Disclaimer: I am in no way affiliated with Gaston Leroux, ALW or The Really Useful Group. Please do not sue me.

Author's Notes: I don't really like this chapter, it's far too short and choppy but I'm out of ideas. The Erik is 2004 Gerik with a better voice and worse deformity, by the way.

Chapter Two: Bedtime Stories

Erik saw her again after his first encounter. It became a sort of routine. She would sneak out of the Home when no one was looking and scramble up to the opera house roof with her sketchpad. Erik would always be there, waiting in the shadows. There he would stand in silence, watching her pencil moving rapidly across the paper, outlines of buildings and people taking shape. They didn't talk very much, except sometimes to exchange a few civilities. Silence was better.

Much later, Erik would still be able to see her, her dark red hair sticking up, elbows and knees tucked in, her dark brown eyes darting across her drawing. Clarisse was not a beauty, nor would she ever grow into one. She had told Erik that she was thirteen but she looked smaller than ten, her bones sticking out in a decidedly ungainly manner. They didn't starve her at the orphanage; she had told him with a smile, she had just grown that way.

Gradually, their conversations grew less brief. Clarisse showed him her drawings, drawings of little things like a pretty lady she had seen on the way home or a flower she had picked. Erik felt it was like looking at her life in pictures.


It was only late afternoon when Clarisse came up onto the roof as usual, looking exceptionally excited.

"Erik? Are you there?"

"Indeed I am, Clarisse." She beamed at the darkness where she was sure he was concealed.

"I've had an idea." She waved her ever present sketchpad and pencil. "I'm going to draw the sunset. That's why I'm here early." Erik observed her flushed cheeks and bright eyes smilingly. They did add an odd sort of charm to her features, he supposed.

"You're just on time," he remarked, "Only a few minutes to wait."

"I need your help." Clarisse stopped here, scratching her head nervously. "You will help, won't you?"

"If it is in my power."

"Thank you."

"How do you draw a sunset in black and white? I haven't got any colours. Can you teach me?" When Erik next spoke Clarisse thought he sounded a little sad.

"I haven't taught anyone for years." His tone was calm but there was pain in his voice.

"But…could you teach me now? Not that I'm forcing you, but…" Erik had to smile at her naivety.

"Forgive me, Clarisse, but…"

"It's alright." Erik flinched at the disappointment in her voice. Without speaking, she sat and drew for the next half an hour, when the sun was halfway below the horizon and sinking fast, sending a fanfare of brilliant colour into the golden sky. Clarisse finally laid down her pencil and surveyed her work with a critical eye. Then lifting it, she held it into the air. "D'you think I managed it?" Erik looked. He sighed.

"It's wonderful."

"You don't sound very happy. What's the matter?" Clarisse enquired innocently, tilting her head to one side.

"Your work is truly beautiful, Clarisse. You never needed my help."

"Really?" Clarisse flushed bright pink with pleasure.

"Really." Erik forced the melancholy tone out of his voice.


He paused, hearing her yawn. "Sleepy?"

"Mmhmm…" Clarisse stretched out her legs, leaning against a chipped stone statue of Apollo.

"Would you like to hear a story?" The words were out of his mouth before he knew what he was doing. He knew several that would certainly entertain her…but they weren't what Erik wanted to tell her.

"Yes!" In a moment, Clarisse was bolt upright, grinning in anticipation. "I haven't heard a story for such a long time!" When Erik next spoke, his voice was quiet and heavy, so quiet that Clarisse could barely hear it.

"Once, there was a monster who fell in love with a beautiful princess. He adored her more than anything in the world. But the princess was not meant for him." The mournful whistling of the wind accompanied his voice. The sky was black again, with no stars in sight. And this time, the cloud completely overshadowed the moon.

"The monster stole the princess away to his lair one night in desperation, vowing to himself that one day she would be his. But she loved another. For a handsome prince had heard of the princess' situation and came to rescue her."

Clarisse listening to the story, her little face grave. She sensed seriousness behind the story, but she didn't understand. Stories were stories, wonderful and romantic, so different from truth. This was no bedtime story.


"And the monster who would have kept the princess with him forever let her go with her prince to be married because she loved her prince and he loved her." A brief moment of silence followed the story's conclusion.

"I'd give the monster some advice," Clarisse said thoughtfully, her eyes very big and very earnest.

"What would that be?" Erik felt tired and strangely drained. He leaned against a wall that had partly collapsed, shoulders sagging. He was not used to talking for so long without an interruption.

"I'd tell him that we all have the key to happiness inside us and that none of us are monsters, really. He must have been quite nice if he let the princess go. He just needs to find his happiness. It's always there." Erik reflected on her words, realising he didn't understand her at all.

"Shouldn't you be getting back?" he remarked suddenly, conscious that it was now very late, "People will be getting worried."

"Oh, yes, of course." Clarisse got to her feet, gave him a clumsy curtsy and quickly climbed down from the rooftop, leaving Erik alone.


The key to happiness…He still didn't understand her. He shook his head and descended back to his home, still brooding. Perhaps he never would understand her.