A/N: Last night, I actually finished writing all remaining chapters of My Little Rose. Since my school term starts again this Monday, I was afraid I might not have time to continue writing, so I thought I'd better finish it while I can. All in all, I'm quite satisfied with the ending, and I can't wait to share it with you guys! (Part of me is tempted to just publish all remaining chapters in 1 go, but I think waiting a little is more fun, isn't it? -evil grin-)

Anyway, in this chapter, we learn more about Erik's journey in the opera house. Hopefully it's not a little dry to you, but I did want to talk a little about Erik's life in the opera house, and how he deals with it.

marial0789: (:

Guest: Thank you! (: I'm so glad you like this story, and hehe there are around 7 chapters more to go, don't worry! (They're a little lengthier than older chapters)

Masked Man 2: Yeah, I felt it was time for the whole Erik-Raoul hatred thing to die down, it wouldn't make sense for them to go on hating each other. Plus, Christine needed closure (: and yes! I loved writing the bits and pieces about their normal life, so I hope you enjoy that too.

ErikLover2283: They will be getting married soon! (: Perhaps in a couple of chapters.

E-man-dy-S: You're welcome! And yes, chocolate peppermints are just delicious.

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Chapter 58: Earning Respect

Paris, 1899

The theatre rang out in a cacophony of noise as musicians tuned their instruments, did warm-up exercises, and practised playing the notes on their new scores. Erik sat in one of the back rows in the theatre, silently observing them. A lot could be learned from a musician's warm-up practices—some were merely lazing around and turning pages in their scorebook flippantly, while others were earnestly using the warm-up exercises to get their mouths ready for the day's orchestra practice. The chorus girls were standing in a line, also readying their voices, and Erik spotted Christine, standing in the middle of the line. He had immediately requested for Belcourt to switch the girl over from being a ballet rat to part of the chorus the moment he had assumed his job. Christine's talent would not be wasted in the ballet de corps. As usual, there was no sight of Carlotta, who was known to never be early for practice.

Just as the clock chimed, Reyer marched in punctually, with his baton in hand and his scores in the other. He walked down the aisle to the conductor's stand, tapping his baton sharply on the edge of the stand. It was not a particularly loud tap, but the musicians immediately quietened down, as accustomed to the sharp, distinct sound of the baton's rap on the stand as the ballet rats were to Madame Giry's cane. Reyer greeted the musicians pleasantly, and led them in a group warm-up exercise of scales.

Erik closed his eyes as the long notes were played in ascending order. He frowned as he heard certain instruments that were slightly off tune, and relaxed when they corrected the pitch of their note after realizing it themselves. Reyer paused the warm-up exercise, picking out select musicians to play a particular note and correcting them on their pitch. The musicians made the necessary adjustments to their ambrochure and instruments, and satisfied, Reyer continued with the warm-up exercises. Erik nodded approvingly; in all his years in the opera house, he had never had reason to doubt Reyer's ability, and there was no need to do so now either.

When the warm-up exercise was completed, Reyer turned to the first page of his scores and announced the start of the practice.

"Monsieur Chevalier will be joining us today," he motioned to Erik, who made his presence from the back of the hall known, shifting forward to sit in the front row of the theatre. There were a few gasps from unsuspecting orchestra members who had not seen the man sitting within the shadows.

"He will be guiding us in our practice today," Reyer continued, "and I hope we can all listen to his advice carefully. Let us begin."

Through the practice, Erik stopped them constantly, giving advice on certain notes that the musicians were playing wrongly, and suggestions on how they might bring across the mood the music was meant to portray.

When they stopped for a break, Erik approached one of the violinists. The group eyed him warily, as though they were not sure how to respond.

"May I?" Erik asked politely, gesturing to the principal violinist's violin. The man stared at the unchanging white mask on Erik's face and hesitantly handed over the violin. He was an experienced violinist who had been in the opera house for a long time, and had witnessed all of the Opera Ghost's acts. Ignoring the man's conflicted expression, Erik bent and flipped to a particular page in the scorebook resting on the man's stand.

