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Finally I've completed another chapter. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

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During our dinner of cold meats, cheese and fruits, Darcy tried to engage me in light conversation but I, sorely lacking in conversational skills and completely absorbed in my own thoughts, hardly made a enjoyable companion. Eventually she gave up on me and remained silent for during the rest of the meal.

After Darcy left I tried to get the much-needed rest, which is "so important to the healing process" as Darcy put it, but sleep completely evaded me.

And the hard chair, the mask and wig were growing more and more unbearable. I would have normally taken them off if I were alone. However, with my unexpected guests, that was out of the question. I also would have slept in my own room but with it at the opposite end and I being in so much pain that was out of the question too. Even if Darcy helped me there, she couldn't very well come in and I was in no condition to care for myself.

Never had I felt so miserable. I forced my self to think of more pleasant things other than my wretchedness.

I still could not believe that Darcy had actually taken a meal with me, not one but two!

"I want to sit and eat with you." Those words affected me more than she could have realized.

Something else I found amazing was her ability to meet my gaze directly with those beautiful green eyes. And during the entire time she stayed with me she didn't even stare at my mask, didn't even seem curious to know what was behind it. No one had ever done that before, not even Christine. Unwillingly my mind drifted in that unpleasant direction. I still, in a way, loved her, and thinking of her opened old wounds.

After Christine found out I was not the Angel of Music she dreamed of, that I deceived and lied to her, she shied away, pleaded and cried to be free from me. Christine saw nothing more than a hideous deformed creature only deserving of pity. I was nothing more than a monster.

I believed Darcy was not like that. At least I tried to convince myself she wasn't. Perhaps that was why I was drawn to her from the first.

Writing letters to her had been the highlight of my life. Having her so near was even better. I could almost say I was happy.

The only downside was keeping my identity hidden from her. I could never tell her that her mysterious benefactor and I were the same.

I thought about the first time I almost lost her in the locket incident. When I first admitted I cared for her. Still cared and liked her. But that was as far as I allowed my feelings to go. Those who did not love did not get hurt. Hadn't I learned that from experience? I made a promise to myself to not make the same mistake twice.

The last thing I saw before I did drift off to sleep was Darcy's smiling face as clear as if she stood before me.

I awaked to approaching footsteps. They belonged to Darcy. She looked radiant and rested with her dark hair an untidy mass around her head. She even looked beautiful. I decided it must have been the glow of the candle shining behind her head that made her look almost angelic.

"Feeling better?" She asked stopping a few feet away, her face full of concern.

I sat up stiffly with a groan. Spending all night in a chair had definitely taken its toll. I was paying for my stubbornness for refusing to sleep in the swan bed.

"No. This chair feels horrible and I am terrible pain." I complained. "Well never mind. I won't bore you with my grievances."

I noticed Darcy held a steaming tea cup. "What have you got?" I asked.

"Oh this", she looked down at the cup. "Its just a little concoction I prepared for you. It will help ease the pain and help you relax. Strange I should remember the recipe after all these years."

The latter was said in a whisper and more to herself than me. Darcy stood there with a faraway look shining in her eyes. I knew she was no longer here before me, but somewhere else in another time.

She must have stood like that for a good five minutes before she sighed and offered an apologetic smile. "I get like that sometimes, dreamy I mean".

I nodded my understanding. Hadn't I often done the same thing? Darcy handed me the cup and our hands brushed slightly. My hands quivered from the contact causing some of the liquid to slosh over the cup. Darcy raised her finely arched brows ever so lightly causing me to stare down at the cup in embarrassment.

It contained a brownish substance that did not look or smell very appetizing. When I hesitated raising it to my lips she furrowed her brows and fixed her eyes with an intent gaze I found unnerving.

I took a small sip. The shock of tasting something so rancid and bitter left me silent for moment. I recovered and wiped my mouth on my shirtsleeve. "That was disgusting. What in the hell did you put in this horrid stuff?" I demanded. "What are you trying to do? Kill me?"

"No." Darcy covered her mouth trying to stop the burst of laughter that threatened. She failed miserably and the melodious sound came spilling out.

Perhaps I would have found charming if I had not been in such a sour mood. Her laughter only served to irritate me more. "What do you find so amusing?" I asked angrily

"Oh nothing."

You are laughing at me." I accused.

She shook her head. "No I am not. It is just your face… when you tasted it. I do not think I will ever forget that look. Oh, really I am sorry." she said more seriously, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I shouldn't have laughed. But it was so…"

Darcy must have seen my furious expression and my apparent desire to do something with the vile concoction other than leave it in the cup, because she stopped talking and looked down at her hands.

I held out the cup. "Take it away. I'd rather hang than finish that!"

