Disclaimer: Dang, I forgot to do this for the first two chapters. I'm sure you all know that I don't own Beauty and the Beast, or anything else Walt Disney did, for that matter. But just because it's the rule… I do not own Beauty and the Beast or any of the original characters. But you won't find them in this story, anyway…

Chapter Three

Roger woke up feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time. He smiled and snuggled deeper into the soft pillow. After eating dinner alone, he had wandered the house, finding hundreds of rooms. Most were empty, but some held chess tables, pianos, and easels with a pile of canvases next to them. In one room he even found a large workbench, with an old tool case on the floor and scraps of wood surrounding the workbench.

There were many rooms that had beds and dressers. There were at least twelve bedrooms in the house! At one point, he thought that this building was the bed and breakfast he was looking for in the first place. But if someone here were running a business, then he would have seen the owner or other visitors by now. After wandering around for many hours, he had gone off to one of the more modest bedrooms and went to sleep.

But even after hours of exploration, he had not found a phone. Or a television or computer, either. He hadn't seen anything that required electricity. Everything was old fashioned, but at least they had plumbing. He didn't have the courage to take a shower last night, in case the owner of the house suddenly burst in and demanded that he leave. But he felt amazing this morning, as if nothing could go wrong, so he took a long bath. There was no showerhead, which Roger found a little odd.

He must have been in there for an hour or more, because when he left the bathroom that adjoined the bedroom, he found a pair of jeans and a button down shirt on the bed. His old shoes were gone and replaced with a pair of new sneakers. He looked around, as if to catch the person who gave him clothes, but there was no one but him in the room. The bed was made, and the window was now open, with the curtains pulled back. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, and there was only a gentle breeze. If he didn't know that he had to catch a plane that night, he would have stayed for another few days. And he missed Ellie. He left his cell phone in his suitcase and when he realized this, it was too dark for him to leave and go get it. He should have gone, he thought now, but he had been too scared that there would be something on the road. Someone waiting for him…

He changed quickly and left the room, surprised that the clothes fit him.

In the hallway, he got that feeling again, the feeling that something was wrong and something slimy and cold was sliding down his back. He wasn't sure what it was exactly, or what it meant, but he didn't like it all. His day suddenly didn't seem so good. He was in a stranger's house, and someone was leaving him clothes. He was thankful, but he also found it a little creepy. Why wouldn't the owner come out?

Roger went into the foyer, intending to leave, but the dining room door was open again, and he could smell bacon. He went inside and found another plate of food at the table. He sat down and ate the pancakes and bacon slowly. He watched the closed door at the other end of the room, expecting the cook to come out and ask why he was eating his breakfast.

No one came, and after he finished the glass of orange juice he was given, he turned to leave. Something red in the courtyard caught his eye and he stopped. He turned to look out the window and his eyes widened. A rose! The most beautiful and marvelous rose he had ever seen was outside. The bush it was on was small, but the stem was long and thick, and the bud was perfect. Every petal was deep red, and not a one was out of place. There were two other roses on the bush, but neither was as perfect as the one that had first caught his eye.

Elliot had to have it. He would give her this wonderful rose and tell her all about his stay in the house with invisible owners. He went to the door leading outside and opened it slowly. He had expected it to be locked. With a large grin, he stepped into the courtyard and went towards the bush. He didn't think the owner would mind him taking a rose. They had given him so much, what was the worth of a single rose?


The beast was pacing his room again. The curtains were pulled, and the candles had not been lit. Ever since the accident, as he called it, he preferred the darkness to light.

He felt something stir in him. "Ah… you are awake," said the voice. The beast cringed, wishing the voice were not in his head. He wanted to see the being that was speaking to him so he wouldn't feel so insane.

"Yesss…" he said, his voice soft and quiet. He hated the high, slithery tone in his voice.

"Let me see him…."

The voice that spoke to him sounded so weak and frail, but the beast knew that the woman could kill him if he dared defy her. He felt a pressure in his mind, a grip grabbing his brain and he winced. He picked up the mirror from his desk and looked into the glass. He didn't look away when he saw his horrible face, but instead thought of the man he had seen the night before. The image twisted. All the colors blurred and separated, then came back to make a new image, with new colors and shapes. He saw the man in the courtyard, approaching the only rosebush they had. At this realization, he tensed and began to sweat.

"No!" the voice screamed. "Keep him away! Don't let him touch my roses!" The beast threw the mirror to the bed and ran out of the room. He took the stairs two at a time, his hand barely grazing the banister. He only moved so fast because the presence of the woman had not left him. He could feel her anger in him, and that was what propelled him forward.

He pushed open the door to the courtyard and ran to the man so fast he didn't have time to turn around. He grabbed the man's arm and made him turn to face him. The man stared, surprised at first then yelled in horror.

"I let you ssleep in my bed, wear my clothesss, eat my food and thiss iss your thankssss?" He hated himself now, seeing the man cowering in fear. "Sssstealing from me? I ssshould lock you up!" These were not his words. He couldn't hold them in even if he tried.

"No! Please, don't. All my daughter wanted was a rose…"

"A daughter?" the voice asked, intrigued. The man was rambling on now, talking about his late wife and his three daughters. Of course he hadn't heard the voice, what was the beast expecting? Still, he was a little disappointed. "Ask about the daughter."

The beast asked, "Tell me about the girl who wanted the rossse." His grip on the man's arm loosened just a little bit and the woman either didn't notice or didn't care.

The man stopped and looked up to stare at the beast. It was the first time anyone from the outside had looked at him, and he resisted the urge to turn and hide.

"She's beautiful. And smart, and adventurous. She works too hard for me. She's always trying to make me happy…."

He could feel the woman grin. He could feel her thoughts running through his mind and he hated it.

"You can go free," he found himself saying, "if sshe comessss to take your place."

The man's eyes widened once again and his face turned red. "No! I could never put Ellie in danger!" He clamped his free hand over his mouth when he realized he had said her name and the beast smiled, though it wasn't his smile.

"Then I will lock you up!" The woman made him drag the man out of the courtyard and through the dining room. They went through the door in the foyer and down the hall. At the end of the hall, they stopped in front of a door and the beast pulled a key out of his vest pocket and unlocked the door. All the while, the man was begging him to let him go.

"Please… Ellie will miss me so. I'm all she has, and she is my world!"

But the beast was forced to ignore him. He didn't even let his face soften with sympathy. The door opened and they went down a set of stairs. The stairway was narrow and dark and the man was shivering by the time they reached the bottom. He had to open another door, but this one had a small hole with bars in it. He pushed the man into the small prison and closed and locked the door.

"No, please just let me go home! I won't tell anyone."

The beast was all ready up the stairs, closing and locking the door. The man's cries stopped, but they had been so horrible and desperate that the beast had to close his eyes to keep the tears in.

"The girl." The woman was back. "I want to see the girl."

The beast nodded and went back upstairs to his room. It was hard to find the girl, since he didn't know what she looked like, but after several minutes of concentrating and staring into his reflection, the image began to change and contort.

At first glance, the beast thought he was looking at a boy. Her hair was so short and she wore pants. Her shirt was baggy, so it was hard to tell if there was anything under it. Not that he was looking there, of course.

But when he looked at her face, he realized that he had never seen someone so beautiful. The woman that controlled him tensed when he thought this, but he didn't care. The girl's eyes were odd, but he couldn't think of any other eyes he would rather get lost in. Her lips were dark red, full, and her nose small, and the shape of her face was perfect. Not too thin and not too round. Her cheekbones were high, and her chin stubborn.

She was sitting on a couch, her arms resting on her knees. Her feet were up on the couch and the beast was too caught up in her beauty to think that it was rude to put your feet on furniture. The rest of the room was blurry, but he didn't want to look away.

He noticed suddenly that she was sad. Her eyes were a little watery and her forehead was creased. She kept biting her lower lip and glancing at the odd device by her feet. Her feet were so small! He looked back to her face. Her eyes were closed now and she was running her fingers through her auburn hair. A tear fell from one eye and slid down her cheek. The beast felt his heart swell with pity. She was crying because of her missing father. He suddenly wanted to hold her, comfort her. But she wouldn't want a beast like him anywhere near her.

The woman laughed. "Your thoughts amuse me. But… I think she will be useful."

The beast panicked. No! She couldn't possible be thinking of bringing Ellie her!

"Write me a letter, my pet." She laughed again. "We will see how much she really loves her father."


Elliot was crying. Her father hadn't called last night, the night before he had to catch a plane. He hadn't called in the morning, and now it was noon. What if something happened to him? What if he had been murdered or kidnapped? The phone was at her feet, and she kept looking at it, waiting for him to call.

At two, she went to the airport to pick him up. "He's fine, he just got busy and couldn't call…" She knew he wouldn't forget to call. He had been up working so late and didn't call because he didn't want to wake her. "He'll come out, we'll get his luggage and everything will be fine. Everything is fine."

She stood just outside the security area, watching the people go in and come out. She couldn't go past security since she wasn't catching a flight, but she wished she could. She wanted to see her father as soon as possible. She bounced on her heels, looking over people's heads to try and see her father. She stood there for half an hour before going to sit in an empty seat by the door. She sat there for forty-five minutes, her whole body tense. He didn't catch his flight… he hadn't come home. He hadn't called! She stood up and asked the woman behind the Frontier Airline desk about her father.

