AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this took so long to post but I have suffered a severe case of writer's block these last couple of days so…PLZ forgive me. Oh, and I want to BEG you all for your forgiveness for me posting that STUPID CHAT FIC!! I am SO EXTREMELY sorry and I totally forgot the rules…I am really sorry. I hope you all like this chappie, please review!

DISCLAIMER: Do you think that if I owned any of this stuff I would be sitting HERE? Hardly. Aaralyn is mine though. :P

ANOTHER AUTHOR'S NOTE: This pivotal chapter is dedicated to Phantomgurl33, for curing me of my writer's block. I told you I would do it! ; )

CHAPTER 6

Aaralyn woke up the next morning with an unusual weight and warmth upon her. She turned her head slightly and noticed that Erik was sleeping soundly next to her, his head resting on her shoulder, and his strong arm wrapped around her middle. She couldn't help but smile. She had no idea how they had ended up this way, for she didn't remember much of last night except for the dancing. Noticing his mask still perfectly adorning his face, she gently removed it, wondering how he could sleep with it on. She fondled it lovingly, and set it on the nightstand next to her bed. She settled back into contented bliss and fell asleep again, dreaming of heaven, and her Angel of Music.

* * *

If this was heaven, it sure smelled like breakfast.

"Wake up, child! I have your morning meal!" she heard Erik say. She opened her eyes groggily, yawning.

Erik placed a small plate of hot food next to her, on the nightstand which his mask had been placed.

She ate thankfully and quickly. Wondering if what she had witnessed earlier that morning was a dream or reality, she opened her mouth to ask Erik, but she promptly shut it, knowing that it would not be appropriate. At any rate, if it was a dream, it had been a pleasant one! Something told her that she wasn't dreaming…

Erik took her dish and disappeared from her room. Strangely, he did not return for quite some time, and that was only to knock at her door. She opened it, and he told her that he was going shopping for provisions. She looked at him curiously and nodded, reluctantly accepting his claims.

She sat back on her bed, with nothing fun to do until after Erik got back. Accented with a huge sigh, she laid back on the bed in defeat. Then, her curiosity got the best of her. Standing up, she made her way out her door and to the lake, which she followed to Erik's house. She had been there countless times, but only by his permission. Cautiously approaching the door, she made sure he was not home.

She tried the door. Miraculously, it was unlocked. She bit her lip, unsure of whether she should go in. Again, sheer inquisitiveness took over and she stepped in.

She was met with the familiar red walls, the coffin, which he slept in, and the organ, which he played so beautifully. Taking it all in, she sat at the organ bench. There was a somewhat large container of what seemed to be a life's work of music next to the organ that immediately sparked her interest. Flipping through the music, she noticed old works, unfinished business, and wonderfully completed pieces. Coming across a work entitled Don Juan Triumphant, she laid it on the organ's music stand and began to play. She knew Erik could play much better than she could, but her father had taught her to play when she was young, and she enjoyed it. After playing a section over and over, she dared to sing with it. Sooner than she knew, she was singing the entire Opera, this Don Juan Triumphant.

* * *

Erik neared his house by the lake and noticed a sound more beautiful than the music of heaven itself that seemed to be radiating from the walls in which he resided. Nearly dropping the parcels he carried, he stood entranced outside his own door, not daring to go in lest the music should stop.

Oh, Christine…

He immediately recognized this music. It was his! No one was to hear it now but him! Who dared to even sing it? This burning music pained him, and he would rather not hear of it now, at least while he was around. It reminded him of his horrible past. How dare Christine sing it! Why was she even—

He burst through the door. "Christine! I thought I--" he stopped in mid sentence, both astonished to find Aaralyn, not Christine, at the organ, playing. What had he been thinking? Christine had--left. The change of expression on his face was visible with realization.

Aaralyn stopped playing and said quietly, almost afraid, "I'm not Christine…"

"I know, Aaralyn," Erik said, still dumb with bewilderment, and…intoxication. "How did you--"

"The door was unlocked, Erik. I suggest that if you wish to keep me out, you at least could lock your door," she said with resolution.

He stared at her, utterly dumbfounded. "Please, don't ever play that music. Again."

"It's so beautiful!" Aaralyn said, almost with delight. "Why shouldn't--"

"I asked you not to play it," Erik said almost scathingly, his mood altering drastically due to his sudden longing for Christine.

"I, well, OK…I won't," Aaralyn quietly consented "…but why?"

He gave her a murderous look. "You do not need to know and I am not going to tell you."

"But--"

"I will not tell you!" Erik's temper was getting the best of him now.

