a/n A quick note for my fabulous reviewers—do you guys know that song from Funny Girl that Barbara Streisand sings at the beginning, "I'm the Greatest Star"? Sing it to yourselves. Love you guys! Wanna be able to sing "I'm the Greatest Star" and really mean it? Then leave a review and belt it, baby!

Wow. I'm crazy, man...

CHAPTER 2—UNTITLED

If it had not been for the few blissful hours spent in his wife's arms the night before, Erik may well have snapped and resorted to his old methods of loss of temper the following day. He awoke sometime before six a.m. to Eve's screams of hunger, and Christine had smiled apologetically. Rising, he had pulled on sleeping pants gone down to the kitchen in search of breakfast only to be told by the maid that Gustave had left around four. After scowling through breakfast, Erik had gone back up to dress. Christine had at some time collapsed back onto the bed and was now sleeping again. He managed to rouse her again, and then turned to dress. Giving her a kiss, Erik bid Christine farewell, promising to find her for lunch later.

Arriving at the theater at the ungodly hour of six thirty,Erik barricaded himself in his office behind the mountain of paperwork that had accumulated there. He quickly found this a good time to dothe paperwork required to run a theateras there was no one there yet to interrupt him. At seven, he heard ballerinas starting to come down from their dormitory and jotted his signature on one last line before heading to look for Gustave.

Erik was unsurprised that his son was not to be found anywhere near the stage and had just exited the auditorium to see if he was with Jean when a stage hand caught him by the arm, informing him that during the night, an entire piece of scenery had gone missing. Frowning, Erik tried to think through the headache that was now forming behind his eyes.

"How can a papier-mâché tree go missing?" he asked.

"Dunno, sir." The man glanced over Erik's shoulder and an exasperated look crossed his face. "If you'll be excusing me, sir…"

Confused, Erik watched the man go before turning around and instantly wishing that he had not. The sight that greeted him was not a welcome one, but it was one that, through the years, had proven Erik's devotion to his wife. Sometimes he was amazed the man was alive at all. Viscount Raoul de Chagny was positively the last person Erik wanted to see at seven in the morning when he was tired and had a headache. He was half tempted to turn and run, but he decided against it.

Erik felt a breif rush of sympathy toward the youger man—theyears had been kinder to Erik than Raoul, who now walked with a cane as he was escorted by his daughter.The lines around his face showed a great deal of stress from the past years, and Erik knew it had todo both with premature arthritis and the stress of his marriage. His parents had been onlyslightly disappointed when Raoul informed them of his divorce from Christine. His mother quickly threw a fit, though, when he informed them that heintended to remarry tothe divamother of his bastard child. Erik winced slightly as he thought of Bella as such, but it had been a bit of a joke since she and Gustave had first met. They made light of the situations that had brought both of them into the world, neither of them blaming their parents for what had happened.

Isabella de Chagnykissed her father goodbye at the door before quickly walking past Erik, looking down at the ground. Erik watched her go, feeling slightly bad for the young woman—she was apparently still upset about the day before. Christine had toldhim that Isabella felt responsible for what had happened, having heard so from Gusttave.The Viscount's voice broke into his thoughts, though, and he was forced away from unpleasant thoughts about his son and the young diva.

"I still remember when she was this high," Raoul said, lowering his hand to waist height. "It's amazing how they've grown, isn't it?"

Erik rarely found anything to agree with that came from the lips of this man, but today he did. "Yes, it is." He heaved a sigh as he glanced once more at Isabella as Gustave came to meet her. She appeared to say something to him, but Erik could not make out what. Whatever it was made Gustave shake his head and lead her down the aisle.

"I justdon't remember him becoming such a…" Erik looked for the words for a moment, then said, "Teenager."

Raoul laughed at this. "Yes, he is. Bella did mention something about you two having some sort of spat." He shifted his weight. "I was sorry to hear it."

A derisive laugh snorted from Erik's nose before he could stop it. "Of course you were," he said.

"I'm not being sarcastic." Leaning a bit more heavily on his cane, his eyes shifted back to the door his daughter had just exited through. "You have a bond with your son that I've never had with my daughter. I love her, but it's just that she can be so distant from her mother and me. Sometimes I feel as if I hardley know her even though she's my only child."

