Chapter 8:

(Authors note: Many who have not read the book know Armande as Andre, they are the same person, one of the managers) Last chapter for a while, hope you enjoy! Please Review!

Disclaimer: I don't own the Phantom of the Opera or characters

"Dozens wounded, one murdered, one missing." The police officer said, facing Madame Giry, Armande and Firmin.

This is nothing short of disastrous" Firmin stated, stomping a foot on the rubble beneath his feet. "Keep searching for him! If you've found that blasphemous Opera Ghost, KILL HIM!" He shouted in utter rage. The officer shook his head,

"Monsieur, I'm sure if he..."

"The phantom is dead" Madam Giry said calmly, with an air of dignity. "I can assure you, he would not have survived this tragedy"

"You do not know that" Said the officer, "But I doubt he will get away if he is alive. He was not in the under grounds, we had men and some women who decided to help, search the place widely, he was not found. If he lives, he does not remain in this building"

"How much will the damages cost to repair?" Firmin asked, still quite upset.

"My estimate ranges in the areas of five to ten hundred thousand francs, but I wouldn't recommend trying to restore the Populaire sir, it is quite ruined"

Erik chuckled arrogantly. Quite ruined veraciously! He watched from the shadows of box 5. Fools, he thought. Here he was in the shadows of a place they knew to be the very box haunted by him, but they made no move to search over it. Not that if they had they would ever see him. He was far too sharp to be caught by the likes of them.

"What is the name of the woman missing?" The officer asked.

"Verlaine" Giry replied, "Her name is Kristen Verlaine. The poor dear, I only hope she is ok."

"Where did you last see her before she went missing"

"She was in the audience," Giry answered, "I left her to try and help other matters, but oh, if I had only known the chandelier was going to fall. You see, when I left her, I was running in result of the Phantom's kidnapping of Christine, not because of the chandelier. Oh, but I don't know where she could have gone. She is blind."

At this the officer looked at her with wide eyes.

"You left a blind girl amidst tragedy?" Giry shot daggers from her eyes,

"If you knew what was going on, you would have left too. That poor girl was on her way to certain doom when she fell from the stage in the arms of that madman. Now I already said that I did not know the situation with the chandelier, and I already told you that if I had known, I would not have left her, I would have helped her. The Phantom was obsessed with Ms. Daae, I had to help Raoul get her out of there." "

Did he get her out?" The officer and Firmin both asked in unison.

"Yes, but now you must find Kristen." Madam Giry was dying inside because of this tragedy. In all truth, she should not have left Kristen alone, but she had to help Christine, she just had to. Erik would have condemned her to a life of darkness and hell.

"We have searched these walls, Madame, if she is in the building, she is very lost, or dead. Perhaps she was injured and crawled off somewhere"

Erik couldn't believe his ears. They spoke of Kristen as if she was some kind of object, a thing, or a disregarded pet, yet was she not their guest? Typical of the average human to lay blame on the victim, wasn't it so much easier that way? With a swish of his cape, he was gone, back down into his hell, to check on the fallen soul that had landed there.

Kristen re-awoke at the sound of the Phantom's staff scraping against the floor beneath the lake. What was that noise? she slowly, very very slowly sat up in the bed, so as to not hurt her wounds, even though they caused her great pain. She had slept off much of her weariness, though she was still fevered. She listened as the sound grew closer, and she eventually heard footsteps on a stone floor. He was back? Where had he gone in the first place?

'Erik?" she called out, her voice timid. When had she become so shy? she asked herself.

"Quiet" he answered her, walking in. "I brought you some food" he said, coming into the bedroom, "You must be quite hungry." Kristen sighed, and nodded,

"Yes, quite" she replied. "Where did you go?" she asked

"To get you the food" he responded half heartedly, taking her hands and placing within them the plate of food. "Bread and cheese" he told her, so that she could know what she was about to eat. "The entire main theater is destroyed." he said, thinking she might be interested.

"We're still in the Opera House?" She asked. Erik frowned. She really was blind, she was completely disoriented, and had no idea of her surroundings.

"Kristen" Erik said, "I wish I could tell you everything, but I cannot" he could have chosen to ignore her, but he felt a strange connection to her, an understanding of her darkness, her pain and suffering, and now they both had it in common that Madam Giry betrayed them. "You will recover, and then you can leave. You won't have to worry about being here any more"

"Erik, why do you sound so sad?" she asked.

He froze. What had she just inquired? This foolish little child. He could have grown angry, but with the officer and the managers and Giry in the same building, he could not trust his voice to withhold itself from their ears.

"Curiosity killed the cat" he said quietly, and in a voice that rather betrayed no emotion. He would not get into it with her, truthfully he didn't even know if he could talk about it.

"I'm not a cat" she countered. Was she trying to annoy him? She ate the food she was given and was quite satisfied, placing the plate in front of her on the bed, she looked up as if trying to find his direction, "Thank you" she said, returning to her original position.

"Why won't you tell me anything? Where I am or who you are..."

