Disclaimer: I own not the Phantom of the Opera, nor do I own Robert le Diable by Meyerbeer. I own Danielle, which is comforting.

Three cheers for impossibly long chapter titles that don't fit in the box. Yay!

Chapter Eleven: Two Are Given Chances to Stand in the Light

Danielle

Danielle woke up feeling queasy. The cast list was due to go up that very day, at the end of rehearsals. It was now 8:00, which meant that she still had nine hours and two meals to go before she would know her fate. How would she survive the day? Even if she got a lead, there was no guaranteeing that she would live long enough to find out.

Danielle got out of bed, suddenly restless as well as ill. She just had to stay busy. That was the only way to stay sane. Erik was, of course, out and about already. She wondered absent-mindedly if the man ever slept. He probably had breakfast prepared, though she wasn't sure that she'd be able to keep it down. That would be just lovely. Danielle could just see herself throwing up all over Erik's beautiful home, soiling his music compositions right in front of him. How could he resist her charms after that?

Stop it, she shouted in her mind. He's not the least bit interested in you. You're his student, his pupil, his protégé, his admirer – no, not that. She sighed, fully aware of the fact that she had no control of her mind, or her emotions. There were some things that just couldn't be changed, her deep attraction to her intriguing benefactor for one.

He possessed all of the traits Danielle liked in a man. He always wore black, a color that flattered even the plainest of men. On a brilliantly handsome, albeit intriguingly masked, man, black was practically sinful. He was polite, courteous, and chivalric. Erik made her feel like a lady at a court. In his lair, she was special, set on a pedestal, granted that he didn't want her as his lady fair. He didn't seek to control her, and he didn't think less of her because she was a woman. Erik really had every right to believe that he was her superior, but he treated her as an equal. He was a genius; she was a simple, country girl, though no fool. And of course, Danielle admired a man with talent, a gift that overflowed from Erik. Yes, he certainly had a lot to offer a girl like her.

Unfortunately, Danielle wouldn't have been able to take anything Erik offered her, if it came to that. She owed a huge debt to her father, who, no doubt, would do his very best to marry her off to some rich, old widower, knowing that Danielle wouldn't refuse. Not after what she had done to Jean D'Artoi. If he asked for her head on a silver platter she'd say, "So be it."

All of these thoughts were running through her head when she met Erik at the table. By then she had completely forgotten her original trouble, so he misread the clouds hanging over her head.

"Are you nervous about the cast-list, Danae," he asked her gently.

"What," she muttered, distractedly. "The cast-list?" Remembering, "Oh, yes. I don't know how I'll be able to pay attention during rehearsals. Sometimes I wish I hadn't gone into this business. I don't like the worry."

"Then why did you want to become a performer," Erik questioned, trying to understand Danielle better. After all this time, she was still a mystery to him.

"Well, partly because I had dreams of glory, partly because I thought I would enjoy it, partly because I felt that God wanted me to bring beauty to the world, and partly because I wasn't really fit for anything else," she answered.

"What do you mean? Marie told me that you had been educated."

"I was, Erik, but I am still a girl. Because of my sex, I can't get a job that requires education. My education was meant to serve no other purpose than to culture me and make me more desirable to a prospective upper-class husband. I could possibly have been a school teacher, but that," she paused, "is doubtful."

"Why," Erik asked, perplexed.

"Because I'm a Protestant," she retorted with a smile at his naiveté where matters of religion were concerned. "No one wants a heathen teaching their children. That's why I left school in the first place. I was expelled when my religious persuasion came to light."

"Just because you were a Protestant? Because you felt differently than they did," he asked indignantly.

"Yes. I could have stayed had I repented my grievous sins," Danielle granted with a mirthless laugh. "I didn't."

"Why did you convert in the first place," he ventured with increased respect for a fellow outcast.

"The Catholic Church didn't satisfy me. Or at least the doctrine I had always been spoon-fed didn't," Danielle added fairly. "From the time I was a young child, the priests, my family, everyone I knew, painted a picture of a wrathful God. A God that believed me to be wicked, a God that would punish me for being human. In other words, they believed in a God that punished me for being what He made me to be, though they didn't phrase it in such an unjust fashion.

