Chapter Five

Alison woke to the sound of loud, grating music. It was full of dissonances but as she listened to it, order and beauty slowly immerged. It was immediately clear to her that she was hearing the Phantom's masterwork, Don Juan Triumphant. Just as she had begun to like the strange music it abruptly stopped and a new piece began to play.

Erik had written this piece for Christine, like so much of his music. He poured his heart and all of his sadness for her betrayal into his playing. Tears threatened to slip down his cheeks by the time that the notes eventually slowed to a halt. He had been so absorbed in the music he nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the sound of clapping. He whipped his head around quickly and saw his strange guest sitting up in bed, applauding him with shining eyes.

"That was beautiful, monsieur! Sad but beautiful. You truly are a wonderful composer." Just like in the musical, she added in her head.

He looked almost embarrassed. "Thank you," he said softly. "Music is my life, and to hear someone compliment it is…" He stopped and looked down. Then something occurred to him. "I do believe I forgot to ask your name. Who are you?"

"Je m'appelle Angelique," she replied. Erik braced himself for her to ask what his name was, but she simply said, "It is a pleasure to meet you, monsieur."

Interestingly, she seemed to mean it, too. They sat there staring at each other awkwardly for a few seconds before he cleared his throat and asked, "Would you like some breakfast?" He wasn't sure how he felt about having a guest but as he couldn't exactly leave her alone in the opera house, he didn't really have a choice.

She nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, please!"

Without saying another word, he got up and walked to a part of his home she couldn't see. This is all totally surreal, she thought. I'm sitting in the home on the lake beneath the Opera Populaire and waiting for Erik, the actual Phantom of the Opera, to make me breakfast. The only way it could get stranger is if he started dancing around on his head. Not like that's ever going to happen. He interrupted her thoughts with the clink of a plate on wood. She looked up and saw him putting a plate of eggs on a small wooden table with two chairs on the far side of the lair. "Well? Are you coming or not?"

She jumped out of bed, not wanting to miss food. "I'm coming." She ate quickly, like she normally did. She was usually just too busy during the day to bother with spending too much time on something as trivial as breakfast. But the way he sat and stared at her while she ate made her want to finish faster. It was extremely disconcerting, especially since he wasn't eating anything himself. "You're not going to have anything?"

"No," he replied. "I rarely feel the need to eat, mademoiselle. Food is trivial and unnecessary when one is working." He got up abruptly and walked to a small, dark archway in the wall. Seeming to realize something, he turned to her and said, "I will be busy for the rest of the day. Entertain yourself. You are welcome to go anywhere except in there." He pointed to a curtained alcove in the middle of the room. "If you have disobeyed me, I will know. And the consequences… are not something you wish to experience. Is that understood?"

She nodded. "Where are you going? There's no one here."

"That is exactly why I am going. I can make improvements to my opera house without interference from meddling fools." He turned and disappeared into the dark hole in the wall.

She glanced towards the alcove. What was in there that he had to make sure to protect? It would be so easy to just pull aside the curtain for a second and look… but no. She would respect his privacy and leave it alone. Or attempt to, anyway. Besides, he never reacted especially well to having his rules broken, if what she already knew about him was remotely true.

She looked around the lair. There should be plenty to keep her occupied in a place like this. She spent a while exploring, but his home was small and after a while, she had seen everything there was to see except the one place she was not allowed to go. She sat down at the table again and thought. There was no way to determine how much time had passed and how long it would be until his return. What was she supposed to do? Her mind immediately jumped to the one thing she always did when she was bored: writing.

She located a large stack of blank paper she had found during her exploration. She took a quarter of the paper, a pen, and some ink. What I wouldn't give for a pencil, she thought. But I'll just have to make do with what I have. Then she began to write. Poems flew off her pen. She wrote her new experiences at the Opera Populaire. She wrote the future and her dreams. She wrote her home, and only now realized how much she had missed it. Once she couldn't think of anything else, she began copying random song lyrics, which was much more entertaining than most people might think. She translated everything she had just written into French, just because. Then her mind seemed to stop working.

What do I do now? I can't think of anything else to do or write. Seemingly randomly, something occurred to her that should have been obvious in her exploration of the Phantom's home. In the movie/musical, there had been drawings everywhere. Drawings and sculptures based on one model: Christine. Not to mention the doll in the wedding dress. Why were they not here? Did he burn them all after she left him? Or maybe the events of the musical hadn't happened yet. That could be it. But she remembered some of the staff members talking in hushed whispers about the "Chandelier Incident". There was only one thing that could be. So where was Christine?

