Hey everybody. Sorry about the late update. I had finals this week so I had those to study for those in addition to all those end of the quarter projects. The next update is going to be a little bit of a wait too because I'm going to Phoenix for spring break for the next week, but then I'll be back and updating as often as ever. Thank you for your patience! Read and review!
~nibblesfan

Erik stared at the black and white keys of his organ as he pondered Amelia's words. Could there actually be some truth to what she had said? No, of course not, he told himself. What did she possibly know? His eyes settled on the song she had completed for him. Like it or not, she had proven herself somewhat helpful. "Thank you," he finally said, breaking the silence between them.

Amelia's head shot up. "For what?" she asked.

He and ran his hand through his hair, refusing to look at her. "For helping me with the lyrics. You wound up saving me a lot of trouble."

"Oh," she whispered. "You're welcome."

A few minutes passed before Erik spoke again. "I'm sorry."

She seemed shock. "For what?" she repeated.

"I...I shouldn't have lashed out," Erik admitted, staring hard at the keys of his organ. "I didn't mean to hurt you. You were actually rather helpful. I'm just not used to people touching my music."

"Well I probably shouldn't have touched it without permission," Amelia acknowledged. Erik gave a curt nod but didn't say anything more on the subject, since, for once, things had worked out fine for him.

An awkward silence descended upon the lair again. There was something eating at Erik though. He turned to look at Amelia, who was buried in her poetry. "Do you really think my problem is that I love too much?"

Amelia slowly looked up and placed her poetry aside. "I've learned that it's unwise to lie to you Monsieur."

"But what do you mean by that?" Erik asked.

"It means that you seem to be trying to make up for a lifetime without love, and you're trying too hard. What I don't think you understand is that it is possible to love too much. Especially if she doesn't love you in return."

Erik couldn't believe what he was hearing. "That's rich," he spat. "Especially coming from you. You yourself said that you weren't capable of love."

"That is not what I said," Amelia snapped. "I said that I don't love enough. There's a difference. And I don't love enough because the only person who has ever wanted me to love them is Raoul, and you already know that story."

"Well aren't you the little hypocrite?" Erik sneered. "Telling other people how to manage their love lives when you can't even handle your own."

"You're the one who asked," Amelia shot back. Erik was about to tell her that he didn't care what she thought, when he realized that he had indeed asked.

He couldn't resist another question, even though he knew he was going to regret asking it. "Why did you marry him? It's clear that neither of you are even remotely attached to the other."

She shook her head and gave a frustrated sigh. "You just don't get it do you? It was expected of me. There was no reason not to marry Gaston."

"Besides the fact he hasn't noticed your absence in the past few weeks because he's off with his mistress, who he seems to care more for than you?"

Amelia glared at him. "There was nothing wrong with him when we were married. He began to court me because his family was on the rise, and our relationship was to be a blend of old and new money. Gaston was wealthy and handsome, and I was young heiress. It was everything society expected of us. I had no justification to refuse his proposal."

"Other than the lack of love."

"It amazes me how alike you and Raoul talk; especially for as much as the two of you hate each other."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Erik asked with a snarl.

"Well, it means that he's said the same thing over and over again. And like him, what you don't seem to get is that love doesn't put food on the table, love doesn't earn the approval of those who matter, and love doesn't end your family's embarrassment of you."

"That's the point of love though," he replied. "None of that matters anymore."

"And how would you know?" Amelia screamed. "You've spent your life hiding in a cellar, plotting revenge on the one woman who you ever even attempted to have some semblance of a relationship with!"

Erik recoiled from her sudden outburst. He tried to come up with a comeback, anything, but he was so stunned by her frank honesty, he couldn't think of a decent response. Instead, he turned back to his music, and after a while Amelia resumed her poetry. But as much as he tried, Erik couldn't focus. There was yet another question on his mind. "Why do you sign your poetry as Mia de Chagny? It's not your name."

"It was once," she answered. "Raoul, when he was first learning to talk, couldn't say 'Amelia' so he just called me Mia instead, and he never really stopped. But he, Christine, and her father were the only people in the world who ever called me Mia and it used to drive my mother mad. In fact, it still does."

"But why is it the name you use?" Erik asked again.

"Well, for one, my name was still de Chagny when I first started writing poetry and it didn't feel right to put anything else. Two: as you pointed out not too long ago, my marriage is little more than a piece of paper saying we went to a church and said 'I do', and so I don't really identify myself as a Barineau. And three: my main reason is the same as yours. Why do you call yourself 'the Phantom of the Opera' as opposed to whatever your birth name was? It's the part of yourself you hate least."

His gaze shifted downwards as he realized that she was right. He did prefer to be the Phantom as opposed to being Erik because the Phantom was a powerful entity that was to be feared, while Erik was a small, terrified child locked in a cage to be humiliated and beaten. Erik glanced back up at her as she continued with, "I'm Mia because that's who I want to be, exactly like you're the Phantom because that's who you want to be."

"Erik," he said softly without thinking.

"What?"

"My name is Erik."