My apologies for taking so long on this, but I've had a very bad few past weeks. I'm being nagged by an administration member of my school, who was upset at me about my work, EVEN THOUGH I told her I did have other classes to work on and when I delivered it to her (it was a booklet I had to finish up, but there was no exact due date), she didn't have my next set of work even ordered for me. So then the next day when I asked her rather kindly if I could get my graded book back, she looked at me, smirked and said "You really have no reason to speak to me, seeing as how I gave you this Noevember of last year, and I only had this for one night."

What the fudge did I do! Biatch!

Then I've been down because we had to cut down my favorite tree outside our house (it's been here as long I have…)

Ah, well, plenty of angst in this to release my bitter thoughts. I believe some of you have been curious as to the time frame in this. Let me note, this is not the night of Il Muto, as some may have thought, but is actually a few days prior. I'm taking liberties with some of the film here in time and such.

Let's just say… some things were talked out more rather than sung as they showed.

And for those of you who might say he would never do this, I think this person's quote pretty much sums it all up (and kudos to everyone who knows who said it!):

"I make mistakes like the next man. In fact, being—forgive me—rather cleverer than most men, my mistakes tend to be correspondingly huger."


Erik was hiding behind a curtain, observing some of the stage hands being hard at work.

It's a pity, really, that this is all for naught he thought to himself, for the plan had formed in his head to give Carlotta another scare (and this time maybe some true injury) by bringing down nearly everything upon her. Sandbags would fall, ropes would snap, and even the catwalks themselves would become dangerously loose.

"Then all those fools will learn to listen to my commands. They will listen to how my Opera House should be run." Erik vocalized to no one but himself. This may have been a game before to him, but playing was done now. Now, he was a force not to be taken lightly and toyed with.

He had written the letters that morning, threatened them with disaster, and he was, after all, a man of his word.

"Francois! Be a good lad and bring me that extra rope down there," A voice from above barked.

Erik needn't even look to know that it was Joseph Buquet up there. He'd heard his voice enough for years, whether he was in a drunken slur or frightening the ballet rats with his stories. The lascivious man was all trouble for Erik, countless times he'd been hunting him, trying to find his secret passages.

Silently, Erik crept around to a side where he could climb the ropes unnoticed. If he was fast enough and timed it carefully, he could bring the blame onto Buquet and be rid of two nuisances that night. Monsieur Lefevre may have been forgiving but reprimanding of accidents in the area of the master stagehand, but the new ones, especially Monsieur Firmin, did not seem the types to be as understanding.

Erik scaled one of the ropes easily, the upper strength of his arms well trained after years of doing this. When he first discovered the stage and how some of the younger men would show off to the ballerinas climbing with their hands alone, he was fascinated and would practice nearly every night in his young age until he too was powerful enough to do such an act.

He had the appearance of a pitch black shadow, dark as a moonless night, his cloak billowing as he made his ascent. His pace slowed from a predator's launch to a cautious animal as he neared one of the walking planks. Buquet was still lurking somewhere up there, and now was not a time for reckless foolishness.

Peeking over the side carefully, he spotted the shape of Buquet reaching his arm out to the other stage hand Francois.

"That's a good man, needed one more rope to secure the swings for the young ballet girls. We can't have them falling and injuring their nice, limber bodies, now can we?" Joseph smirked to his younger assistant.

"Truthfully," Francois started, "I'm fond of that golden blonde dancer, the young Giry, wouldn't mind having her a few nights to help keep me old bed warm," he laughed heartily alongside Buquet..

Erik seethed while watching the two lewd men. If the hot handed boy ever tried to touch his only mentor's daughter, it would be the death of him.

He was silent as the two made their climb back down to the floor, then he flipped over onto the plank by him, taking a moment to breathe while lying on his back. The managers would be coming in at any moment with their notes, hopefully followed by Madame Giry's own note with his instructions.

"This is ridiculous! There isn't a chance we shall give in to this!"

Ah, exactly on time.

Erik turned over, amusedly watching Andre and Firmin, tailiing a very brilliantly coloured Carlotta down one of the aisles to the stage. They were pleading with her to stay, to sing for the performance in a few days.

"La Carlotta, please, only you are the star for us!" Andre squeaked.

"We would never think to put anyone else in your place!" Firmin continued.

"You shall be the dazzling Countess of Il Muto, we promise you!"

