AN: God, I LOVE Aria of Life's reviews, they make me laugh so hard! She said she half-expected Erik to start disassembling the iPod and Miette be like "lkajlkdfal; don't do that!" and him just be all "explain this witchcraft!" Actually, if I'm being truthful, that gave me an idea for this chapter, LMAO! ALSO, I need to clarify something (thanks again, Aria, for making me realize I need to do this):

Miette does not know the Phantom story. She lives in what you might call an alternate universe from ours, an alternate timeline of sorts where Leroux never wrote the book, and therefore none of the adaptations exist, so no, she's not going to go into fangirl (or phan, as the case may be) mode over Erik or start yammering about Christine or asking annoying questions about how much of it was true and how much was fiction or ask to see the mirrored torture room or anything like that because she has no knowledge of any of that stuff, all she knows about Erik is what he himself has told her.

Also, don't worry, she's good at doing what she's been told not to and going where she doesn't belong, so she'll find a way to get back down there and ruffle his feathers again! Only this time, she'll be properly attired for it, because as Aria and I were discussing, one simply does not go about pissing Erik off unless one is wearing the proper clothing while Élisabeth Giry has anything to say about it!

AAAnd one more thing. judybear236 has been sending me some PMs with very helpful and kind constructive criticism and tips and things (again, judy, thank you for doing so), and in one of the ones she sent me concerning the previous chapter, she made the following comment:

"Hmm… You say Meg is 21? The scene with her and her mother felt more like she was 15. I would never have guessed that she was that old from her actions and language."

And she does have a point about that. The reason I wrote Meg like that is for a couple of reasons. First off, she comes across to me as being somewhat childish in a few ways, you know? The other, possibly more important reason, however? Her mother. As we all know, Madame Giry is a very stern woman with a very authoritative air about her, and I honestly have always felt that anyone, especially her daughter, would (to a certain degree, anyway, depending on the individual person) would act in a manner at least somewhat similar to how Meg did last chapter when they're around her, and especially if she's chastising them like she was doing with Meg last chapter. The exception to that, in my mind, is Erik, but only because he's, well, Erik.

So I hope that clears that up, and judy, I hope that explains it a bit better for you. :)

I have been TRYING to make the chapters longer, but the characters just aren't working with me, you know what I mean? I'm working on it, though, so hopefully there will be longer chapters in the future, especially once I have my laptop back.

Okay, I'm done now.

DISCLAIMER: If I owned anything besides Miette, I would be rich and would have met not only Ramin Karmiloo by now, but also Hadley Fraser. Seeing as I do not belong to a wealthy family, not have I ever even seen Ramin and/or Hadley live, let alone met either one of them, I believe it's safe to assume that I do not own Phantom of the Opera and/or any of its characters.

...That one was kind of funny, I guess...

"God, is this really necessary?!" Miette demanded. She was bent over slightly, gripping the vanity in the guest room at the Girys' house while Meg tightened the corset she was wearing rather against her will. True to her word, Madame Giry had taken Miette shopping for clothes, and unfortunately for Miette, wearing the clothing of that period also meant having to wear the corresponding undergarments, which she was so far none too happy with.

"I can't bloody breathe!" she said for about the tenth time in the past ten minutes.
"I can't believe girls don't wear corsets where you're from!" Meg retorted without missing a beat.
"As if it wasn't bad enough," Miette said as if Meg hadn't spoken, "that I can't wear my jewelry! Now I have to wear this...this torture device! Ouch! Meg, not so tight!"
"Oh, quit whining, you're all laced up now," Meg said. Madame Giry handed the dress to her daughter, who then followed Miette behind a changing screen to help her into it.

"So you two obviously know that Erik guy," Miette said. "What's his deal, anyway?"
"Erik Lenoir is a riddle shrouded in mystery wrapped in an enigma!" Meg declared, and Miette's eyebrows went up.
"Lenoir?" she repeated. "Is that his last name? Funny, he wouldn't give it to me yesterday for some reason. Thought it was a bit odd, but then, so's the mask."
"Monsieur Lenoir wears that mask for his own protection, m'amselle," Élisabeth said from where she was perched on the foot of the bed. "And as for your question of what his 'deal' is, let us just say that he has endured many hardships in his life and suffered a great deal."
"I dunno, all I'm saying is he'd be pretty freaking handsome if he'd just take the thing off," Miette said.

