Disclaimer: conjecture

Fore note: I was thinking of a few reviews of 'Masked and Forgotten' at one point, so it's her fault :P jk. I managed to edit out most of her influence… but still. ;D Have a cookie.

…

Jord shifted uncomfortably as Erik went over to his organ and sighed. Silence rang out sharply, but fortunately Jord knew she had to break it.

"There's another reason I came," She said. Erik turned his head to give Jord a sideways look.

"Is there now?"

"I also came for the Music of the Night," Jord said, "As I have said." Erik scowled.

"And as I have said, it's over now, the Music of the Night!" Erik sang, and some chords played on the organ automatically.

"There, you see? More music." Erik made a dismissive gesture that resembled a conductor stopping an orchestra.

"Not the point. Did you hear what I said?" Erik did not wait for Jord to reply to his rhetorical question. "It's done. Gone. Its Christine's, and now she's dancing in her grave."

"Don't say THAT about MY mother!" Jord screamed.

"Then don't bother ME about MY MUSIC!"

"Well AS YOU SAID, it's NOT YOURS!"

"Then WHAT do YOU propose I DO?" Jord tried to say something, but simply had nothing to say. "Exactly. The Music of the Night is not up for discussion." This time, Jord scowled.

"So what are you going to do? Sit down here and rot until your death?"

"Well, actually, that was the general plan until you came down. Then I was going to scare your pants off. That didn't seem to work either, though." Jord's face fell. Now what?

"Well… um… fine. I'll leave you here to decompose while I go and wander the streets of Paris until I get killed or I get a job."

"That's a good girl." Erik didn't seem deterred by the idea.

"I'm serious!"

"Suuuuuuuuuuure..."

"I'll prove it!"

"Go ahead," he said quietly, "prove you'll leave this place. Prove you'll leave me like every one else has. Prove to me that you can leave me down here without means of escape until the devil takes me. You do that. Congrats, you've run away from the beast. Oh, the joy. Prove to me you'll give up. Go on, now, do it! Just leave me here… you deserve better. Just go, go now, leave me!" Erik snatched some papers and hurled them into the air. "Well? What are you waiting for! You came here for music and there is none, so leave! I don't want you here- you're just another problem to deal with. Leave and let this place burn down. Go ahead, get drunk, get rich, get a boyfriend, but most importantly, get out!"

Jord stood her ground.

"I said to leave and I mean it! Don't forget I am a murderer and have haunted this blasted Opera house for a lifetime, and I could kill you in a second! It would matter, now would it? As soon as they find me alive they will kill me for the deaths of Piangi and that bastard Bouquet, so one more crime couldn't hurt. Leave! LEAVE NOW! DO YOU HEAR ME? DO YOU HEar…" He stopped. The tune of Masquerade chimed throughout the lair.

Erik rolled his eyes. Of course NOW it works…

"Did you write that?" Jord asked, smirking.

"Um… no…"

"You did, didn't you?" Jord half sneered, half laughed. "Did you make the music box too?"

"I said I didn't write it," Erik said nervously.

"Well you're lying," Jord snapped. "I never guessed you'd be able to design a music box without any help… What did you use for materials? How long did it take to figure it out?"

"I- I said I didn't write it, and I didn't make the stupid monkey box, alright?" Erik snarled. "Just-… just go... I… I want to be alone right now."

"Why?" Jord asked, her eyes distant.

"I just do, alright!" Erik said, getting quite frustrated.

"No- why did you write it?"

"What?" Erik looked blank. "Why did I write it?" Jord nodded impatiently. "Umm… I… honestly don't know… I just… like music a lot, I guess…" Erik immediately slapped his forehead.

"Aha!" Jord cried, "you see? You love music and you still love music. Now stop sulking and start being a musician."

"What! Two hours after Christine's funeral?"

"Write a requiem."

"I give up!" Erik threw up his hands. "Someone get this teenaged delinquent out of my home!"

"It's heritage," Jord said, "now stop throwing a tantrum and play."

"How puerile. Next your going to be telling me to have a cookie, aren't you?"

"Well, I have a few scones," Jord pointed out, fiddling with a small pack she had with her, "so if you want… have a cookie." Jord offered him a scone.

"Oh good god, woman, you are mad!"

"Ever heard of lineage?"

"It comes from your mother's side," Erik said coolly, "I'm not one to fool around. But please… just… give me some time. I… don't like being around people." Erik choked out the words, unaccustomed to speaking so much in one sitting. Singing, he could do- hours and hours of incessant singing. But even that was over. Over, over, all over…

Erik didn't even wait for Jord to reply. He just paced around his lair in silence once more. Everything was too much- he just wanted it to leave. He could deal with endless hours of hunger; he could live with loneliness, survive without warmth and even make it without music. But he could not control the girl tramping down into his lair claiming she was his daughter. He could defeat everything except what he, in theory, loved.

"Why not?" Jord asked quietly.

"Hmm what?" Erik said, only half paying attention.

"Why don't you like people?" Jord stared at him, a touch of innocence in her eyes. Erik glared back, completely unconvinced. He was tempted to jeer at her with how stupid the question was.

But, he reflected, at least she cared enough to ask.

"Because people hate me," Erik sighed, "for things I cannot control." They've always hated me and always will hate me, and you will learn to hate me to. Just like Christine and her little Viscount- you will loathe me. They all do.

"I don't hate you."

"Not yet."