Erik felt a bit confused. In all the years he had put up with this man for his wife's sake, Erik had never felt sympathy for him. Now, however, he realized that Isabella had indeed always seemed, while loving, somewhat distant from both her parents, but her mother moreso. He also knew that Raoul was right—he did have a wonderful bond with his son. With the exception of now, however.

Feeling a gentle hand on his arm, Erik turned to see his wife standing behind him with Eve. He smiled at her, kissing her cheek and taking the girl from her arms. Sticking his tongue out, he made baby noises for his tiny child, and Eve let out a squealing laugh and grabbed her father's face. Christine and Raoul laughed and Erik turned to look at them, his tongue still out. Lauging with them, he bounced Eve in his arms before lifting her up over his head.

"How's my cherub?" he asked. "How is she?" Eve screamed with delight again and Erik brought her back down to her chest. "She's having a good day, isn't she?"

"Yes," Christine said, smiling. "She was so agreeable after she atethat I brought her with me."

"Unlike her mother," Raoul said jokingly. Then he made a face, and looked twenty again, saying,"If you both will excuse me, I have some business to attend to on Philippe's behalf."

Christine giggled at the disgusted look on her friend's face. "Have fun."

"Always."

He turned to go, but glanced back at Erik once. "Teenage boys are annoying as hell. Just pretend you're yelling at me when I was younger."

Erik smiled. "I'll do that."

Raoul nodded and exited through the door. Christine gave her husband an incredulous look. "Did you two actually have a civil conversation?"

"Yes," he said, handing Eve back to his wife. "And we agreed about something."

Christine beamed at him. "You see? I told you he's not entirely a fop."

Still smiling, Erik cupped her cheek in his hand. "And you've neverentirelybeen wrong," he said, kissing her.

She pulled away, a small smile still playing across her now swollen lips. "You should go to work." Eve squirmed in her arms. Christine looked at her, asking, "Do you want down?" She set her daughter on the ground where she pulled herself up, clinging to her mother's skirt with her tiny fists. "All she wants to do is stand," Christine said, shaking her head. "I got her out of her crib this morning and—"

Erik held a hand up to stop her. Eve was swaying toward her father, and Erik knelt on the floor, holding his hands out just beyond her grasp. Eve reached a hand toward her father and tentatively let go of Christine's skirt. Christine knelt across from her husband, eyes wide. "I think she's going to walk," she whispered.

"Come on, Eve," Erik said coaxingly. "Come here, love."

One of her feet carefully raised and fell back in front of her, then the other, and then she was in Erik's arms as she reached him and he lifted her up, swinging her around and laughing. "That's my girl," he roared. Christine beamed and pulled his face down, kissing him deeply. When Eve began to squrim one more, he asked her,"Does you want to try it again?"

He placed her back on the floor a few feet. Christine was giggling as she held out her arms. "Come here, beautiful!" she cried. Eve toddled back to her mother, not missing a step. Laughing again, Christine scooped her up. "She walked, Erik!"

Kissing her again, Erik burst through the doors to the theater. "Everyone has to stop what they're doing and look!" he shouted. He turned to Christine, gesturing frantically. She lowered Eve again. "Come here, baby girl."

Eve walked slowly to her father, laughing the beautiful laugh that only babies can make as she reached his hands and he lifted her up again, and waved her arms over toward Gustave, who was standing with Isabella. Erik let the baby go, and she made her way to Gustave. Smiling brilliantly, Gustave looked at his father. In that brief moment, something passed between them, and Erik knew that his son had forgiven him for what he had said the day before. Giving the boy a wink, he turned back to the door to look for Jean.

Enrique was never anyone's favorite, so it was not to sorrows that he stormed from the theater that afternoon, forcing Erik to begin to look for a new Jupiter. No one seemed able to take the part, and it was Christine who made a suggestion that caused Erik to flinch.

"Gustave?" he whispered.

"Yes!" Christine dragged him aside. "I know he hasn't sung in a few years, but you have two months to work with him—rehearsals only just started last week. It's not as though he's missed much and—"

"Yes, I know," Erik said, running a hand down her arm. He could not deny that his son had been blessed with a beautiful tone. He had sung in recitals as a child, but his true love had turned out to be the piano. Most of the singing he did now consisted of singing during Mass and gathering around the piano with Eva at Christmas, changing the words to Christmas carols to be truly comical.