Silence fell over the room. Meg's hands stilled as she did the buttons on the back of Miette's dress.

"What?" Miette asked. "Was it something I said?"
"Maman," Meg said, "Christine invited me to lunch today, may I go?"
"Only if you swear that Erik will never know about it."
"Maman, I've kept quiet about these things for two years, it's not about to change! There. All done, Miette."

The two girls stepped out from behind the changing screen and Miette went to stand in front of the mirror to examine herself. She twisted around to try and see from different angles, and only after deciding that the dress wasn't so bad after all did she go and sit down on the bed to put on the shoes that she'd gotten to go with it. Madame Giry waved a hand at her daughter. "Very well," she said, "you may go."

"Where...Where's my iPod?" Miette said suddenly. Meg and her mother both turned. Miette was going through her bag, obviously trying to find something, and she looked up at them with a slightly distressed expression on her face. "It's gone," she said. "My iPod is gone. I...Let's see...I remember showing Erik how it works, and then I put it in my pocket when—" She cut off with a shriek of anger. "That son of a bitch! He must have stolen it from me while I was unconscious! How dare he?! I'll strangle him, I'll absolutely strangle him, I swear, I'll—"

"You will not go looking for him, Mademoiselle, do you understand?" Élisabeth said firmly. "He is dangerous. Do I make myself clear?"
"...Yes, Madame."
"Good."

"What is this? What is this, how does any of this work?!" Erik demanded of the empty air. He really didn't know why he'd taken Miette's music device. He'd done it at the last minute on a sudden whim before she'd left with Meg Giry, using his pick-pocketing skills to slip it out of her back pocket and conceal it within his cloak. He had been up most of the night playing around with it to see exactly what it was capable of, listening to some of the music she had on it (what in the world was an "Imagine Dragon," he wondered, and who the hell were these Adam Lambert and David Cook people?), he'd accidentally taken a picture of himself with it at one point without even realizing it, and finally, he'd started taking it apart to try and figure out how it worked.

Thus far, he wasn't having much luck.

"Damn this—this—this whatever the hell this thing is!" he shouted, slamming down the circuit-board and standing up so quickly that the chair got knocked over. He exhaled sharply through his nostrils and ripped the mask off, hating the way the leather was rubbing against him. The skin on that side of his face was just so damn sensitive, and while he had long ago figured out how to position the mask so that it didn't usually bother him, there were times when, for whatever reason, it just rubbed against his face in all the wrong spots in exactly the wrong way and he simply couldn't stand it. Sometimes when that happened, he would take it off only to discover that the skin had been rubbed raw, or there were angry red welts in those spots in addition to his disfigurement.

There had been several songs he'd listened to on the odd little device that, strange as he found them, he had to admit were actually quite good. For example, he'd listened to most of the Les Misérables songs, and those were rather enjoyable. The emotion that this Anne Hathaway woman had sung with during the song called "I Dreamed a Dream," he had found that quite amazing, even finding that he could somewhat relate to the song, as well as the one called "On My Own." There had also been one from something called "Repo! the Genetic Opera" that, unless he was quite mistaken, was an aria. It had been called "Chromaggia," and it was sung in Italian. It had told quite an interesting story.

After carefully replacing his mask, he sat down at his organ on sudden impulse and began to play one of the other songs he had enjoyed from the little device, one called "Everything and Nothing" that had sort of reminded him a little of Christine in a way he couldn't really explain.

"Still as absorbed in music as ever, I see," a voice said. Erik smirked slightly, but he did not turn around or stop playing.
"All else may crumble and fade," he said, "but music...music endures. It lingers in the heart, in the soul. Even when the song is ended, the melody lingers on."

"I've never heard this song before."
"I heard it on Mademoiselle Comtois's odd little music-playing device."

