he'd expected. She knew in the back of her mind it was silly to care so much about one person's opinion of her, but she held her breath in anticipation until he spoke.

She felt like she'd sang better for him just now, with his instructions, than she ever had.  Curling his fingers into his palm, he turned and stared at her for a moment with absolutely no emotion. Afraid for a moment he was displeased, her shoulders sagged, but he said slowly in that melodious voice of his, "Mademoiselle, that was truly…exquisite. I feel confident that we can smooth a few rough spots, though, and increase your range. Before long, you will be able to sing more powerfully and angelically than ever before."

The breath she'd been holding rushed from her lips in a relieved sigh, her shoulders relaxing. Eyes bright, she gasped, "Do you really think I can get better?" The idea of being able to sing better, possibly being able to show off her talents made her smile happily.

Erik felt the corners of his lips twitch, trying to smile, but he stopped himself and nodded, "Yes, I think so. Who were you taught by before, dear?"

"I used to sing at fairs and at the market back in Ostroda- back in Poland- and eventually joined the church choir so that I could be instructed by the teacher there. Madame de Loncrae, the woman that raised me, later allowed me to attend a tutor twice a week for singing lessons."

He paused, thinking of her referring to Madame de Loncrae just as the person who'd raised her. Surely she meant her mother, right? Did they not have a good relationship and that was where this distant reference came from. His eyes narrowed. He knew somewhat of bad relationships with mothers.

"Madame de Loncrae, she was your mother, then?" he asked smoothly, rising gracefully from the piano bench.

"Oh. No, she was not my mother. She raised me, though," Elissa said, the smile gone from her face, looking quite tense he noticed. He didn't want to attribute to her sudden edginess but his curiosity bade to question more. Swallowing back to questions that expected answers he shouldn't want if she was just a mere pupil, he instead offered her a glass of water which she accepted graciously.

The following silence calmed her down a bit. Thoughtfully, he looked at her carefully as he asked casually, "How odd, that accident today at rehearsal. That that board fell so suddenly."

She froze for a second, fear passing through her eyes for a split second, but he saw it. Nodding she said delicately, not looking him in the eyes, "Yes, how very odd."

He studied her face for a minute longer as she stared down into her glass anxiously. Finally he nodded," Shall we get you back up to your room now? You will be needing your sleep."

And just like that, she felt the fatigue from the day creeping up on her and nodded at his request. She wished the past would stay in the past, where it should. But she had a horrible feeling of foreboding that it would not.

----`--{@

That night, Elissa fell sleep in her dressing room with a blissful smile on her face. She couldn't believe how well things were going now. She'd been feeling scared and discouraged ever since she'd started in the chorus and Pierre had come. The night she'd run through the underground tunnels away from him, she'd felt complete despair. Then this man took it upon himself to watch over her, to help her in her singing and give her the only source of safety and comfort she had. She'd been quite miserable for some time, but now things were finally starting to brighten. This man of shadows was her angel, her angel of darkness.

Erik himself had tried to keep busy after she'd left but had nevertheless found himself arriving at the spot directly behind her mirror, staring into the pitch black room and seeing exactly where everything was. Elissa lay curled up asleep underneath the thick blankets that he assumed she must have brought with her because of the delicate hand stitched designs on it that suggested it had been homemade, rather than store bought.  He opened the mirror and stepped into the room, his cloak swirling around him silently.

First he checked the door to make sure the locks on the door were locked. They were. Turning back towards the bed, he stared at her for a moment before slowly resting in the chair next to her bed. Her black hair was fanned out across the pillow and her soft pink lips were parted slightly in her sleep into a small smile, breathing deeply in and out. He suddenly felt anger towards any young men that had the joy of being able to look at this beautiful woman and have her look back shyly, to blush a little at the attention. He would never have that.

His fist curled tightly, wanting to hit something, but after watching her sleep a few more minutes, the anger calmed. He reached out on hand to the side of her face, held it there hovering there for a second before snatching it back and whipping out of the chair and towards the mirror. He shouldn't still be here; he'd made sure she was safe asleep, which was all he'd really meant to do. With one last look around the room, he exited and stalked back down to his lair.

