Disclaimer: No, I do not own Erik. He is simply borrowed for my own purposes. ~evil laugh~

AN: This is probably my longest chapter to date but that's because I knew how I wanted to end it. Thank you for all the reviews and comments, especially about Anne's treatment and about Elizabeth. The two have a very interesting dynamic which will be fun to write about. Kudos to Obsessive Compulsive Fangirlr for finding my "V for Vendetta" quote. :) I'll try to have at least two more chapters up before the end of October, but I will say that my writing won't be so up to date as I will be participating in Nanowrimo starting November 1st. And with that: On With The Show! Black ribbon roses for the R&R

In the Summertime

Two months had come and gone. My dresses from La Marguerite had arrived and they were placed in the back of the wardrobe to be worn only when I had to mingle with society, which was never often. Meg and I went out once a week to see the city and to have a nice lunch and for her to giggle or complain, which ever suited her fancy. Le Nozze di Figaro, surprisingly, turned out to be a huge success, selling out every single performance. It ran for three weeks, earning more money than I'm sure anyone could have ever hoped, or dreamed. The spring season was now officially over and the Populaire was closed for the summer. My days were not filled with empty idleness. I was taken to Madame Carrolton's home every day, for two hours where she would have a lesson with her teacher and I would accompany her.

I found those lessons to be very enlightening, since I had never had a private teacher to assist me in studying voice. The man was very knowledgeable in how the voice worked and how to make sure Mme Carrolton would not strain her voice. We mostly spent time working on Italian arias, but still adding some French mélodie as well as German lied. I had no idea that she was so well versed in languages and it did truly seem that she had a marvelous gift.

When her lessons were over and her teacher dismissed, I stayed for afternoon tea where I listened to her talk about whatever pleased her. She usually rambled on about the latest Parisian gossip, who was seeing who and what the latest scandals were amidst the aristocracy. She talked about ribbons and lace, and sometimes she talked about her life as a child…her life before the Opera House. That was what I enjoyed hearing the most. Elizabeth was sure to love all talks about fashion and gossip, but I enjoyed hearing about people's lives and how their past occurrences formed them into the people they were today.

"My father was Sir Carrolton and my mother was Lady Elaina. My father was knighted for writing a beautiful collection of poetry for the queen and her daughters." She sipped her tea and looked out the window and the afternoon sunlight played off her short blonde hair. One thing I couldn't understand about her was why she kept her hair so short. It barely touched her shoulders, but she always said it was because of all the wigs she wore. It was awful trying to keep up all the hair in a wig cap so she just kept it short.

"Did you live in the country?" I asked, taking a small bite of a pastry.

"Yes, I did. I am the middle child of seven, and I was the only one who didn't want to practice archery, or learn how to ride a horse, or learn how to take care of a household. I wanted to sing! I was quite fortunate that Mama and Papa let me. Most families aren't so accommodating."

I shook my head. "No, they are not."

She never pressed me about my life. I assumed it was because she didn't care to know or because she was too wrapped up in her own life to even care. However, as time passed I saw it was because she was waiting for me to open up the flood gates and share with her the story of my life. I smiled, knowing that she was going to wait a long, long time. Very few knew the truth, and I intended it to stay that way.

I usually stayed about an hour with her and then the carriage took me home. Whereupon I practiced, since the stage was now habitually lit during the earlier hours of the day and I played on the piano until someone, usually Michel Faucher, came along. He had started taking an unusual habit of following me around and saying the most ridiculous things. I had never been one for flattery since it was usually falsely based and I watched enough of Faucher to know that his sweet words were used on every girl in the Opera House.

Strangely, I had not seen the Opera Ghost during those two months. When Le Nozze di Figaro was a huge success, everyone said a small "thank you" to the Phantom who apparently had no problems at all with the performances. If anything had happened that he did not like, well, I had heard enough about previous catastrophes to understand that he would let us know if something was displeasing. Each performance was smooth and perfect with not a single problem.

My summer was fairly uneventful. And while I kept myself busy with lessons and practicing, I knew that Elizabeth would have graduated from her boarding school, and would be making her entrance into society. I knew her debut would be an entirely different occasion than mine. Elizabeth, being ever as beautiful as Mama, would have suitors lined up for just a glimpse of her attention and would be waiting to shower gifts upon her. It was very well assumed that she would have found herself a suitable husband by the end of her first season. He would obviously be titled, with lands, fortune, and a lineage nearly as old as England itself. And of course he would be handsome with a visage that would rival the Greek gods themselves.