Madame Giry frowned, going over to where he had left the disassembled iPod on a table, picking up one of the pieces to examine it more closely. "Is this it?" she asked, and Erik gave a single nod of confirmation in response. "It doesn't seem to be in what you would call working order," she remarked. "You wouldn't have anything to do with that, now, would you, Erik?"

"Élisabeth, if man did not satisfy his curiosity, where would society be?" Erik replied. To anyone else, it would have come across as cryptic and evasive, but not to her. She knew him well enough to take this as a confession of sorts.

"Mademoiselle Comtois will not be pleased with this," she said.
"I do not particularly care what will and will not please Mademoiselle Comtois."
"Why did you even steal this from her in the first place?"
"Why did La Pucelle d'Orléans get burned at the stake?"

"Erik!"
"Honestly, I don't know why. I did it on a whim. I suppose I was curious about it. It's quite fascinating, you see, and yet I can't, for the life of me, figure out how it works. Oh, by the way, I'm very seriously beginning to consider what Meg said about lining the mask, it was rubbing me again earlier, not long before you came in. Her idea sounds a bit absurd, I'll admit, but it just might work in the long run. Perhaps we should try it."

"You are going entirely off-topic here!" Madame Giry said loudly. She did not raise her voice often, and one of the few people in the world who could frustrate her enough to push her to do so was Erik Lenoir. Not even Meg had ever managed to accomplish such a thing with her mother, even when she was a small child constantly getting into things she had no business getting into and causing trouble. Not even Carlotta Gudicelli, who Madame Giry could hardly stand, had ever succeeded in making Élisabeth raise her voice. She had only really ever done so with her ballerinas, and that wasn't because they frustrated her so much as it was to get them to cease their constant chatter and pay attention. So to be able to make her do so at all, Erik truly was a man of many talents indeed.

"She spoke of coming back down here, Erik," Élisabeth said once she was relatively calmer. Finally, Erik stopped playing and turned to face her. He didn't say a word, but he didn't have to; his eyes alone said it all. "I warned her not to," Élisabeth went on, "that you are dangerous. She said she would not attempt it, but I am not so certain if she can be believed or not."

"The girl is mad, Élisabeth," Erik replied. "Mad, I tell you! She's convinced she comes from the future, can you believe that? 21st century indeed! She claims that Germany will one day invade the country, that the Third Republic will fall and be replaced by something she calls Vichy, then the Fourth Republic."
"She speaks to Meg of ballets that don't exist. And Meg, she just eats it all up, it's absurd!"

For a moment, Erik remained silent, his eyes distant in the way they often got when he was lost in thought. "Give me two days," he said finally, "then let her think she escaped your watchful eye so that she may come back here."

"Are you sure that is wise?"
"Have I ever been wrong before?"

It took some convincing, but finally, Madame Giry gave in and agreed, wondering just what Erik had up his sleeve now.

As Miette soon discovered, Madame Giry had the eyes and ears of a hawk. Many times, she tried to pry more information about Erik out of Meg, and many times, the ballerina's mother would interfere. At this rate, she would never be able to sneak off and rescue her iPod. And meanwhile, she was still trying to puzzle out the matter of how she had ended up in the nineteenth century, what reason, if any, there was for her being there, and most importantly, how she was going to get back. Uncle Théo must have been worried about her by then, surely. Besides, without Miette around, whose bed would Bijou sleep on? Uncle Théo wouldn't let her onto his because he didn't want her shedding all over the sheets and mattress and blankets, but Bijou had separation anxiety because she had been abandoned as a kitten (that was how Miette had wound up adopting her in the first place), and she liked to sleep on a bed with a human in it because it helped reassure her that her people were still there and hadn't left her. So since Uncle Théo didn't like her to sleep on his bed, plus since she was Miette's cat, she always slept with Miette. Now who would she sleep with, though?

"Meg, Miette!" Madame Giry called, breaking Miette from her thoughts. "I have errands to run, I'll be back in a while. I expect both of you to still be here when I return."
"Yes, Maman!" Meg replied at the same time that Miette absentmindedly said, "Yes, ma'am."