"One day, a Protestant minister came into the town near my boarding-school. I was sixteen and I thought I deserved to go to Hell for all of my sins. I wasn't really sure what they were," she added with a giggle, "but I thought they were numerous and evil. This minister was preaching about a God who loved all of his children, though he let some suffer trials. He told us that God allowed those trials to come into our lives because they would shape us, make us better people. He said that God wanted us all in Heaven and was prepared to let us in if we only believed in Him, His son, and Christ's sacrifice for our sins, and if we pledged to let Him guide us for the rest of our lives.

"I thought that this man was a miracle. For the first time in years I felt at peace. I felt that all my sins had been crucified along with my Lord. I told that minister that I wanted to be baptized a Protestant and devote my life to the service of this merciful God he spoke of. He baptized me in the river that very day, and I sang praises to God for weeks afterward."

"Have you ever regretted it," Erik asked, already sure that he knew the answer.

"Not once in the two years since I was reborn."

Several hours later, Danielle was fidgeting with her watch. In a few minutes time, she would know. Would she finally get the chance she craved, or would she have to resign herself to another few weeks in the chorus? What she was most afraid of, in the event that she didn't get a leading role, was Erik's reaction. Would he give her up as a lost cause? No, surely not. She hoped. And she prayed. There was little else to do.

Finally, Monsieur Reyer dismissed them all. Danielle was shaking as she made her way to the door to the managerial office. That was where her destiny would be fulfilled.

There was a huge crowd. Everyone was jostling the person closest, trying vainly to get near the list on the door. People were standing on the very tips of their toes, which the ballerinas were executing to perfection. Danielle was not pushy by nature. She preferred to merely wait her turn, though people less respectful than she had often made her wait far past her turn.

After a few minutes of dread, most of the cast had gotten their parts and left, chatting with a friend or bragging to a rival. The way was finally clear. Danielle merely had to take a few more steps, and then she would be close enough to see. She didn't dare look until she was right in front of it. Her eyes began, pessimistically, at the bottom of the list. She obviously wasn't in the costume department. She wasn't in the set department. She wasn't in the ballet. She wasn't in the chorus; that was a good sign. She wasn't playing one of the men's roles. Her heart was pounding by now, and her palms were sweating.

And there she was. The name "Danielle D'Artoi" was right next to "Alice, soprano, foster-sister to Robert". Her first thought was, There must have been some mistake. I can't play a lead. I have no experience. I might faint on-stage. That was certainly what she felt like doing at that exact moment.

Madame Giry had been watching the whole thing with keen interest. She was at Danielle's elbow in a minute, in case she did just that.

"Well," the ballet mistress whispered in her ear, "Your instructor should be pleased, my dear. I'm sure he will want to hear the news, so hurry to him, Danielle."

"Oui, Madame," Danielle replied faintly. Without another word, she did as the older woman instructed. She headed straight home to Erik.

Erik

Where was she? She was late! Had something happened to her? Had she been accosted by another one of those annoying actors? What could be keeping her?

The sound of very slow, plodding footsteps could be heard coming down one of the many secret passages to Erik's lair. This was the one that Danielle used when he did not accompany her to, or from, rehearsals. But surely these heavy footsteps could not belong to his light, airy, graceful Danae.

Erik was readying himself to receive this unwanted intruder when Danielle came into the light of his parlor. She went straight to a chair and plopped down in it. She was in a daze. Erik couldn't imagine what had prompted this reaction from his usually happy, though reserved pupil.

"Danae," he said loudly. No response. "Danae," he called louder still. "Danielle D'Artoi, pay attention when I speak to you," he finally shouted.

Danielle lifted her head, as if noticing Erik's presence for the first time since she had entered the room. "It's about the cast-list, isn't it," he asked gently, tenderly, kneeling beside her chair. She nodded once, looking past him at the wall. "What part did you get, Danae? