A big thanks to HurogWalker

Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera.

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Chapter 6

The next morning, Ashe was at the front desk wearing less black then she would have normally. When she had shown up at the breakfast table that morning, her parents had taken one look at her and told her to change. Their excuse was that they didn't want her to scare away any visitors. She had scoffed at them and told them she didn't care, but she had changed anyway. She had not been in the mood to argue with them. She'd had a bad night; tossing and turning and even when she did finally fall asleep, it wasn't restful and she had awoken even more exhausted than she had been the night before.

So that she wouldn't have to fight with her parents, she had donned a long-sleeved gray silk shirt and black dress pants, which hid most of her leather boots. Her red-and-black hair was pulled back into a simple braid. Yawning, she sat at the desk, drawing circles on the shiny wooden surface with her fingertip. Leaning forward until her nose touched the polished wood, she breathed on it until it fogged up and then pulled back to draw on the fogged-up wood. After a while, she leaned back in the chair and yawned again, bored. It was a simple job; one that she had done many times back in New York. All she had to do was direct the tourists to where the tour guide was and answer phone calls.

The entire day was uneventful, consisting of her answering questions and taking calls when they came and directing lost people to where they needed to be. Ashe had just pointed some German tourists in the direction they needed to go to meet up with their tour when the hair on the back of her neck stood up.

"Oh no, not again," she groaned. Turning, she wasn't surprised to see the Ghost watching her. "Go away," she hissed irritably.

"As I have told you before, I can not leave. Besides," he said, his tone almost seeming amused, "you are the only one who can see me, and I find that rather interesting, Mademoiselle Ashe."

Ashe snorted. "Gee, thanks, I'm so glad to be your source of entertainment," she said sarcastically. Glancing around, she saw that the few workers and guests who were nearby weren't paying her any attention, so she turned her attention back to the Ghost. "Don't you have anything else to do other then bother me? If you want someone to haunt, go haunt someone else."

"When one has only seen what is allowed to be seen, and has gone as far as one is permitted to go for many years," he said, eyeing her, "then when something new comes along, something different, then of course the being in question would be rather curious. Therefore, chère, you are of interest to me. I intend to find out more about you."

He paused for a moment, seeming to ponder that before continuing. "In all my years as a ghost, no one has ever been able to see me. Oh, a few sensed I was around, but they mostly passed it off as having an overactive imagination and didn't bother to search deeper or try to find out more. So the very fact that you can see me as clearly as you see any other human gets more intriguing by the second."

Ashe stared at him, trying to process what he had just said. After a moment, she shook her head, turning away from him in an attempt to ignore him. Maybe, she thought, if I ignore him long enough he'll get bored and leave me alone. So Ashe did everything she could to ignore him by avoiding looking at him or showing any indication that she knew he was standing just beyond the counter, a little to her right.

During the next ten minutes, she answered two phone calls, the entire time knowing he was there and staring at her. Her eyes kept glancing over at him of their own accord, and even when she concentrated on not seeing him, she still caught glimpses out of the corner of her eye. Every time she saw him, it seemed that he wasn't even paying attention to her, but when she wasn't looking something in the back of the mind told her that he was indeed studying her. Finally, unable to stand it any more, she spun around. "Do you mind?"

"Qué?" A short older man had been reaching out to tap her shoulder.

Ashe's eyes widened. The poor old man stood there, obviously confused about why she had snapped at him. After apologizing profusely in Spanish and personally showing him were the tours were, Ashe sank back down into the office chair at the desk, her head lowered. Again, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She lifted her head and her eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the Ghost.

Erik didn't say anything, but the knowing glint in his eyes had Ashe's blood boiling as she gritted her teeth.

Later that night, Ashe knocked on her parent's door and asked her mother for a book. She didn't bother to ask for a specific one. She knew her mother would give her "Phantom of the Opera". It was a book that Carrie had been trying to get Ashe to read for years. Her mother had been deeply disappointed that The Phantom of the Opera was not as popular in France as it was in New York. Nevertheless, she was always trying to get Ashe interested in the story. But Ashe had enough ghosts in her life without reading a ghost story. But now, Ashe took the book from her mother's outstretched hands without comment. She wanted to find out more about the Opera Ghost.
XXX

Ashe stretched, balancing her chair back on two legs, staring vacantly at the table in front of her. She had spent the last several hours in the library, pouring over the text of Gaston Leroux's "The Phantom of the Opera," scribbling notes and observations to review later. She was almost done with the book now.

Apparently, the story of the Phantom of the Opera was real, and not fictional, though she had noticed a few inaccuracies. For one thing, the Ghost she had met was not old, as the man in the book was, and for another, the Ghost only wore a half-mask. It stood to reason that only half of his face was deformed.