"Beyond dazzling!"

"No singer shall ever have the glory that you will, the spotlight is meant for you alone!"

"Zat is enough!" Carlotta shrieked, turning on them, causing Andre to smack into Firmin's backside and fall backwards.

She pointed to the stage. "I vill sing only if zat pompous orphan girl is kept silent!"

Erik's eyes became slits. The aged performer would definitely suffer this time.

Firmin started at this, "Oh, yes, La Carlotta. We shall give Miss Daaé the role of the- the-"

"Pageboy!" Andre shouted, back on his feet, "We shall make her the pageboy. Is this fitting to you, Madame?"

Carlotta turned her head a moment, letting out a great sniffle before looking back at them, considering their offer. She put on a false smile to them, "It is what my managers want, so I shall do this,"

Andre clapped his hands together, "Excellent! If you could ready yourself for practice, that would be wonderful Madame"

Erik was standing now, watching as managers and diva went their own ways. It was time to ready everything. He turned to walk to the sandbags when his ears caught a single word.

"Christine, please, I must know where she is,"

Erik whipped around. The Vicompte de Chagny was talking to a rather deterred Madame Giry.

"Monsieur, she needs her rest, she has had a trying morning,"

"But where has she gone to outside the opera house? Please, I am an old friend of hers, surely she would not mind me visiting,"

"Monsieur, you should learn not to speak so loudly in a place like this," Madame Giry stomped her cane, dropping her voice, "you do not know who may hear you,"

"Are you trying to help this boy, Anne?" Erik whispered to himself. He watched as the Vicompte continued, as if not paying attention to her warning.

"What of these notes as well, who is this angel of hers? Where is it that she hears him?"

Anne leaned against the wall, finally broken through by the endless, fatiguing questions. "He speaks to those in the chapel, but do not think he will be as willing to hear your pleas, monsieur… I have girls to tend to, please, let me to my work,"

"Yes, Madame, forgive me. I did not mean to tire you," he spoke sincerely.

Erik's eyes were alight. He would rid himself of this problem right now. He watched the Vicompte walking hurriedly to the direction of the chapel.

He ran his fingers over the Punjab lasso in his belt. There was enough to time to let the boy be the only one to see that the Angel of Music was really of an Angel of Death.

He kept his eyes on the Vicompte, rushing along the boards to a faster exit than the ropes.

Yet, it was at this moment that Erik made a human mistake. The Phantom did something most unexpected.

He tripped.

A tiny pile of rope caught his foot and brought the towering man down, his shoulder hitting the wood. Not even Erik's reflexes were enough as he fell over the side, biting his tongue to keep himself from shouting.

It seemed a miracle when he was stopped immediately, a number of winding ropes held him suspended in the air, hanging him floors above the stage. The problem now was he was sprawled oddly in them, his arms and legs slipping through holes between them.

"Who's up here!"

Erik lifted his head, Buquet had seen the boards shaking, and was now looking around wildly for whoever might be trespassing. Erik swallowed as he tried to calm his racing heart.

"I know someone's here, and I'll find you,"

Buquet started prowling the catwalks. He was dangerously close to Erik, but his view was blocked by one of the wheels for the backdrops.

"Joseph! We need you down here!" A voice shouted from the back of the stage.

Buquet stopped, he was near the board where Erik had slipped and it had become loosened from the weight of Erik hitting it. He looked around once more before turning to leave.

Erik held his breath as he watched him. That's right, leave he said in his head. He tried to move one of his arms, only for his legs to sink even more, and the board by him wobbled.

All became a flash to Erik as the plank tilted and dropped, careening to the floor. It splintered in half as it came in contact with the surface below him and he heard a yell.

"What the hell!" Buquet shouted, running to where the plank had been. He stopped dead when his eyes fell upon Erik. "You!"

There was no escape, no flashes of smoke that could save him now. Erik could only look on as Buquet called the other stagehands, watching both men and ballet rats pile in at all the noise.

Stagehand upon stagehand clambered up to where Buquet was, and everyone of them had the same reaction at the sight.

"It's the ghost!"

"The Phantom! The Phantom is caught!"

"Boys, help me out here," Buquet instructed, pulling on some of the ropes, wrapping them even more and lifting Erik up.

Erik shouted in fury as Buquet laughed at him "Oh, you gave us a chase, didn't you ghost? But we've caught you finally, monster. This is the end of it all for you!"

