Thank you, my dear reviewers, it is you who make me overcome my laziness and inconfidence and continue writing

the Mouse in the Opera House: subtlety is hard to find where you have an unprofessional phanwriter and the character who has a temper.:))) You see, of all Christines I liked Sarah Brightman's the most and she definitely is one of a kind. If Leroux's Christine and the one from the movie might have chosen Raoul, Sarah Brightman's Christine had to do this only because of the mean libretto-writer! And being a girl with a temper she just didn't have patience to think of something subtle:). She will learn it later, I hope. Thank you for all of your reviews, it's a reward for me for all this writing.
moonservant: it really is! And here is Erik (drumroll, please:))). Though there's moe talking than action in this chapter, I hope you'll like it.
Jamea: I'm not so mean! Well, not now, at least:)).

moonlit-leaf: a half of a chapter, not longer:). Your wish is my command:))

Thank you guys once again, you're the best.

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'What were you thinking, Christine?' Madame Giry fumed as they were walking quickly down the dark passage. 'I thought we had a deal. Anyway, I want you to know that I'm not going to help a hysterical little girl who can't control her actions. And I'm not going to let you go on with this aventure on your own.'

To her shame, Christine didn't feel even a tiny bit of remorse. To tell the truth, everything happened so quickly that she didn't have time to think before acting... But the girl was perfectly sure that had she been given the second chance she would do the same. Andre irritated her beyond all bearing and, after all, he deserved being cooled down a bit. And as for the journalist... Well, he had something to tell his friends about now. Of course, Christine knew better than presenting these arguments to Mme Giry, but at least she could lead a silent debate.

'I start thinking like a real Opera Ghost,' she grinned. 'Little stir is just what these fops need. Oops, sorry, being fop is Raoul's prerogative! Okay, let them be dolts.'

'Ugh, Christine Daae, where are your manners?' she scolded herself. 'What would Mme Giry think if she heard it?' But it was already hard to stop.

'Poor Raoul,' the girl mused. 'He has been nothing but good to me and whose fault it is that I'm not born for that life? And whose fault it is that he's a fop? And he really is, no offence, please. It's just the way he had been brought up..'

'Christine Daae!'

'Yes, madame!' she promptly replied and thanked heavens that mask didn't let Madame Giry see her face. Though there were no candles in the passage it was growing lighter and that meant they were approaching the inhabited part of the Opera.

Madame Giry looked at her and sighed apprehensively.

'Something tells me that I should repeat everything once more. We're going to my room now so would you be so kind and take off your charming skull mask, gloves and cloak. And assume your best innocent face, just like on that day when Meg and you borrowed Carlotta's sweets.'

Christine could hardly fight back laughter when she remembered the tantrum Carlotta had thrown persuading herself and everyone around that it was the Opera Ghost. She suspected that Madame Giry noticed the empty box they had forgotten to hide properly but now it was obvious that the woman had chosen to shut her eyes on their prank. Christine took off the cloak, mask and gloves, let her hair loose down her back, then tried her best and gave her adopted mother a polite puzzled smile.

'Yeah, this one.' Antoinette turned away and started descending the hidden stairs. 'You've done enough for today and we're going back to my room now.'

'And tomorrow..' Christine began in a hesitant voice.

'Tomorrow we'll see,' Madame Giry snapped.

They walked in silence for a while, then the woman said:

'Now, please, behave, we're going out. But tell me first..' her face was impenetrable. 'Why did you need to throw that paint onto Monsieur Andre?'

Christine shrugged.

'Wouldn't you?' she asked simply.

Madame Giry chose not to answer but as she turned around to go Christine grinned widely. She could swear she saw a glimpse of smile on her tutor's lips.

After they turned round the corner they hardly escaped being knocked down by agitated Meg.

'Christine! You can't imagine how glad I'm to see you! But you should have come five minutes earlier - Andre got a can of paint onto his head. You should have seen it!'

The next second the young ballerina was staring in astonishment at her mother and her best friend who laughed uncontrollably, absolutely unable to stop.