She started to protest but I cut her off with a wave of my hand. "Nothing would ever induce to even taste it again. So you're wasting your breath. Take it away!"

Darcy rolled her eyes and shifted her weight to the other foot. "This is ridiculous!" she muttered.

Each of our faces reflected our iron-will. Finally she gave in and took the cup and left for the kitchen. A moment later she returned with another cup.

"It's tea. So surely you won't object to drinking it."

"I don't want you anything you have to offer. I replied snippily, emphasizing each word."

If I expected her to be offended I was sorely disappointed. She smiled. "If that be the case monsieur, then from now on you'll have to make your own meals, which" she whispered confidingly. "Will be a great relief to me. I'm not much of a cook."

Whether or not she meant to be smug I took it as such.

"You really are conceited." I muttered through clenched teeth.

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play coy with mademoiselle."

Darcy gave an indignant cry and anger darkened her eyes to emerald. "Let me assure you, sir that I would never wish to be coy with you or anyone for that matter." she bit out through gritted teeth. "And if you through insulting me I will return to my room at once."

I sat there silent and brooding. My face felt as cold and hard as the porcelain mask I wore.

"Oh you're in sufferable!" Darcy shouted after my continued silence and spun on her heels towards her room.

"Wait!" I called out after common sense took over. We relied on each other to make it through this horrible mess our being slit-throat wouldn't help. "I'm…sorry."

She turned from the door. "All is well if you're sincere. But I have a feeling that your apology stem from selfishness." She said icily.

"What do you mean?"

"Well" she said flouncing back towards me, "You knew if you were to have my continuous help you would have to be on good terms with me first."

"How dare you! As if I, I," I gestured toward myself. "should need the help of a silly chit like you. You know, Darcy, you really do try my patience."

"I try your patience!?" I do believe you've got that all wrong. You try my patience is what you mean, sir "

"You don't make it easy for someone to apologize, do you? It's the discomfort and the pain that makes me like this." I tried as a last desperate resort. This was partly true. But most of my rudeness stemmed from fear of getting too close.

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Darcy

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I couldn't be sure if Erik was sincere or not, but since we had to spend a lot of time in each other's presence it would be better for us to be on good terms and despite what he said about needing me, I knew it to be otherwise.

"I accept your apology." I said at length.

Relief flooded Erik's face. "Good. Wait! Don't go yet." he called out at my attempt to leave the room. "I know I'm not the easiest person to be around…" His eyes had an earnest, desperate plea in them, which, though I fought against it, I found impossible to ignore.

I came back into the room and walked over to the large mantle. Several little figurines lined its shelf. While I made a pretense of studying the little objects, I could feel Erik's searching gaze on me. I had to say something.

"Do you ever use this fireplace?" I asked about the first thing that came to mind.

"Yes."

I found myself genuinely interested. "How could you use it? Where does the smoke go, being that we are several stories underground?"

"There is a vent that runs up through the levels all the way to the roof. The smoke goes through it and out into the air." he replied with a grand gesture of his hand.

"And yet no one has discovered that vent or the others since there is more than one fireplace." I wondered aloud.

"It's between the walls- in the panels. They can't be seen."

"How did you ever manage to undertake such a task?"

"It's a secret. I never divulge my secrets- about anything."

Those words sent me back in time. Those exact words had been used by Monsieur E whenever I got to curious about him. And now that I thought of it there was something about Erik that reminded me of my secret friend. Something about their moods, that infinite sadness that seemed ingrained into their souls.

"Darcy you are not listening!" Erik's deep accusing voice broke into my thoughts.

"Hmmm?"

"The last time I checked there were two extra occupants in my abode."

"What?"

"I was speaking of the girl. How is she?"

"Oh Anna. She's well- if only a little worn from this incredible adventure.

"She's afraid of me."

His statement caught me off-guard. "Yes she is…a little. But then so many others find you frightening too.

I immediately regretted my hasty reply when a hurt look leaped into his eyes.

"I'm sorry Erik, I shouldn't have said what I…"

"No. It's fine. But," he leaned forward, "that leaves me to wonder about you Darcy. Are you afraid of me?"

I shook my head. "No. You have not given me a reason to be, except for you little show of temper."

"After all the talk and gossip of the 'Opera Ghost' you still need a reason?" He leaned back and steepled his fingers. "I should think you daft if you replied you are not aware of who or what I am."

He waited for a reply, but when I remained silent he continued. "Of course you do. You really are fond of listening to the 'brats' and the others talk of me. I have ears and eyes everywhere, you know."

I felt the heat rising in my cheeks and I dropped my gaze, my mind racing back to the times I had tried to pry out of the others as much as I could about him. "It's a woman's curiosity." I finally managed.