A hand waved in front of his face, and Erik was jerked from his thoughts by Christine's voice. "Well?"

"Yes," he said slowly. "Yes. Gustave!" he called.

Gustave turned from where he was hanging from a rope while painting a backdrop. "What?"

"Get over here!"

Rolling his eyes, Gustave called up, "Jean, lower me down. God commands."

"Right!" called Jean from somewhere up above. Gustave did not move.

"Jean!"

"I know!" Suddenly, Gustave dropped down to the stage with frightening speed, managing to land lightly on his feet. Glaring up, he called, "Thanks, Jean!"

Walking toward his parents, he looked between them. "I'm not in trouble again, am I?"

Laughing, Erik shook his head. "No, not unless you believe yourself to be." When Gustave looked confused, Erik said, "How fast can you learn Jupiter?"

Gustave's eyes widened. "I—" He looked back to Isabella, who had been listening to the entire conversation Erik and Christine had had, and was now looking at him hopefully. "I don't know it I can… Can I do that?"

"Yes, and I'll help you," said Erik. "You'll be just fine. Your mother and I have a great deal of faith in you." Gustave inhaled sharply as his father handed him a copy of the score. "You'll want to start practicing right away."

By the time seven o'clock rolled around, Gustave felt ready to drop dead from all the singing. He had not sung this much in years, and he was relieved when his father called a halt to the rehearsal, telling everyone to go home to sleep.

"Would you escort me home?" Isabella asked softly. "My father's visiting my uncle and I told him I'd take a taxi home."

"Sure," Gustave said. He waved his father and mother on, telling them he'd be home later, and followed Isabella to her dressing room. The door was unlocked and he let himself in.

It swung open silently. Isabella didn't see or hear him as he stepped into the room, sneaking up behind her and giving her a delicious shock. Her lips curled in a coy smile as she turned in his arms. "You enjoy scaring me, don't you?" she asked.

"I like making you nervous," he said mischievously, sliding a hand down her back to the very base of her spine. When her eyes closed, he pressed his lips to hers fervently, wishing she did not have to return home. As his hands drifted lower, she gasped and pulled away from his lips. He looked at her face, taking in her flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Not taking his eyes from her, he pulled her back to the settee. They sank onto it, and she pulled his face back to hers. She reclined into the pillows and he went with her. He shifted awkwardly until he was on top of her, letting his hand drift up to her left breast. When she gasped, he whispered, "Is this alright?"

"Yes," she whispered breathlessly.

Gustave looked at her for a moment. Her eyes were very bright and lidded. He reached back to take out the pins that held up her hair and she sat up to let her blonde tresses tumble down her back. When she leaned back on the pillows again, her hair fanned out around her head and Gustave could not remember a moment when she had looked more beautiful. He kissed her again, moving his hand back to her breast and squeezing softly. She moaned slightly and arched her back, and he felt himself hardening. She had never let him go so far as this with her before. They hadmerely kissed each other, his hands remaining on her waist of tracing over her back.

Now she seemed to want his hands all over her. She guided his other hand down to her waist and he slid it under and around her to cup her bottom. Another gasp emitted from her lips and to his surprise, she wrapped a leg around him. A wonderful idea came to his mind—something he had read about in a book that Jean kept hidden in his room. Gustave tore his lips from Isabella's for a moment to look at her.

"I'm going to try something," he said. "You can stop me if you want to."

Her eyes widened and she looked terrified, but she nodded.

Kissing her again, Gustave let the hand that was on her bottom reach down and slide up under her skirt. He felt her take in a great gasp of air as his hand moved between her thighs. His hand brushed against her undergarments and he was amazed by the head that radiated from there. He was even more amazed when she groaned and arched her back into his hand. Looking up at her, he stroked her cheek with his other hand. "Do you want me to…" He trailed off awkwardly, but she seemed to know what he was saying.

"Yes," she whispered. "Please."

Nervously, Gustave let his hand slid up to pull away the cloth separating her from his questing fingers. The barrier gone, he let his fingers gently trace over her sex.

