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

AN: Sorry for the long wait. Things have been a little crazy in the real world! But...after much anticipation, Anne and Erik finally meet! I hope it doesn't sound like a forced meeting or something. Hopefully the next chapter will have a little more of Erik's side. I'm quite interested to know what he has to say about all of this. Don't forget to give it a little R&R!

Chapter 8

The number of the day was seven. I had been at the opera house for seven days. I had gotten lost numerous times as I had tried to rid my mind of the argument with Aunt Giry but I had finally learned my way around the bigger parts of the Populaire. I had not learned any more of what my Aunt expected me to understand.

"Learn a little more before you judge, Anne."

The words cut me like a knife. In a moment of anger at what I had no power to control I let my temper rise and I lashed out and said hurtful things of which I had no understanding. How many times had Mama rebuked me with soft words in order to calm me down after I cried out in anger during that terrible time? Too many times that I had lost count.

I had not been able to learn anything more about the mysterious Phantom as there was no one else I could really talk to who knew him. Apparently, aside from Meg and Aunt Giry everyone who worked here was quite unconnected with any facts of the Opera's history. Everyone believed in a ghost, not a man.

It was on that fateful seventh day that I discovered the chapel. I had yet to find a suitable place to pray quietly and I found the gothic looking stone room to be perfect. A tall stained glass window depicting an angel soldier provided the only light and there was a window seat beneath it. The room was short and narrow and on the right side of the room was a tall standing candelabra. I knelt before it and saw faded pictures of those who had been prayed for. The name Gustave Daae stood out and I figured that was the name of Christine's father but what held my interested was when I saw the name Maria de Sauveterre beneath a small picture of my mother.

"Aunt Giry must have found that this was the only way that she could help my mother," I whispered to the darkness. I quickly lit the small votive candle and said a soft prayer for my mother. I felt a great sense of peace and calmness knowing that my mother was being looked after by someone far better than any human physician. I might not be able to care for my mother in her last moments, but I was doing all I could being so far from her. But it didn't stop the tears from slipping from between my closed lids.

"Oh, Mama. Though I am surrounded by people and by family, I still feel lonely and wish that I could be with you. I wish things hadn't turned out this way, that you and I could spend our days in the country just like when I was little. We could run and play and have picnics and go horseback riding…" I stopped, suddenly realizing how I was sounding. "It's not that I'm ungrateful. Aunt Giry and Meg are very kind, but I do wish you were here."

"You spend a lot of time wishing for things, mademoiselle."

The shriek that escaped my lips echoed in the chapel and, trying to standing up, I tripped on my skirt and fell back in a heap of fabric on the floor. At first I couldn't see anyone else standing in the room with me. The voice was that of a man, but what I saw at first resembled more of a shadow. And then, I saw it. The man shifted his weight just slightly, and the candlelight caught the white glow of a mask. Recognition became a brief moment of fear before I found my voice.

"You are the Phantom of the Opera," I whispered. It was not a question, more like a statement of fact.

The Phantom stepped forward and, surprisingly, gave a very gentlemanly bow. "A brilliant deduction, Mademoiselle."

I hadn't expected his voice to sound so soft. Oh, it was definitely laced with harshness and rudeness, but there was kindness there. "Might I ask what you're doing here?" I asked once I found my voice.

"I might ask you the same thing."

"Praying," I answered quickly, rising up from the floor. "I shall probably find my way down here often now that mama is so close to her death." I looked away in an effort to hide my tears.

"What is her sickness?"

"Tuberculosis." The word was wrung from me as if I was admitting the defeat. "She has had it for some time, but they didn't tell me."

"They?"

"My mother, the doctor, my grandmamma." I wrapped my arms around myself trying to shut out the cold that had suddenly arrived in the room. I closed my eyes trying to stem the tide but found that a few tears escaped. I wiped them quickly way and apologized.

"There is no need to apologize."

I laughed and pulled out a handkerchief. I made haste trying to compose myself. "You'll think me silly crying like this." I stuffed my handkerchief back into the sleeve of my blouse and looked up at my masked companion. His white mask covered the left half of his face and I could barely make out his eyes in the dimly lit chapel. He wore a white shirt, black tuxedo, and a black cape that was drawn over his shoulders. His black hat was drown over his forehead and tilted slightly to the left. Despite his mask, it was easy to think him prodigiously handsome.

"You've still not answered my question, monsieur. Why are you here?" I put my hands behind me and waited patiently for his response.

"I came…to…um…introduce myself."

I couldn't tell which was more amusing: his explanation or the grasping he seemed to do in order to find his reasoning. "No letter, sealed with the infamous red skull? No warnings to stay away from the deepest darkest places of the Opera House? No reprimand for being in Box Five?" I tsked at him. "From all that I've heard, I am quite disappointed."

"Would you have preferred a note then?" Gone was the brief trace of kindness. His voice was icy cold and I feared I had offended him.

"Now, don't be cross with me. To be honest, I would prefer you do exactly as you choose. I can get a more ready opinion of you that way. I am sorry if you found me offensive. But, since we are talking about introductions…" I wiped away the creases on the front of my gown, adjusted my hair so part of it fell over my shoulders and I cleared my throat.

"Good evening, monsieur. My name is Anastasia Maria Hillcrest." I dropped a very polite curtsy and folded my hands in front of me. "Of course, you don't have to tell me who you are."

"You obviously know already," was his sarcastic reply.