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The next morning Erik stormed into Nadir's little apartment with a newspaper in his hand.

'What does this mean?' he hissed angrily. Well, his anger could be easily explained if you had a glance to the front page of the newspaper he was holding. A large headline ran "The Phantom of the Opera returns".

'I see appointments don't stay vacant for long in the Opera.'

The Persian didn't bat an eye. He was standing near a large fireplace, his hands folded and seemed to be fully absorbed in staring at the fire.

'Do you hear me?' Erik was fuming.

'No, I don't,' Nadir replied calmly not even turning his head. 'You wanted me to believe that you're dead - well, you got what you wanted.'

'I didn't tell you I was dead!'

'I would be surprised if you did. No, you simply disappeared after the night of the fire when the mob destroyed your lair!' Nadir turned around to face Erik who was slightly taken aback by his friend's reaction.

'And after three months of silence you suddenly show up to ask how things are in your precious Opera.' The Persian's black eyes darted flashes as he spoke.

'Go and see yourself if you don't give a damn for people around you!'

He turned back to the fire. The former Opera Ghost stood in confusion unsure of what to say or do. The thought that his fate could be of any importance to anyone in the world had never crossed his mind, and to be frank, when he fled Opera Erik dreamt only about leaving this part of his life behind. He traveled to England and Italy, Spain and Germany in vain hope to push out of his head all thoughts of Paris and Christine but to his shame his mind rarely drifted to Nadir or Mme Giry. Erik was perfectly sure that their lives would be better without his sudden visits and dubious instructions and it had never occurred to him that they might have cared even a tiniest bit about him. But what he saw now didn't fit in the picture.

'Why would you care, anyway?' he asked defiantly.

'Now I'm not exactly sure,' the Persian replied spitefully. 'But then I considered you to be my friend.'

Erik felt his rage turning into guilt mixed with a good deal of astonishment. Has he been so preoccupied with other people's terror and loathing that hadn't paid attention to those who offered him a helping hand?

'I'm sorry,' he muttered. 'Listen, I haven't thought that...'

'You haven't thought. That's enough.' Nadir stopped him angrily.

Then after a short pause he added more calmly:

'Erik, you told that you suffer from loneliness but haven't you ever realized that there are people that are concerned about you? That Antoinette Giry risked her and her daughter's well-being helping you? That she had to stand pressure and whispered gossips? I assure you she's not the kind of a person to go through this only because you terrify her. The woman's clever and brave enough to find a way out. But she chose to help you. Because she's your friend. Just as I am.' Nadir sighed.

'After the night of Don Juan performance we tried to find you. But down there everything was shattered to pieces, and the exultant mob was shouting that they got rid of the maniac once and for all. Naturally, we prepared for the worst. And you never showed up again... What were we supposed to think?'

The Persian turned away from the fire rubbing his forehead.

'Antoinette thought it was her fault. She thought she had to go down there and warn you.'

Erik gave him a surprised glance.

'But it was impossible! The mob would have killed her and I..' he paused and looked aside.

' I wasn't myself,' he finally finished.

'That's exactly what I told her.' Nadir sighed again. 'I don't know if my words had any effect on her, we never talked again. But she's a strong woman and I knew she would sort things out for herself.'

They stood in silence for a while, Erik's head spinning from the amount of amazing information he had just heard.

'I'm sorry,' Erik finally said. 'I thought I was nothing but a burden for both of you.'

'And that was terribly wrong. But perhaps it was my fault too,' Nadir admitted. 'After all, who else could teach you about what friends are for?' he smiled.
'That's what I'll tell Antoinette when I see her,' Erik smiled back feeling enormous relief and something close to happiness. Two friends, who would have thought! Two friends of his... He felt silly smile tugging at his lips.

'I don't think you'll get off with her just as easily,' Nadir laughed. For the first time he looked openly into Erik's eyes.

'You have no idea happy I am to see you, my old friend,' he emphasized the last words.

And when they embraced Erik was still struggling to find words to tell what it meant for him. But gave it up eventually.

'So am I.' What else could he say anyway?

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