Disclaimer: I do not own Erik or anything/anyone related to or mentioned in The Phantom of the Opera, whether the musical, book, or play…obviously.

Review Replies:

ForbiddenSpiritthLyte: Glad you liked it so much, A.J.

elvenscarf: Very.

Nadiil: Jenny gets a lot nastier in this chapter, trust me. Hope you enjoy this chapter!

please keep reviewing, everyone! I need feedback to help me keep my writing on track and interesting.

Chapter the Second

IN WHICH Jenny Stages A Crime AND the Phantom and Amelie Are Introduced

After she had made sure that the boards she and her unfortunate friend had come through were utterly secure against outside penetration, Jenny set to work on her plan to explain Amelie's disappearance.

First the young woman paid a visit to Amelie's small apartment to create the crime scene. She strewed a purposefully torn outfit, smeared with blood which had soaked onto her own clothes, around the apartment, leaving a few streaks of crimson near the door to show the point of exit. Jenny then proceeded to jumble the kitchen cupboards, making it look as if the attacker and kidnapper had been looking for valuables.

After she had added finishing touches to the scene and made sure any evidence of her presence was absent or undetectable, Jenny headed home, ready to begin her new career as an actress.

- - -

Unsure what to do, which was for him a relatively new dilemma, the Phantom stayed where he was, hidden in the shadows above the girl.

Amelie struggled, trying to force her useless body to obey her brain. She was in more pain than she had ever imagined it was possible to feel – every part of her body was screaming at her just to give in and let go…but she managed to force herself into a sitting position. It was only then that she opened her eyes and looked at herself. What she saw made her let out a hoarse scream of horror and anguish.

The Phantom watched as the girl realized that the mangled, bloody limbs she saw when she opened her eyes were indeed her own. The girl really was a mess – open wounds covered every inch of visible skin, and judging by the blood soaking through her clothes, were also underneath her clothes as well. Not surprising, seeing that she had landed on top of the scenery that had been left on the stage, mostly intact after the fire. The girl's neck and windpipe looked more bruised than her arms and a large, deep-looking gash on the back of her head was oozing a good amount of crimson blood onto the wooden stage. Her leg lay at an angle that no leg should or can bend in without breaking.

Amelie swayed slightly, realizing that she was losing more blood than she afford to lose and still live. When she moved an arm slowly to feel the gash on her head, she let out a whimper. A large piece of wood from a scenery prop was lodged in her arm, on the back of her shoulder. Amelie lowered her arm then with slow, shaky movements attempted to bring her other arm over, to try to pull the wood out. The pain overwhelmed her and she collapsed back onto the stage, moaning slightly as the shard was driven in deeper by her weight.

She was barely conscious but managed to let out a sob. "Jenny…someone! Help me – please God…" Amelie struggled to stay awake…to stay alive…

Throughout this ordeal, the Phantom had stayed in his hiding place on the balcony, savoring the pain this barely animate corpse was going through. The pain that Christine was gong through…no…and yet, as the girl called out for help, the insane bloodlust that had been coursing through his veins began to subside. He struggled with his emotions for many moments, then made his way down to the stage, still wondering why he was bothering.

Amelie's vision began to cloud and she prayed that someone would at least come to be with her before she died. It was as if her prayer was heard: a caped figure in dark clothes approached her. Amelie reached out her hand – and was swallowed by darkness again.

By the time the Phantom reached her, he realized that she was already unconscious. Part of him argued that this tart deserved to die for intruding into his world but the other part…whenever this new side of him had developed, it was antagonizingly more convincing. The Phantom unclasped his cape and, spreading it on the stage, carefully lifted the girl onto it and wrapped its folds around her. He would have to sneak into one of the city hospitals for supplies. With an inward sigh, he lifted her motionless body and made his way back to his underground quarters.

- - -

A small jar containing the ashes of Amelie's favorite dress sat on the altar at the church that the young artist had attended. In the pews sat Amelie's parents and her few other relations. Jenny, considered to be Amelie's best friend, was the only person present that was not related to the deceased.

The friend in mention was growing increasingly uncomfortable by the close proximity of her friend's "remains". The police had bought her alibi and even offered their condolences to Jenny. Of course, the body had not been found, so Amelie's parents decided to have their daughter's favorite dress burned at the crematorium instead.

Jenny glanced over to Amelie's parents. The shock of realizing that her only daughter was dead, and that she would now never become a grandmother, had sent Amelie's mother into a wheelchair. Amelie's father sat next to where the wheelchair had been placed in the aisle, hunched over with grief, not bothering to hide the ungentlemanly tears that fell onto his collar. The parents seemed to have aged years over the past week. Guilt scorched Jenny's stomach, but she resolved to keep herself from running to Amelie's parents and confessing. She had worked too hard to turn tail now – and besides, Amelie was dead, why ruin another life because of it?

The priest started reading of the names of those who had signed the guest register. Those mentioned rose and walked to the altar to pray for and say their last farewells to Amelie. Jenny quietly slipped out of the church, resolving to put the whole sordid affair in the past. She would start a new life in the country, far from the city that held the remains of her dark secret.

