Life had once more settled into a steady, pleasant pattern. Once again, everyone was happy except Joshua Eddison and Carlotta.

Amme, being careful not to get too involved with the Phantom, had finally gotten herself a small apartment. She only spent the weekends with him; the rest of the week was her own, in a manner of speaking. The Phantom had tried to forbid any contact with Eddison, but when she refused to respond to his threats, he attempted begging. That worked slightly better, and she promised to try and see Joshua as little as possible.

Starlight stayed with Amme no matter where the elf was so. During the weekends, when Amme was with Erik, the cat was referred to as Amme's "chaperone." Fate stayed with César, and both of them were happy to be reunited.

Two weeks into this arrangement, Amme awoke on a Saturday feeling slightly mischievous. She leapt out of the bed and went to find the Phantom.

No surprise, he was sitting at his organ, scribbling out the notes to his music. Amme skipped up behind him and nudged him playfully.

"Good morning!"

He stopped writing in shock. Then he frowned, but in a teasing way. "Mornings don't happen here, dear. It's always night, remember."

"That's right!" Amme said happily. "I forgot." She propped her head on top of his and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. "Whatcha writing?"

"Just a new opera." He tapped his quill absentmindedly. "It's coming along fairly well."

"That's good." She watched him write down a few more notes. "What's it about?"

"I'm not sure," the Phantom admitted. "I'm sort of making it up as I go."

"Is that good or bad?"

"Depends. I just started, so it's not such a bad thing now. If I don't know what's going to happen by the entr'acte, then there'll be problems." He scribbled down a few more notes. "There!" A mischievous gleam entered his eyes. "Do you want to sing this for me?"

Amme let go of him and took a half-step back. "Oh! Um, well, don't you…I mean, can I hear you sing it first?"

"It's a soprano part, Amme. I am not a soprano."

"Oh, well, you could still…give me the general…you know, idea…of how it goes. Maybe?"

Erik turned slightly to look her in the eye. "What do you mean, 'the general idea of how it goes'? Just read it!"

"Yeah, well, I…um…okay." Amme looked rather nervous as she took the paper he offered her. She held it at arm's width as if it was a deadly virus that would contaminate her if it got too close. "Alright. Here I go."

Slowly, very slowly, she began singing. But Erik cut her off before she got too far along. "That isn't how it goes, Amme."

"Well, tell me how it goes, then!" Amme snapped, exasperated.

"Amme, just read the notes."

"I'm trying!"

"You're try…" Something clicked in Erik's mind. "You can't read music, can you."

"Oh, is it that obvious?" She snarled. Her mischievous mood had vanished.

"Do you want me to teach you?" The Phantom asked, his hand reaching out to pull her closer.

"Reading music was never something I thought I needed to know," Amme whispered, allowing him to bring her next to him. "And then, when I came here, I simply listened to what other people sang. One person would usually sing my part at one point or another. And I could usually get it after that."

"Well, my love, that's about to change," Erik informed her softly. He found a blank piece of paper. "There are seven letters in the musical alphabet: A through G."

"Why A through G?"

"I don't know. That's just the way it is." He drew five long lines on the paper. "This is called the staff. Where the notes are placed on the staff tells which pitch it is."

"Why is it called a staff?"

Erik threw down his quill. "I don't know! I didn't invent this!"

"Oh. Sorry!" Amme sat down on the floor. "But why are there more than seven places that you can put the notes, if there are only seven letters?"

"Because the alphabet repeats itself."

Amme blinked. "Why doesn't just use the other nineteen letters?"

"Heaven, earth, and hell," Erik moaned. "Teaching Christine was much easier than teaching you."

She raised both her hands in the air. "I'm sorry! I can't help being who I am! Anyways, my teacher, Sophia, had it much worse. She had me when I was a teenager."

"I don't even want to think about it." He shuddered theatrically. "Shall we continue?"

The lessons went on for quite some time. Amme was a fast learner, but she asked more than her fair share of questions, almost half of which the Phantom was unable to answer. Most of them were why questions: why was this called this, why does that do that, and so on.

When Amme began to improve, Erik decided to start teaching her to play the organ. That turned out not to be his best idea.

It was a month after the music lessons had begun, and Erik had just dropped off his new opera. It was before he reached the lake that he heard the unmistakable sound of Amme practicing. He smiled slightly, but then she hit a wrong note and he winced.

"How's she been doing?" He asked Laetitia as he climbed into the boat.

Laetitia shrugged. "She's nearly as good as you." Before Erik could respond, she dived into the water and disappeared just as Amme hit another wrong note.

Erik sighed and started rowing over. Once he made it to the dock, Amme turned around to glare at him.

"Why are you making me do this?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied mildly. "Keep playing."

The elf tossed her head and faced the organ. Once again, music filled the air, only it wasn't exactly beautiful; Amme was thumping on the keys.

"You don't have to press them so hard!"

She lightened up very slightly. Erik went to knee down next to her.

"Still too hard. And straighten up. You need to have good posture while playing."

Amme stopped playing so hard, but her posture stayed the same.

"Come on, Amme. Think of it…like fencing. You need to be in the proper position while sword fighting. The same applies to playing a musical instrument."

Amme stopped playing. "Is playing this organ going to save my life or anyone else's life in any way, shape, or form?"

"It could."

She scowled at him, but straightened her back.

"Keep your feet flat on the floor. Curve your fingers."

She began playing again. Her brow was creased in complete concentration. Erik did not feel like breaking it, but she was starting to slouch again. Slowly, he reached out and pressed against her back gently as a reminder. She immediately straightened.

