Disclaimer: Don't own POTO…or Gerry (but I have plans…MWAHAHA)

Okay…one more serious bit and then I promise chaos will return and most of it will be inflicted upon Christine. But, here's what you've all been asking for…Anna and Erik.

XXXXXXXXXX

PUZZLE TREES AND PUZZLED THOUGHTS

Being a natural leader and more "in tune" with nature than Erik, Anna quickly took over the impromptu expedition. Grabbing Erik's hand, she bolted into the woods, dragging the Phantom along behind her.

"Look! Puzzle trees!" she gasped, rushing forward to examine the trunk of a particular tree.

"What do you mean by puzzle trees?" Erik asked, jogging up behind her.

"My mom and I used to do this when I was a kid. See, you can remove bits of the bark and then try to fit them back in place like a puzzle. Try it!" She nudged him with her elbow. Erik felt rather foolish participating in a child's game, but he indulged her. They were at it for a few minutes. To his surprise, Erik was not very good at the game. He kept snapping his puzzle pieces in half or forgetting where he had found them in the first place. He had finally succeeded when Anna scampered off to inspect a pool of violets that had caught her eye.

He soon discovered that her obsession with flora and fauna reached far beyond the contents of a florist's cart. She seemed intent upon exploring every glade, examining every patch of grass, and scrutinizing every plant in the forest. Anna drank in every blossom her nose could find; her eyes darted after squirrels and chipmunks, her ears strained to hear the songbirds. She would pause to stare at particular plant or forest animal with startling intensity. A strange, wistful smile played across her features.

There were moments when she would stand as still as a statue, just gazing vaguely at the hushed beauty around her. One such moment came after they stumbled upon a chattering brook, hidden by thick walls of frothy-plumaged ferns. Sporadic patches of sprightly, orange columbines and demure, blue harebells nodded friendly greetings from along the mossy banks. The water rushed on, unnoticing in its urge to reach the sea, spilling over rocks slick with red moss. They trudged upstream for a while: climbing over rotting, fallen logs and rough-edged boulders until they found a place where the stream seemed to tire. Amongst feathery blooms of azalea bushes, the water calmly collected its senses in a shallow pool, teaming with brightly colored trout. Here Anna paused to fix her eyes on an unidentified point on the other side of the pool.

Erik began to wonder what exactly stirred her to such odd behavior. He knew only too well the holds that passion could lay upon the soul. When he played his bitter, harsh Don Juan Triumphant or listened to Christine sing, he felt as though his body were not his own anymore. Music lifted the veil betwixt his wretched existence and the world of light. He wondered if Anna's love of wild things did the same to her.

"Anna, why are you staring at nothing?" he asked, breaking the silence between them.

She seemed startled by his voice, her widened eyes flying to his face, so that she reminded him of a deer.

"I'm not staring at nothing. I was admiring the way the light hits the leaves of that birch tree. See? It makes them glow."

Turning his musings inward once more, Erik thought about his ability to see the unseen in darkness, while her eyes saw the unseen in the light. Such a strange contrast. What did she see when she looked at him by the light of day?

"Why do you love this so much?"

"I suppose it's because I feel closer to God when I am in places like this," she answered. Erik's eyebrows arched in surprise. It was not the response he had anticipated. He snorted lightly.

"God…He is a fickle artist…fancying beauty and refinement in one moment and hideousness the next," he spat vehemently. Anna regarded him with great sadness and pity. Erik bristled; he hated pity.

"Don't look at me that way! As though you would a stray dog!" he snarled. Anna sighed heavily and moved closer to him. Reaching up, she removed his mask. Erik inhaled sharply as the chilly breeze hit his hallow cheeks. The cool air bathed his face gently, lovingly.

Her soft voice came to him in a firm whisper, "Erik, I do not pretend to have answers, nor can I begin to understand why it is that you have the face that you do, but I know that just because you cannot see His progress, it does not mean that He is not attending to His work."

Her sincerity and eloquence baffled his mind. Struggling to cover his emotions he replied with a sneer and said, "That's a sure bet is it?"

"I'd stake my life on it." It was a clichéd response, but one glance into her brown eyes and he knew that she had meant it with all seriousness. The sheer strength of her conviction shook him to his very core. He stared at her for a moment, her eyes burning into him. At length, he had to tear his gaze from her. Sighing again, she placed the mask in his hands and moved on up the stream.

"Oh!" she cried suddenly.

"What is it?" he growled irritably.