"This part here," he gestured to a bar, "it should have been played with more feeling, with lengthier notes that are dragged out. It is a serenade from a former lover, and should be played with a more languorous feeling."

He placed the violin under his chin, raised the bow, and did a short demonstration, his talented strokes bringing forth the sweet melody. He played a few lines, then returned the violin to the principal violinist, who was staring at him with a slightly agape mouth. Erik shrugged. "Of course, this is but a suggestion—how I would interpret the song to be played."

He bowed slightly, and walked off. As he walked off, he heard the principal violinist mutter to his juniors, "Well, I'll be... The man's a complete talent with the violin, as well."

Erik felt a little spark of hope bloom in his chest. He knew he had to gain the respect of the orchestra members first and foremost, and erase any doubts they might have of him from Carlotta's gossip about his identity as the Opera Ghost. If the principal violinist was amenable to admitting Erik's skill on the violin, perhaps there was a chance for Erik to prove himself to them all.

After the short break, Reyer returned to his stand and tapped his baton on it.

"Are we not to practice together with the chorus? We should give it a try and see how it comes together," Erik suggested. Reyer looked annoyed.

"Our beloved prima donna has not yet arrived for practice."

Erik shrugged. "It makes no matter. If she does not wish to come for practice, we will still go on without her. You, over there," he gestured to one of the chorus girls.

She looked horrified. "Y-yes? Monsieur?"

"What is your name?"

She stared at him, her lip trembling.

Erik frowned. "Come, child, I do not bite. I noticed your voice when we were practising previously, and wish only to know your name."

"F-Fleur, monsieur." She flushed a bright red.

"Fleur," Erik said, "you shall sing the part of the soprano for today's practice."

There were loud gasps from around the musician's pit.

"You cannot do that!" One man called out angrily. "Fleur is not the prima donna! Carlotta is yet to arrive for practice."

"But she's always late, anyway," another one said. "Why should she be allowed to be late when all of us are here early?"

"It's not right!"

"Silence!" Erik clapped his hands thunderously. He looked toward Fleur. "Are you confident of doing this well?"

Her face was white, but Erik saw that Christine had reached over to squeeze the girl's hand comfortingly, and the girl nodded slowly.

"Good." Erik motioned for her to step forward onto the stage. "Let this be an example to you all," he said, addressing all the members in the room. "Practice is an important time of the day, and rehearsal time is precious. All of us are expected to be reasonably punctual for every practice. While slight transgressions can be forgiven, nobody should expect any form of bias, regardless of their position in the opera house. Shall we begin now?"

His words were quiet, but steely. For a moment, his voice has thundered around the room and the members had trembled at how similar it had sounded to the Opera Ghost's commands. Some nodded quickly.

Erik nodded to Reyer, who raised his baton.

Fleur had a good voice. Erik settled back in his seat to listen carefully. Her voice wavered a little on the higher notes, but overall it was pleasant sounding and would improve with the proper practice and training. When the song was over, Erik nodded approvingly at the flushed and breathless Fleur.

"That was well done, though not without room for improvement," he said. "I should like to work with all the chorus girls sometime next week. I see much potential in many of their voices, potential that could grow exponentially with enough practice, provided that they are willing to work hard."

Fleur bobbed a little curtsey. "T-thank you, monsieur."

"Let us try this again," Erik gestured to Reyer, who began the music.

Halfway through the song, the doors to the theatre swung open, and Carlotta strutted in, dressed in her usual frippery. She paused when she saw Fleur on stage singing the part of the soprano, and her mouth fell open in shock.

"What is she doing on that stage?" She shrieked, causing Reyer to put down his baton in shock. The music came to an abrupt halt, and Fleur stood on the stage, her lips trembling at the sight of Carlotta.

Erik merely turned slowly and calmly, and levelled Carlotta with a stare. "Good day, signora. I see you have deigned to join us for practice today."