The front door opened, then closed, and the two girls were alone.

"Miette," Meg said as she came into the room, "are you hungry? I was about to start fixing lunch."
"Hm? Oh, yeah. Lunch sounds great, thanks, Meg," Miette replied. Meg smiled and disappeared to head downstairs. Not having anything better to do with herself at the moment, Miette decided to follow her, so she got up and headed into the kitchen, looking around as Meg went about getting the things she needed. "Is salad and fish alright?" Meg asked. "We haven't really got much else right now, we need to go to the market"

"That's fine," Miette said. "Can I do anything to help?"
"If you could get started on the salad, that'd be great. You can use that bowl I put on the counter over there."

So for a little while, they worked together in a comfortable silence, broken by Miette's occasional question of where something was kept and Meg's response. Then Meg was the one to ask a question.

"So do you cook a lot with your maman?" she asked.
"I used to when I was little," Miette said.
"What made you stop?"
"She and Père died when I was ten."
"Oh, goodness, I'm so sorry."
"It's alright, you didn't know."
"So who do you live with now?"
"My Uncle Théo."
"Do you ever cook with him?"
"God, no! Uncle Théo can't even skin a potato on his own, let alone cook an entire meal! No, I do all the cooking for the both of us."

"You know," Meg said, "my père died, too. When I was six. He took ill and just...never recovered."
"That must have been hard for you, being so young at the time and having to watch him suffer."
"Well, I don't really remember it much, to be honest. I couldn't even tell you what he was ill with."

"Well...how long have you been a dancer?"
"Oh, practically my whole life! Maman was a dancer at the Populaire when she was younger, before she met Papa, and after he died, she became the ballet mistress there, so I've pretty much been raised to be a dancer because I lived and trained in the dormitories with the other ballerinas. The Phantom even got me promoted once, it was wonderful, Maman was so proud!"

"The Phantom?"
"What? Oh, no! Erik, I meant Erik! Erik Lenoir, he had some sway with the managers and he thought I was good, so he got me promoted once!"

Miette paused in what she was doing and turned to face the blonde, one hand on her hip, the other on the countertop beside the bowl she was making the salad in. "But you didn't say Erik," she said, "you said the Phantom, I distinctly heard you. Meg, is there something you're not telling me here?"

Meg chewed on her bottom lip nervously. "Okay," she said finally, "so he might have been called the Phantom of the Opera once-upon-a-time..."
"Why would people have called him that?" Miette asked. Again, Meg stood there chewing on her bottom lip and twiddling her thumbs, not meeting Miette's eyes.

"Meg, I'm not going to be mad at you or anything, I just want to know—"
"I can't!" Meg cried. "I'm sorry, Miette, I like you a lot, I really do, and I'd tell you, honest, but I swore to Erik and Maman that I'd never talk about it to anyone, not even Christine or Raoul! I've already said too much!"

"Well...Well, then...can't you at least tell me why he wears the mask?"
"I'm not supposed to talk about that, either, Maman would have my head for it!"

"Meg?"
"What?"
"You know how to get into his cave, right?"
"Cave? Oh, you mean the lair! Yes, of course, but—No, Miette, we can't, Maman said—"
"I know what she said, but dammit, Meg, I can't just sit around here doing nothing! I need to know things, to explore weird places, to learn stuff, that's what I do! And besides, he's got my iPod and I want it back, all my music is on that thing!"

"We really, really shouldn't, Miette."
"Meg, how much do you admire Joan of Arc?"
"Very much indeed, she was so brave! Why?"
"Think of it this way—What would Joan do?"

Meg stood there blinking as Miette's words sank in, then seemed to deflate somewhat. "Oh, fine," she said, "you win. I'll show you how to get down there. But if he's down there and we get caught, it is entirely your fault, got it?"
"Yay! Thank you, Meg, thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"The things I'll do for an adventure..."

So there you have it, Meg and Miette are on a mission! XD Okay, now, let's see, what do I need to talk about this chapter...?

