A/N: Another chapter so soon? Yes! This always happens during winter . . . I get hit by an odd bout of inspiration (praise be to the Muses!) and I wind up writing. And writing. And writing. Ah, how I enjoy it!

LadyCavalier: Yep, fluffy-wuffy lovey-dovey snuggles of Erik and Christine! Hehehe! "Authentic"? Yeah, I try to keep my stories at least somewhat realistic. Cody Rhodes is a wrestler (WWE) who has mentioned the Legend of Zelda games a few times.

Ah, the places my mind goes when it comes to POTO . . .

Breakfast, as early as it was, went perfectly uneventfully. There had been a knock at the door, but it had only been a delivery of flowers.

Christine had certainly eaten her fill of food! Potatoes, croissants, eggs covered in Gruyère . . . not to mention the fruit! It seemed La Fourniesse had packed just the right amount of food, Erik had thought with silent laughter.

"Your cook is quite the treasure, my dear boy," Mme. Valerius remarked appreciatively after they had retired to the parlour.

"Oui, the Fourniers are invaluable to me. I do not know how I would cope without their help," Erik replied sincerely.

Christine rested her head against his shoulder and stifled a yawn that did not go unnoticed by anyone. "We should all go to the Fourniers' café sometime, Maman. It is warm and cosy, and they are so nice . . ." Even before she finished the sentence, she had drifted off to sleep on Erik's shoulder again.

"Perhaps I should take her to her bed so she can rest. She will have a bit of explaining to do at the opera house."

"Oh, no need to worry about that, my boy. I spoke with the chorus-master - nervous little man, name of Gabriel. When I told him of the situation, that Christine was off having singing lessons with a private tutor, his face blanched! He looked as though he had seen a ghost!"

Erik could not reveal the real reason M. Gabriel had reacted that way, not with Christine still in the room. After he had situated her in her bed and tucked her in, he trudged back to Madame's side.

She held up a finger. "I saw the look in your eyes when I mentioned M. Gabriel. You know more than you let on, don't you?"

He nodded mutely.

"Tell me," she instructed.

He heaved a sigh of relief. She had spared him some of the awkwardness of beginning his complicated tale. "It . . . is a long story, Madame."

"Well, before you start, I must insist you call me Maman, as Christine does. Or, if you prefer, Anne." She rested a hand on his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "Just tell me as much as you're comfortable with."

"All right . . . Anne." He nodded, inhaled, and started at the beginning. "When I was a baby, my parents were horrified by my face. I doubt anyone in our village even knew I existed. Oh, they took care of me, as much as they could, under the circumstances. When I was old enough, but still a boy, I left their home and found my way to a travelling fair that was passing through Rouen. From there, I became . . . quite a . . . novelty . . ." His voice cracked at the painful memories.

"Is that why you wear the mask?" she asked softly.

He could only nod. "I look . . ." He could not continue.

"It's all right. You don't have to show me. Has Christine seen?"

Again, he nodded.

"How long did you stay with the fair?"

"A few years." His voice became calm and level. "My . . . manager . . . was a cruel man. He berated me and whipped me when people demanded their money back. But I only did as the crowds asked, performing whatever tricks they wanted, but, as the show went on, someone would become curious and ask to see my face, and I would comply. I had to, as part of the show was that I would do what the audience asked of me. Once they saw my face, they were always horrified. I was just a boy! Were they right? Was I a monster? Had a deceived them in any way?" His questions were more to himself than to Anne.

She could only sit in enraptured silence. 'What an odd life he's lived! It's no wonder Christine was so taken with him. And his voice does sound heavenly! So full of emotion . . .'

"After I left that fair, I made my way to another, where I was treated better." His voice lost some of his darkness; not much, just enough to be noticed by a keen ear. "As a teenager - at least, I think those were my teenage years; I never have known the actual date of my birth - I travelled the whole of Europe with them! I had already learned a few languages; it was with them that I was able to make better use of them. The manager of that fair had trouble communicating with some of his performers, and I was able to assist him in those matters. I had finally found a place where I could belong, but, even among other freaks of nature, I was still a monster. That was what the paying crowds wanted, and that is what they got. I realised I could never escape being Le Mort Vivant! Once we stopped in Nizhny-Novgorod, I made the choice to remain in the area and set up my own tent there. I was no longer a child, and I was able to take care of myself. I had grown quite strong while at the fair. Living in Nizhny, I soon discovered that people were a bit more accepting of my grotesqueness than they had been in Europe. I could delight them with my magic tricks, with illusions, with ventriloquism! All the marvels of my own mind, of my own making would be what I would be known for there! And not one of them cared if I wore my mask or not.

"Unfortunately, it was that very fame that would be my undoing. The shahinshah of Persia and his favourite wife were utterly bored of the tortures they were inflicting on their subjects and captured enemies. They had heard of me from a furrier who had kidnapped - He kidnapped someone dear to me and sold her as a concubine into the shahinshah's harem."

"Oh, how dreadful!" Anne whispered. She could only guess at how dear this someone had been to him.

"After that, the shah sent his daroga - chief of police - to Nizhni to coerce me into going to Persia." He raised his eyes to hers then. "I had to go, you see. The daroga had intimated that she might be killed if I did not comply. I did go, and there . . ." He swallowed, searching for the right words to explain why he did all that he had done.

"You did what you had to do, my dear boy," she assured him. "What would any of us do, when the life of a loved one is at stake?"

The morning sun was just trickling in the windows, signalling to Erik that it was time for him to go. "I should like to visit with you again, Anne, and continue telling you of my life, if you would like to hear it."

"Yes, of course. Perhaps you can stop by for tea this afternoon? Even if Christine is at rehearsals, as she probably will be, it will give us more of a chance to talk." She smiled warmly up at him and patted his hand gently. "I can see why Christine is so fond of you."

A/N: Well, you can surmise what happens in the next chapter. It should be interesting what Anne's reaction will be when she hears the rest of Erik's tale, oui?