A/N: I am so sorry this took so long!

Chapter Thirteen

"Piano"

Claire ran down the streets, looking over her shoulder more then she looked forward. Every time she turned her head she thought she saw a black shape following her, she saw black shapes everywhere! In the windows of houses, on the streets, in the alleyways, in the shops! She couldn't get away from them! She ran as fast as she could though her legs were now shaking, her dress had become so heavy from the rain, her hair was plastered to her skin, and her hands shook as they clung to her suitcase. She did not know where she was running she just had to get away, had to get away from Erik, from the shadows, from Amelie, from L'Opera Populaire! Away from it all! She looked behind her again and she saw a figure! It was someone! They where following her! But then her legs gave way; she hit the hard street it was cold against her already freezing skin. Her vision was blurring but she thought she saw a pair of black shoed feet before her as everything faded to black.

She stooped and plucked up the flower. She ran her cold fingers lightly across the tops of the petals that reached out as if offering a kiss on their red lips. The wind swirled around her frail figure and seemed to sing in a ghostly voice a melody that she didn't know and yet was so familiar.

"In sleep he sang to me

In dreams he came

The voice which calls to me…"

The music abruptly stopped. A chill began to fill the room. Claire shivered as she saw her white breath rise before her. And then she heard a soft voice speak in her ear,

"You have the voice of an Angel."

They reached the shore; Erik helped Claire out of the boat. She was breathless as she saw the site before her. A massive cavern, filled with natural levels, was lit by literally thousands of candles. Drapes and rugs filled the space and a pipe organ—the most beautiful organ—sat perched up on a natural platform. But then something happened, she felt as though a bucket of cold water had been dropped on her. She regained full control of herself now that Erik was not singing. She turned to him. "Why have you brought me here?"

Her eyes flew open as she felt a pair of warm lips on hers. He was kissing her! She didn't know what she was supposed to do but luckily instinct took over once again as she shyly moved her lips against his. Her eyes fluttered closed again as Erik's arms came around her and pulled her closer to him. As their bodies came against each other Claire felt Erik's tongue playing across her bottom lip. She had stopped thinking by now and was acting purely on instinct. She opened her mouth and her own tongue began its dance with Erik's. The innocence of the kiss had died quickly turning to passion almost to the point of violence. Claire moaned into Erik's mouth as she felt his hands caressing her and then beginning to untie the laces that held her dress together in the back. Her own hands were roaming over Erik vest.

"So you were never going to tell me!" Shouted Claire. "You didn't even tell me about you and my mother! Did you think if I didn't know then I'd love you!" She felt her nails dig into her flesh as she clenched her fists. "I was right. You only love me because I'm my mother's daughter! It's because I look like her! You don't love me you love her! Well, I am not my mother…and I do not love you." Before she had to see the betrayal on Erik's face she turned and ran towards the water.

"Past the point no return…"

Claire's eyes slowly pealed themselves open. Everything was still so unfocused and blurry. She was warm though and she was laying on something soft with something warm and fluffy on top of her. There was something familiar about where she was but she didn't know what, it was all still so unclear. She heard a door creak open and then,

"Lord be praised! You're awake!"

She knew that voice…who was it?

"I thought you would never wake! How do you feel?"

Who? Emma? It couldn't be! That would mean…her vision cleared slightly and she would have screamed had she the energy. She was in her old room! How was it even possible? "How?" She croaked out, her voice sounded strained and raspy. She saw Emma come over to her side.

"How what, Mademoiselle?"

"How did I get here?" Asked Claire urgently trying to clear her throat.

"Oh, that! After you disappeared at L'Opera a month ago Monsieur Chagny, your father, had almost all of France looking for you. He kept going on about Ghosts and something beneath L'Opera…between you and me I think he's lost it. Anyway, a policeman found you out cold in the rain. He brought you back here. Oh, it's so good to have you back!" Emma seemed positively giddy.

Claire blinked. "A month ago? It's been that long? How long have I been here?"

"I'd say you've been here about two weeks."

"Erik had me locked up for three whole weeks?" Gasped Claire.

"Who is Erik?" Asked Emma cocking her head to the side.

Claire caught herself. "Oh, n-no one. He's no one." Three weeks. She had thought it was only a few days.

"So, if you don't mind me asking, what did happen to you, Claire?"

Claire looked at Emma as she tried to sit up. "I was trapped in a nightmare. And I'm not sure I've woken from it yet." A nightmare. That was the only way to describe it and it was indeed not over yet. Erik was surly looking for her at that very moment. "Oh, God…" Claire summoned up all the strength she had and through back the covers.

"Madam! You really shouldn't!"

"I have to see my father! Now!" Claire pulled herself up from the bed, her knees still did not want to support her, she wavered and nearly fell.

"You must lie down!" Pleaded Emma rushing to her and trying to get her back in bed.

"No…" Panted Claire. "I have to talk to my father…Emma, my life depends on it!" Claire managed to get free from Emma's grasp and staggered to the door.

"At least let me help you." Said Emma taking Claire's arm and helping her out of the room and down the stairs towards the drawing room.

Claire had to warn father, he was an old fool but he was still her father.

Emma pushed open the drawing room doors.

Claire hurried in trying to keep herself balanced. "Father, you must leave here now!"

"Oh, good you're awake." Said father completely ignoring what she had just said.

"Father listen to me!" Pleaded Claire. "If we don't leave he will find me here! He won't let me go."

Emma decided this was a good time to excuse herself and did so.