Aaralyn raised her voice to his level. "You obviously wrote this for someone you loved, why shouldn't you hear it?" she demanded loudly. "It is beautiful! Even if it burns, it--"

"You're not Christine. You WILL NOT sing it." he said darkly, folding his arms across his chest.

"I'm sorry if I--" She paused. "You need to control your temper." came the challenging reply.

He almost exploded in fury. "The day you can tell Erik what to do is the day you will meet your demise!"

A sudden thought came to him. She stared to speak but he cut her off. "Why are you in Erik's house anyway?" he demanded of her, and with out giving her a chance to explain said, 'Allez-vous-en! Leave!" he said with no room for debate.

"Alright Erik," she said, her eyes shining, threatening to spill tears. "I'll leave you. I'll leave you to think about your precious Christine! I'll leave you to think all by yourself! Surely it would be easier to think without annoying little Aaralyn running around," she said, turning sullenly toward the door.

He looked after her, on the verge of extreme rage. He could hear her crying softly as she left. Sighing, he sat on his divan and laid his head in his hands, confused and frustrated. Why had he, when only this morning had woken up next to her with his arm draped around her waist and his head lying gently on her shoulder, just suddenly lost his temper like that? Surely he could demonstrate more control over his actions….

But hearing that music again had stung him, for he had not heard it sung by one whose voice astoundingly resembled Christine's since Christine had sung it herself. He preferred not to remember the day Piangi was killed and he had taken the role of Passarino in Don Juan, singing to Christine as if it had not been an opera, but life itself. Shaking his head mournfully, he sat back on his sofa, wishing his thoughts would just…leave

Christine…

He found himself again thinking of Aaralyn, and how her almost supernatural voice painfully reminded him of his beloved Christine. Why couldn't he get a hold of himself? Christine had been gone nearly two months, and he had not felt sudden longing for her this deeply, to this degree, until today…when Aaralyn played that music…

He had to admit she could play well. And her voice was even more like that of an angel than Christine's had been. If only he could tell her…but he couldn't now. She had seen the real Erik, and would never forgive him, much less love him, as he secretly and almost unwillingly and inescapably hoped.

He needed to talk to someone, and he knew one would always come faithfully when he called.

"Daroga!!" Erik's voice seemed to reverberate off the walls, and he knew that with his excellent skill in the use of ventriloquism, Nadir would hear him perfectly, no matter where in the Opera House he was.

About five minutes later, there was a small knock on his door. Erik rushed to it, almost seeming too eager. Opening the door, he was met with the dark face of the Persian, Nadir, and was grateful at once.

"Erik?" he asked, concerned.

"Come in, come in," Erik said quickly, and the daroga sat on the divan, while Erik restlessly paced the room.

"It's about Aaralyn, isn't it?" Nadir asked, and Erik thought that his perceptiveness could well possibly match Aaralyn's, so he had better not hide anything. The only reason Nadir knew about Aaralyn was because Erik had talked with him the first day she had come, and Erik had been utterly confused with her then. He nodded.

"What have you done to her?" The Persian asked with an eyebrow arched.

Erik seemed taken aback by this question, but answered slowly but honestly, "She reminds me so much of Christine…"

Nadir nearly rolled his eyes. He knew where this was going. Resolving to be patient and hear him out, he listened.

"I came here today and found her at my organ," he continued. "She was playing…playing…Don Juan. I didn't even know she could play, but not only was she playing, but she was singing as well! Like an angel, daroga! I burst through the door, and told her to stop, it pained me. She just…gahh…" he stopped, at a loss for words.

"She doesn't understand, does she?" Nadir asked quietly, after a pause.

"No."

"She would if you would explain."

Erik considered the amazingly wise simplicity of these words. He couldn't explain.

"She'll never listen, not after I lost my temper like that," he said doubtfully.

"Did you try, Erik?"

"…No…"

"Well then, how do you know that she will not listen?"

Erik was silenced. A new thought came to him. "Daroga," he asked curiously, "just what do you want me to explain to her?"

Nadir sighed. "Your feelings, Erik. She is as utterly confused with you as you are with her, from what I can tell."

True, Erik thought. "Well, I can try. I'm not sure I even know my feelings! This could get harsh…"

"She will listen."

"How do you know?"

"Just try and talk to her, Erik."

Both sighed, and Erik slowly nodded. "I will." He started out the door.

"Erik!" The daroga's voice stopped him. Nadir handed him his small, white mask.

"You might want this," he said with a hint of levity. Erik smiled and donned his mask, thankful for his good friend, both for his counsel and for his amazingly perceptive understanding.

* * *

Hope you all liked it. If you don't review, I will kill Erik in the next chapter…so REVIEW!! (do you honestly think I am serious? if I would kill anyone, it would be raoul…heh heh heh…:P Anyway-REVIEW, please!