I got more reviews this time! Yay! Thank you so much to those who took time to review, it really makes my day and it encourages me to continue!

So here's another chapter!

Answers to reviews:

Savannah White: Thanks. ;) Antoinette/Erik mother/son relationship... It's sooo beautiful, and it's so fun to write about it.

Lydia the tygeropean: You understood everything. ;)

TraceyLynnFrame: Thanks! It will take a while before Meg comes in... But not too long! ;)

Aria: It's true you don't read much about this part of Erik's life... But that's where (almost) everything winds up for him. About Erik being already cocky... it's in his nature, and at the same time, it's a way of self-defense. I don't know who built the secret passageways... I have theories, but anyway... ;)

Chapter 3

Within the next two weeks, Antoinette didn't need to go to the chapel anymore at night to check on Erik, on his own demand. The boy, though he stayed very slender, seemed to gain more strength and a little more color, though Antoinette saw quickly that he had a very pale complexion.

Sometimes, when Antoinette was all alone, in the kitchen, or in some room, Erik would often simply… pop in, and make the ballerina jump, and would be scold about the fact that someone could see him. And each time, Erik would shrug. But thankfully, they were almost never interrupted. When it happened, the boy would disappear in the blink of an eye, so quickly that Antoinette even came to wonder if he didn't just vanish in the air.

Meanwhile, she was progressing more and more in ballet, and Mme Saint-Périer even declared that of all the girls who had arrived on that year, she was the best. And, in the correspondence she shared with her mother, her biggest joy was to see all the pride Mme Roussel had for her daughter. They were all doing very well, back at Lyon. Petit-François was still as mischievous as usual… And strangely, when Antoinette would read the letters that her brother sent her, in his clumsy handwriting which let so many orthographical mistakes, she couldn't help thinking of Erik, at the same time… In her relationship with the boy, who was so different of Petit-François, though it remained somehow distant because of Erik's sullenness, she was indeed often reprimanding him for him sneaking in all over the Opera house thanks to the secret passageways. God knew how they were built, but they seemed to go everywhere. To travel in those tunnels was one thing, and it was already seemingly dangerous to Antoinette, but to simply pop out like he did was dangerous. Erik didn't seem to care about her warnings. But somehow, the ballerina knew that, though he didn't show it much to her, he had some sort of affection for her. A bit like with her own impossible little brother, though it was in a different way.

Three weeks after Erik's rescue, things started to disappear. At first, it was a few accessories for productions. Antoinette wasn't too surprised to realize that they were mostly clothes, and cushions, cloaks, old curtains… Erik had probably taken them for his own use, to dress himself and to make himself a nest or something. Seemingly, what Antoinette had given him wasn't enough. She felt a bit of resentment because of all the precautions she had taken, and, beside a few bitter remarks to Erik, who would shrugged like he did usually, she didn't complain furthermore.

Erik seemed to get settled. That was the most important thing. Antoinette didn't know how, but somehow, she hoped that one day, maybe he would show her how he installed himself, by simple curiosity… but she wasn't too sure that it would actually happen.

For what was of her, routine had started to install itself, and it wasn't to displease her, after all the changes she had faced during the last three weeks, especially with the fact that some of them were quite unexpected. Every day, she would practice with the rest of the ballet chorus, as they were preparing for Giselle.

Her life had her lows, with some of the older ballerinas who would constantly rag her, but Antoinette would royally ignore them. She really couldn't care less. Anyway, they were no more than sluts… in every meaning of the word, and Antoinette didn't feel embarrassed at all of thinking of them in such a way. It was the truth, and that was it.

Those "attacks" came more and more often, until the point where they started spreading rumors about Antoinette. And the ballerina, who was genuinely starting to get tired of all this, would find some place to stay isolated so they wouldn't find her and find a reason to start their harassment again. It wasn't that she was afraid of confronting them, no, not at all… But you better not give a dog a chance to bite.

Anyway, it was in those moments where Erik would pop in and see her. He never talked much, and neither did Antoinette, but those little moments were somehow comforting for both of them.

Came a day when Erik, getting out of his usual silence, asked:

"Why are those ballerinas always after you?"

Antoinette lifted up her head, surprised of the boy actually speaking, and interested in something concerning her everyday life.

"I don't know," shrugged Antoinette. "I think they're jealous. Anyway, they could do an effort to do better, instead of spending their nights with their lovers and…"

The ballerina interrupted herself suddenly, remembering who was with her, and glimpsed towards Erik, hoping that he didn't understand totally what she meant.

"I know, I saw them and observed them one night," the boy said, with a hint of disgust in his voice.

"ERIK!" shouted Antoinette. My God, was he observing people doing… not very catholic stuff now?

"Don't worry, I didn't look for too long," sighed Erik, exasperated.

"A minute is already too much," said Antoinette sharply.

A moment passed without anything happening.

"Why aren't you trying to make them pay back?"

Antoinette jumped at Erik's question. But she wasn't too surprised of him making such an affirmation. After all, he probably was raised his whole life that way… Eye by eye, tooth by tooth. Yes, the ballerina knew that she was no saint, and if she was asked if she was ready to forgive what the girls did to her, she would say rather no than yes. But she didn't want to look for trouble or give them an occasion of doing so. Revenging? Really, it would just make things worse.

"I just don't. It's useless. It's better to let them bark as much as they want. I don't care."

Erik turned away. It didn't take much for Antoinette to guess that he wasn't agreeing at all.

A shriek of disgust and of terror woke up all the ballerinas, and some of them lit up candles to see what was going on. They all looked up to where it came from. Léonie Tardivel had stumbled towards her neighbor's bed, staying as far as she could from her own… It was swarming with black rats.

Like if they were one soul, all the ballerinas cried at the same time, including Antoinette, and all grouped to a corner of the room, not even daring to get closer to the bed were the rats were running around. When one of them slipped on the floor, a dozen girls immediately climbed on the nearest bed, causing its base to break because of the weight.

Finally, the uproar was interrupted by Mme Saint-Périer, dressed in her nightgown, who entered, holding a candle and looking truly furious.

"May I know, Mesdemoiselles, what on Earth is going on?"

Almost all the girls started talking at the same time, in the most incomprehensible way. But they were all pointing towards Léonie's bed, and the ballet mistress understood very quickly the cause of their fear. With a snort of disgust, she took a broom, and chased the rats away from the bed, and made sign to Léonie to come and sleep in her own room for the night.

"Now, Mesdemoiselles, I hope that this very bad prank isn't of the resort of one of you," added Mme Saint-Périer, severely.

No one answered. Without further ado, the ballet mistress got out of the dormitory, followed closely by Léonie.

Soon, a few girls turned towards Antoinette.

"I bet you did all this," one of them declared.

"No, I didn't," she answered, truly disgusted. "Do you truly expect me to have brought those rats in your bed? It must be one of the stagehands she refused to do some favor."

The small group of girls gazed at Antoinette angrily, but it took a while before they added.

"So… how come our things have started to disappear lately? Only OUR things, hmm?"

"I don't know," the ballerina answered, shrugging. "Why would I do that, anyway? That's incredibly childish."

Ignoring their reaction, Antoinette headed towards her bed, and lied down on it. But she didn't go to sleep immediately. No. She knew who was guilty of all this mischief.

Since a few days, well, since she had that discussion with Erik about that group of girls being mean to her, their things, may it be brushes, ribbons, ballet shoes, had started to disappear, so they would find them in very unexpected places… And tonight, there were rats.

This was too much of a hazard. Now, they were suspecting her…

She would have a little talk with Erik about all this.

The day that followed, at the minute Erik, like he did as usual, crept on Antoinette who was alone, she immediately told him that she knew he was behind all this mischief and that he had to stop, since suspicion was headed towards her. Erik had shrugged, and agreed somehow indolently. If it was someone else, Antoinette wouldn't have been satisfied of such an answer, but having Erik ACTUALLY obeying to her was quite an exploit. But the poor ballerina hadn't seen the malicious glimmer in the boy's eyes…

The following days, every ballerina had a reason to complain about something disappearing, a bizarre object getting inexplicably in their beds, everyone… except Antoinette. But thankfully, in the general uproar, no one actually realized it.

For a moment, the young ballerina thought of grounding Erik for doing this. Seriously, was he incorrigible at that point? But somehow, it sort of comforted her that he acted like this. He was just doing what most little boys of his age would do best: pranks. And her little brother, Petit-François, would never stop doing such things…

So she didn't mention anything about it, afraid, at the same time, that Erik would start playing pranks on her. Many years later, when she would think of that fear she had, she would realize how little she knew Erik back then, and how protective he could be with the people he cared for and loved!

Some of the ballerinas, very fond of those gothic novels which were quite the rage in popular literature, started to cry that a ghost was behind all this. And soon, the wild imagination of the girls, nourished by this crazy hypothesis, became their master. And soon, they would cry, each time some mischief would happen, even if they would discover, after, that it was because of their own negligence that it happened: "It's the Opera Ghost's fault."

