Hey everyone! Time for the next chapter of Unseen Genius. Hurray! Hope you enjoy it. The only big thing I have to add this week it that there is a nice note at the end of the chapter concerning what Brielle does and does not know about Erik's past. There were a few questions in the reviews last week over this topic so it should answer whatever you have been wondering about.

A big thanks to all of my wonderful reviewers. I always love to hear from you guys. And lets not forget my genius beta Juliana. Hurray for her too!

Chapter 38: Anger and Pity

Hurrying to catch up to the retreating figure before her Brielle ignored the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. She couldn't seem to shake the feeling of being watched, but she did not allow herself to glance back again. Keeping her back ramrod straight, Brielle squeezed her daughter's hand and smiled down at the little girl. Feeling her mother's gaze Aria turned a sober eye upward. Her dimples flashed briefly before she looked away, turning her head to gaze off behind them.

"Don't be afraid. There isn't anything in the dark that isn't in the light," Brielle soothed, taking Aria's overly serious look as an expression of concern. When her daughter merely shrugged and continued to stare over her shoulder Brielle fought the urge to follow her gaze. The tiny shivers were still racing up and down her spine.

"These are some of the dressing rooms used by the artists performing in the productions," Madame Giry's voice stated, breaking roughly into Brielle's thoughts and making the Irishwoman start slightly. "There are identical rooms on the other side of the theater. Besides these there are several larger dormitories which house the maintenance and cleaning staffs. In all we have the capacity to house around seven hundred and fifty people at any given time."

Glancing down the hallway where the auburn haired woman indicated, Brielle frowned at the door at the very end. She recognized that hallway, recognized that door. As she stared down the empty corridor another scene played itself out within her head, momentarily blinding her eyes from the present. In her head she watched as a young girl with dark curly hair raced out of the room in tears, wailing pitifully as her male companion ran after her. That is the room where that girl was staying. What was her name? Cah-something. I remember feeling that those two were somehow involved with everything that happened, but I never figured out how. Christine…I remember they called her Christine.

Actually, now that I think about it, when I found Erik he mentioned someone named Christine. Strange… Shaking the images out of her head, Brielle closed her eyes for a moment. "Is it so dark back here because there is no production currently running?"

Pausing in her quick tour Madame Giry pushed a wayward lock of hair back up into its pins, her green eyes coming up to watch Brielle's semi-odd behavior. "No. This hall is empty right now for a different reason. People think it is haunted. And since it hasn't been necessary, no one has chosen to take up residence."

"Haunted…" Brielle murmured, her tone containing less derision than before. Something of the creepy atmosphere was beginning to sink into her bones. It was no longer so farfetched to believe that something lay in the shadows, waiting for the right moment, waiting to strike. Deep in the pit of her stomach a sudden wave of trepidation ate away at what little confidence she had left. Why do I feel like I shouldn't be here, like I am not wanted here?

Shaking off such thoughts, she followed Madame Giry as the older woman started off down another hallway. As they made their way out of the area immediately around the stage and into better lit and more well-lived sections of the Opera House, Brielle's unease faded slightly, leaving her feeling rather foolish for buying into the superstition she had ridiculed less than an hour ago. The trio passed a set of double doors through which loud banging and boisterous conversations could be heard.

A burst of booming laughter issued from the doors as Madame Giry paused for a moment. "These are the kitchens. I don't think you will be spending any time in there, other than to get food for yourself. We hire cooks especially for their skills just in case a visiting artist requires something special."

One of the two doors swung open then and a pot-bellied man with jet black hair backed out into the hallway, the delicious odor of some unnamed dish wafting out with him. Turning carefully with a tray balanced in one hand, he pulled up short when he caught sight of the women. Wiping his free hand on his apron, the man grinned at the dance mistress and Brielle.

Smiling at the two women and little girl, the slightly chubby man shifted the tray in his hands. "Hello, what beauties are these that have wandered down to my kitchen?" he asked with raised eyebrows, a touch of Italian haunting his French.

Planting her hands on her hips Madame Giry puffed up in irritation. "Just mind your own business, Gerald. What are you doing wandering around anyway when you should be working?"