"Miller… Miller…Roger Miller…" the woman said as if she was scanning a grocery list, making sure she had put her father on it before heading out the door. She typed something, looked at her computer, and then typed something else. "I'm sorry, miss. Your father didn't check in today. I can call the people at JFK Airport if you want." Elliot nodded and the woman picked up a phone. Elliot wasn't listening to what she said to the person on the other line. Her father wasn't here…

"I'm sorry, but they haven't seen or heard from your father." Again, Elliot nodded, too shocked for words. She turned and walked slowly out the sliding glass doors. Her eyes were watery and tears slid down her face. She pictured horrible things happening to her father, him being stabbed or drugged and kidnapped or beaten and lying forgotten in an alleyway. In her worst visions, he had simply forgotten about her and had decided to live the high life in New York.

When she got into her car, she was too shaken up and scared to drive. She put her head on the steering wheel and cried for a long time. She missed her father so much, and knowing that he hadn't even entered the JFK Airport made her feel horrible and terrified for her father. Something had happened to him, but what? She wanted to catch the next flight to New York City and look for him. But what could she do? Have a breakdown on the plane and then get lost after leaving the airport? How would that help her father? She decided to wait a few days, and if she didn't hear from him then she would call the police.

"The conference is probably just taking a long time… I bet he called me while I was here! There's a message from him on my answering machine right now."

When she got home, she rushed to the phone, but there was no message. She began to sob again. She fell to the floor and cried into her hands. She had never felt so alone before. She had never been away from her father without hearing from him, without knowing he was safe.

She didn't eat for the rest of the day. She lay on her couch, the phone on her stomach. Eric called three times that day, but when she saw his number on the screen, she let the answering machine pick it up.

"Hi Elliot," his first message began. "I just wanted to apologize for making assumptions the other day. And I forgive you, too, for saying the things you said. I know you don't mean any of it." Elliot's eyes narrowed in anger, but at least he had called her Elliot. It would only make her cry more if he called her Ellie.

His second message was much shorter. "Hey Elliot. Umm… call me back."

His last message went like this: "I know you're in there, Elliot! Why are you ignoring me?" Elliot thought of many rude things she could say to him, but she didn't dare answer the phone. "What is it? You would rather be with that crazy old man of yours than me?"

Elliot lost it then. How dare he call her father crazy? She wished she were with her father, and the fact that Eric talked about him as if everything was "normal" and he was here made her want to sob again. She hit the talk button on the phone and yelled, "You horrible prick!" into it and then threw the phone across the room. It crashed against the wall. Elliot sat up instantly. "Oh no!" She ran to the place where the pieces of the broken phone lay and scooped them all up. "What if he calls?" she cried.

She bought a new phone later that day and she stayed home the next day, even though it was Monday and Spring Break was over. She sat by her phone all day, watching the news just in case they mentioned a murder or kidnapping in New York. She checked her mail everyday, hoping that there was a postcard from her father. She doubted it, but maybe he was in a place where his cell phone didn't work and there weren't any phones nearby.

On Wednesday, she got an interesting letter in the mail. It wasn't in an envelope; it had just been folded so that the edges of the paper met in the middle. There was a red stamp holding it together, with a rose bud on it. In large, curved script on the other side of the letter was the name "Ellie". Her address was under her name.

Elliot's heart beat faster and her hands shook as she broke the seal. She was sure it was her father. She knew how much she liked old-fashioned things like this, and he had used a rose as the seal.

The letter read:

Dear Ellie,

I am not that sorry to inform you that your father is being held captive in my house. He was caught trespassing and stealing, and I do not approve of either acts. If you wish to see him, go to New York City and find The Barrel Bar on the corner of Eighteenth Street and Madison Avenue. I will have an escort there waiting for you tomorrow at three P.M. If you are not able to make it at that time, then my escort will be there at the same time the next day and the next for four days. If you still have not come, then your father will be killed.

If anyone is informed of this, then I will not hesitate in ending his life.

Cordially,

The Beast of the House of Rose

Elliot gaped and read the letter again. "No, no, no…" she murmured after the third reading and fell into a chair. "This can't be right, it can't be! Maybe it's someone else…" But she knew it wasn't. She had cried so much in the last few days that she didn't shed a tear now. She yelled and screamed instead, frustrated that she couldn't even cry, and angry with herself for letting her father leave. She was so angry and scared she didn't stop to wonder who The Beast of the House of Red was, or why her father would even think of trespassing.

When she had calmed down a little, she grabbed her sweater and purse and left the house, the letter in her hand. She drove back to the airport and bought a ticket for New York that left that night.


AN- Wow! Thanks for all the reviews you guys! Made me feel really good! XD Lol! I'm glad you thought the lesbian remark was funny, TrudiRose. I hope you all like this chapter. I was surprised at how fast I wrote it, but it is Saturday….