Ashe slowly shook her head as she contemplated what she had read. 'Monster' falls in love with a beautiful, yet witless girl; hero saves girl; 'monster' dies. The story overall was not very original.

"No wonder I never read this. This is one of the most dumbest books I've ever read." she mumbled to herself. She turned the last page of the book, and read the last sentence. Scoffing, she closed the book and rubbed her tired eyes. It was then she felt someone watching her. Looking up, she saw the Ghost sitting across from her, his face blank.

She let out a surprised gasp and shoved her chair backward, away from the table. The leg of the chair caught in the rug and instead of scooting, the chair tipped over, sending Ashe tumbling to the hard floor. "Owww!" she yelped as her head hit the floor, sending a jolt of pain through her. Hearing laughter, she pushed herself to her feet.

The Ghost was still seated at the table laughing at her, his gray-green-gold eyes flashing his amusement. She marched around the table and came up beside him, glaring down at him. "So you think it is funny do you? Well, you can laugh at this!" Anger pushed aside logic, and she forgot for a moment that she should not be able touch him, forgot that he had already shown that he was prone to angering easily. She pulled her fist back and punched him in the shoulder. It went right though him. She pulled back, cursing. "I wish that you were alive so that I could kill you!" she snarled, and Erik stopped laughing abruptly.

When her fist pulled back, he grabbed it. He held it tightly, squeezing it almost to the point of pain. The room grew cold and the lights dimmed enough that Ashe could hardly see anything.

She gasped as the ice-cold chill numbed her hand. His much bigger hand fully encased hers. She stared in shock at the gloved hand that was painfully squeezing her fist. He was icily cold, and her hand felt as though it had been entombed in a block of solid ice. Standing up, he pulled her closer and glared down at her. Before now, she hadn't realized how tall he was.

They stood like that for only a moment before he whispered, "What makes you so sure that if I were alive that I wouldn't kill you, chère?" Then, losing his concentration, his hand went though her skin. He snarled, and disappeared.

Ashe let out the breath she didn't realizing that she was holding. Looking around at the mostly dark library, she shivered in the still-cold air. She snorted in an unladylike manner as she reached across the table and grabbed the book. Smart, real smart, she chided herself. It was just like her to unthinkingly anger the one ghost who could actually hurt her if he wanted to.

She shook her head. "Shit." she muttered as she glanced at her watch. It was three in the morning. She needed to get to bed; she had to work the front desk again tomorrow. Clicking the lights off and walking back to her room, she kept a wary eye out for the ghost, but she didn't see or feel him anywhere nearby. After reading the book, she had an idea as to where he went when he wasn't pestering her. The book had mentioned a house by the lake; so, he may be down there. Ashe didn't care where he was, so long as he was not near her. She came to her door and paused before opening it. She let out a low growl when she saw the sheet lying in a crumpled heap on the floor in front of the mirror. The thing simply would not stay covered. Gritting her teeth, she snatched it up and, making sure she didn't touch the mirror itself, she tucked the sheet into the corners of the mirror.

Standing back, she stared at her handiwork. Not bad, she thought. She sat down on the bed that was made up in her old sheets. All of her personal things had finally been delivered and, with slight glee, Ashe had stripped the red velvet blankets off the bed, closely followed by the gold sheets. They had ended up in a pile that Ashe had sent off with a small sarcastic wave. The elaborate bed was now covered with black and deep burgundy sheets and comforters. Yawning, she took a final glance around the room. She hadn't been allowed the make too many changes, but with a few well placed black lights and dim lighting would have seemed creepy to most people. To her, it was comforting and, as she had argued to her parents; wasn't that what a bedroom was supposed to be?

She had won that particular battle. They had backed out, her mother mumbling something about 'why did I have a daughter like this?' and her father grumbling that, ' she had no respect for the beauty of the building.' Ashe had rolled her eyes and shut the door.

Flopping back onto the soft mattress, she reached out and pulled a pillow close, stuffing it under her head. She lay there staring up at the darkened ceiling until sleep came.

Xxxx

The rest of the week went by uneventfully. Ashe didn't saw nor heard from the ghost, so for several days she was uncharacteristically cheerful and less snappy with her parents. But as she soon found out, it wouldn't last.

After the last tourist had left, and the last rug was vacuumed, and the polished floors shone, and the last worker had gone home, Ashe found herself alone. Her parents had gone to some social meeting that she had managed to talk her way out of. She had absolutely nothing to do. Not wanting to wander in the streets and not being in the mood to go to her room, she began to wander around the Opera house.

Having already explored most of the other rooms and the offices, and having no further interest in seeing them again, she walked through the hallway to the Grand Staircase and up the stairs. Soon, she reached the large doorway to the amphitheater.