Ignoring the woman's tone the cook slowly squatted down and plucked a cookie from his tray; holding it out for Aria he waited until the child released her mother's skirts and hesitantly took it from him. "Aww now, Madame. No need to get all stirred up. I am working; I am providing this pretty little girl with what every child needs, sweets."

Stabbing a finger in the man's direction, the auburn haired woman took a step forward. "Now stop that, you great baboon. That child hasn't even had dinner yet and here you are filling her up with sugar and nonsense. Be off with you before we catch your silliness."

Watching this scene with a subdued sense of amusement Brielle smoothed a hand over Aria's dark head, nodding when the child looked to her for permission to eat the sweet in her hand. "Oh, one cookie won't hurt I don't think," she said with a shrug, purposely playing down her own reaction to this stranger's kindness.

Automatic mistrust warred with the gratitude inside of her. Finally people were beginning to treat the both of them with the simple human decency she had begun to think was lost to her forever - she didn't quite know what to think of it all. The animalistic wariness burned into her brain both ashamed her and kept her sane. It was easier to believe all people were slime than to make peace with the fact that her own stupidity had placed both herself and her daughter in great danger. It was her fault all of this had happened to them. Perhaps, in a way, she even deserved this agony. God had a way of punishing the wicked, and she was beginning to seriously wonder about her own nature. When we were out on those streets…I would have been willing to do anything to protect Aria…anything.

As the man straightened, his knees cracking all the way up, he turned that affable smile back to Madame Giry. "See, no harm done. Now I really must be going. I am a very busy man and don't have the time to stand around chatting all day." With that said, Gerald turned and left the women to their own devices, waving to them over his shoulder. "Goodbye, my love! I count the moments 'til we meet again," he added with a shout before disappearing around a corner.

Rolling her eyes Madame Giry stalked off in the opposite direction, mumbling something scathing under her breath. "That man…I swear…the foolishness…."

Nudging Aria forward with a gentle hand on the child's back Brielle followed on the woman's heels. Easily sensing the irritation emanating from the dance mistress Brielle kept silent, merely nodding when the Madame pointed out several other areas to her. When the auburn haired woman stopped in front of another plain door she quickly checked the watch dangling from a chain at her waist. "These are the cleaning staff's dormitories. Each room can house around ten people. This entire hallway is reserved for our female workers. Most of these rooms are empty at the moment, but I don't think it would be advisable for you to stay by yourself. Since you are new and all. The other ladies will be able to help you get used to life here. It can be rather difficult at first. The Opera is a world in and of itself - we have our own laws and customs that might seem strange to outsiders."

Opening her mouth to say she shouldn't have any problems with the theater's oddities, Brielle quickly shut it again. She couldn't tell this woman that her travels in exotic locales had long since desensitized her to strange customs. Low class cleaning ladies did not travel the world with their fathers. She had to remember that. Brielle Donovan was dead now.

Noticing Madame Giry's sharp gaze fixed upon her face, Brielle shifted uncomfortably. "May I ask why you helped me, Madame? You never even asked me my name. Its Brielle Don…Brielle Donner and this is Aria by the way," she finally said, feeling the need to say something under those steely eyes. The lie sounded painfully obvious.

"We need people here who won't up and leave anytime soon. And pardon me, but you looked like you were not in a position to be very choosy about where you stay at the moment." Turning her eyes to stare pointedly at the large bruise staining Brielle's cheek a sickly bluish green, the dance mistress fell silent for a moment. Her expression softening slightly, Madame Giry reached out and laid a hand on Brielle's shoulder. "How did you get those bruises, dear? Are you running from someone? We can make sure you and your little girl are safe here if…"

Easing out of the dance mistress' touch, Brielle turned her eyes to the floor. Though she longed to lean into this woman's support she could not find it in her heart to trust again. "I am a widow, Madame. John, my husband, died many years ago. I need protection from no one."

