Disclamer: No, I do not own Erik. ( i simply borrow him for my own purposes )

AN: I'm going to apologize now. Erik's POV is very very very VERY hard for me to write. So, if it's terrible, sorry! If you have favorited or follow this story, please leave a review as I would like to know what you do like about my work. I'm always anxious for good and/or critical reviews!

Chapter 4

Nothing had been accomplished! Hours had been spent in front of sheet music and nothing had been written. Six hours and there was nothing but black smudges and crossed out attempts. Melodies ran rampant in his mind, but as soon as he tried to write them down, they slipped away like sand through his fingers.

The Phantom of the Opera cursed underneath his breath as he looked at the shabby parchment. He truly should not have been so surprised. After the Don Juan had been completed and his beloved Christine had left, there had been nothing. Oh, there had been a few nocturnes that he had written while in the depths of his despair, but after he had resurfaced from the ocean of his tears…nothing. Not one completed piece of music. His painting had suffered as well. He couldn't paint, couldn't write, couldn't do anything anymore!

He picked up the sheet music and tossed it aside with the rest of the discarded work. He couldn't let Christine go! She was still in his mind, in his soul, in his very blood! Erik clenched his fists and his nails bit into his palms. It was almost as if there was nothing left to live for anymore. Madame Giry had so kindly let him know of Christine's rise to not just Vicomtess but to mother as well. Well, if she could be happy with a man who could not love her for more than just her pretty face then fine! Let them be happy with something that fades away with time!

"I would have loved her forever," he whispered to the empty air. "I would have made her happy…" He tore his mask from his face as he felt the unbidden tears prick his eyes and roll down his face. He had long thought his body was done with tears especially tears for Christine, but apparently his heart wasn't.

"Erik?"

The voice echoed in the candlelit room. Fortunately, the voice was not in the same room as he. Within moments, his face was devoid of those retched tears, and his mask had returned to his face. He exited his music room and left his house. He was surprised to see Madame Giry standing on his side of the lake. How had she crossed without him knowing? He had traps and sensors that let him know when he had visitors.

"What are you doing here?"

"Why did you cut the backdrop?" She demanded. Her hands were on her hips and her eyes were hard.

Erik shrugged. "Do you need a reason?"

"You have practically directed this entire Opera, hand picked the troupe as well as the orchestra. Everything was going so smoothly and now the art department has to do another backdrop. We'll be fortunate if this has not set back production. So, yes. I do need a reason."

"It's what I do," he said, smiling smugly.

"Yes, when Andre and Firmin were managers. But now, for some reason, there are managers who are willing to overlook your pranks and take your advice and pay your exorbitant fee. There is no reason unless you are so bored that it is your only way to amuse yourself."

"This is my Opera House! I shall do as I like!"

"Spoken like a spoiled child, Erik."

Erik's eyes blazed fire. This was his home and he would do as he saw fit and no one could tell him differently. This was the only place he felt safe, away from the hurtful eyes of the cold world.

"I've seen enough of the world to know that the nobility care about nothing but themselves and think that the entire world revolves around them." The words of the newcomer rang loudly in his ears. What had brought them on? He mentally shook his head, not curious to find out.

Madame Giry's shoulders slumped in weariness and almost defeat. "Erik, Christine is gone. She is not coming back. You need to move on. Find something else to fill your days."

"Replace her? The one who made my soul fly?!" The idea was unthinkable and, quite frankly, impossible. No one could replace Christine! No one would ever come close to her equal!

The ballet mistress sighed and rubbed her temples. "I'm not saying you need to replace her with another woman. Just accept that she's not coming back to you. Understand that she has a new life now and that you need to find a new life and to move on. Living in the past will do you more harm than good." She gestured to his house. "Is this how you want to live, Erik? In the darkness, always in hiding?"

"What choice do I have?" Erik's voice broke.

"There is always a choice, Erik. You always have a choice."

I awoke to the smell of vanilla and jasmine. At first I didn't want to wake up as I had been dreaming of my mother and of the sweet moments we shared even amidst our great sorrow.

"You must not always be so quick to judge, Anne." I heard her say. "You never know a person's story so you cannot base your opinion on first impressions."

The cobwebs and fog of my dreams slipped away and I opened my eyes. Everything seemed a blur and all I could make out were the candles. I blinked a few times and shook my head trying to fully wake myself to reality.

"Good evening Miss Anne." Jane smiled and poured a pitcher of water into a bathtub. "You've been asleep all day. Your Aunt and Meg will be here in just over an hour so you can go to dinner."

I sat up slowly my hand instantly going to my head. "Have I really been asleep all day?"

"Yes, miss. I brought you back to your room around eleven and it's now six o'clock." Jane sat the pitcher aside and came to help me up. "You look quite pale, miss, if you allow me to say so."

"I feel a little out of sorts but I suppose that's what happens when I sleep the day away. I daresay I won't get any sleep tonight." I stood up, grateful for Jane's assistance, and she guided me to behind the changing screen. I undid my blouse and took off the skirt but called for her when it was time to unlace the corset. Her hands worked swiftly and there was an audible gasp when it was fully removed.

"Perhaps…not so tight tonight, miss?" Jane asked.

Removing my shift, I looked at my skin. Aunt Giry had tightened it a little tighter than I was used to. My skin was red from the bone wiring and there were impressions in my skin from where the corset had been.