"I told you my name" he replied before taking the plate, standing and turning to leave, "You are in no place to be demanding information." he stated, before exited the site of her presence.

She growled below her breath. He was impossible! Completely impossible! She sighed out with despair, if only she could stand to find her way as she had done in her room. She moved her ankle, to her unfortunate displeasure, it was still in it's sorry state. The pain that shot up her leg was almost unbearable, but she held back her screams so as to not beckon that annoying voice back into her room. If anything she needed to be alone right now, but that still did not satisfy her hunger to remove herself from the bed and find her surroundings.

Erik removed himself from her room at once. The girl liked to argue, it seemed. He would not put up with that, even if she WAS blind! As he looked around his now tidied quarters, he was brought once more to a state of sadness and tears. Pictures and reminders of Christine Daae remained within the chamber. Her beauty, her elegance, her voice... lost. He almost had the urge right then and there to leave the Populaire, track down the fled couple and murder that insolent excuse for a man! If only the whole of Paris were not looking for him at this very moment.

Once more, Erik left this dungeon of his to return to box five and watch the business men and officers go over what had to be done for the Populaire, and for O.G.

Kristen heard his exit, however quiet it was. He kept leaving. OH! she grumbled, he would not even stay with her. Was she really that much a burden? She must have been, for both Giry and now Him to keep leaving her in darkness. She had heard his warning though, don't leave the bed. Now she realized how much she really wanted to get up and move around, despite her ankle. The thing would never heal if it remained inactive, right? When he returned, she would demand assistance where walking was concerned, or she would brave these confines alone. She was blind but she wasn't helpless, if that's what he thought!

Where are we going to get that much money?" Firmin stated nervously to Armande,

"Relax!" the man replied, "We'll get a loan from the bank, all will be fine. In no time at all the Opera house will be up and running again, we'll have new attractions, new dancers, new singers, and the whole business with the Opera Ghost will have vanished from beneath our very feet."

Erik was quite amused. Is that what they thought? They were just going to repair the Populaire and everything would return to normal? Well, what normal were they asking for? The normal before his threats began to circulate or after? He watched them blabber on about buying new instruments and making meetings at the conservatory of music when he heard the faintest footsteps approaching the hallway outside the box. Within moments, he was in total shadow behind the walls of box. 5.

Madame Giry entered the box and closed the door behind her, "Erik where are you" she snapped in a hoarse and angered whisper, "Where are you and what have you done with Kristen"

He did not reply. Could he trust the woman so? only hours after she had betrayed him? He would not risk it. He left the box as silent as a ghost, leaving her there alone, talking to no one.

So they were going to repair the Opera Populaire? he mused greatly as he headed back to his home beyond the lake. This was almost too good to be true, at least he would be greatly entertained. Erik himself was the architect who designed the Populaire, those idiots wouldn't know the first thing about rebuilding it properly. Was it his problem? he really had to ponder, but he finally came to the conclusion upon entering his lair that yes, it was his problem. This was his theater, they were going to build it the way he wanted it.

"Erik!" Kristen called from the room she had been confined to. He clenched his teeth and fists together, quite annoyed that his thoughts had been disturbed, and he made his way to her room, his anger and his reasoning doing great battle within his mind. He was letting her stay there when right now all he really wanted to do was dump her butt into the lake and be done with it all! Now he had more important things to deal with, other than this little brat.

"What?" he returned rather darkly, entering the girl's room and looming over her like a dark shadow. She realized his tone and suddenly, she was not so sure of herself. It was amazing the power he had over people, the way he was able to frighten so many. She remembered the conversation she had with Meg regarding his ability to scare, perhaps she really would congratulate him... but not now, not when she was sunk back within her sheets almost shaking like a leaf.

Erik saw this new fear he had sparked within her, and he immediately grew to a different level of calm. This was something he hardly expected from the only girl who lived within the theater and did not fear this "Phantom". She was very stubborn and very determined, yet he was making her quiver such. He closed his eyes and turned from her, "You fear so, your rescuer?" He said, his voice just riddled with quiet anger.

Kristen's lips slightly parted. This was different. He was annoyed at her fear? Among the many other things she supposedly did to irritate him? like being there for starters. Was he annoyed or disappointed? Well what did he expect when he entered the room sounding like he wanted to kill her.

"Maybe if you were a bit nicer..." she began to argue, but he cut her off.

"Why should I be? Why should I be NICE to anyone?" Why was he even bothering to argue with her? It was stupid and pointless.

"And what did I ever do to you to make you come in here with a voice that could only have deadly intentions?" she said in returned anger.

"Is that what you think?" he queried, "You think I am going to kill you when I have nursed you back to an acceptable state?"

"Well I don't know you" she replied, quite upset, "And I only called you in here to ask you if you would help me out of bed. My ankle will not heal if it does not receive the proper exorcise."

"You will not leave the bed" he ordered, "It is too dangerous for you in here to be walking about."

"Now why would someone who questions being kind to people give a damn about whether or not it is safe for me?"

