Child of Music

Part 2

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or places from 'The Phantom of the Opera'.

Bright green eyes opened slowly. The girl rose slowly into a sitting position, small hands gripping the beautiful scarlet blanket that had covered her. She looked around in confusion. She crawled to the base of the bed and gripped it for strength as she peered into the rest of the room.

"You shouldn't be up. You are too weak," Erik rose from the shadows at the side of the room. He forced his voice to be calm and cool, as though he had not been at her side for over a day, fretting like an old nursemaid. She looked at him for a moment, then began to fall back. He raced to the bed and caught her before she fell, laying her gently back on the bed and pulling the blankets up over her.

She fell asleep again in a matter of moments. Now that he was sure she was not likely to die at any moment, he took his time observing her. From her dress and the softness of her hair, it was obvious she was well-off, but not amazingly rich. He noticed a sparkle on her right wrist and gently, so he wouldn't wake her, removed what was causing it. A silver bracelet. The candles glinted off it in the relative darkness, making it shine and dazzle. He noticed some etching on the inside. Tilting it up so he could see clearly inside, he read it. "For Danielle." So that was her name.

With a tiny smile, he noticed that some of the color was returning to her cheeks. He slipped the bracelet back on and let his hand linger on hers for a moment. She was so warm. It had been so long since he felt the warmth of another human. Not to mention a young girl. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face. Danielle, he murmured her name in his mind. It suited her.

"I'm hungry." Erik turned in surprise to see Danielle looking mournfully up at him, his blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

"Oh?" He asked, mind still working furiously to process this turn of events. She was awake. She could speak. She needed food.

"Yes," she said matter-of-factly. She then climbed up next to him on the organ bench.

"I will see what I can get you," he told her, using the same formal tone as she was and he rose and walked back to his stores. The Opera had kept a large amount of food in their storerooms, and he managed to salvage most of it before it burned. Usually he was content with only a bit of dry bread, but for Danielle…did children need something more? He finally settled on some salted pork.

He offered it to her, nervous, but she accepted it graciously and happily set about to eating it. He watched her eating with a strange satisfaction. When she had finished, he decided that there was no better time to start finding where she belonged. He had to take her back. He was not sure where, but he thought he could probably divine the correct location through what she might be able to tell him.

"Do you know where you came from?" He asked. It did no harm to try. She shook her head and he sighed inwardly. So much for the easy way.

"Do you remember your mother?" He tried again. Another head shake.

"What about-"

"The first thing I remember," she piped up, cutting him off, "is you, Papa."

Papa. His eyes widened and his heart skipped a beat. Papa. The word echoed through his mind. He never knew his own father. His mother he could barely remember; he had not lived with her very long before she had sold him to the gypsies. But of his father, he had no memory. Not even a silhouette or a voice. Papa.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he did not even notice Danielle moving until she had already wrapped her thin arms around his waist. He stared, dumbfounded, down at the top of her head as she squeezed him tightly. Slowly, not sure of himself but somehow feeling this was right, he rested his own arms against her back, pressing her closer. His gamble paid off as she sighed and looked up at him. A huge smile spread across her face.

"I love you, Papa." He bit his lip, trying to keep the tears from streaming out of his eyes. No one had ever loved him. He was ridiculed his entire life, and the only person he had ever loved did not love him in return. He thought that he was incapable of being loved. But this little girl, little Danielle, she loved him. She did not even know him, and yet she loved him.

"I…I love you too, Danielle."