AN: Oh dear, my nightgown seems to be fraying at the edge of the ribbon.

OKAY, so last chapter, Erik took Miette, in his words, "DOWN!" probably most likely meaning "down once more to the dungeon of my black despair! Down we plunge to the prison of my miiiiind! Down that path into darkness deep as HEEEEEEEEEEEEEELL!"

...Uh...I mean...brb I'm gonna go get my new moto jacket.

God, this thing absolutely SCREAMS Dallas Winston from The Outsiders, and that makes me so happy!

Anyway, yeah, I'm a greaser at heart, you get the picture...ANYWAY...Um...
Okay, I'd like to say something about Miette's clothing real quick. The book that gave me the idea for this premise? In that book (Revolution, by Jennifer Donnelly, in case you've forgotten, and it is a book that I VERY highly recommend, especially for those into historical fiction and/or, more specifically, French Revolution centered historical fiction), when Andi goes back in time, she never bothers getting clothes to blend in, she just goes the entire two or three days of being stuck in the past wearing her modern day clothes (being who she is personality-wise and based what we're told of her appearance, I imagine Andi as wearing things like worn-out combat boots, ripped and faded jeans, t-shirts with band logos on them, and a moto jacket) and sticking out like a sore thumb. At least Miette's got enough common sense to plan on getting some period-appropriate clothes, even if she does end up putting it off for a while!

Okay, an important note about Erik's last name:

I know that pretty much everyone (by which I mean every phan in existence) uses Destler, and out of curiosity, I looked up where that had come from, and frankly, I found the explanation I found to be kind of a stupid reason for so many people to use that name, and it was not a good enough reason to convince me to jump on that bandwagon. So what I did was I went and I found some French last names that I liked, and then I made my own selection from those, and that's what I've decided to use. So sorry if that upsets anyone or puts any of you off the story, but that's just how it is. (Besides, the last name I picked actually ended up being rather appropriate because it means "dark," or "black," which fits, given that I'm using Ramin Karmiloo for this as far as Erik's looks go and he has dark hair and eyes. (This name's literal translation from French to English is "the black," I kid you not.) So there you go.)

Alright, I'm done now, just had to get that out of the way so you aren't left going "wtf?" when you get to that one part in the chapter where it mentions his last name for the first time. :)

DISCLAIMER: God, where are the funny disclaimers, why can't I come up with one all of a sudden? I don't own anything except Miette and this awesome jacket I'm wearing, very similar to Miette's own moto jacket, which she unfortunately is not wearing...See, that sucked, that wasn't funny at all. That was pathetic is what that was.

The second time Miette went unconscious was because of Erik.
Fed up with her screams and protests and demands, he had finally just turned and given her a firm knock on the head. He hadn't intended to knock her out, but he must have whacked her harder than he'd meant to, because next thing he knew, he was having to catch her as she collapsed. Well, at least it had effectively silenced her. So he ended up carrying her down through the passages leading to his underground home.

As he laid her down in the boat and then got into it himself, unmooring it and taking up the oar to begin the trip across the lake, he couldn't help but once again take note of her odd clothing. She was dressed in pants made of some sort of blue fabric he'd never seen before, an odd style of blouse with what better qualified as straps than sleeves, and a style of boot he'd never seen before with dirt caked on the bottoms. And all her jewelry! He recognized them as being rings and bracelets and, in one case, a necklace, but never before had he seen ones like most of them! The one that looked the least strange (to his eyes, anyway) was the ring she wore on her right ring finger; a band of pale, almost silvery gold with a rose engraved on it. Of course, her earrings were no stranger to him than everything else, and for some reason, she had on multiple pairs of them rather than just one.

She muttered something in her sleep, and Erik couldn't help but roll his eyes towards the ceiling. "Great," he thought, "she's a sleep-talker. God knows what I'll have to listen to during this trip. This is just my luck." As it turned out, though, Miette actually wasn't as much of a sleep-talker as he expected her to be, though she did, at one point, shoot bolt upright into a sitting position and, without ever opening her eyes, pointed at the empty air in front of her and yelled, "Put that pelican back right now or I'll turn you into a carrot!" and then promptly laid right back down again.