"I never said anything about a husband, dear. But if that is what you say, then I will take your word." Clearing her throat as the hardness returned to her features Madame Giry reached out and turned the doorknob, pushing the door open. "You both can get cleaned up in the room at the end of the hall. No one else should be around, so you will have some privacy. The kitchens are open all day long so you will be able to get something to eat as well. Get some rest. From what I understand tomorrow night is your first day of work."

"Night? Why at night?"

Madame Giry was quiet for a moment before answering. "Most of the cleaning is done at night or the early morning. The work goes faster when there are fewer people around. That and the patrons and managers don't like to have to step around the common workers during the day."

When a flash of outrage flickered over Brielle's face the dance mistress smiled. "You will have to hide that temper of your better. Get used to being looked down on. The sooner you do, the sooner it will stop stinging. Even the other cleaning ladies will do it until you work your way to their level, and even then they will whisper about you behind your back."

Waiting a beat until Brielle nodded in understanding, Madame Giry stepped away from the door. "I will leave the two of you alone for now. I am sure Kate will be in touch with you."

"Thank you, Madame. You have done me a great service and I will not forget it," Brielle said quietly, leading Aria into their new home.

"I didn't do it for you, Madame Donner," came the curt reply. "Like I said, we need workers. Simple as that." Turning without another word Madame Giry swept off down the hall, checking her watch once again before disappearing around a corner.

Left alone, Brielle tossed her bag onto an empty bed and sat down heavily. Reaching up to rub at her aching eyes she sighed - the Opera's uneven lighting was killing her, she wished she had brought her shaded glassed with her. As she sat quietly on the lumpy mattress waves of relief welled up within her until she was sure she would burst from the enormity of the emotion. We are safe now. We have somewhere to stay. Finally I can relax just a little bit. It was almost too good to be true and Brielle couldn't help but doubt her good fortune. Running the events over in her head she looked for something wrong with the situation, waiting for the bottom to fall out from under her. Lately she had felt like she was constantly struggling without solid footing. But for now it seemed the luck of her nationality was coming back.

Smiling, Brielle held her hand out to Aria and waited for the child to come and sit next to her. "Well it seems this is our new home. It is exciting, isn't it? Living in an Opera. Maybe there will be other little girls here for you to play with." When Aria merely shrugged at that Brielle sighed. Her daughter's behavior was not getting better. In fact, it was becoming increasingly alarming. When the child had smiled at Madame Dubois, Brielle had thought she would faint from the shock. It had been the first time she had seen her daughter smile in months. Aria hadn't been the same since Erik left. She was always sulky, her large gray eyes flat and sober. These were not the normal actions of a small child. Brielle was seriously beginning to question whether Aria would ever be the same mischievous little girl she had once been. That alone was enough to make her hate Erik. Even now, after all this time, she could find herself hating him.

"Come on, let's go get cleaned up and get something to eat. Maybe that nice cook will give you another one of his cookies." When a wan smile flickered over Aria's face Brielle sighed again and stood, grimacing when her bruised ribs sent pain lacing up her side. Walking out of her room and down the hallway to the washroom the Irishwoman briefly looked over her shoulder, sure someone else was there, watching. Be careful. Don't fall for other people's foolishness. There is nothing to be afraid of. We are safe now.

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Hefting a bucket full of soapy water in one hand and a broom in the other, Brielle staggered down a dim hallway after Madame Dubois. This was only her second night of work and already she was exhausted. Even in her worst nightmares she wouldn't have been able to conceive the brutality of a common cleaning woman's life. Hours spent on her knees scrubbing the night before had exacerbated the pain in her ribs and now her arms and legs were so stiff that even walking was painful. The granular soap used to wash the floors had eaten away at her hands so that now her knuckles were cracked and bloody. Considering the extent of her physical misery it was a wonder she could even form a coherent thought. Stumbling slightly Brielle slopped some of the water onto the floor, the splash earning a frown from Kate's pinched face. Apologizing quickly, the Irish woman readjusted her grip.

Huffing, Madame Dubois opened a nearby door and pointed into the dark room. "These rooms have been out of use for almost a year, but with the opening of the Opera looming on the horizon they need to be cleaned out. Now some of them have been turned into temporary storage units, so you might have to move some things around."

