Chapter Nineteen: The Talk

Erik healed considerably over the course of the next week. I however, was diminishing.

Most of my days were spent wracking my brain on just what the Hell Sycamore could be planning, because it was something huge, something tremendously huge and I was beyond scared. She was building an army of... something, or some Things, Things that, oddly enough, called me Persis.

None of them usually called me Persis but her and her alone, recently, that had changed. The Things that attacked me in the lair were bigger, and much, much more menacing, with their bodies reaching the size of a toaster instead of the regular loaf of bread.

She also had Evil Erik.

Just thinking about it made shivers run up and down my spine, shaking me inside out from pure fear. It was nerve-wracking to know that she had obviously been breeding a new bloody race without me ever knowing it. And what was troubling was that she knew what could get to me.

I didn't even think twice before accepting Evil Erik's offer to dance, she had counted on my lack of suspicion, she knew I had had a weak spot for him for some time, and quite possibly she knew before I even did.

This wasn't really all that surprising, as Sycamore did live in my mind and probably had access to certain parts of my brain that held information that I didn't even know yet, it was a depressing thought, but I couldn't rule it out.

One day, I finally snapped.

"Erik." I asked in a flouncy manner. He was sitting by his organ, scribbling down the nonsense that was in his head that he would later translate to regular music, I often teased him later on that he had his own language that only he could read, he liked that idea very much, and personally, it was true.

Anyway, I huffed and came up behind him, tapping him on the shoulder when he didn't reply. I knew that I shouldn't be acting as spoiled as I was, but I had cabin fever, and I was about to start singing the song from The Muppet's on Treasure Island if I didn't get out soon!

"Yes?" He asked, not turning around.

"Erik, I'm going squirrely down here!" I cried, making a small smile tug at his lips as he continued to write.

"It is an acquired life, Annika, it's tragic that you did not take into account that you were not accustomed to it before you decided to barter your freedom." He replied coolly, making me roll my eyes.

"Come on, I have to find something new to wear or else I'll end up dying of boredom in these clothes!" I exclaimed and he shook his head.

"I allow you to roam free amongst my belongings unbound, don't you think that is generous enough of me?" I groaned, but didn't back down. I needed to get my hands on my old dresses, I'd been wearing the old Ill Muto costume for too long.

"For Pete's sake, give me a bloody hour!" I shouted. Erik didn't reply and so I skulked off, muttering about the unfairness of it all, much to the Phantom of the Opera's amusement. I rolled my eyes and sat down on the edge of the glassy lake.

Mist swirled around me, making me choke a bit as I dipped my feet in the water. The mist, I'd found, was actually just fog from the millions upon millions of candles floating on the sheer surface of the small body of water that separated me from getting what I wanted.

I didn't want to sneak off, as that would be way past stupid now, but I did want out of here, if only for a single hour.

"Please Erik, I just need to get the rest of my stuff. You never bothered to get any of it." I grumbled and Erik sighed, but he still held his composure.

"You ask much of me." He replied, still keeping calm, although I could tell that he was irked below the surface at being taken away from his art for longer than a moment.

"I do not!" I replied, "I ask just the right amount!" I exclaimed and Erik finally turned around to face me.

"If I allow you to obtain your belongings, can you promise me that you will return within the hour?" He asked and my eyes widened. I nodded quickly and let out a happy little noise. I resisted the urge to hug him as I stood up from the lake's edge and hopped into the boat.

I was off like a speeding bullet, paddling away, not even caring enough to be quiet. I was so happy that I would finally be able to get out after a week of suppression.

Not that Erik suppressed me, as he allowed me to do what ever the bloody Hell I wanted, when ever the bloody Hell I wanted! But he wouldn't let me out, granted I had been way to afraid before to ask.

I had successfully avoided thinking about the thought that I had the night that I had the nightmare about normal Erik. I'd convinced myself that it was absolutely and utterly hopeless to dwell on, even if it was true.

I may be in love with Erik, but it wasn't practical or even possible that he would love me back, he had Christine, or at least, he did.