Once they finally reached their destination, Erik laid her down in the only place he could think to, which was the swan bed. Then he went to find where he'd left his drawing materials, intending to finish a sketch of Christine that he'd started earlier.

Miette woke to the sound of a piano—no, not a piano, she realized. An organ. And it was playing a song that she knew, but couldn't place. Oh, God, her head was throbbing again, and even in the same spot. What could have possibly made that Erik guy think it was a good idea to hit her like that?

"Okay, Miette, think. You aren't dreaming, and that guy clearly wasn't acting, so it must not be a movie set, either. So what other explanation is there for all this that makes sense? Unless...Oh no...Oh, God, no, that's not possible, it can't be!...Wait...where the hell am I and how did I get here? Ugh, great, now I've been kidnapped by some nutjob in a mask, that's just what I need right now."

She slowly got up, ignoring the pain in her skull, and followed her ears in the direction of the music, only to find Erik sitting at an organ with his back to her and his cape over the back of a nearby chair as he played, hardly even glancing at the sheet music in front of him as he did so, his fingers moving gracefully and effortlessly over the keys. He didn't seem to be aware of her presence, or even the fact that she was awake, he was so absorbed in his music. Then, partway through the song, she suddenly began to remember the lyrics. The title and where she'd heard it continued to evade her, but she knew the words and began to sing as if she were in her choir class at school.

"Cette ivresse de jeunesse ne dure, hêlas, qu'un jour! Puis vient l'heure où l'on pleure. Loin de l'hiver morose laisse moi, laisse moi sommeille et respirer la rose, avant de l'effeuiller. Ah!-Ah!-Ah!"

She knew there was more after that, but Erik stopped playing, turning to face her as the last note from the organ faded away. He stared at her without saying anything until she began to blush. "Am I that bad?" she asked sheepishly. Maybe she imagined it, but she could have sworn that for just a second, she saw the corner of his mouth twitch upwards ever-so-slightly.

"On the contrary," he said, "you have a lovely voice. I was merely a bit surprised that you know that aria. No offense, mademoiselle, but you don't particularly strike me as the operatic type, you see."

"I've taken choir since I was twelve, we sing a lot of different things for our stuff. I don't know what that song's from, though."
"It's from Gounod's Roméo et Juliette. Juliette sings it in the first act. As I said before, it's an aria. How do you know it if you're not familiar with the opera?"
Miette shrugged. "That's a good question, I don't remember. If I figure it out, though, you'll be the first to know. So...what exactly is this place? How'd we get here?"

"This is where I live," Erik replied. Miette's eyes widened a bit.
"You live here?" she said. "But...we're underground! How do you—"
"I have help from the outside world. She brings me what I need. Mostly food. Paper and charcoal to sketch with."

"How long have you been living here?"
"I first came as a young teenager. I left for some time, then came back several years ago and have been here ever since."

"Wait...how old are you?"
"That's a bit personal, don't you think?"
"Not really. Where I'm from, people share their ages all the time."
"And where exactly are you from, Mlle. Comtois?"
"The Paris of the future, of course! Where else do you think I got the iPod? How else would I know all that stuff about what's going to happen?"

Deep down in her gut, Miette had the feeling that somehow, she truly had gone back in time somehow, but she chose to remain in denial for now, instead continuing to tell herself it was a movie set and this guy was seriously in character and that she was only humoring him by playing along and pretending to be from the future. She wasn't sure how long she'd be able to delude herself into that, but for now, she chose just to focus on doing exactly that—deluding herself.
"And in the future," Erik said, cutting into her thoughts, "it's common for women to dress so..." He trailed off, struggling to find the right word.

"Oh, everybody dresses like this in the future," Miette replied.
"Do they indeed? And what exactly are you wearing?"
"Oh, well, this is a tank top, and these are jeans, and these are my exploring boots that I wear when I go in the catacombs, that's why they're so dirty. And don't tell me you've never seen jewelry before!"