Ashe pushed the doors open, and before long, she was standing in the center of the room. As in the rest of the Opera House, most of the lights were off, with only a few lights here and there. The high ceiling and the massive chandelier were dark, with the running lights on the lower level providing the only illumination. She walked slowly down the main aisle, heading toward the stage. Stopping at the orchestra pit, next to where the conductor stood, she looked around and spotted a small stairway leading up onto the stage. Ashe shrugged to herself and climbed up onto the stage and looked out across the auditorium.

Whoa, Ashe thought. One would definitely have to have guts to perform up here, she decided as she looked all around her. She turned away from the frightening landscape of seats, where she could almost picture hundreds of people sitting and watching her, and walked across the polished wood floor and toward the back of the stage where sets for the following week's ballet production were being put together. She continued farther back, her path lit only by dim lights here and there. The smooth, glossy floor gave way to an older, scuffed floor that was still well cared for, but was not waxed like the outer stage was, which gleamed like a mirror.

She stopped, not sure what to do or were to go from here. Looking up into the flies and the mess of ropes, she discovered that everything soon faded into utter darkness, a gloom so deep she couldn't make out the ceiling at all. Making her way over to one side, she climbed the metal stairs leading to the first series of metal grates that were the catwalks. She moved around the ropes with ease, going from one platform to another until she was about 30 feet above the stage on a narrow catwalk. She stopped and, with a sigh, sat down on the edge, her legs dangling over the side. Ashe closed her eyes, and rested her head on the rope that connected the catwalks and served as a railing.

"Enjoying the view?" a voice asked behind her.

Ashe jerked in surprise and her sudden movement caused the catwalk to sway. Letting out a gasp she lost her balance, slipping off. Acting on sheer instinct she managed to grab onto the rope, belatedly noticing that the hairs on the back of her neck were standing up. Her breath came in gasps and she didn't have the courage to look down. Her hands were sweating and she was having trouble holding on to the slender rope, which was bowed and straining under her weight. Taking a deep breath, she tried to calm herself so that she would have a chance of getting out of this predicament alive.

"Now this something," a voice commented dryly above her.

Ashe looked up to see the ghost staring down at her. The faint lighting below threw sinister shadows across his imposing figure. He had an odd look on his face.

"Now, I could walk away, or wait and see how long it takes you to figure out how to get back on the catwalk, or how long before your hands give out and you fall," he said in a calm, cold voice.

Ashe closed her eyes, terrified.

"Or, I could help you."

Her eyes snapped open. Help her? Why would he help her?

"Oh, the numerous chooses." He sneered down at her.

Not wanting to admit that she needed help, but with her arms already beginning to ache, Ashe spoke, though it came out as a whisper.

"I'm sorry. I did not catch that. I imagine that if you fall you will live, but it would hurt quite a lot. Considering how caring and concerned your parents are, you would lay down there for a reasonably long time. But then, if you fall the wrong way, you could die." The Ghost carefully knelt by her, his face grim.

Seeing that she had no choice but to ask for help, Ashe closed her eyes, clenching her teeth. "Will you please help me?" she managed.

Letting out an obnoxious chuckle, he stood. "Since you asked so nicely, this is what you do:swing your legs to the underside of the catwalk. There is a bar there. Hook your legs over that bar, and then you can climb back up."

Cursing in all the languages she knew, Ashe started to swing her legs forward, towards the catwalk as the Ghost had said to do. She felt her hands starting to give way. She pointed her toes and managed to hit the bar twice. One final big swing and she hooked the backs of her ankles to the bar at an odd vertical angle while she still held onto the rope for dear life.

"Yeah, this is great." She muttered as she slowly shimmied her feet forward until she had her knees bent around the bar. Her weight was taken off her hands, and she shifted her grip, wanting to be a little more secure this time, in case she slipped again. Ashe took a few deep breaths, and then eased her right leg up. She ended laying half on half off the catwalk. As she rested for a moment, she felt large hands grab her under the arms and lift her easily onto her feet.

Taking a deep breath, she looked up into mismatched gray-green eyes. The Ghost was staring down at her. Ashe took a step back, pushing against his temporarily solid chest. "Personal space here," she murmured.

An awkward silence stretched out for a few minutes until he finally spoke. "What were you doing up here?"

"I wanted to see if it was any different from the catwalks of The Metropolitan Opera," she said simply.

"Ah. Is it then?"

"No," she said after a moment, staring out toward the auditorium. "It's exactly the same."

The Ghost began to back up, fading as he did. The movement caused Ashe to look back at him. This time, she noticed, he was floating. She remembered the he had walked the lasted time they had met and the time before that he had floated, just as he was doing now. "Wait. Uh…um…thank you…Erik."

The Ghost stopped fading. "You're welcome, Ashe," he said.