- - -

Amelie struggled to open her eyes. She did not know where she was and the dim light did not help her to identify her surroundings. When she attempted to sit up, Amelie remembered all that had happened: falling off the platform, seeing her own mangled limbs, a figure appearing from the shadows…Her head felt large and swollen. When she delicately reached up with a bandaged hand, her fingers brushed another bandage.

By then, Amelie realized that her eyes had adjusted enough to the light that she could assess her wounds. Her left arm was in a sling, a cast was wrapped around her ribs and another around one of her legs, and bandaging covered the exposed skin on her arms and legs. Adding the head wound and another dressing on her shoulder, she was in pretty sorry shape. Not only was Amelie surprised to be alive – but who had taken care of her, tended to her wounds. Had Jenny been her savior?

She looked around, hoping her surroundings could help answer her questions, but all they did was cause more questions to form. Amelie found that she had been carefully set on a pile of soft blankets in the middle of a huge room that appeared to be underground, from the lack of windows and sunlight. In an alcove nearby lay what appeared to be a bed in the shape of a seashell, filled with blankets and behind a black gauzy curtain. A large piano covered in scraps of paper sat across from the edge of the floor, which gave way to a small lake, closed in by a portcullis. Candles, as well as shattered mirror fragments, lay everywhere.

"What sort of strange place is this?" Amelie let out a small noise of surprise when she heard her own voice. She assumed that she had injured her neck, because her voice sounded as if she had not talked in years, and every breath hurt slightly.

Amelie sighed and winced, letting her eyes fall shut. Everything was too confusing…she hurt too much…A sudden noise made Amelie open her eyes slightly. Someone was down here with her. She froze, waiting to see who emerged.

The Phantom stepped back into his domain from the secret staircase that led to the city sewers, the same staircase he had used before, five years ago. He walked over to a table and set down the bandages he had stolen from the hospital. Running his fingers through his hair, he unclasped his cloak and walked over to hang it on a polished wooden coatrack.

Amelie shifted slightly and the Phantom whipped around. For a moment the two studied each other – one dark-haired, dark-eyed, and muscular, his hair covering the left side of his face; the other with light, mouse-brown hair and gray-blue eyes, lithely built. Then Amelie moved and looked away.

"Thank you for taking care of me, Monsieur…?"

"Most do not call me Monsieur – I am known as…the Opera Ghost."

He hesitated, waiting to see what kind of reaction this statement would draw from the girl.

"The Opera Ghost? Then you are the one they call La Fantôme de l'Opera! I have heard stories about you from my friends. Then you still live here below the operahouse, Monsieur?"

He played with a piece of spare bandaging in his hands nervously.

"Yes, I am La Fantôme. I hope this does not trouble you unduly for I am…a changed man, for the most part. And I have the pleasure of addressing?" He spoke carefully. The girl had not gasped, screamed, or panicked yet, which he took as a good sign, but one could never tell with women. His past proved that.

"I am…Amelie Dubay, and very glad to meet you at the moment, Monsieur, no matter who you may be. Again, I thank you very much – for saving my life."

The Phantom wasn't sure where to look. The girl, Amelie, was starting to unnerve him. It was her eyes – they seemed to study every word he said – made him feel awkward.

"Yes, well…your friend seemed all too eager to leave you lying there."

At the mention of Jenny, Amelie bolted up straight, wincing at the sudden movement. "Where is Jenny? And what exactly do you mean?"

"I meant precisely what I said. Your friend, Jenny is it, thought it within her best interests to flee when she discovered that you had perished in your fall. She was muttering something about blame and leaving the body when she left."

An incredulous look appeared on Amelie's face. "Jenny…left me here? Dead or not, she did not have the decency to – and she was my best friend! I'll simply have to go to her house immediately – that little…"

When he saw Amelie start attempting to stand, he strode over to her and eased her back onto the mattress.

"Mademoiselle…Amelie….whatever you may want to do once you are healed, you are most definitely in no shape to be traveling, especially walking anywhere."

She opened her mouth as if to argue, but then closed it in annoyance and sat back down. "You are right, I'm useless. But if I may ask…why are you doing this, taking care of me? I do not wish to be anything but polite or to intrude, but the stories I have heard of you portray you quite differently."

He turned away from her, suddenly feeling a surge of shame, guilt, and several other emotion she did not want to sort out.

"I am not sure why I am helping you. I am changed but I am not sure if it is for the better or for the worse…"

His voice softened to a whisper and Amelie was not sure whether or not the Phantom was still speaking to her. "But I am different, she changed me, with her angel's voice…"

The Phantom turned back to her. "I do not wish to frighten you, Mademoiselle Amelie. It is becoming quite late, may I suggest that we both retire?"

She took the hint in his voice, that he did not wish to discuss past events. She did not trust him entirely yet, but he had saved her – so she let the conversation drop.

"Then I say goodnight Monsieur, and thank you once again for saving me when my best friend would not.

She turned over to face away from him, letting sleep claim her.

The Phantom walked over and tugged the rope that lifted the black curtain from around his bed. Climbing under the soft sheets, he wondered yet again why he had saved the girl – Amelie. She could never be a replacement for Christine – but did he want her to be? Confused thoughts filled his mind as he sank into a troubled sleep.

- - -

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