"Will anyone be coming to help me then?" Brielle asked, setting her bucket down.

A short burst of laughter issued from Kate's mouth as she set a scrub brush and a lantern onto the ground. "You are the only one who will come down this hallway. So you will have to manage. I expect all of these rooms to be dusted and swept by tomorrow."

"You cannot be serious. There have to be a dozen rooms down this hall!"

"Yes, and they all should be clean by tomorrow," Madame Dubois responded evenly. Turning then, Kate walked away from where Brielle stood fuming silently, leaving her in the circle of flickering light the lantern afforded.

"Well Merry Christmas to you too!" Brielle mumbled, wiping her already dirty hands down the white smock-like apron of her uniform. Madame Giry wasn't kidding when she said people would try to push me around. But I refuse to get used to it. I will just have to keep working until I get to their level…or above it. People will regret trying to bully me!

Reaching up, she tightened the handkerchief over her black hair as she looked up and down the much-maligned hall. Large sweeping cobwebs waved from the ceiling over small piles of trash laying against the walls, both hinting at the mess which must lie in the rooms beyond. Wrapping her arms about her torso Brielle rubbed at the gooseflesh creeping up her arms. This place is creepy.

Already her imagination was turning the atmosphere into something sinister. It felt like the darkness itself was pushing in around her, making it hard to breathe. Slight scratching sounds drifted to her from just beyond the reach of her lantern, and out of the corner of her eyes she could catch a glimpse of tiny glowing eyes shifting in the darkness. Please, don't tell me there are rats in here. I hate rats…Picking up her lantern Brielle took a deep breath and shrugged off the strange feelings, stepping into the room directly to her left.

Gazing around the room in dismay, Brielle closed her eyes against the sight of a thick layer of dust covering every object. "This is going to take forever," she moaned to herself. Turning, she walked back out into the hall to gather her supplies.

Coming to a sudden stop when she didn't see her things where she had left them, she stared at the empty space for several moments. Shaking her head she looked up and down the hall, spotting the broom and bucket lying on the floor one door down from where she stood. That is odd, I am sure I left them right outside the room. Quickly going to gather the supplies she hurried back to the room where she had left her lantern.

"Why do strange things always happen to me?" she asked the air as she began to sweep the floor.

The night before, her things had seemed to move of their own accord or just go missing, but she had assumed that some of the other women had moved them. Strange noises also seemed to follow her wherever she went. Loud bangs, eerie creaks, and once even distant laughter plagued her every waking moment. She had only been in the Opera's employ for two days and already the other women were afraid of her. They were saying she was cursed or that she had somehow angered the ghost.

In a way, she was glad they avoided her. It made it easier to ignore them without offending anyone. She had absolutely no interest in making friends, or even expending the energy it took to overcome her inherent shyness to be friendly. If the fools wanted to call her names behind her back, then let them. She didn't care. Nothing they could do could affect her.

Cleaning madly, ignoring her aching body, Brielle finished the room within the hour. "Maybe this won't be as bad as I thought," she said to herself, trying to fill the silence with the sound of her own voice.

Picking up her cleaning supplies, Brielle lugged everything out of the room and into the hall. Balancing everything perilously, she headed toward the next room. Just as she reached out to open the door the latch clicked on its own, the door slowly swinging open several inches. Brielle jerked back quickly - all the hairs on the back of her neck immediately standing on end. By the time she took a shaky breath her already tense nerves were thrumming warning through her head.

"Alright, that was odd," she whispered, edging a foot forward to tap it open with her foot. When the room revealed nothing but piles of boxes and several sheet covered pieces of furniture, Brielle cleared her throat nervously. "Maybe I will just leave this one for later."

Turning quickly, she lumbered as far as she could down the hallway to the room at the end, trying to get away from the unease rolling in her stomach. Dropping the broom and brush to the floor Brielle slowly opened the last dressing room, looking around the interior with trepidation. Seeing nothing suspicious, she stepped into the room and set her lantern and bucket down with a clatter. Straightening too quickly, a flash of pain from her ribs took her breath away. Lowering herself onto a nearby box she wrapped her arms about her abdomen trying to will the burning agony away.