"True, but you don't think it a great paradox asking a masked man who he is?" I laughed and I was amazed when he at least smiled at my attempt at humor.

"You are a strange girl, Mademoiselle Hillcrest."

I dropped another polite curtsy. "Thank you, monsieur. I will accept that as a compliment. But please, you must call me Anne. Everyone else does."

He didn't respond to the contrary or anything else. We were both standing there in the faint candlelight of the chapel, staring at each other. I found the Opera Ghost's eyes to be very intense and unnerving. I wasn't used to being stared at and I became very self conscious. I chewed on my lower lip and started fidgeting with my hair. It was a nasty habit that my grandmother had tried to rid me of. I stopped moving when I saw my dark companion step closer. I could feel my body freeze when I saw his hand reach up. I thought instantly of the tales that I had heard throughout the passing days.

"if you see his face, he'll kill you!" That was the one that rang prominently in my mind and my breath caught in my throat. I couldn't move and I couldn't breathe. I was standing in some sort of suspended animation waiting for something to happen. But his hand didn't settle on my throat in an attempt to kill me. He cupped my left cheek and I could feel the pad of his thumb run across my cheekbone, right beneath my right eye.

"I'm sorry, but, your eyes…"

"Oh, dear. Have they gone quite pale again?" I chuckled nervously trying to break the…the….whatever this was.

"Have they always been like that?"

"Do you mean have they always changed colors like that? Yes, for as long as I can remember."

"No," the word was whispered and I could feel his breath on my face. How was it that just one word could render me helpless and want to melt at the same time? "Have they always been filled with sorrow?"

I felt the moment break. My pain was mine to bear and I had let my defenses fall. He had seen me weak and helpless. I was usually the strong one, never letting anyone in. I placed my hand over his and whispered softly in the darkness. "I could ask the same of you."

I felt the change in him before I saw it in his eyes. He dropped his hand, his body stiffened, and his dark eyes turned cold, and hard. He stepped away from me and I felt the cold air hit my cheek from where his hand had rested.

"You are very direct, Anne."

"The effect of education, I suppose, but I am sorry to have upset you." I reached out and took his hand. "You don't have to tell me anything, nor do I expect you to. I have not right to the knowledge that I have…"

"And what knowledge do you think you have?" He asked, ripping his hand away from me.

"I only know what Meg has told me."

He laughed at me. I had been laughed at many times, but this hurt. It was sardonic and patronizing, like he was making fun of me, and he didn't even know me. "You know a one sided tale, mademoiselle."

"I know that you have lost a great deal, and I can sympathize with that."

He gripped my upper arms and I thought he was going to ram me in the wall. I felt fear grip my body and I shrieked. "You have no idea what I have lost." He was angry, and I feared for my life. "You cannot know what she meant to me."

I shook my head, speaking only when I could form coherent sentences. "No, I cannot personally know, that is true. But I have seen first hand what that sort of love and devotion can do."

"HOW?! How could you possibly know?!" He threw me from him and I landed back on the floor. I was able to catch myself without sustaining any real damage.

"Anne?!" A third voice sounded in the darkness.

I looked to the doorway. Even the Phantom turned.

"Aunt!" I cried. I got up from the floor and ran to her. She embraced me in her arms and I felt as if she could protect me from this man. The fear melted from my body and I almost cried tears of relief.

"What are you doing here?"

"I came to light a candle for mother…"

"Not you, Anne."

I looked up and saw that Aunt Giry was glaring at the Opera Ghost. If looks could kill, this would be one of those moments. It was then that I knew that these two had a history, that their knowledge of each other went farther back than the burning of the Opera House.

"Anne, I want you to return to your room. Don't tell anyone what's happened. I'll come and talk to you soon." She gave me a gentle push out of the chapel and I slowly made my way back to my room.

Madame Giry stepped back into the chapel and raised her candelabra higher, casting more light and even more shadows into the room. Her anger at Erik was violent and if she hadn't known him since they were children, she might have done considerable damage to him.

"I thought I told you to stay away from her," Madame Giry hissed.

Erik, who was still a little confused at the entire interlude that had passed. He could still feel her hand on his, could still feel her words pressing against his locked and cold heart. He looked down at his hand still feeling her warmth. She had not been afraid to touch him as so many had, but then, she did not see the monster beneath the mask.

"Erik!"

He was brought out of his reverie and saw Madame Giry looking as if she might kill him where he stood. It was an amusing sight and he sounded amused when he answered.

"She is a very amusing girl, Antoinette. I have never come across someone who can be so forthright and yet so timid in my life. She seems to be so full of contradictions and opinions. It's really quite astonishing. It's a shame that she should be so plain."

"Beauty of face does not always guarantee beauty of soul, Erik. Or have you forgotten that?'

His anger came back to the fore. "You forget yourself, Madame Giry!"

"Anne has known many sorrows in her short life."

He smirked. "I daresay she's not been pretty enough for some gentleman who married a girl worth 50,000 francs a year."

He had been waiting for it and then he heard it. There was a loud sob outside the chapel door and then hurried footsteps. He was right. Anne had been listening out the chapel door.

Madame Giry was torn between going and staying. Though she wanted to go help her niece, she was not done giving Erik his set down. "I should have thought you would be a bit more sympathetic."

"I have lost all sympathy, Madame."

"Stay away from my niece, Erik. She has seen enough ugliness to last a lifetime."