I don't know why I've been putting off the updates so much lately. I'll give it another go. Also…does anyone think I ought to give the chapters actual titles? I do them this way so I myself will remember what day I'm on and the sequence of events. So you all can remember too. But should they have titles instead?

Mrmistoffelees: Absolutely not. I will not have this phic end up as an OW story. (Love the name, BTW, Cats rocks.)

The Four Random Ones: Well, it's nice to see that my story served a practical purpose as well. Hee. I'm gonna make an Erik plushie. I drew the plans. Now I need to buy the stuff and hope my mediocre sewing skills suffice. Glad my imagery still packs a punch. Whoo!

EriksIngenue: Nearly everyone who reviewed liked that lust object line! I wanted to come up with a better insult for being slow than 'snail' but I swear, I couldn't think of anything! I don't know what happened. The rest of the chapter was so inspired, and I just…went out on that line. O.o Glad you liked it, though!

CloudxInxCrimson: I was hungry and craving beef stew. Seriously. That 'practice and practice and practice' part with the sawing violin chords was my favorite part. I could just see him squealing those notes out for emphasis. Heh.

ElfLover: …That's just not cool. Hmph.

Nativedreaver: Welcome to a new reader! So I suppose I haven't lost my touch.

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Hana was running down a long dark hallway, dripping water that echoed around her with her footsteps. She didn't know where she was going, but she only knew that she had to keep running.

She glanced behind her. M. Lefevre was following, brandishing his baton fiercely. "You have to come to the performance!" he was screaming, his voice muffled as if coming from underwater.

"No!" she called back. "I'm not ready!"

A thousand Carlottas suddenly lined the hallway, laughing at her. "'Oo see, she ees not right for a role of zis magnitude! 'Oo should 'ave given eet to me!"

Hana ran on past the Carlottas and her director. Glancing behind her, she realized she was alone again. Until she crashed into something very solid in front of her.

Turning around nervously, she saw Erik. His yellow eyes glared out at her from the shadows beneath the brim of his fedora. His cape surrounded him on all sides, so nothing could be seen except black, and the glimmer of the white mask.

"Where do you think you're off to, my dear?" he hissed in a saccharine whisper. Hana took a step back. "I have to get away from Lefevre!" she wailed.

"Oh, you're not getting away from anything," he hissed, the sweetness in his voice gone now. "You committed to this, and I worked too hard to have you flee on the night of the performance." Erik whipped his cape back, and Hana's music score was revealed in his hands, looking as if it contained a thousand pages. He threw them into the air and the sheets fell all around her. She was screaming, Erik was laughing, the sheets of music were turning into the mirrors of the torture chamber, spinning wildly around her, she could hear an organ pounding out a death march…

Hana woke up.

Breathing heavily, she looked around her tiny dressing room. It was empty, and utterly dark. Lighting a candle with some difficulty, she looked at the clock on the table. Nearly four in the morning. She still had several hours until…

The performance! She wasn't ready! Hana began to panic, running round and round the room in circles…before it sank in than she still had several days until the performance.

Hana sank to the floor. She was too young for this sort of pressure. Gazing blankly at the crushed rose lying on the floor, she began to contemplate methods of escape.

She could just run away from the Opera. But no, she was here with guaranteed visits from Erik. What kind of phangirl would she be in she left? At the very least, save running away for the actual night of the Opera. No, she couldn't go.

Okay. Get Hilary to sing in her place. She was good. And that was what she was here for, right? Helping Hana? But she hadn't been practicing – she'd be in even worse shape than Hana was now. No, she couldn't do that to Hilary.

Maybe she could fake sickness on the night of the performance. Or she could actually get sick! How hard could it be to catch a cold? Well, it'd be hard in the summer…but she could go swimming in the lake and hang out in the cellars until she was ill…or take a fall off of the stage and break her arm! But Hana didn't think she had the fortitude to purposely harm herself.

She sighed. She'd have to do it. So at the moment, there was only one thing to do.

Hana opened her music and began to memorize.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Erik woke up rather late that morning, feeling rested. He'd satisfied Hana and Nadir, and even gotten in some good practice for her. Plus, he had plenty of beef stew left over for tonight's dinner.

She had a rehearsal in the morning, and Erik would probably have to practice with her again later today. He was in the mood to do something in the time being. What was an Opera ghost to do in his free time?

He could threaten the managers. But what did he want? Nothing at the moment. They could get a better wine – the year that he was stealing from the cupboards now was positively sickly. But what kind of note would that make?