Erik jerked harder as the ropes became more tangled against him. He watched as numbers of stagehands began shouting and started pulling him up, while making sure the cords were tightened even more till an anguished cry left his throat from the crushing pain of it all.

They slammed him onto the shaky wood, holding down his struggling body. He was as a fox under a pack of hounds, and they all wanted his blood.

He couldn't move his arms or legs, the ropes now securely being tied to prevent him from so much as lifting his hand.

The last image he saw while fighting, thrashing his head, was Madame Giry, staring, horrorstruck and eyes wide in fear. The last thing he felt was a hand tugging at his mask, and the last thing he heard would stay with him the rest of his now surely shortened life, it would never leave his mind.

"It's hideous! Look at the monster, boys, it's just as I said, a freak that died before it was even born!"

The laughter around him was bringing tears to his eyes. They were all laughing at his struggles, laughing at his face.

At his mistake.

Erik's body moved a bit unconsciously as his nightmare kept on in his mind.

"Wake up, you ugly monster!"

Erik's head jerked as he felt the uncomfortable blast of dirty water hit the side of his face and run down his shirt. He spat towards his dirt floor and turned his head the slightest to see one of the morning guards smiling maliciously at him.

"It's Sunday, brute, an' yo've got someone who actually wants 'ter see ya' mug."

The guard stepped aside, grunting, "Yo've got one 'our with him, only 'cause of that title of yours, monsieur,"

Erik still wouldn't turn to see who cared to actually talk to him but his curiosity was piqued and he was fighting hard to restrain his eyes.

A man of title? It couldn't be…

He could hear the rustling of robes, or perhaps it was a long coat. "I do believe It's my right to talk with this man as long as I want, and I shall as long as I please. You are dismissed now, I wish to speak to him alone,"

This was maddening, Erik had to look. Time was moving too slow as he waited to hear the guards footsteps echoing outside of the hall, then the open and shut of a door. He stood up from his bench, his muscles sore from both his position all night long and the tiny contractions of his body as he slept.

Erik turned to face this man, trying to ready himself for who he believed it to be, but one thought was running through his head.

Why? Why was he coming to this place?

Erik put the palm of his hand over the right side of his face, his mask had been used as evidence that he was the white blur of a ghost everyone saw in the opera house, and then it was handed to the guards, who preferred to let Erik sit bare to anyone who passed his cage.

"There is no need to cover yourself, I do not care how you may look," The man spoke, standing in shadow. Erik examined what he could, the spare sunlight blazing through his window was preventing him from seeing anything beyond the shine in the man's eyes. For Erik, the light only blinded his vision, one of his many reasons for cursing it.

"Who are you?" Erik asked in a rasped voice.

"I am here to talk with you, about what you have done,"

"And do you intend to stay where I cannot see you? How civilized you must be, monsieur. Did those swine send you to scorn me even more?" Erik growled. He paused as he watched the figure shift in his spot.

"I am not here to bother you, only to talk with you,"

Erik lunged at the bars of his cage, his face be damned, he was tired of all the games being played with him. He held the bars tightly, his face that of the wild creature it had become since his imprisonment. The shadow took a step back as Erik sneered, "You are already a bother to me,"

"I- I have some things for you, if you'll cooperate and stop roaring at me like an animal,"

Erik's face was against the bars so hard he could feel the impressions being left in his skin. "I am a caged animal, monsieur, how would you like it for me to act? I was trained to listen to my owner, after all, so what would you like? Perhaps you shall make me dance like a bear?"

"You are no animal, now do behave as the human you are! I only want to help you!" The man hissed back.

"And how do you intend to do that?" Erik snarled.

"I have fresh food and water," he stated plainly.

Erik's shoulders slumped. He was very weak, the only things he was allowed to eat was stale soup and water he dared not even bring his lips to, no matter how parched he may be. He came to a decision.

Erik breathed deeply, the mad features on his face dissipating, "So, you wish to talk to me. Then do come forth, come take a closer look at the demon whom you wish to feed,"

The man stepped into the light, his clothing dark and a satchel at his side. "I do not care for demons, of that I can promise you."

Erik's eyes widened. He released his hold on the bars and stood back, staring until a smile played at his face. He bowed mockingly, "Oh, this is a most rich delight."