"Breathe, just breathe," she groaned to herself as she waited for her bruises to stop throbbing.

"Brielle…" A strangely beautiful voice whispered almost imperceptibly through the air, sounding so close she could have sworn the word was whispered into her ear.

Leaping to her feet, her heart racing up into her throat Brielle knocked into the bucket beside her, spilling the water all over the floor. "Who is there!" she demanded shrilly, searching the darkness rapidly for any other sign of movement even as she pressed her hands against the pain in her sides. "If someone is there please say so!"

Waiting hunched over in the dim dressing room, Brielle listened for any sound besides the harsh sawing of her own breathing. When only the heavy silence she had come to associate with the Opera greeted her ears, she began to shake. As the minutes ticked by with nothing else happening, she slowly relaxed the tensed muscles in her back. Stepping around her bucket as it rolled across the floor Brielle moved around the room, checking behind boxes and looking under sheets. As she let the last dust cover fall from her grip she glanced to the back wall, only then noticing a large covered section of the wall. Tiptoeing over to it, she cautiously took a corner in her hand and gave the material a sharp jerk.

Screaming at the top of her lungs she stumbled away from the person standing behind the sheet, but as she turned to run she saw the other person do the same. Stilling, Brielle gave the object another glance and suddenly realized there was no other person in the room; she was looking at a giant bronze framed mirror and the image of her own terrified features.

Letting out a string of vivid curses she sagged against the mirror, her right hand pressed flat against its cool surface. Falling into silence, she stood very still for several moments. Slowly she brought her eyes back up to the mirror until she stared fixedly at her own battered features. She almost didn't recognize her own face set under her newly bought black hair. The bruises and dark circles under her eyes stood out in stark relief in the shadows cast by the flickering lantern on the floor. Raising her left hand to brush shakily over the stitches in her lip Brielle frowned for the briefest of moments. She couldn't help but feel as if someone else was there with her, but this presence was different than the one she had experienced over the last two days, it was warmth rather than fear which blossomed now within her belly. A longing so intense it burned the very make up of her soul shot through her as she leaned into the mirror's solid form. It had been so long since she had felt as if she were not alone. But just as soon as this small comfort had taken root within her heart the Irish woman glanced once again at her grim surroundings. Reality's harsh weight settled immediately onto her already tired shoulders. What is the matter with me? There isn't anyone here. I am alone…alone. Oh God…Brielle suddenly felt her eyes begin to burn.

Unexpectedly bursting into tears, the exhausted woman lowered her gaze from her chalk white reflection back to the floor. The sobs she had been suppressing for weeks welled up within her, finally breaking free of the vicious control she had imposed upon herself. Sliding to the floor Brielle fought against the weakness stealing over her body.

"I must be going crazy. What is wrong with me! Get a hold of yourself Brielle..." Sucking in air in several great gasps the Irish woman attempted to stem the flow of frustrated tears running down her face. "I can't do this. Why did I think I could do this? I am so stupid. When did I become so stupid?" Lapsing into a silence punctuated only by her own hiccups, Brielle rested the side of her head against the cool glass of the mirror.

"I can't even afford a Christmas present to give to Aria tomorrow," she murmured, completely dejected by the thought.

Sighing heavily she closed her eyes, allowing the coolness from the glass under her cheek to seep into her skin. She reached up and absently swiped at the tear tracks staining her face. The wretchedness tying knots in her stomach slowly decreased until she was merely left feeling empty inside. I should get up and get back to work, she thought tiredly. I just had a little scare but now it is time to get back to work.

Distantly, a new sound floated to her ears through the silence. Raising her head slightly Brielle opened her eyes, trying to identify the source of the ringing notes. Turning her head toward the open door, the Irish woman listened intently to the lovely tenor voice singing far off down the hall. Quieting her sniffles Brielle relaxed the muscles in her shoulders, sitting up straighter.

"They must be holding practice late tonight," she whispered to herself, keeping her voice quiet, the better to listen to the strangely haunting melody.