First of all, "La Pucelle d'Orléans" refers to Joan of Arc, and it is French for "The Maid of Orléans," which is a nickname of hers earned thanks to her part in the siege of—you guessed it!—Orléans.

The song from Repo! the Genetic Opera that Erik took a liking to, Chromaggia, is sung by Sarah Brightman's character in that film, and it really is a pretty cool story that the song tells. It's about "the fatal bird by the name of Chromaggia" who lives "on the lava coasts," which is thought to refer to the Islands of St. Paul, if I remember correctly. So this bird has an arrow, like the kind you shoot with a bow, tied to one of her tail feathers by like a string or something and believes that the arrow is chasing her trying to kill her, so in her desperation to escape from it, she is eternally in flight, and in her panic, she has unintentionally brought harm to others. Towards the end, it also says something about the mouth of the devil, but I can't remember what exactly. Anyway, since Erik obviously, as we see in Kay's book, speaks multiple languages, I'm going to assume that Italian is one of those languages based on the fact that the Giovanni part of that book took place in Rome and that he can therefore understand the song. Me, I had to look up the translation when I was first introduced to it, lol.

As for the other song he liked, the one he was playing on the organ, that is a song by The Boom Circuits, and it is on one of the Twilight Breaking Dawn soundtracks, I think BD part...2 if I remember correctly. It's one of my favorite songs.

Also, lol, Miette's been bitten by the "Holy-Shit-Ramin-Has-an-Adorable-Face-and-He's-So-Effing-Hot" Bug, in case you couldn't tell from her comment about how Erik would be handsome if he took his mask off. XD

And I seriously went and like looked up what sorts of things French people have for lunch to figure out what would be a realistic thing for Meg to be making, lmao.

Oh, and if you're wondering what Bijou (Miette's cat) looks like, she's the same breed as Snoopy Babe (a.k.a. Snoopybabe, or Snoopy), which is Exotic Shorthair. If you don't know who Snoopy Babe is, go look him up, then look up pictures of other Exotic Shorthairs, because they have THE most precious little faces, I swear to God, they just kill me, they're so effing adorable! Also, if you have an Instagram and you're not already following Snoopy Babe, you need to go follow him, because that's where he got his internet fame, and he has over 200,000 followers, and if I had an Instagram, I would be one of them. Anyway, that's what Bijou is, and she's one of the Calico ones.

And yes, I do think that the mask irritates his face sometimes! I've always gotten the feeling that the skin on that side of his face would be particularly sensitive, so it makes sense to me that the mask would sometimes do things like rub against him the wrong way and leave welts and things like that. I especially feel that it must be sensitive after finding and reading this article about the way the makeup was done on Gerard Butler in the movie, which I thought was fascinating and will link to on my profile for anyone interested. It talks about how the makeup artists kind of modeled it after an actual birth defect called Sturge-Weber Syndrome (SWS).

The article then goes on to piss me off by calling Erik "evil," which he is not, he's just misunderstood. GOD, people, not EVERYTHING has a bad guy, you know! It pisses me off when people say Javert's the bad guy, or Erik's the bad guy, they're not, okay, they're NOT. Just because someone is up against the protagonist doesn't mean that they're the antagonist, NOT EVERYTHING HAS A BLOODY BAD GUY, AND LES MIS AND PHANTOM ARE TWO OF THE THINGS THAT JUST HAPPEN NOT TO HAVE BAD GUYS, GET IT THROUGH YOUR SKULLS.

Sorry, rant over, it just pisses me off, you know? So that link will be on my profile if you wanna check out the article, it's pretty neat up until they start referring to Erik as evil.

And I checked to see if they actually make masquerade masks in leather, and not only do they, but I even found one specific one that was actually a replica of the Phantom mask made of leather, acrylic paint, varnish, fabric, glue, and elastic with leather ties. Not only that, but it's handmade, how cool is that? If you go and Google Images search "masquerade masks," though, and more specifically, "masquerade masks for men," you might be surprised how many results come up that are in the same shape as Erik's mask.

Anyway, that's all for now, so as usual, hope you enjoyed and remember to review, otherwise there's no telling who will be the next Punjab victim!