A smile that would have touched her ears spread across her pretty face as she heard him leave the room flustered. She could have laughed right then and there. Oh fighting was such a splendid sport, especially the winning half of it. She soon realized she should not have done that though, what good would it be to make enemies with the Phantom? Obviously, she remembered, he was getting over something traumatic, and in his pain he had found the courtesy to help her. Helped, by the legendary Phantom, she mused. The fascination she had obtained from these legends that filled her mind before, the fascination which Meg had warned her against, returned to her heart once more, even if only for the shortest amount of time, she was inspired.

He picked up that empty bottle of red wine which had impaired him that one night, and threw it against the wall. She was impossible! Completely Impossible! He calmed, and fell to a sitting position in front of his organ. She had been afraid, this blind girl, who could not even see his face.

It's in your soul, that the true distortion lies.

Christine had said it herself, and up until now the words had not made such a devastating impact on him. He covered his face with his hands. The soprano had been right. He truly was a monster, whether or not he was ugly. She had never seen him, yet when he entered the room she drew back as if she had. He shook his head and sighed out slowly and softly. Christine... was it possible that he was truly as ugly within himself as he was on the outside? No! it could not be, he had such a capacity to love... and yet such ability to kill and destroy. His disputing thoughts did little to help his self reflecting pain. The soprano had been right, he was a terrible thing. A monster.

"Kristen" His voice traveled through open space to reach her ears. She had been sitting there beneath the sheets, her head lowered, feeling the patterns of the blanket with her hand, and completely silent. And there was that sadness again that she had heard before, the same soft sadness. She raised her head slowly, to look in his direction.

"Erik, I'm..."

"You wish to move?" he cut her off, walking into the room. Upon remembering Christine's words, he could not just leave her there. He wished Daae would have never said that. In all honesty he knew that if this girl was not there to occupy his time, he would have been making out the required blue prints to the restoration of the Populaire, and would be thinking of a way to make sure they fell into Madame Giry's deceiving little hands.

She was taken back immediately. Apparently she had won more than she thought before. She heard him coming closer and she only nodded gently,

"Yes" she answered with an air of calmness. She wasn't really afraid now, her ability to pick up emotion within a voice since her eyes were damaged, she realized, was quite the burden in itself, for if she could have seen Erik moving towards her before, she probably would not have shrunk back in fear. Or were the stories of his extreme disfigurement true?

"Then come on, I'll take you to the living room" he said, although he wondered how he would help her at all, she was so marred and wounded that pretty much touching her any where would cause her pain. She pulled the sheet from her and let it fall back onto the bed. She moved both legs around to the side, placing her good foot onto the floor and favoring the other. He moved behind her and allowed her arm to go around his neck to support herself, and she stood.

Indeed she could feel the pain of her bandaged wounds being disturbed, but then again, no pain had ever been worse than the pain she felt when they were changing the bandages of her eyes after she had endured the first fire, so really she could consider this a mere fraction of what pain really was to her.

Once again, the feeling of being touched by another so willingly was strictly alien to him. As he helped her out of that area, she seemed quite content to be moving,

"This does not hurt you?" he asked, his voice now changed into something quite timid or shy, or worried of himself. She realized that too, but did not mention it.

"It does, but I have had worse. I can handle it" She responded, her hold on him was quite tight. For a phantom, she mused, he was considerably warm. His attire was of a soft kind, she rather liked it.

"To your left, there is a lake. The ground here is very jagged, there is no flat surface." And she could tell he wasn't lying. Every two steps was like a mystery, new levels, lower levels, obstacles. She could hear the water as well, she was quite fascinated.

"So this is where the legendary Phantom hides" she pondered out loud, and instantly heard his rather unpleasant response to that.

"I've told you my name, you will not refer to me as... that" he demanded. She sighed,

"Ok, I'm sorry Erik" she said, she didn't imagine the Opera Ghost having such sensitive feelings. If Meg was here now, surely she would have quite the story to tell. Or to write... She thought angrily, once again cursing her inability to see. Now that this second tragedy had come upon her, how was she ever to learn this Braille? it was hopeless. She was inflicted by a brief moment of despair before she shoved these thoughts into the back of her mind where she hoped they would not return from.

He guided her to sit, and upon doing so she realized that beneath her must have been a chair, or couch.

"Are you happy?" he asked, though she could only pick up the slightest bit of spite within those words.

"Quite" she returned, and for a brief moment, her broken eyes were met with his.

He was almost startled once more. It was as if for that second she had actually seen him, their eyes had met even though hers were shattered windows that did not see into the light. She had no idea what he was thinking, and began to wonder why he made not a sound,

"What's wrong?" she asked, eyes now closed and hand moving over the fabric of the couch.

"Nothing" he said, moving to the organ. He sat and played a single note. It was then that She remembered the music he had played before, the music she heard projected from the floor, and she immediately smiled, darting her face in the direction of the lovely noise.

"Erik, will you play for me?" she asked quite happily.