But something about the echoing notes was disturbing, despite their loveliness. Somehow that voice seemed vaguely familiar, as if she had heard it before a long time ago. But that is silly… Sitting quietly Brielle smiled to herself, the frustration and fear still plaguing her slowly drifted away in the wake of that heavenly music. She felt oddly revived.

Climbing to her feet, Brielle walked away from the mirror and bent to right her spilt bucket. With the new soothing melody whispering in her ears she found the strength to pick up her broom and get back to work. Embarrassed now by her outburst she cleaned the room like a person possessed, sometimes humming along with the talented tenor when the chorus came along.

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Brielle's movements were surprisingly easy to follow throughout the theater. For the most part she stuck close to Aria, leading the child about the theater as if she were afraid of letting the girl get out of her sight. Erik always kept a safe distance every time the little girl was with her. He recognized the danger Aria presented to him, fore even after all this time he still felt the hold the child held over his heart. It hurt him terribly to see how still and sad the little girl had become. He wondered occasionally what terrible calamity had occurred to cause this strange change, usually coming to the conclusion that it was somehow Brielle's fault. The soft feelings Erik still harbored for Aria in no way dimmed the fury he felt for her mother. If anything it only increased it.

In the last two days there had hardly been a moment when he was not trailing behind the woman unseen as she went about her work, it was safer for him when Aria was not with her. Watching her on her knees scrubbing the washroom floors was oddly satisfying. Erik couldn't suppress the surge of superiority that rushed through his body every time he saw her wince and rub at the aches in her lower back. It felt good to know the lying trollop was brought just as low now as she had brought him all those months ago. Finally, he felt like some amount of justice was being done. Finally, people were getting what they deserved.

And when he realized Madame Dubois was leading Brielle down the hallway where the "haunted" dressing room was, a smug smile flickered along the corners of his mouth. She will be alone now. There won't be anyone else near. Now I can have some fun.

Listening from his position in the secret passages running the length of the hall, Erik waited until he heard Madame Dubois' footsteps retreating down the hallway. Depressing a switch in the wall, the masked man slipped out from behind the wall through a panel as it slid open. Striding silently across the dark room he slunk out into the hallway cautiously, moving with the controlled grace of a predator on the hunt. Noting that Brielle was still talking to herself in the room across the hall, Erik gathered up her cleaning supplies and dumped them off one door further down. Hurrying back to the shadows of the dressing room he waited behind the closed door until he could hear Brielle's confused exclamation from outside.

Smiling like a fiend he leaned lazily up against the stone wall, relishing the contented feeling filling up his belly. It had been a long time since he felt this alive. Yes, not since I left that house have I felt so good. It is like waking from a dream. Now I have a purpose to my life again. To make her pay for what she did.

A great deal of time passed before Erik shook himself from the vengeful warmth gathering within him. Pricking up his ears, he could hear Brielle coming out of the room across the hall and moving towards the one he was in. Moving quickly he reached the door to his room before her, turning the knob just before she could touch it. Pulling back into the shadowy mountains of discarded boxes he waited until she fled down the hall before stalking over to the back wall and disappearing once again into the passages only he knew about.

Strolling casually through the blackness of his domain Erik reached the end of the passage in mere moments. Slowing his movements as he stepped up to the mirror, Christine's mirror, the masked man momentarily let old memories break open in his mind. But as the pain which walked hand in hand with those thoughts began to beat ruthlessly against his battered heart Erik quickly closed his mind to them, drawing up the walls against his hurts which had never failed him before.

Black boiling hatred rolled up the back of his throat as he fought against the old memories plaguing his thoughts. It was easier to hate. It was familiar and comfortable. And right now the only object he had to focus all that anger on was on the other side of a covered mirror, just a few feet away by the sound of it.