I had not had a letter from Mama the entire summer, and I grew exceedingly worried. I cried, knowing she was so ill she couldn't write, but I wrote her as often as I could. I usually stopped by the post to drop off the latest letter filled with almost meaningless prattle of the comings and goings of my life. I told her of my meeting with the Phantom and of my rehearsals with Madame Carrolton and of the Opera House and I always sent Aunt Giry and Meg's love and well wishes. I never received a reply and I worried almost to the point of being sick, but I knew that someone would send me news if she had died. I went almost every day to the chapel and prayed for Mama. I lit a candle and stayed for nearly an hour just praying and thinking over my years with her. How full of life she was, and how beaten down she had become due to circumstances. She tried her best to never let me see it, but I was old enough to know. I grew up quickly, Mama always thought too quickly.

When I went to the chapel and had only the light of the candelabra, I couldn't help but think of my first meeting with Erik. How terrified I had been, how terrified I still was, seeing him. And yet, I felt an uncanny feeling now, as if I had seen him before, or at least heard of him, and couldn't place him. Looking back on it now, I reacted hastily and probably said things I shouldn't. Who was I to speak of things of which I had no understanding?

"I wish I could apologize," I whispered to the empty room. "I wish I could take back what I said and start again. But we never get second chances at life." I stared at the portrait of mother and lightly ran my fingers over her face, dimly lit by the solitary candle. "We must play with the cards we are dealt and in the end surprise them all with the winning hand."

"How very true." The voice echoed in the faintly lit room and I felt chills creep down my arms.

"You're here aren't you? The Phantom of the Opera?" I stood up from my crouched position looking around the room, trying to see him but failing to do so.

"Yes."

"Please, show yourself. I'll think myself going mad if I'm addressing only the empty space around me." I was looking towards the stained glass window and when I turned around to face the doorway he was there! I screamed and quickly put a hand over my mouth.

"I have that effect on people."

I tried not to pay attention to how pained that sounded. "I'm sorry. You just startled me that's all. Come into the light, please. There's no point hiding in the darkness."

"It's all I've done my whole life. Why should now be any different?"

"I can't apologize if you're going to be in the shadows."

"And why, pray tell, should you apologize?"

I tried not to smile as he did step further into the candlelight. "For my words at our last meeting. I had no right to speak about things I had no understanding of."

I was surprised to find him laugh at my comment.

"And why is that funny?"

"You're going to apologize now for something you said nearly three months ago?" Erik was highly amused but he was strangely confused as to why she should feel any need to apologize since he, too, had been brusque during their first encounter. But it gave him satisfaction nonetheless. She had been too forthright in her comments and in the way she acted. Conscience pricked at him as he should be also addressing that at himself.

"I would have apologized earlier had I found some way to see you or at least communicate with you. I have had more than one reminder on staying away from trap doors and dark corridors. And I didn't want anyone to think I had lost my mind by addressing the dark calling for you."

Erik was silent, unsure of how to proceed with the reason he had come to see her. Since the Opera House had closed for the season, he had found himself able to compose again. It was nothing on the scale of Don Juan but he was able to find solace in his music again. It was able to bring him peace…but never happiness. That was something forever out of his reach. Every time Anne had played, he had watched her. He saw the change every time she played. Every time she talked about music, which was never often, her entire countenance would change and she would appear almost as if she were another person. But reality would always return when the subject was closed or when someone interrupted her.

Erik had wanted to find out more about her, but Madame Giry was as silent as a tomb when it came to Anne and the young woman never talked about herself. She always found a way to sidestep every question when it came to her family or to what her life was like before she went to stay with her Grandmother. What tied her to music? What made her look as if she were a thousand miles away just by caressing the black and white ivory keys? Even Christine couldn't make him wonder such things, and she had been his Ange de la Musique.

"Are you alright?"

How had she gotten so close? She was standing less than two feet from him and her clear blue eyes were unreadable.

"What would make you ask such a question?"

"Curiosity and pain flashed across your face and I wondered if everything was alright?"

Sympathy for a monster like him? Doubtful. "I was merely curious about your ability to play. You seem very talented for someone so young."

He watched the drastic change from sympathetic to defensive. She placed her hands on her hips and she tossed back her head. "I'm twenty-five, and I studied very hard."

"Yes, your technique is good, but I'm talking about more than just that. I'm talking about talent. A person can play scales, arpeggios and all the Bach Inventions they want until their fingers bleed and be technically perfect, but you possess more than that."

"Flattery will get you know where."

"You see, that's an evasion to my statement. I should know, I'm quite good at that." Erik crossed his arms and tried to stop the twitch of his lips from becoming a smile. "I'm talking about pure and raw talent, not flattery to some ridiculous ego."

"I suppose I should thank you for your compliment, as you are quite an accomplished and talented musician yourself."

He bowed in response.

Anne sighed and rubbed her temples. "All I will tell you, is that music has been a part of me since I was very little. When I was able to study and practice on more regular basis I cannot help but let myself wander back to a time when things were very different in my life…when things were a lot happier. That is all I will say on the subject."