Antoinette didn't pay attention to this nonsense, for she knew. Though, now, she would gaze, especially at night, at the baroque dimensions of the Opera Populaire, so grandiose and somehow dark at the same time that it was true you could believe the place was haunted by some wandering and tortured soul. And somehow… it was sort of true.

It was only a few weeks later, when the new conductor, M. Reyer, complained that some of his books in his private library had disappeared. This was too much for Antoinette, for she was sure that Erik probably never learned to read. Why did he need these books, and especially on the subject of music? How could a boy of his age be interested in such things?

"Now, Erik," Antoinette told him, the next time she saw him, "I know it's you who took M. Reyer's books. I said nothing about the rest – the clothes, the curtains, everything – but now, it's really stealing. You… you can't do that!"

Goodness me, was it hard to talk morality to a child who probably never heard the first word of it!

"I didn't steal them," grumbled Erik. "I just borrowed them. I'll put them back just after, I promise, Antoinette."

"Then why did you borrow them?" asked Antoinette, puzzled. "You… you can't read, can you?"

"Of course I can!" Erik replied, offended. "God, Antoinette, if I borrowed those books, it isn't just to gaze at them dumbly."

Antoinette blushed because of her stupidity. Erik was right on that last point.

"Well… how did you learn to read?"

For a moment, the boy did not answer, and the ballerina was certain that he wouldn't. She knew, to be honest, nothing about his past, and she understood Erik's silence on it… It had to be everything but agreeable, and most likely to be forgotten.

But surprisingly, he sighed, and started:

"Just before I was at the gipsy camp, a priest taught me to read. I remember my first book… I learned ventriloquism."

"Really?" Antoinette asked, intrigued. "You mean… how you can speak without moving your lips?"

"Like this?"

The ballerina jumped as the voice echoed on the room's walls. She was positive that Erik hadn't moved his lips… It was only after a few seconds, as she saw the boy's amused smile, very small, but still present and full of mischief, that she understood the trick. She giggled. Her heart was warm, as she saw Erik have another of those really rare moments where he would smile sincerely, and become more similar to other little boys of his age. Yes, to Antoinette, Erik was a boy like another. She had become so close to the mother that she could only think of him that way. Yes, she could see his white mask very well, the bald part of his hair, which was all wild on his head. She remembered, with a shiver, how he had killed his master so coldly… But he was still a little boy.

"That's impressive," Antoinette said, with a smile. "So… you're interested in music now? Well, I suppose M. Reyer's books are all about music."

"I've always been," answered Erik. A minute passed before he continued, in a very soft voice. "I used to creep into the village's church to go to the organ. I just played a few notes on it… It's just amazing what you can do…"

Antoinette listened to Erik dreamily, and smiled. She just had an idea.

"Now… if you want, instead of just borrowing books from M. Reyer, do you want me to just ask him so I can lend them to you? He's really nice, and I get along well with him. I'm sure that he won't be able to refuse… Though I just hope the fact he has recently lost some will not make him miserly. I could also go to the library, a few blocks from here, and borrow you some books… You could just tell me the subject you want to read about."

Erik nodded. And smiled again, in that way which comforted Antoinette so much.

"Thank you." he simply said. But for Antoinette Roussel, it meant the world.

Suddenly, Erik got on his feet.

"Can I show you something?" he asked.

"Yes, of course," Antoinette replied, interested.

"Then follow me." He leaded Antoinette towards a corner of the little unoccupied room where they were, pushed a curtain and revealed a hidden door to a passageway. Opening it, he and Antoinette penetrated it. For about five minutes, they ran through the tunnel, until they arrived to a staircase that they descended for a long time, until they arrived to a part where the tunnel was larger. On a corner of the room, Antoinette saw, with few surprise, all the accessories which had disappeared, all arranged into some sort of bed which looked a bit like a nest.

Antoinette retained a tear of joy, and laughed at herself for reacting in such a way. But she knew that Erik must have such a big trust in her to show her where he had installed himself. And suddenly, as she paid close attention to the environment surrounding them, she heard the sound of water flowing not too far away from them.

"What's that noise? Do you know?" asked Antoinette.

"There's an underground lake not too far, at the end of the passageway," answered Erik. "I never crossed it, actually. But I will one day."

"Be careful."

"I'm not a little kid anymore," pouted Erik.

Here you go guys! Don't forget to let a review; it really encourages me to continue!