Before he knew what was happening he opened his mouth and murmured her name, automatically altering his voice, projecting it so that it seemed to appear out of the air itself. Clamping a hand over his mouth in shock at his own audacity, Erik silently backed away from the mirror. He listened as a flurry of sound issued from behind the darkened mirror, signaling Brielle's search for the mysterious voice. Strange, how different her reaction is. When Christine first heard me call to her she automatically thought me an angel while Brielle is searching for a man. Funny…

Drawing closer to the blackened glass once more Erik tilted his head to the side, trying to discern where exactly Brielle was in the room. When the blasted woman pulled the mirror's covering off with a jerk the masked man stumbled back foolishly, certain that the scream which filled the air was because she had somehow caught sight of him. Nearly tripping over his own feet, Erik almost turned to race off down the dark corridor before his common sense could return.

What am I doing - this doesn't make sense. She could not have seen me…I am being stupid. Turning toward the flickering light now spilling through the mirror's surface, Erik braced himself against the sight of the woman standing less than a foot away from him. I can handle it. I can see her again without feeling anything. I can…

As he brought his uncertain gaze up to Brielle's face he was shocked by what he saw. The figure standing before him was not the confident, lively Irishwoman he remembered from all those months ago. Rather it was a ghost standing before him now, her eyes dark and flat as tarnished silver coins. Until this very moment he had not had the opportunity to see Brielle up close - his constant observation over the last two days had always been at a distance. What he saw now was completely unexpected and slightly disturbing. As he traced his gaze along the contours of Brielle's features Erik felt a spark of pity stir within him. This is bad…it was easier to hate her the way I remembered…but this…this…

An ugly greenish-yellow bruise rode high up on Brielle's cheek and if he wasn't mistaken there were at least two stitches in the middle of her bottom lip. Quickly Erik's eyebrows drew down into a severe frown as he stared transfixed into Brielle's hollow eyes. Any satisfaction he had gained from torturing her over the last two days melted away as she stared unknowingly into his face. Despite his best efforts to prevent it, the seed of pity within his heart took root and began to push against the borders of his anger. What happened to her to make her look like that? The light has gone out of her eyes…

Slowly, before he could think better of it, Erik brought his hand up and laid it against the glass over Brielle's splayed fingers. Pressing his gloved palm against the glass it felt almost as if he were touching her, and he found suddenly, to his dismay, that he wanted to touch her, to sooth the deadened wasteland he saw within her gaze. And when those wide lamp-like eyes welled up with unshed tears Erik found himself silently willing those tears away, finding himself not strong enough to stand before her wretchedness without being moved.

Brielle's legs gave out under her as the sobs she had been holding back broke free. Following her to the floor, his hand still pressed against hers, Erik crouched down low on the floor. What is wrong with me? She betrayed me…why do I feel this way? Why do I feel I should comfort her? God, why am I so weak? Get up…leave her here…turn around and leave… But Erik found he couldn't do it. Something about the bottomless despair darkening her eyes was far too familiar. He had seen the same rupture of spirit in his own gaze that he now saw in Brielle's.

Leaning his forehead against the cool glass before him Erik gave into the compassion chipping away at the ice around his heart. Opening his mouth, careful to project his voice out to the hallway beyond the room, Erik quietly sang a comforting melody of his own composition.

Brielle's reaction was immediate. At the sound of his voice she raised her head from the mirror and gazed off down the hallway, toward where the music apparently was coming from. Her sniffling sobs quieted as she tilted her head to the side, listening in rapture to the notes drifting through the air. After several minutes had passed, the young woman climbed to her feet with renewed vigor. The moment her hand pulled away from his on the glass he could feel its absence deep within his soul.

Erik continued to serenade Brielle as the Irishwoman went back to work, the fear and hollowness in her features replaced with an expression of determination. Closing his eyes the masked man slowly drew the last note out into silence, leaving Brielle safe in the afterglow of his music. Standing slowly, trailing his fingers up the surface of the mirror, Erik turned his head away from the sight of Brielle hard at work. Dropping his hand down to his side he stalked off down the corridor, shaking his head in disbelief over his own strange behavior.

Apparently, he was still under Brielle's spell. Slamming a fist into the nearest stone wall Erik let out his confused frustration in the only way he could. Blast it all to hell!

