Disclaimer: I own nothing. As yet…

A/N: Thankyou to all my wonderful reviewers! It is your encouragement and enthusiasm that makes my day and helps me continue the story! And to all you lurkers… Review!

Another thing. I realised I got my dates all wrong… In the first chapter, it says all this is set in 1911, but that would make the Phantom waaaay too old for all this jazz, so I'll edit, and it's now set in about 1899.

Chapter 9

Leah moaned in her sleep, inhaled deeply, and sat up.

She was surrounded by the red silk of the golden Swan bed; Erik lay sprawled next to her.

Leah started at this, and wondered how long she had lain asleep in the crook of his arm.

She looked around, and saw the Architectural Journal on the Opera House that she had been reading.

It was on the floor next to the bed, open on the page on the cellars she had been browsing over.

Erik had been furious at the Assistant's news, and had raged around the Lair for hours.

He had played the most jolting parts of Don Juan, he burnt old scores, threw candelabra in the lake, and yelled at no one in particular.

Leah had pledged to him through his anger that she would help him all she could, and she had taken up the Journal to get to know the cellars better.

After a while, Erik had collapsed in the bed, exhausted and breathing heavily.

It now occurred to Leah that this was the first time she had ever seen Erik sleep.

It was always he that watched her sleep. She looked upon his peaceful face, and noted that in slumber, all Erik's anger and worry seemed to disappear.

He looked like the handsome young Phantom he may have been before the affair with the Soprano… He looked strong and fierce, frightening and nimble.

She trailed a finger down his smooth cheek, and his eyes flickered.

For a moment he just laid staring up at the half-dressed girl in front of him, super-conscious of her smile and sympathetic expression.

Then he took her in his arm and held her against his chest.

Leah rested her head on his broad torso; she could hear his heart beat in a regular rhythm beneath his taunt skin. It had been a long time since she had been this close to anyone.

"What are we going to do Erik?" She murmured, playing with the ruffle on his white shirt.

"We will save the Opera, and not even Hell itself will stop us."

"But… How? You heard them… A week is not enough time..."

Erik looked pensive, then a mischievous smile began to creep across his features. "For a Ghost, it is an eternity…" He said mysteriously.

"I don't know whether to be scared or excited at that…" Leah said slowly, watching Erik's eyes as he calculated.

"Oh, Leah… You will love this…" He smirked, sitting up slowly.

"Are you sure?" Leah grumbled to Erik as she adjusted the loose nightgown she wore. It was long and delicately flowing, and gave her a very spectral appearance.

"I mean, I don't want to steal your thunder with the Phantom thing and all…" She said as she gazed out from under the trapdoor on the overcast Parisian morning.

The sky was steel grey, and a fine rain was falling in the dim light. She threw a quick glance at Erik who sat unmoving next to her.

"I am sure. The Architect said he would be back with the Head Builder the next morning… And these working class Frenchmen are very superstitious…" Erik said slowly as he scanned the masses of rubble with his keen eyes. "Oh! I almost forgot." Erik pulled an envelope out from under the folds of his cape, and handed it to her.

It was his signature yellowing parchment letter, signed in red in elongated, curling handwriting, and sealed with a bright crimson death's head.

Leah smiled, and tucked the letter into her bodice.

"This better work…" Leah murmured as Erik tensed beside her.

"Here they come!" He whispered urgently, yet Leah had heard nothing. "Now, remember what we agreed on… Remember the route…And don't linger too long in direct light… And…"

"Erik? I get it…" Leah took a deep breath. They had been over the plan many times. She was to move as fluidly as possible, but she was not to loiter where the men could see her too long.

She had the element of surprise, and wore ghostly stage make-up, but Erik was sure that one of the men would come to their senses and see her.

"Good luck!" Erik whispered as she climbed out onto the piles of rocks and weeds.

Leah tip-toed around huge chunks of masonry, barley breathing, and peered slowly out from behind a fallen pillar.

The Architect and the Builder were standing in a clear space, staring at the one remaining wall of the opera, and talking in hushed voices.

It was a freezing dawn, and the men were in long coats and scarves, their velvet-covered backs to her.

Leah heard Erik grumble behind her, somewhere to the right, and she shivered.

There was the sound of something heavy hitting the ground, and a brick rolled to a stop beside her.

Leah smiled, patience is a virtue, Erik, she thought to her edgy Phantom.

The brick had done its duty, and both men turned.

As they did, a strong wind blew up, sending Leah's matted hair flying, and the delicate nightgown billowing out behind her.

The men's eyes widened in fright, and Leah tried her best to keep her face expressionless, and her eyes empty.

She slowly extended a powder-paled arm, making sure her audience saw the letter.

Then she dropped the envelope, watching them follow its decent with horror-struck expressions and frozen bodies.

Leah let out a moan that the wind distorted pleasingly, and departed, turning and walking gracefully from the scene.

Once she was sure the men could no longer see her, she hurried to the trapdoor where she could see Erik's bright eyes peering from beneath the old wood.

She scrambled down the steps to sit beside him, and he draped his cape over her shoulders.

Leah rubbed her upper arms vigorously, trying unsuccessfully to warm herself.

"Geez, it's ICY out there…" She exclaimed. Erik moved closer to Leah, gathering her in his arms, but she did not miss the smile that played on his partially-covered lips.

"You did exceedingly well, Leah, and I thank you." He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head, and she melted in his embrace. "Are you sure they did not follow you?"

Leah composed herself a little, and shook her head, "No, I'm sure. The Builder's jaw was on the ground, and the Architect's knees were knocking so loudly I could hear them… They will not follow."

Erik barked out a laugh, and the yells of the frightened workmen could be heard disappearing down a street in a clatter of hooves.

"And the letter?" He asked.

"Oh, they saw that too, neither of them took their eyes off of me the whole time I was out there…" Leah rested her head in the crook of his neck, and she felt his quick pulse against her cheek.

Erik smiled again, and raised his chin, as if addressing an unseen crowd.

"Monsieur and Mademoiselles, the Opera Ghost is back."