She took the last sheet of paper and began to write slowly.

She was once the largest part of his life

All of his hopes and dreams in her

He gave everything to her

His love was extraordinary

But she left him for another man

And his heartbreak was immense:

So they say.

He wrote her music and drew her

So where are the drawings now?

Where is the music?

Where is she?

Disappeared like a shadow in the rain

Gone without any sort of trace

Left an empty home, an empty life, an empty heart

But even emptiness leaves a mark.

Even grief and pain leave their traces.

But there are no traces or marks

Left by the woman who changed his life.

So where is she?

In an almost magnetic way, her eyes were drawn to the alcove in the corner. Could it be? But there was only one way to find out. Slowly she got up from her seat and looked around cautiously. There was no one around her. That didn't mean anything, though. From everything she had heard, he was very good at not being seen. There was no reason that she could see for him to hide himself, however. So she was safe. For the moment.

She tiptoed across the room and stopped in front of the curtains. Hesitantly, she reached for them. Her common sense was screaming at her. Don't do it! Even if he's not here, he's coming home soon. And how will he react when he finds out you've betrayed his trust? That won't exactly help your "get to know him and be friends with him" plan. But her curiosity overpowered everything and she pulled back the red velvet curtains.

Christine stared at her with blank eyes. She was shocked for a moment until she realized: Not Christine. The wedding dress doll. Of course. No need to be afraid. All around it were various drawings and paintings of her. Sheets of music filled every other available space. There was no time to look closer as a black-clad arm grabbed her and pulled her away. She looked into the Phantom's livid eyes.

"Did I not instruct you to stay out of there? I told you that there would be consequences for disobeying me. It was not enough to discourage you, though. Not only do you invade my home, you take it into your head that I should have no secrets from you?" he yelled. He was terrifyingly angry. He seemed to loom above her and it was only in that moment that she remembered how easily his temper was triggered in all the stories that she read. Her silence seemed to bother him.

"Damn you!" He struck her to the ground. She fell on the hard stone and it hurt more than she had been expecting. "You little prying Pandora! You little demon! Is this what you wanted to see?" He gestured towards the Christine doll. "Of course, you could not know to leave well enough alone. No one does. Ever. Curiosity seems to be the disease of the human race." Bitterness had crept into his tone. "Do you not understand the concept of forbidden? My secrets are my secrets. Why can you not just let them be?" It seemed like he wasn't really talking to her anymore. "I am a solitary person and I do not bother many people besides those who do not obey me or those who deserve it. Yet somehow everyone feels it necessary to bother me!"

"I wasn't trying to bother you, monsieur," she said softly.

He stopped mid-rant. "What?"

"I wasn't trying to bother you. I didn't mean to cause you pain. I was just… looking for something."

Her words took him by surprise. Most people he met… not all of them wanted to hurt him but they sure didn't want to help him either. Her active intent not to cause him pain was – interesting. He frowned. "What were you looking for?"

She shook her head. "That's my secret. But I will tell you that I found it."

They looked at each other. His expression was confused and wary, hers was open. She smiled softly at him and saw his eyes widen in shock. Finally he broke the gaze and turned abruptly to collect the bag he had dropped upon seeing her in the alcove. He picked it up and placed it on the small wooden table they had had breakfast on earlier.

"What's that?"

"Seeing as you may be my guest for some time, I thought you might need more food than I would normally have. Are you hungry?"

"Yes, a little."

"I shall return in a moment. Wait for me." And with that he was gone. Alison remained on the floor in front of the alcove. His jarring mood swings had left her mind scrambling to catch up with his train of thought. His anger at her curiosity had been much scarier than she had been expecting. At least I had the sense not to take off his mask, she thought. Then he would have kicked me out for sure. She made a mental promise to obey his rules from now on, no matter how curious she got.

In the small kitchen in a niche in the rock, Erik made them both dinner, using it as an excuse to calm his racing mind. The same questions ran though over and over, bouncing off the corners and echoing in his brain. What was she looking for? What did she mean when she said she found it? Why had she smiled at him even after he had hurt her? After he had yelled at her and cursed her? No matter how much he tried, he couldn't think of an answer to any of his questions. Her actions didn't fit with any of the things he had learned to expect from normal people. He needed to talk to her to figure out just who she was. And if she would betray him like all the others who had pretended to show him kindness.

I wrote the poem myself, sorry if it's not the best. Review, or the Phantom will come and Punjab you.