"I think you're right, Jane. Not so tight." I placed my hands over my stomach and winced at the contact. Why people had insisted on creating those stupid things when all they did was cause pain was beyond me.

"Now Miss Anne, you hop right into that bath and I'll pick out something for you to wear tonight."

I quickly did as I was told feeling all of my muscles relax went I felt the warm water. Jane had added the vanilla and jasmine that I always had in my bath and had the water was very warm and bubbly. I watched Jane as she bustled around the room and I realized that she had unpacked all of my trunks save for one. There was a special trunk that I had told her not to unpack as I wanted time myself to take care of it. Indeed, I wouldn't even unpack it, and it was a little box that held personal memories for me. At that moment, I remembered the parcel that mother had given me just before I left.

"Jane, where is that parcel that I had when we left England?"

She pulled it out of my wardrobe. It had been occupying the top shelf. "Would you like me to unwrap it for you?"

I smiled. "No, thank you. It's from Mama and I'll probably open it later when I come back."

She nodded and put the parcel on my vanity. "What do you think, Miss Anne?" She returned to the wardrobe and pulled out a lavender evening dress. It had black lace and ruffles and I had black shoes to go with it. "The blue would work just as well."

I thought for a moment. None of my dresses were overly grand, as Grandmother had wanted to spend all of her money on Elizabeth. "I think the lavender will be beautiful. Thank you, Jane."

She laid the dress on my bed and smoothed out the wrinkles. "You going to sleep in your bed tonight, miss?"

I tilted my head to the side. "Why do you ask that?"

"Well, you've slept on the divan these last two times…"

I laughed. "True. I think I shall let the bed serve its purpose tonight. No point in letting it just take up space."

Jane took a seat on the vanity stool and talked to me while I bathed. It was a common thing for the two of us. I did not let her pamper me when I was fully capable of washing myself, but as it had been expected at Grandmother's house, we used the time to get better acquainted.

She picked up some embroidery she had brought with her and told me about her first day. She talked about meeting the cook and about her own sleeping quarters which were in one of the rooms set aside for wardrobe and costume ladies. Most people had their own flats and apartments but those who wanted to stay at the Opera House had beds and dressers if they were required. There were plenty of rooms, why not use them? She rambled on about how she met the lady who we at home would call "Cook" and how that lady was married to the stagehand. It was when she talked about the occurrence on stage that my ears perked up.

"Oh, I heard the managers were in a find tizzy." She giggled. "The backdrop had been torn when it fell you see, and the art department has to start all over again. They are all furious at who tied those knots as they obviously weren't very secure." She rattled on to another topic before I had time to even tell her about what I had seen.

As she kept rambling on, I was suddenly grateful that Grandmother had seen fit to find someone who was English born but spoke good French. Jane's mother was French and if she hadn't been and hadn't taught her daughter her own native tongue, then Jane would never be able to tell me any of these things.

"Oh, Miss Anne!" She put her embroidery aside and grabbed a towel. "We need to get you ready. Madame Giry will be here with the little Giry and you're not dressed!"

Jane always did her best work when she was either seriously concentrating or when she was in a hurry. On this occasion, she was both concentrating and in hurry. In a matter of what seemed like minutes, I was laced up into my corset, laced up into my dress, and sitting in front of my vanity so that Jane could do my hair.

"Up?" Jane asked.

I shook my head. So much hair piled up on my head as it had been for all day was going to soon give me a headache. "Down, please."

The pins from where my hair had been up were swiftly taken down, and it was all gently brushed through. It hair was pulled back at the sides and it all fell beautifully down to my back.

"Oh, Miss Anne. You look like a princess!"

"Hardly, Jane!" I laughed and patted her on the hand. She was indeed too good to me, but she was a very good friend nonetheless. "Now, hand me my black gloves and…"

There was a knock at my door and Aunt Giry walked in with Meg. "Anne…are you ready?"

She stopped when she looked at me and I stood up. "Why…Anne! You look quite beautiful!"

"Oh, maman! Her gown is gorgeous!"

I brushed aside the complements. I made a mental note to hand all my dresses over to Meg after I was fitted with new ones. Since I was, finally, on my own for what I could wear, I would probably end up getting material from the shops and having someone make me what I wanted. Since my tastes did not include fine dresses, I would have no need of these gowns.

"Well, Anne, are we ready?"

Meg came over and grabbed my hand as if we were friends already. I said goodbye to Jane who waved me off and closed the bedroom door behind me.

"So, Anne, what have you been doing with yourself today?" Meg looked up at me, and I took a moment to admire her dress. She was in a very simple pink evening gown and her blonde hair had been twisted into a beautiful knot at the base of her neck. She had on a small pink hat that was pinned askew on her head. She was very pretty, in an innocent sort of way.

"I must confess that after the incident on stage I was returned to my room and I fell asleep."

"Ah, our Opera Ghost," Meg whispered as we exited the fancy entrance hall and stepped into the evening air. The sun was almost setting and it was almost as if someone had painted the night sky. Lines of pink, purple, red, orange, and blue flicked across the wide canvas of the horizon. There were already boys out lighting the street lanterns.

I looked at Aunt Giry who was glaring back at her daughter and Meg conveniently switched topics to rehearsals. I was confused at how my Aunt would want to avert the conversation away from something that everyone knew was a myth, but as she was Meg's parent, it was not my place to intervene.