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The following is a side note for those of you who were wondering about how much Brielle knows about Erik's past. Juliana wrote this up for you all when she saw some of your questions in the reviews. So here you go. I hope this answers everyone's questions.

What Brielle knows:

O.G. - When Brielle first came to the Opera House, she heard rumors of a mysterious "Opera Ghost." She does not believe in ghosts, and thus is cynical about the whole affair, writing off the strange occurrences as coincidences blown out of proportion by the overactive imaginations of the theater's inhabitants. Then she receives the threatening note from "O.G." and begins to suspect that someone is perpetuating the myth of the ghost in order to manipulate people through their fears. While she has heard some rumors, she does not know about the ghost's penchant for masks, not about his supposed inhabitance of the lower cellars.

Don Juan - Brielle actually saw very little of the important proceedings during this time. She noticed the actor switch, obviously, and was enthralled by his voice (please note that she has never heard "Erik" sing). However, her realization of her vision's truth occurred just seconds before Erik's unmasking. So she never saw "Don Juan's" face, and she has no reason to believe him deformed, as Piangi was also wearing a mask. She also never saw him cut down the chandelier or kidnap Christine - she was too busy trying to get people out of danger, and never even looked up at the stage during this time. So to her, the mysterious man onstage is nothing more than an understudy - he has no connection with the disaster. When she went onto the stage upon seeing Piangi, she did notice the rope around his neck, but did not have a chance to examine it before she fell. Therefore she has no reason to suspect that he was strangled, as she did not actually see that it was a noose.

Underneath the Opera House - When Brielle was under the theater, she ran into a sleazy, grimy man who informed her that there were people hunting for the Opera Ghost. She figures that it is the Ghost who has been blamed for the whole disaster. Thus when she finds Erik in the cellars, she assumes that he was attacked by someone who had mistaken him for the Opera Ghost. In her compassion for the injured and desolate man, she never even considers that he may be the "man behind the ghost." Although Erik is unmasked during their journey out, between the smoke and the darkness she never sees his face. He puts on the mask once they have exited the building, as she runs off to get help.

Erik - While Erik is recovering at her home, Brielle never removes the mask, thinking (quite accurately) that he might be sensitive about his looks for one reason or another. She has seen plenty in her life as a self-trained doctor and the daughter of a battlefield surgeon, thus she has no particular desire to see his face - as far as she is concerned, it doesn't matter. From her interactions with Erik, she learns he is a musician, but although he has played both piano and violin in her presence, she has never heard him sing (i.e. she cannot identify him as the man who came on as Don Juan). He tells Brielle and Connner that he worked with the managers at the Opera House and they accept this story. Brielle finds out bits and pieces of Erik's past, but they primarily have to do with his childhood - she knows that he was abused and neglected because of his face.

The Incident with the Paris Police - When the police come to her door (Ch22), they question her about the night of Don Juan Triumphant. They ask her if she noticed anyone suspicious-looking. However, they do not mention a facial deformity or a mask of any sort, nor Christine's kidnapping, nor do they say that it was the man playing Don Juan who caused all the havoc (whether or not they know this is a moot point). However, when they ask about anyone "unusual," Brielle thinks of Erik, realizing that most people will be taken aback and suspicious of the mask. Thus she concocts her lie about him being her husband. She considers this to be a way of avoiding unfounded accusations against someone who just happens to look different. (It is worth noting that Andrew, who wrote the letter to the police does not at this point have any reason to suspect that Erik is the Opera Ghost, either. He is hoping for the same thing that Brielle fears - namely, that Erik will be accused simply because he sticks out.) After the police leave, he nearly tells Brielle the truth, but they are interrupted by Conner's return. In Ch29, Erik once again is on the verge of telling her, but this time Brielle walks away, intent on luring him out of the barn. By the time he catches up with her, the conversation has taken a very different turn.

Back at the Opera House - Conner has made inquiries at the Opera House, trying to locate Erik. He has subsequently discovered that Erik does not work there and never has. However, Conner is not in contact with Brielle at this time, so she knows nothing of this discovery. As of yet, she has not thought to ask the same question.