She ignored him, blustering angrily. "What is that girl doing on the stage?" She jabbed a fat finger at Fleur.

Erik raised an eyebrow. "We needed someone to sing the role of the soprano in your absence, signora," he said mockingly. "We cannot delay practice simply because you did not wish to turn up on time."

"How dare you!" She shrieked. "I am the prima donna here! Nobody should be allowed to sing my parts."

"Your parts? Signora, auditions will be held for the roles in Die Fledermaus, regardless of position in the opera house." Erik said smoothly.

If possible, Carlotta's face turned an even brighter shade of red. "And you mean to say you intend to put that little girl in the leading soprano role?" She spat.

He shrugged. "If her voice is good enough, I do not see why not. The audience deserves to enjoy a night of splendid music for the price they pay to watch the performance."

"She hasn't the voice for it!" Carlotta snapped, throwing a nasty look at Fleur, who looked like a scared mouse.

"Neither do you." Erik said calmly. "Signora, if you do not wish to turn up on time for practice, you will be replaced."

She gasped in outrage, her pudgy hand fluttering up to her mouth dramatically. "You dare to… you dare to say such things to me? I am La Carlotta!"

"And I am Erik Chevalier," he said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Behind him, he heard some of the musicians snigger. "Signora, the new manager has charged me with making sure that the cast and musicians are up to standard for the new production. I will not hesitate to remove anybody who could pose a threat to the success of the re-opening of the Palais Garnier. That includes you, if you do not start arriving for practice on time."

"I will not take orders from a murderer!" Carlotta spat, making an obscene gesture at him. She raised her hand, lunging forward, but Erik caught her arm before her palm made its intended slap.

The room went deadly quiet.

"Get out," Erik said vindictively. They were words he had longed to say to her for many years, countless times over, but had never had the chance nor power to do so.

Carlotta flung her arm from his grasp. "Do not threaten me, monsieur. This opera house will suffer without me!" She turned and flounced away, her face red with agitation.

Erik turned slowly back toward the members in the theatre, who were staring at him agape. "Shall we begin practice again?" He said calmly.

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After practice, Erik walked out of the theatre, flexing his aching shoulders. It had been a hard day of practice for them all, and he had been glad that they were progressing well. As he walked past the practice rooms, the ballet rats crowded out in a large mess, giggling and chattering loudly. He spotted Amélie speaking to Meg, but could not call out to her, for fear of blowing his cover. He stood there for a few moments awkwardly, unsure of how to proceed.

Meg spotted his tall figure and grinned. "Come on," she said, tugging on Amélie's sleeve conspiratorially. "Your handsome knight awaits. Chevalier, isn't it?"

Amélie stared at her, horrified. "What? Marguerite Giry, what do you speak of?"

Meg rolled her eyes. "I'm neither stupid, nor deaf, nor blind, Amélie. I figured out your relationship a long time ago."

"I cannot just go up to him and speak to him!" Amélie hissed at her. "People will suspect!"

Meg merely patted her arm patronisingly, before skipping up to Erik, dragging Amélie along. "Cousin Erik!" She called brightly, pasting a large smile on her freckled face. Erik looked surprised, but to his credit, played along.

"Hello, Meg, has practice ended?"

"Yes, indeed," Meg said, taking his arm and ignoring the curious stares from her fellow ballet rats. "Cousin Erik, it has been such a long time since we have talked. Shall we take a turn around the town?"

Before Erik could answer, she single-handedly dragged both Erik and Amélie out of the door of the opera house, into the streets. She continued chattering gaily as she guided them away from the opera house. Once they were a safe distance away from prying eyes, she dropped their arms.

"Well, now," she said, looking extremely pleased with herself. "Have fun!"

She grinned cheekily before ducking away, darting through the crowd on the streets with the practiced grace of a ballerina. Amélie stared at her in shock, and Erik chuckled, taking Amélie's hand and tucking it into his arm.

"I always thought she was a smart girl," he said, amused.

Amélie smiled at him. "That meddling Meg…"

He laughed, and started to move through the crowd. "I thought we might visit the daroga today."