I shook myself out of it and continued to paddle away from the lair, Erik's voice following me from behind. I loved the way he would sing sometimes, just out of the blue and then he would stop, and wait a few more days until he knew that I would just die if I didn't hear his voice.

It was kind of funny the way he would like to painlessly torture me, but then again, I was not exactly guiltless either.

I found that I didn't have to walk on pins and needles the way I thought I did before, as it seemed Erik had gotten some what used to me over the course of the two or three weeks I'd spent with him. I was glad of this because even though I'm sure he didn't get me, I could be myself around him, as long as I wasn't too loud, as he told me he would be very cross with me if he had to kill another stage hand if one found their way down here after hearing all my racket.

Needless to say, I really resented this remark, but the man made some sense, so I just shut up and listened. I found that the two of us could get along much, much better if I did just that; shut up for once in my life, and listen to the master of quietness.

I was actually anything but quiet as I rode the boat down the lake, making the necessary twists and turns as the cave did before I came to the end. I jumped out of the boat and sped up the lake shore before coming to the tunnel.

I ran up the stone steps and up the winding passage way. I turned at the fork in the hall way and headed towards Christine's mirror, where I knew my room was just down the hall. I didn't want to go the other way to the stage, just in case someone was hanging around, and as I saw it, I'd much rather face Christine than a burly, most likely drunk, stage hand.

I pushed open the mirror lightly, trying to be as silent as possible so that I wouldn't alert Christine should she be in her dressing room sleeping. I crept into the room, breathing a sigh of relief when I found it to be empty.

I opened the door on the other side of the dressing room, stepping out into the hall way and checking its entity before turning and running down to the costume room that had been mine during my brief stay here.

The door was unlocked, thank goodness, and when I walked in, almost nothing had changed. Actually, that was a lie. The bed was gone, but my old green dress was still on the chair, and I had a sneaking suspicion that the gold dress was still forgotten in the closet.

I changed into my green dress, hating the way I felt in the dirty old costume I'd worn for too long to count, and when I was dressed once again, I went over to the cupboard, pulling out the gold dress.

"Maybe I'll cut it." I thought to myself, as it was still ripped near the bottom, and way to long to wear.

I picked up the pair of blue high heels that were still there after all this time, and took off the worn, black ballet shoes that had been on my feet for some time. It felt nice to wear something feminine once again.

The last thing I did before leaving was walk over to the drawer.

I opened the compartment and reached my hand inside, pulling out the notes that Erik had given me. The Phantom of the Opera had allowed me to have a small box to store what little trinkets I had, and in it was a few hair ties and the choker he'd given me. I intended for the notes to find their proper place amongst my other treasures as well and as soon as I collected my belongings, or at least, the belongings nobody else really wanted and that I claimed, I left.

I was just about to go back to Christine's dressing room when I felt someone with really dry hands clamp onto my wrist.

I turned around, resisting the urge to scream and half-expecting the ghost of Joseph Buquet, but instead I saw something quite different and much more frightening, given the circumstances.

It was Mme. Giry, her face pale and livid standing behind me, holding onto my wrist so tight I thought she might break it. Her whole appearance seemed to have aged maybe five years since last we met, as a few new wrinkles were present, giving away her advancing age.

"What are you doing, Mademoiselle?" She hissed at me and I tried to shake her arm of and run, but she held fast and refused to let me go anywhere.

"Wait, stop, I need to get back!" I exclaimed, and she squeezed my arm to get me to quiet down.

"You are returning to the Opera Ghost?!" She asked with much disbelief and I nodded.

"I have to." I told her quietly. "I want to." Her glare was icy as she looked me over, seemingly guessing as to why I was up here.

"You are foolish, The Ghost is not one to be trusted, and he does not trust you as well, I am sure, his past has made sure that he does not expect you to return." She told me and I shook my head. I turned and gripped her wrist in turn.

"Then tell me of his past, tell me his story, I will prove him wrong." I said quietly. Mme Giry seemed hesitant, before gripping tighter to me and pulling me down the hall way.

"Follow me." She whispered and I really didn't have a choice as she pulled me into her office.