He frowned and I believe even pouted a little. "I don't like curious women."

I didn't know what to say to that and a rather uncomfortable silence followed.

It was Erik who spoke first. "If you and the girl should like to bathe…" he nodded towards the bathroom.

"Yes, I should like that very much."

Erik stared at my dress and I felt a rush of shame. I knew I looked like a perfect wretch in my torn dirty dress and I wished fervently I were anywhere but under his scrutiny.

When he did speak there was nothing but kindness in his voice. "There are also some gowns in the armoire, they once belonged too…" Erik's voice trailed off and his eyes were suspiciously moist. Yes they should be about the right size. You're welcome to use them. I don't think there's any that will fit the child."

I felt a surge of gratitude towards the man sitting across from me.

"Thank you so very much. You know," I added, "I seemed to have been thanking you a lot lately."

As soon as I stepped into the room, Anna pounded me with questions, wanting to know what was going on, why were we shouting, why was I smiling.

I had to literally push her off of me.

"But why are you smiling like that?" she demanded with a stomp of her feet.

"Erik has kindly allowed us to use he bath." I explained walking over to the armoire.

I threw open its doors. There were several dresses in all different colors.

"These are so lovely!" I exclaimed fingering the soft silk materials and intricate details. I knew they had been made by one of those expensive sought-after tailors, not from the little shops I usually went too.

I selected a simple cut dark green one that would compliment my eyes. Anna was furious after finding out that none of the dresses could fit her.

"This just isn't fair! "She shouted, with tears streaming down her pale little face.

"Cheer up Anna. At least you'll not be denied the privilege of a nice warm bath." I soothed

"What good is a bath if you have to put on the same dirty dress?" Anna groaned, and then added more tragically, her golden eyes brimming with tears. "Oh Darcy, just when I thought my life couldn't get any worse, this happens!"

Anna was high-strung by nature and already deeply affected by the past few days. This new, though minor, disappointment sent her into a spiral of emotions. It took quite a bit of coaxing and soothing to get the girl calm enough to stop crying and take a bath.

I walked into the bathroom and lit a few of the scattered around the room.

The bathroom looked like it belonged in a château rather than an underground lair. Heavy mahogany wainscoting covered the bottom wall. The stonewalls were painted a deep red. Shelves jutting from the corners, over the massive claw-foot tub, held the necessary toiletries. Across from the tub sat a handsome hand-painted vanity, sitting on top of it was a silver brush set and several bottles of perfume. A large standing gilded mirror sitting towards the back completed its old-world look.

I ran the water and sat on a little chair belonging to the vanity, waiting for the tub to fill.

Anna who had come in when I had, after thoroughly examining each item in the bathroom, made her way over to me. I gestured for her to sit on my lap, which she did.

"Why does the Phantom have so many of these little things." she asked fingering the fancy perfume bottles.

"I don't know." I replied, in hopes of avoiding a explanation of Christine and their tragic romance. She surprised me by saying: "I know why. It's because of that woman. I don't remember her name, but she was once a chorus girl I believe.

"You know about that?" I asked, "Weren't you to young to remember?"

"I was eight at the time." Anna rolled her eyes and grunted. "Why do adults act like children don't understand what's going on. It happened the same year mother died. 'A mighty scandal' as papa called it. I remember they were all hush-hush about everything, changing the subject when I entered the room. But I would hide behind the doors and listen and the servants talk you know."

I nodded my head. "I know about the servants." I said, thinking about how much gossip and talking those in the Opera Populaire did.

"Do you want to bathe first Anna?"

"Yes."

I helped Anna wash her hair. The pine-scent of the shampoo filled the room. It brought sudden tears to my eyes, reminding me of my mother. She always smelled of pine and lavender. I blinked back the tears before Anna could see them.

After I finished my bath I sent Anna to take a nap while I tidied up a bit. Erik was asleep in the swan bed when I checked on him. Even in sleep he wore a turbulent expression on his face. Life had been so cruel and cold to Erik and my heart went out to him.

Anna had carelessly tossed his clothes on a chest that first night. They now lay in a heap on the floor. I picked them up and as I did a white envelope fluttered down onto the floor. I bent to retrieve it intent on putting it back in a pocket, when I noticed a familiar handwriting on the front. My handwriting! My heart pounded against fiercely against my chest and with trembling fingers I pulled the letter from its envelope. I looked down at it and a wave of nausea hit me like a ton of bricks. It was the letter I had written to Monsieur E!

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And now my friends-I leave you with a cliff-hanger. Please review and let me know what you did and didn't like about this chapter. It will help me get better in the future.