"Not like yours. For example, what in the world is happening with that ring? And what on earth is that bracelet made out of?"
"That? Oh, it's a mood ring. They supposedly change color to match your mood, but really they just react to your body temperature and change according to that. It's fun to pretend they can read your mood, though! The bracelet, it's made out of colorful woven leather. It's a Native American thing that I got when my family vacationed in America once."

"And I must say I've never seen a woman wear more than one pair of earrings at a time."
"Girls get multiple ear piercings all the time. Not just in their ears, some people have belly button rings, or eyebrow rings, or lip or nose rings, it's crazy all the places you can get pierced! I'm totally tame compared to some people! Besides, not all of mine involve piercings. My cuff earring I'm wearing on this ear, it just comes off like this, see? And back on again the same way, like this. Anyway, you're one to talk!"

"I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me! What's with the mask?"

All at once, Erik's face darkened. "That," he said coldly as he turned away from her suddenly, "is none. Of your. Business. Now, mademoiselle, if you will come with me, I shall take you to someone who will get us out of each other's hair once and for all, and thank God for that." He stood and grabbed his cape, draping it over his shoulders and fastening the clasp, then pulling his gloves back on and making his way towards where the boat was moored. Miette stood and watched him in silence. He turned and looked at her over his shoulder. "Well?" he demanded. "Are you coming, or do I have to knock you out again? I have plenty of chloroform, you know, and I won't hesitate to use it if I must."

Wordlessly, Miette obeyed, stepping into the boat behind Erik, then sitting down in front of him. As he took up the oar and straightened to his full height to begin rowing, he glanced down at her briefly and was suddenly struck with the memory of another girl sitting exactly where Miette was now, what felt like a lifetime ago. In some ways, the scenes were identical. But where Miette had wavy reddish hair and a mischievous glint in her green eyes, the other girl had been a wide-eyed, soft-spoken, curly-haired brunette.

And he knew he would never—could never—feel for Miette what he had felt for Christine.

Élisabeth Giry had been waiting for some time now. She had sent Meg off to deliver Erik Lenoir's things to him, and then gone to a café to wait for her daughter to return so they could go home for the day. She was sitting at a table in the corner by the window with her tea, glancing outside every so often to see if she caught sight of Meg, but so far, there was no sign of her. It was getting late, and to be honest, Élisabeth was beginning to worry; stern as she was known for being, Élisabeth was still a mother, and Meg was, after all, her daughter. Not only that, but out of all the times she had sent Meg to make the delivery by herself before—which she had done numerous times, in fact, for various reasons—never had it taken so long. Meg had always been quite quick and efficient in playing the role of delivery boy, as she was in many other things, and that was precisely why Élisabeth trusted her to run this errand by herself.

So why, she wondered, was it taking so long now?

The café door opened, and finally, Meg came in with another girl in tow. She stopped, looked around, and when she spotted her mother in the corner, she led the other girl over. Élisabeth stood up, and Meg, immediately recognizing the tone in the older woman's body language, stood in front of her with her head down and her hands behind her back, biting her lower lip as if in embarrassment or shame.

"Marguerite Anette Giry," Élisabeth said, "what in heaven's name took you so long? You should have been here an hour ago."
"I'm sorry, Maman," Meg replied, "but you see, Erik, he was off on one of his tangents, and he wouldn't stop, and then he—"
"I shall hear no more of your excuses, Meg," Madame Giry interrupted. "Next time, you make the delivery and come straight back, is that clear?"

"Yes, Maman."
"Good. Now, who is this?"
"This is Miette. We met her earlier, remember?"
"Ah, yes, the girl we got the bread for."
"Miette, this is my mother."

"Nice to meet you, Madame," Miette said, nodding politely in greeting.
"And you as well, m'amselle," Mme. Giry replied, then gave Meg a questioning look.
"Miette was with Erik, Maman," the blonde explained. "She says she ran into the Populaire to get out of the rain earlier, and Erik heard her singing, and—Well, long story short, he's already gotten quite fed up with her, so he passed her off to me and said, 'Take her to your mother, have her do what she will with the insolent petit malherureux, it doesn't matter to me so long as she's kept away from here,' only I had to take a detour and sneak back in another way so I could get onto the stage to fetch Miette's bag from where she'd left it, so now here we both are."