She frowned up at him. "You have not visited him once yet? Does he not know you are still alive?"

"No," he said slyly. "It shall be a surprise."

She laughed at how incredulous he sounded, smacking him on the arm. He hid a secret smile at the brilliant grin on her face, thinking that she looked beautiful.

"I asked Carlotta to get out of the opera house today," he said conversationally. "I'm not so sure if it was the right move."

"Oh?" She looked at him curiously. "Whatever for?"

"She turned up late for practice, and she was not happy to see a chorus girl on the stage singing her part."

Amélie grimaced. "I can only imagine the sight. And you told her to get out, just like that?"

"She called me a murderer," Erik said grimly, his jaw set in stone. "Though she was not wrong, I threw her out anyway. I'll probably face hell from Belcourt tomorrow when Carlotta does not arrive for practice again, but I could not resist."

Amélie looked at him sharply. "Good riddance to her, then. Erik, I forbid you to think of yourself as such. You left that life behind a long time ago."

His mouth set in an obstinate line. "The blood on my hands will always remain, regardless of how long it has been since I last claimed an innocent life."

"And with every day, you are to try your best to remove them," Amélie said fiercely, "or I will do the task myself, and I can assure you, you will not like me scrubbing away at your hands daily."

She looked so fierce that he laughed, his heart warming. "Very well, my little rose. I shall endeavour to remove them, for fear of subjecting myself to your torturous devices."

And he knew, oh he knew, he had to try. For he could not give her the happy life she deserved if he himself was entrenched in the shadows of his past. It was a prison he had to step out of himself, and he loved her all the more for being so protective of him.

When they reached the daroga's apartment, Erik knocked on the door. He heard shuffling sounds from within, but the door did not open, and he supposed that the daroga was looking out through the little peephole in the door. Then the door was suddenly thrown open, and there he stood, his hand over his chest and his face white in shock.

"Erik!"

"In the flesh, daroga," Erik said, flashing him a wide smile that reminded the daroga of a fearsome predator. The daroga's eyes shifted to the side, and his eyebrows rose at the sight of Amélie. She merely smiled slightly.

"Can we come in, Nadir?" She asked.

Flustered, the daroga ushered them in quickly, his eyes focused on Erik. Erik saw his narrowed glare, and laughed.

"Ah, daroga, I see I have shocked you. I have returned from the dead one too many times, have I? Perhaps you had hoped that I would not return this time?"

The daroga scowled. "I had my doubts about your return, Erik, but…You know as well as I do that I prayed for your return every day."

Erik sat himself down on a divan, looking very much like the owner instead of a visitor. "I am touched, daroga. And I am back."

Amélie rolled her eyes at his dramatic statements, and sat herself next to him, accepting a cup of tea from Nadir. She sat back as Erik explained his story briefly to Nadir, who clapped him on the shoulder in apparent relief. It was clear that the older man's worries had been lifted off his shoulders when he had seen Erik on his doorstep, and it made Amélie happy to see the reluctant camaraderie between the two. They obviously cared for each other very much, despite Erik's insistence on his dislike for Nadir.

They had come a long way indeed. It felt like only yesterday that she had been a curious girl, wondering why Madame Giry bothered to help the mysterious phantom, and trying to find out all she could about said ghost. Erik's unlikely dream of creating a normal life for himself had seemed so impossible at the start, but Amélie saw now that it was happening. Every glimpse she caught of Erik in the opera house gave her hope that he could finally be happy and content with his life. She knew he had a long way to go, really, but the approving nods she had seen some of the older members of the opera house give him, and the respect shown by some of the younger chorus girls gave her something to hold onto. It was hope. It had only been a week since he had started his job, after all, and there was still time for Erik to win over the hearts of the people in the opera house.

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A/N: Well, there you have it! (: See you again next week, and please do fav/follow/let me know what you think in a review! Only 7 more chapters to go, so I'd love it silent readers would drop a small comment to let me know what they think so far! xx hazel