It was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was amazingly warm and moist, and he found that his fingers slid easily over and through it. She gasped again when he reached the top, and he brushed his fingers over it again. Her eyes, which had been closed, flew open and she twisted her fingers into his hair, moaning into his neck. Shoving her practice dress up further, he was delighted to find that she wore no corset. She had mentioned some time back that it made practicing things she did not know very difficult. Now, he was extremely grateful for the fact that rehearsals had only just started. He ran his hand over her bare breast, and she gave a wonderful moan from deep in her throat and arched her back again. As his fingers dipped into her, her moans escalated until he was kissing her to silence her.

His fingers left her and he moved down to kiss her stomach. Her head shot up and she looked down at her nervously.

"You can stop me if you want," he said softly. "I'm going to try something."

His stomach was turning over with nerves as he kissed down her stomach and across her pelvis, moving his mouth awkwardly to where his fingers had been moments before while leaning over her legs. Deciding that this most likely was not how this was done, he hoisted himself up to rest on her thighs. Her legs suddenly parted and he fell between them, his face directly in front of her. Studying her for a moment, he smirked as she squirmed with impatience. Running his hands over her hips, Gustave brushed his lips across the place where her legs came together and she positively screamed with delight. He felt a rush of amazement and joy as Isabella began to plead with him in the first language she had ever spoken.

"Ti amo. Conservazione che va, amore, andare di conservazione!"

While he didn't speak Italian, Gustave had a basic idea of what she must have been saying. He plunged his tongue into the warm cavern and let his fingers dance over the hard place above it. She continued to moan in Italian until her body began to shudder beneath his touch. Reaching down, she pulled him back up to kiss him. When he pulled away, she fell back, giggling, running a hand down his heaving chest.

Gustave grinned. "I'm supposed to be taking you home."

"Oh, I don't want to go home," she pouted, pulling him down beside her.

"As much as I'd love to stay here with you, I think your father would still kill me." He kissed her forehead and stood. "Get dressed—I'll get the carriage."

She nodded, and he left.

The entire way back to Isabella's, she leaned heavily on his chest. She looked exhausted. He ran his fingers through her blonde curls. "Are you alright?"

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, smiling. "Yes," she said. "I'm just…" A yawn interrupted her speech and he laughed. "Extremely tired."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." Leaning up, she gave him a chaste kiss on the lips before leaning against him again. "Do you still want me to come tomorrow night?"

"Tomorrow?" Gustave wracked his brains, trying to remember. It came to him suddenly, and he remembered that his aunt and uncle were throwing a party in honor of their twelfth wedding anniversary. "Tomorrow! Yes, of course." He twirled blonde hair around his fingers. "Did you get your dress?"

"Yes," she murmured. "It's blue Persian silk. I always wanted one, so your aunt and uncle had it made for me as a birthday present."

Gustave smiled. "They want me to marry you."

"I know."

They were silent as both thought about what kind of life that would be. Interesting was what popped into Gustave's head. Interesting and fun. He was jolted from further thoughts, however, when they arrived at the de Chagny home. Gustave climbed out first, and then held out a hand to help her down. Stepping out, Isabella linked her arm through his and he walked her to the door. She smiled shyly as he kissed her hand, then her cheek.

"Sleep well," he said softly.

"I won't be able to sleep," she whispered.

Unable to resist, Gustave quickly pulled her close for a real kiss, allowing it to deepen for a moment before pulling away.

"I love you," he murmured, leaning his forehead against hers.

"I love you, too," she said quietly. "I'll see you tomorrow."

It was not until Gustave got home that he realized how late it was. When he walked in the front door and into the dining room, the table had already been cleared. His face fell, and he heard a deep laugh behind him. He whirled around to see his father leaning in the doorway with an amused look on his face.

"You were supposed to be home some time ago," Erik said. "Your mother was worried."

"I know." Gustave cast a dejected look at the table. "I didn't realize how late it was. I was—" He broke off, embarrassed. "Bella and I were talking," he said lamely, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks.

Erik's eyebrows raised. "So that's what they call it." He laughed boisterously at the look on Gustave's face and gestured past the dining room. "There may be something in there to eat."

Gustave nodded and headed past his father. Then he stopped. "You won't tell mother, will you?"

Erik smiled understandingly, and Gustave knew that, somehow, his father knew exactly what he had been up to. "Not if you don't want me to." He winked, and then he was gone.

a/n Sorry this update took so long. I'm really busy with class, and I also went out last weekend (in other words, I was a bit hung-over and unable to finish). I'll try to get the next one out quicker.