Watching Amme play was very difficult for Erik. The amount of mistakes she made decreased at a painfully slow rate, and she never seemed to remember about her posture.

"Keep your fingers curved, Amme," He instructed her for what seemed the hundredth time.

Amme banged her hands against the keys. Erik automatically drew back from the horrible sound. Then he got a good look at her face, and a few tears had fallen.

"Amme, what…?"

"I'm never going to get it!" She cried. "Why are you even trying to make me understand? I can't play it, okay? I just can't!"

He reached out and brushed the tears off. "Love, you'll be fine. You just need to concentrate."

"Well, you're not making it any easier!"

Erik frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"I just doing better before you came. But then you start distracting me, whispering in my ear, running your hand down my back." A shiver ran through her, as if she was remembering his cold hand touching her.

He stared at her in shock. "I'm sorry! I was just trying to help. Do you want me to do that anymore?"

Amme bit her lip, tapping her slender fingers against her leg. "Maybe…you should just stop trying to teach me how to play the organ. I'm not getting any better; music just isn't one of my gifts."

"What are you talking about?" He asked, putting his arms around her. Amme leaned her head against his shoulder. "You are improving. Just tell me how to help, and I'll do it."

Amme was silent. Then she asked, "Can I hear you play? Just this song, just one time?"

"So you can cheat, like you did with the singing?" He teased. But he lifted her up easily, and sat down on the bench.

"Keep your fingers curved," She reminded him, fighting back a smile.

He smiled back, and began playing.

Amme listened with eyes wide opened. Without thinking, she laid her head in his lap, watching his fingers move as though mesmerized.

"It's supposed to sound like that?" She whispered. "That's beautiful! How do you do that?"

"Practice, love," he murmured. "And lots of it."

The final note rang out, and continued even after he let go of the keys.

Amme closed her mouth, which she realized was still opened.

Erik's smile widened when he saw her expression. "Did you like it?"

"That's more to that than practice. You have a lot of talent."

"I'm glad you think so." He stood up. "Your turn."

"What?" Amme laughed. "Oh, no! Not after listening to you! I'll just embarrass myself even more!"

"You'll never get better if you don't try, Amme."

"Who says I want to get better?" She challenged.

"I do. Start playing."

-

"So, how are things going, Amme?"

Amme glanced up. Christine, who had asked the question, and Meg were both standing over her. Christine looked strangely nervous.

"Fine, thanks. How are things with you?"

"Oh, great!" Meg squealed. "I just meet the handsomest man ever! And he likes me, too!"

"Good for you, Meg," Amme smiled.

"I know, isn't it? He's so…"

"However," Christine interrupted. "Amme, We, I mean, I've been rather worried about you. I know you've been spending…quite some time with the Phantom of the Opera, and…"

"It's not that bad, Christine," Amme said gently. "Well, he is making me play the organ, and he's very picky about it, too. But other than that, nothing bad is happening. He hasn't tried to, well, you know…"

"I don't think you understand me, Amme." Christine replied slowly. "I mean, I'm not so much worried about what's happening now as opposed to what will happen if you continue doing…this. He's a wonderful teacher, but that's no reason to lead him on, and…"

"I'm not 'leading him on', Christine!" Amme said hotly. "I think I've made it very clear that while he might…like me a lot, I do not return the feelings. Well, I like him, but not in that way."

"It might be clear to you, Amme, but not to him. He'll take the slightest bit of encouragement from you and…run away with it! I'm not saying you'd do this on purpose, Amme," she added hastily when Amme glared at her. "I'm just saying, be careful. Don't…unless you are in love with him, make sure, one hundred percent sure, he knows that you don't return his love! The sooner he knows, the better it will be for everyone. Alright?"

"I," Meg started. "I, personally, think you and him are really cute together."

Both Christine and Amme stared at her.

"What?"

"Meg," Amme sighed. "You said before that Michel and I are 'really cute together.'"

"Oh," Meg tossed her head. "That was then. This is now. And you two are cute together. I don't think anyone could deny it."

"Except maybe Joshua," Christine smiled.

"Yes, well, his ears stick out, so no one listens to what he says."

Amme rolled her eyes. "Meg Giry, you are the most shallow girl I have ever met. Ever."

Meg grinned. "You're welcome!"

-

Amme was thinking. Thinking, thinking, thinking. Thinking about the music lessons she had been forced to take, thinking about her conversation with Christine and Meg, but mostly she was thinking about her relationship with the Phantom.

They weren't friends; that much was obvious. Even when she told Kevin and her father that they were, she knew she had been lying. How could they be friends, when she knew how much he loved her.

She didn't love him. She knew that. Or did she? She could, she knew she could. It would be easy, probably one of the easiest things she'd ever done. But she couldn't, couldn't, allow herself to fall in love again. She could not let herself be hurt again, like Erland hurt her. She couldn't trust herself, she couldn't trust the Phantom.

He didn't deserve that. If she was to believe what he told her, he loved her. Every time he told her that, it made her feel so guilty, like she was leading him on, just like Christine had said.

But when he told her he loved her, it also made her wonder. Why did he love her? Did he really, truly love her, all of her, or did he simply love her voice. Amme was not oblivious to the fact before he heard her sing, he just wanted her out of the theatre, possibly out of the city or country. And afterwards, he liked her! Just like that. Was her voice all he cared about?

Amme wondered all these things as she sat down by the organ. She began to play, her mind still on her thoughts and questions. She had too many questions, but no answers. There was only one person who could answer them, and even if she did manage to build up the courage to ask him, she knew exactly what he'd say.