Gentlemen,

I wish to inform you that your wine cellar is running low on what I would actually consider wine. If you do not replace those bottles of dust with quality liquor, you will serve dinner on a cursed table tonight.

Your obedient servant,

O.G.

Hardly a letter worthy of Erik's intimidating prowess.

He settled for frightening some of the performers out of their wits. That was always fun.

Donning his cape and fedora, he headed off to the auditorium.

Meanwhile, Hana had whiled away the four hours left before her rehearsal drilling the opera into her own mind. She started to act rather delirious.

"Once upon a tiiiime, there waaaas a kiiiing –"

"No, Hana, 'king' is flat! Hit the right note!"

"Okay, Hana…"

She was grateful when Hilary came knocking on her door to see where she was. It must have been an odd sight that greeted her – Hana sitting on the floor, her music in her lap and a candle at her side, her hair all disheveled and her dress wrinkled and tossed up about her knees.

"Um…rehearsal…"

"Okay," said Hana calmly. She stood up, brushed off her dress, and picked up her music. "Let's go."

"Um, don't you want to change?" asked Hilary tentatively. "You look like you've been wearing that dress since yesterday."

"I have," answered Hana. "But you're right." She walked over to the dresser and picked up a hairbrush. On the first stroke, the bristles got stuck in her short, tangled hair. She just left it there. "Done."

Not wanting to question, Hilary led her down and left her rather quickly at the door of the auditorium – being careful to blow out the candle in Hana's room before she left. She couldn't leave fire burning in a madwoman's abode.

Everyone on the stage stared at Hana as she entered. She simply walked onstage, disregarding all the incredulous stares she received. Draining a glass of water in Carlotta's hand, she stood ready in front of Lefevre.

"Let's get started," she commanded sleepily.

Lefevre stared at her like all the others, and blinked. "Erm…alright…well, let's start from your opening aria."

"Okay," replied Hana. And she began to sing.

It was amazing that that perfect aria could come out of that unkempt girl who looked as if she had – and had – fallen out of bed that morning. It was really spectacular, the fact that she had the entire scene memorized after a four-hour cram session in which she tortured herself to learn it. Well, when you think of it that way, I guess it isn't so spectacular.

Hana was on a roll. Then, at the end of her song, when the stepsisters start to order Cinderella around again, Isabelle screamed.

In case you don't remember, Isabelle is the woman playing Tisbe, one of the two stepsisters. Carlotta is Clorinda, the other stepsister, and Don Magnifico, the stepfather, is playd by a man named Armand. Carolus is the prince, but he's enjoying a coffee offstage, as he isn't in this scene. Thank you for this review of the cast of Cinderella.

Anyway, Isabelle screamed. Not again. This is still the first scream. The point is, she had noticed a moving shadow somewhere above the heads of the rehearsing cast.

"What ees eet?" Carlotta shrieked frantically, nearly running over Hana trying to reach Isabelle.

"The Opera Ghost!" whimpered Isabelle.

Hana looked up. She didn't see anything – but that didn't mean that Erik wasn't there.

Armand looked around nervously, as if expecting a lasso to slip down around his neck at any moment, and Isabelle seemed sure that another garroted stagehand would come down at any moment.

"Oh, please!" said Lefevre impatiently. "And I thought the ballet girls were jumpy! You're all acting like a bunch of frightened rabbits!" The cast refused to calm down – except for Hana. She was still gazing bemusedly into the rafters wondering if Erik was there.

He was there, actually. All he had done was stand on the edge of the catwalk, looking down at the heads of the actors, a perpetual glare on his face…well, what you could see of it. He had made sure to stand where a certain draft would pick up his cape and flutter it threateningly. One of them was sure to look up sometime.

And one did.

When he had been spotted, and successfully stirred up the confusion he had been hoping for, he had stepped back into the shadows of the catwalk to enjoy the chaos.

"It's so easy, this opera doesn't need a real ghost," he murmured happily to himself.

"Well, this is pointless," said Lefevre, exasperated. "Well just end rehearsal here and pick it up tomorrow."

That brought Hana back to earth. "But I just got here!" she protested. "I need to practice!"

"You can practice on your own time, mademoiselle, this rehearsal has fallen to pieces." Lefevre wasn't changing his mind.

Dejectedly, Hana exited the stage slowly, letting everyone else dash out first. They were probably off to gossip and brag about having seen the Opera ghost. No doubt that by this evening, Isabelle would be telling her friends of the terrifying attempt on her life the ghost had perpetrated, involving kidnap, ransom, and him dragging her off into the cellars before she bravely attacked him and saved herself. Hana shook her head and headed off to the cellars for more desperately-needed practice.

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