"There's a raspberry patch across the stream!" She yanked off her little leather boots and her stockings. Pulling her blue skirts up about her knees, she waded into the pool, squealing at the water's icy caress. Erik watched with trepidation.

"Anna, be careful!"

And then, because the Authoress felt that some comic relief was due, an especially slimy slab of stone found its way into Anna's path and she kerplopped bum first with a spectacular splash. Shrieking with fury and indignation, sliding all over the place, she tried to stand again, fish flinging themselves out from the folds of her dress. Erik rushed to her side, heedless of the water sinking into his shoes and crawling up his pant legs.

"Are you all right?" He grasped her shoulders and hauled her to the opposite shore, setting her down beside the raspberry brambles. Dripping all over, her hair in damp tangles, she looked like a half-drowned cat. Erik was not very successful in his efforts to hide his amusement.

Anna huffed and bellowed, "You think this is funny?"

He snorted into his hand then pulled as serious a face as he could muster. "No, not at all." She glowered at him from beneath her dripping bangs. Turning to the berry-laden vines, she began to harvest the plumpest of summer raspberries. Erik caught the shiver that ran through her. He took off his coat and draped it about her shoulders before sitting down beside her.

"Thanks. Here, have some berries." They munched on the cool, tangy fruit for a while, inevitable little blotches of red juice appearing on her blouse and his shirt.

"Anna, have you ever been in love?" Erik asked suddenly, turning to his companion, studying her with his deep blue eyes. She gave him a startled look and he coughed as though he had not really meant to voice the question aloud. She thought about her answer for a moment.

"I've had a couple of boyfriends over the years, but I've never been in love."

"These boyfriends you speak off, they were your suitors, yes?"

"Yeah."

"But you didn't love them?" He almost looked scandalized.

"Courtship changed a lot between 1870 and 2005, Erik."

"How so?"

"Well, it got stupider."

"That doesn't answer the question," Erik said dryly. Anna frowned. How do you explain 21st century dating rituals to a 19th century gentleman?

"M'kay, first a guy and girl like each other, find each other attractive one way or another. Eventually, they sense this mutual attraction via hormones or gossip or both. They flirt, giving each other hugs and always eating lunch together. At some point one of them asks the other 'out' on a date or something like that. The next step is to become 'official.' From this point, the relationship escalates into something very mushy—lots of making out, lots of feeling up, lots of whatever. It can end in various ways: a) Someone winds up pregnant; b) Someone cheats with someone else; or c) Someone gives the "It's-not-you-it's-me" line and the couple parts ways only to hook-up with their ex's best friend two weeks later."

Erik blinked. "That hardly made any sense, but all in all, it sounds extremely vulgar and unsatisfying."

Anna shrugged. "It's no big deal. It is unrefined. Looking back, it's laughable really."

"Did you have a suitor at the time you and your cousin were transported here?"

"No, at that point I hadn't been on a date in nearly two years. A lot of people would consider this a bad thing, but I rather liked it."

"What sort of social events would you attend with your suitors?"

"Dances were the biggest thing. But slow dancing—that's where you put your arms around your partner and shuffle in a circle to a bubble-gum pop love ballad—is nothing to ballroom dancing. Waltzing is romantic."

Erik's eyebrows shot up. Anna's cheeks flushed until they matched the raspberries in her palm. Erik recalled the masquerade, that dizzying dance with the Raven, her brown eyes glittering beneath the black, feathered mask, her body leaning into his arms as though his touch thrilled her. An idea that would have greatly pleased the redheaded girl began to dawn in Erik's mind, but in her effort to change the subject she proved to be her own undoing.

"Really, Erik, you probably know more about being in love than me," Anna said hastily. She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth.

"Christine," Erik murmured softly and that dawning idea was effectively squashed. "Love burns and scorches. I almost hate it. I've tried to avoid all hope of Christine ever returning my love, but I can't help hoping a little. Just a little, because I want it so badly."

Anna said nothing. Suddenly, Erik felt heartily ashamed of himself for dragging her out here, away from her cousin and their new beau. He didn't know what had motivated him to be so possessive, but he supposed it was simply because he begrudged Gerry some share of the girls' company. He had behaved very foolishly.

"Come, we must return. Your cousin and that imposter will be missing us." His voice was stern and cold as he rose to his feet. Anna ignored the gloved handed extended to her, pushing herself to her feet, shoving his coat into his arms, and marching off toward the inn without another word.

On her way back through the forest, Anna took a slight detour. She sabotaged the Authoress and took over the phic…