"And when you were able to study…what caught you interest?"

"Privately with my tutor it was mostly Bach Inventions." She smiled. "And at times I did think my fingers would bleed. He was so concerned about my technique since I had a tendency to show too much emotion in my playing. So, it was all technical work when he was around and for the time that I had to myself, well, it was lyrical airs and passionate melodies that would have shocked my Grandmother had she known." She laughed and Erik was immediately transfixed by the alteration it did to her face. Everything changed when she talked about music and it was bewildering to see it.

"Do you sing as well? I am told that most pianists often do." He couldn't understand where the question came from and he immediately wished he could take it back. The fear that flashed across his face unnerved him.

"N-no. I do not sing. Not anymore."

"But you did once?"

"Please…I…I don't want to talk about it anymore." She wrapped her arms around herself and walked towards the stained glass window. "That chapter of my life is closed. I do not sing anymore. And that is all you need to know."

Erik was silent, curious and confused. "I'm sorry to have offended you. I assure you that it was not my intent."

She gave a shaky laugh and he could see her push whatever unpleasant memory in her head away. Hadn't he done that same thing often enough. "It isn't your fault and I'm not offended." She pushed back her hair and turned back to face him. "So…you have been watching me?"

He bowed. "My apologies."

She shook her head. "Unnecessary. I know when I'm being watched. Although, it would be a little less unnerving if you could at least let me know you're there."

"I shall try to do better." He smiled, wondering where this unusual repartee was coming from. "Do you have a tutor now?"

"No, I do not. I do not like being hounded on my technical work when that is not how I view music."

"Would you care to have one again?"

"Are you offering?"

Such forthright manner! She's impudent when she wants to be and can stand on her own, but there is a vulnerability about her.

"And what would you want in return, Erik?"

He stilled.

"Don't sound so surprised that I know your name. You know very well I was listening when you talked with my Aunt."

"I'm…"

"Don't say it. Apologies are unnecessary as I should really learn not to eavesdrop."

He bowed again. "What are you proposing to give me in exchange?"

She thought for a moment. "Well, I know you couldn't possibly want my money as you request 20,000 francs a month from the managers." She chewed on her lip for a moment apparently toying with some idea in her head. "How about…my time?"

Erik blinked. "Pardon me?"

She smiled and wrung her hands. "I know you cannot possibly be happy where you live, and it's undoubtedly very lonely, so I propose that what I give you is some companionship and my time."

She was a strange girl. "Pity I do not need, mademoiselle."

"I'm not giving you pity. I'm just stating a fact." She held out her hand to him. "Deal? We can work out the finer points of the arrangement later."

Her smile was unreadable. Her eyes held no trace of a lie. He was lonely in his own private little Hell. But she seemed different from his Christine. Anne apparently wanted to spend time with him and to be around him. Was it a glimpse of sunshine in his ever dark days?

He sighed and grasped her hand. "Very well."

"Good." She smiled and Erik immediately wondered what he had gotten himself into and who was actually helping the other. Anne had a talent that was not something she learned and that needed to be honed and refined and she would make a great mark on the world. True, she was not a singer, but hadn't singers always become something more than what they aspired to be and left him behind?

"I should get going," she spoke, gently taking her hand out of his. "I'm to have dinner with Aunt Giry and Meg tonight. Everyone will be back later in the week to talk about the newest opera, and this is one of the last chances we'll have together as a…family."

"Of course. We shall talk again soon. In two days I shall come and we will…talk."

Another smile. "Until then." She walked out of the room and Erik was left to wonder at the changeling he had met, and to think about what had just happened.

I couldn't think about my meeting with the Phantom. It was all too much to take in and he himself was an enigma of a character that was probably never going to cease to amaze me. As I made my way back to my room, I thought that Mama would be very proud of me, reaching out to him as I did. Being kind to those who had not always been shown kindness was something she had tried to instill in me for year.

"Anne!"

I looked up to find Aunt Giry standing at my door. "Is everything alright? Is it dinner time already?"

She looked worried and confused as if she wasn't really sure of what to say. "Anne, you have a visitor."

"A visitor?" I opened the door to my room.

The blonde hair was piled atop the head of a well developed young woman. The person standing before me wore a day dress of light blue and wore a matching hat. She was examining herself in the mirror and she saw me instantly. She turned and her blue eyes lit up with joy.

"ANNIE!" She yelled. She came forward and embraced me.

"E…Elizabeth?"

AN: Just a clarification. Anne has no romantic feelings towards Erik at this point in time. Erik has no romantic feelings towards Anne at this point in time. Anne's offer stems from her past and what her mother has tried to teach her. It's kindness...nothing more...yet. :D