Madame Giry looked Miette up and down. She looked about the same age as Meg, give or take about a year, and she seemed quite harmless. She wondered what exactly this girl had done to set Erik off the way she had. Then again, there was really no telling how he would react to almost anything, especially in the last two years. He was just so unpredictable, even to Élisabeth, who, other than Nadir Khan, knew him better than anyone, though Nadir didn't really count anymore since he thought Erik to be dead just like everyone else did.

"Your clothes, m'amselle," she said. It was the first thing she could think of to address.
"I'm...not from around here," Miette replied. "I mean...I was born in Paris, but I've lived...outside France for a long time now."
"Then we shall have to get you something new to wear, I suppose. We shall go shopping for you first thing in the morning, but in the meantime, you may stay with us. We have a guest room that you are welcome to, and you look about Meg's size, so you may borrow one of her nightgowns to sleep in tonight."

Miette's shoulders sank as she let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Thank you, Madame. That...I...Thank you. I very much appreciate it."
"Think nothing of it. Now, come, both of you. It is getting late, and we have much to do tomorrow."

And so we're getting more of the Girys now, yay! Like I said, Meg's always been one of my favorites, especially as played by Jennifer Ellison. And as for Madame Giry, I've always seen her as being tough and stern and "you-don't-wanna-mess-with-that-woman," but at the same time with a more tender side that she doesn't really let show very much, and I think I got that impression because of the way Miranda Richardson portrayed her.

Let's see, there were a few things I wanted to talk about to clear some stuff up, what were they?...Okay, let's start with the aria.

Originally, I wanted to have him be playing Musetta's Waltz, but La Boheme wasn't around until 1896, so I couldn't do that because it's 13 years after this fic takes place. Anyway, the one I ended up using is a real aria, and the opera it's from is real. It has five acts, is one of the many versions of Romeo & Juliet that exist, and premiered in April of 1867. The song is called "Ah! Je veux vivre!" a.k.a The Waltz of Juliette, and it is her character's solo in the first act, and it's basically her saying to her Nurse that she doesn't want to get married, she wants to be free to live her life. (Obviously this is before she meets Romeo, lol). I got the lyrics for it off of aria-database dot com, and here is the translation to the bit that Miette sang:

This intoxication of youth lasts, alas, only for one day! Then comes the hour when one weeps. Far from the morose winter let me, let me slumber and inhale the rose, before plucking its petals. Ah!-Ah!-Ah!

Also, the ring that Miette is wearing that, to Erik, didn't look as strange as the others, if you want to know what that looks like, I will be posting a link to a picture of it on my profile for you to go and check out.

Um, what else...?

Okay, the thing where Miette randomly sits up and yells "Put that pelican back right now or I'll turn you into a carrot!" is actually something that I got the idea for because of the fact that sometimes, in the middle of the night, I'll be awake, and suddenly, from my brother's room, I hear him yell THE most random shit in his sleep. One time he was all like, "NO!" and another time he yelled, "No, [my name], stop, what are you doing?!" Also, one time, a friend and I spent the night at another friend's house, and we woke up before she did, and she was saying random stuff in her sleep, and we started reading stuff out of a book, and she'd respond to us, and then she suddenly got out of bed and we followed her into the living room, and she went towards the cat that was in there with her eyes still closed and this sort of blissed out grin on her face going, "Kitty kitty meow meow...Kitty kitty meow meow...Kitty kitty meow meow..." etc., etc.

It was SO funny!

So yeah, Miette's little sleep-outburst was sort of inspired by true events to some degree, but the specifics of what she said came purely from my imagination.

OH! I remember what else I waned to say now! Meg's age! I imagine her and Christine to be about nineteen, give or take, when everything happened, so if she was nineteen then and this takes place two years later, that means that she's 21 in this, so only two years older than Miette.

AAAAAnd...I believe that's it. :)

Remember to review so nobody gets Punjab'd!