"Well, don't say I didn't warn you." Said father coldly; he shifted slightly in his wheelchair.

"This isn't the time for that. My life is at stake and you just stay there not caring!" Claire gasped. Come to think of it father had never really tried all that hard to keep Erik away from her. And why had father bought a house so close to L'Opera if he wanted Erik to stay away? "Father," said Claire slowly. "You never wanted me to stay away from him, did you?"

Father shifted again.

"You knew this would happen that I would drive Erik insane because I'm so like mother. You knew and you did nothing because that's what you wanted, isn't it?" Claire drew closer to father. "You wanted revenge and you used me to get it, didn't you?" She didn't wait for father's reply but left the room and walked unsteadily back up to her own room.

Weeks passed and Claire was well enough to spend whole days out of bed. She sat in the study, a small, dusty, and claustrophobic room filled with huge gray old tombs that people called books. But she was left alone in this room, the servants avoided it for some mysterious reason, and she could think without disruption. She couldn't leave the house even just to go to the gardens, father had forbidden it, so she might as well keep to herself and her own mind.

There was a Piano in the room, it was so small it was hardly a Piano, its keys were yellow and could not possibly be in tune. It was shoved in the far corner and was covered in more dust then even the books. Claire would look at it longingly or run her hands lightly across the keys but never pressing them. Father had, years ago, forbidden her to play. But it was not for herself to play that she longed for what she yearned in her heart was for Erik's cold, thin but skilled fingers on the keys...and not just on the keys. Claire violently pushed that thought from her mind. She still hated Erik, she knew she did but her body betrayed her mind burning for his touch. Why she did not know. Besides her Opening Night the two had had no other romantic encounters so why the sudden yearning? Maybe her self inflicted solitude was beginning to take it's effect.

She sat down at the Piano and caressed the keys lovingly but not pressing them. Music; it was her passion and it had always been. Erik has become that music effectively becoming her passion. But she had left him...And rightfully so! She reminded herself. She looked out the single window in the room, pale light fought its way feebly through the dirty and neglected panes. Erik should have found her by now, he should have stormed in and forced her to return weeks ago. Why wasn't he there yet?—Wait! Was she actually wishing for him to find her? No, she had to stay away from him! It was best...for both of them. They both drove each other insane it was best this was.

Claire looked back at the yellowing Piano keys. She should have left this house weeks ago. Why hadn't she? She pressed a single finger down on a key. If she didn't leave he would surely find her. She pressed another key and it rang piercingly out of tune. She winced against the offending note. She pressed the key beside it and sighed as it sounded remotely close to it's proper tone. She slowly plucked out a simply melody smiling because she could remember it. She had learnt the melody years ago from her old Piano Teacher. Her teacher had been a kind gentleman who never found her childish mistakes offending just amusing. A tear hit Claire's hand which still lay on the keys. She missed those days in her childhood, everything was so simple and uncomplicated and the hardest choice she had to make was which dress to wear: blue or pink?

Claire stood up and walked from the Piano. It was no use living in her past, her past was gone and she could not get it back. Just like she could not get Erik back, the kind, gentle Erik that she thought he was. That Erik was lost to her forever. She starred out the window looking down at the small garden in front of the house and the gray walk way leading up to the door. She watched with mild interest as black carriage came to a stop in front of the house. Had father invited someone? Her curiosity kept a firm hold on her so she watched the coachman get down and open the door of the carriage. A puff of a black skirt sprung from the door followed by the whole dress and inevitably the woman wearing it. Claire could not make out her face for she wore a black hat that was keeping her face from view from where Claire was. The lady paid the coachman and walked slowly up to the house stopping at the door to ring the bell. Claire hurried from the study and went as fast as she could down the stairs to the Entry in time to see a maid open the door. The lady in black came into the entry but her hat was at the perfect angle to hide her face from Claire's view point. The lady pulled off her black gloves and handed them to the maid before finally taking off her hat and handing that to the maid as well. Now that Claire could see her face she knew exactly who that new visitor was!

"Hello, sister." Said Amelie with a smile that had more meaning to it then just politeness. "How nice to see that your failing health has covered nicely."

Claire was completely dumbfounded by Amelie's presence.

"You look shocked to see me." Said Amelie. "Did you not receive my letter? No, I suppose you wouldn't, your father and all." She said the phrase 'your father' with great meaning and unveiled disgust. "So how is the old man? Trying to find you another husband?"

At that comment Claire finally remembered herself. "He wouldn't need to it if weren't for you."

Amelie just made a dismissing gesture.

"How can you be so calm about murder?" Demanded Claire completely forgetting her manners.

Amelie looked her square in the eyes. "I am not here to have my morality or amorality put in question."

Claire was suddenly taken by an early memory of Amelie praying to the Virgin Marry and crossing everyone she met. "You seemed moral and religious enough when I met you."

Amelie made another dismissing gesture. "I'm an actress. I couldn't have people thinking I had had anything to do with..." But Amelie stopped short.

"To do with what?" Demanded Claire taking a few steps towards Amelie.

Amelie's nostrils flared for a second then she calmed. "I am not here to reminisce the past either."

"Then what are you here for?" Asked Claire regaining some calm herself.

"To make sure you're not coming back to L'Opera Populaire." Amelie's hand drifted to her bodice where Claire could see the tip of something silver.

Claire backed away slightly. "I'm not going back. There's no reason for you to..." She trailed off.

"Oh, but there is." Said Amelie pulling a long knife from her bodice. "I'm sorry, sister, but I can't let you go near him ever again."