Child of Music

Part 4

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

Author's Note: I would just like to point out that Erik's dialogue may seem somewhat OOC this chapter, but I do think that he would develop a different style and tone while dealing with Danielle than we've seen before.

REMINDER: There is absolutely, 100 -ZERO- romance between Erik and Danielle.

Danielle stepped softly through the passage. She had always been light on her feet…'ma petite belle' Erik had called her. However, she was not so little anymore. Now in her teens, she was much more adventurous. And sneaky. Since the two no longer shared the swan-bed, she reasoned that she would be able to return to sleep without her father ever noticing she had left. He would still be sleeping, none the wiser to the fact that she had escaped from the underground caverns.

"Your scales," Erik directed. Danielle complied, letting her voice ring out through the cave and the relief flood through her. She had been successful in sneaking back to bed before he had awoken.

"I had a very strange dream last night, ma belle," he began as she sang. Her stomach lurched but she did not let her note falter. Keep calm, she murmured to herself, don't react. When she did not respond, he continued. "In it, instead of the beautiful, sweet little girl I have now, I had a vicious, cruel little girl who knowingly ignored her father's clear wishes. Isn't it a good thing it was only a dream?"

Danielle squeezed her eyes shut. She stopped singing. She was caught.

"Papa, I-" she began, but he did not let her finish.

"I believe I have made it very clear to you what behavior is unacceptable to me, have I not?" She did not answer. "Have I not, Danielle?"

"You have," she whispered, head down.

"And I was under the impression that you understood my wishes." She bit her lip, gathering her courage and looked up.

"Papa, I only thought-" Once again, she did not get far. The frustration that had been building throughout the night exploded forth from Erik.

"What? What was it that you thought, Danielle? What could you possibly have thought you would accomplish from going up there?" He spat out the final word as though it were a vile curse. Stung by his sharp words, Danielle found she too could no longer hold back her own anger.

"I don't know. Does it matter? I wanted to see the sky. I wanted to breathe fresh air. I wanted to get out this filthy-"

"Surely you dare not," he hissed at her, "you do not dare insult how hard I have worked to keep you safe-"

"From what! Grass? Sunlight? Birds? Those are all very dire. This is the life that you chose. Not me."

Instantly, his face fell and he slumped as though she had physically wounded him. Danielle felt her explosive anger melting away and her heart softening.

"Papa, I'm sorry. My temper," she trailed off and smiled sheepishly at him. "I didn't mean-"

"You did." He said softly. She couldn't argue. They sat in heavy silence for a few minutes before Erik began to speak. "Danielle…I know you don't understand why I feel the way I do, but the world up there can be a terrible place. I'm frightened for you." He looked up and gave her a tiny half smile, "Can you forgive me that crime?" She laughed shortly and looked up.

"I didn't mean to shout."

"Nor did I," he said woefully, "our tempers do seem to get the better of us, don't they?" She nodded and sighed. The silence was more gentle now. Erik took a deep breath. The weighty implications of what he was about to say had been pressing against his mind for quite some time. But he had thought it over. And over, and over again. It was inevitable, and he would rather it come on his own terms. "If you want to see the world, Danielle…at least let me be there to watch over you."

Her head snapped up in surprise, she doubted what she had heard. Was he serious? Could he truly mean what she thought he meant?

"Papa?" She asked tentatively, allowing all her questions to pour into that one word. He fidgeted with his fingers for a moment, then looked up and smiled. "Oh, Papa!" She ran forward and threw her arms around him, as she had done when she was small. He held her tight and allowed his smile to broaden significantly.

"I remember," Erik let his hand trail in the water, "the last time I went to a masquerade." It was not a pleasant memory, but he allowed a small, nostalgic smile to cross his face for Danielle's benefit. After some research, well, "eavesdropping" was a more appropriate term, Erik had decided on a masquerade being held in a local garden to be Danielle's first appearance in the world above.

"Really? Was it lovely? Was it romantic? Was it-" she looked down at her hands suddenly, working up the courage for her next question, "was it with Mama?"

"What?" That caught him completely off guard. Had she remembered something? Did she know? He had been searching constantly for the precise moment to tell her that he was not truly her father, but it had been difficult. What was the proper etiquette for that sort of announcement? But now, if she remembered her mother…he would lose her. He had no choice but to return her to her proper parents.

"I saw," her eyes had now slid to her feet, "I saw the mannequin…" His heart lurched.

"You saw that?" He could barely choke out the words. He meant to get rid of it, but he found he simply couldn't. It was a sort-of shrine to Christine. No matter how many years went by, she would never leave his heart. But now that it had been revealed to his precious Danielle…it seemed sick and twisted.

"I didn't mean to, I was just, I only…" she could not explain so she changed tactics, "Did she love the opera?" The breath he had only been moderately aware he was holding released. She was not disgusted, or frightened. Only curious.

"She loved it very much. She was a singer."

"A singer," her voice was dreamy. "What was her name?"
"Christine."

"And," she became shy again, "did you love her?" Erik regarded his daughter before staring out into the darkness.

"Yes. Very much. In fact, I thought I would never love anything more in the entire world," he glanced back toward her, "but then I met you."

"Oh, Papa!" She laughed and bumped him gently. He smiled to himself and turned his gaze back out. He let his shoulders relax.

"There's something I want to show you," he said suddenly. He stood quickly and held out a gloved hand to help her to her feet.

"What is it, Papa?" She asked, a curious smile on her face as she followed him. He strode through winding passages, Danielle close behind. Finally, he entered a room. It was full of old costumes he had taken from the dressing rooms. He had no use for them, but it had seemed a shame to let all the fine craftsmanship go to waste. He led to the back of the room and finally stopped.

"This is the dress Christine wore during her first performance." Danielle gasped and held out a tentative hand, almost frightened to touch it.

"Oh, it's beautiful, Papa. She must have looked gorgeous in it!"

"She did," he ran his hand over the white sleeve, "She truly did. I want you to wear it. For your first masquerade."

"What? Oh, Papa, I couldn't! Not a dress like this…I'd ruin it."

"You'll be spectacular," he coaxed gently, the shimmer in her eyes betraying her true wishes.