----`--{@

The next day, Elissa was in a wonderful mood. With the memories of last night with Erik and the absence of Pierre all day, she found herself in an almost giddy mood all day. Even Nadine commented on the fact that she looked happier than she'd ever seen her and begged to know what had happened to make her so joyous. But Elissa had not uttered a word about the voice lessons or Erik, an unspoken agreement between Erik and her that she meant to keep. Whatever it was, it kept a dreamy, wide smile on her face for most of the day.

And her voice HAD already improved, just with the few breathing exercised Erik had had her practice last night. Monsieur Andre had even complimented her on her solo part, a praise that kept her floating all the way back to her dressing room. Humming a little tune to herself, she changed into one of her many plain dresses and shoes, planning on doing a little shopping before she had to be back. A knock on the door didn't interrupt her humming and she unlocked the door, opening it without a thought.

"Nadine, I really think-" the words died in her throat as she found herself staring up into Pierre's dark, almost black eyes. Automatically, she tried to shut the door again, as though if she could not see him, he was not there. But he reached a hand out and grabbed the edge of the door, pushing it open. Suddenly fearful under his dark gaze, she took a step back. A mistake on her part, because it allowed him to step inside.

Swallowing, she tried to regain control of herself. He couldn't frighten her unless she let him. And she didn't intend to be intimidated any longer. She could stand up to him, though she suddenly wished Erik was here. "Pierre, how delightfully wonderful to see you," she said politely and impersonably. "I was just on my way out, so if you could just excuse me…" She went to step past him but he grabbed her arm before she could. His entire hand could wrap around the entire circumference of her lower arm, she thought idly in the back of her mind. Staring up at him, once more, she straightened her back, prepared to fight.

"Release my arm, Monsieur," she said, her voice cold as ice. He did, but did not move to allow her to pass.

"Elissa, my dear, we need to talk," he said softly, his gaze unnervingly holding hers.

"Monsieur-"

"Pierre. Call me Pierre," he insisted.

She gave him a hard look before continuing," Monsieur, I have nothing to discuss with you. The other night was a catastrophe and I am ashamed to have let it get that far when I never should have let someone like you escort me anywhere. You had absolutely no right to say the things you did. If I feel ashamed, you should feel downright mortified of your own actions towards a lady. I do not wish to see you again and I would like if you would leave me alone."

There. She'd said it. She held her breath, a mixture of pride for herself and anxiousness of how he might react making her hands shake at her sides. For a long time, he just stared down at her, his dark whirlpool eyes drowning any emotions he might be feeling. His body was tense with anger, though, and she took a step back, not wanting to be so close to him.

A minute more of that silence, so oppressing and suffocating that it made her want to scream. Before she could, though, he tilted his head his eyes narrowed a bit. "As you wish, Mademoiselle. I would hate for you to feel uncomfortable. Everything must be perfect for Little Lissy."

"I- what?" she said, breathless, feeling like she'd been physically struck with the words. Little Lissy. Bedtime stories, hugs and kisses, love and warmth. Her father. She was his Little Lissy. Had been. What had happened. What had- She gasped loudly and shoved past him through the doorway in a very undefined manner and took off running down the hallway. She didn't see her surroundings, was only aware of the aching in her chest, the pains of her heart as she remembered what she had forgotten, repressed, since the age of six. Too young for such tragedy, she'd been, and she'd locked the bad memories away.

Little Lissy.

She didn't know if he was behind her, didn't care. She just knew where she had to go. Sobs tore at her throat, unnoticed by her, though. Eyes blurry with tears, she ran almost blindly towards that small props room where she knew that secret panel was. Her mind hurt to think of it, pain coursing through her that had so long been locked up but had now exploded into an agonizing torrent of anguish. She ran her hands clumsily over the panel before it slid open and then had started to cry even harder when she realized she had to close it again. She just wanted to get down there as fast as she could.

When it was finally closed, she whirled around and ran into the darkness, one hand on the wall to guide her and to hold her up and she felt her legs trembling beneath her, the intense pains in her chest every time she took a breath. But she didn't know where to go, she got lost. As soon as she realized this, she sank to the ground in a heap or skirt and tears, sobbing into the dark. She'd once been Little Lissy. But Little Lissy had died. Just like her father. The emotional pain was too much for her to handle and she let out an agonizing, heart wrenching scream that traveled down the passage, echoed against the stone wall, over the water and into the phantom's house beyond the lake.