Ella sat at the edge of her bed, pretending she couldn't hear the whispers of the other girls. Most of them, like the police, thought that Ella had left of her own free will before getting cold feet. They made no efforts to hide the fact they were talking about her, and they kept staring at her.

"Just ignore them," Meg told her. "They don't know anything."

"But they keep saying things that aren't true. I would never…How could they say that? Meg, they saying…?"

Meg cut her off. "I know what they're saying. We know they're wrong, Erik knows they're wrong, and that's all that matters. Besides, most of them aren't as innocent as they appear. They might say that you've given your virtue to Archer, but I bet less than half of that haven't given theirs to someone already."

"I can't stand them looking at me like that though!" she cried. "I haven't done anything that they're accusing me of."

"They're just jealous of you; jealous that you attracted Archer's attention, jealous that you're the Prima Donna, jealous that you're sweet, innocent Ella. They need something to hate about you so they make things up since they can't find anything wrong."

"Why do I have to go through this too?" Ella sighed. "All I want is to be left alone, for things to go back to normal. Why can't things just go back to the way they were?"

"I'm sure the will," Meg said comfortingly. "Rehearsals start up again tomorrow. Eventually everyone will forget this ever happened."

"Not everyone," Ella whispered. "I won't."

"A good night's sleep in your own bed and you'll feel better," her friend insisted. "Everything will be better in the morning."

Ella nodded. "I hope so."

Later that night, Ella was tossing and turning, far from sleep. She couldn't get over the other ballerinas judging her like that. They didn't know the whole story. How could they criticize her for something she hadn't even done?

Eventually she gave up her attempts to fall asleep. Even though she knew it probably wasn't a smart idea to be out alone, Ella snuck out of the dormitories, making sure not to awake everyone. She needed somewhere where she could think, somewhere she could breathe. This room just felt too confining to her.

She knew Erik would be upset if he found out that she was wandering the opera in the middle of the night, especially since she was alone. But she missed her Phantom, his comforting embrace. Ella wondered if he knew what the other girls were saying, would he believe them or would he defend her.

Of course he wouldn't believe them. Erik knew she didn't want anything to do with Archer, let alone allow him to take her virtue like the ballerinas were saying. But then again, Archer refused to believe that she wasn't in danger, and he seemed like a level headed person.

Ella walked into her dressing room, making sure to lock the door behind her. She didn't want anyone, well Archer anyway, to find her here. The mirror seemed to call to her, and as Ella sat before it, she considered going down the passage to Erik. But it was late enough, the boat was probably back at the lair, and there was a good chance that he was asleep, and she didn't want to disturb him.

Archer absentmindedly toyed with his glass, the whiskey inside completely untouched. He needed to come up with a plan to remove the Phantom from their lives. Obviously Ella would fight him until the Phantom was completely out of the way. Once he was gone, Archer could deal with winning her back.

Unfortunately his dilemma was how to do it. The Opera house was the Phantom's domain. He knew every inch of that building, every tunnel, every passage, every secret it contained. Archer could never hope to match that knowledge, which put him at a distinct disadvantage. Somehow he needed to learn something that would give him an edge.

How did Raoul do it? Oh yes, it had only destroyed the interior of the opera, and very nearly cost him his life. But still, perhaps the Vicomte knew something that could be helpful to Archer. While the two had never been particularly close, Archer had grown up in the same circles as Raoul, and knew him well. Archer took a sip from his glass before sitting at his desk and quickly beginning to write a letter to the Vicomte.

Somehow he had to protect Ella, somehow he needed to kill this Phantom, and somehow he needed to stay out of danger himself. This could get a little tricky, but he knew he could do it.

Erik paced back and forth. He knew Ella was safe upstairs with Meg, but he didn't feel comfortable unless he was with her. Archer could sneak up on her the second she was alone. Eventually he decided to go up to her dressing room. Once he was closer to her, he'd be more content.

When he reached the mirror, he was surprised to see Ella looking back at him. She looked even worse than she had before. Her face was pale and gaunt, there were dark circles under her eyes, and her white nightgown seemed to hang on her petite frame. Careful to not hit her, Erik opened the mirror, revealing himself to her. "Erik?!"

He knelt next to her. "What are you doing in here mon Ange?"

"I can't sleep," she replied. "Not in there. Not with them."

"You need sleep Cheri. This isn't healthy."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Don't make me go back there."

Erik picked her up and began walking towards his home, carrying her bridal style. "I won't, but you're going straight to bed."

"Yes sir, whatever you say."

Once he was back in the lair, Erik immediately placed her in the swan bed, tucking her in snugly. He kissed her gently and turned to go, but Ella caught his wrist. "What is it mon Ange?"

"Hold me?"

Her request caught him off guard. He sat on the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do. Ella tried to pull him closer, but Erik kept back. "Ella, I…I can't…it's not proper. What would Antoinette say if she found out?"

"I don't care." After hesitating for a moment more, he gave a sigh of defeat. He kicked his boots off before lying next to her. Ella curled up next to him, her head resting over his heart. Erik stiffened for a moment but slowly began to relax. "Now was that so hard?" she murmured sleepily. Almost immediately her breathing began to even and slow as she drifted off.

"Good night Ella," he whispered, gently placing his arm around her waist.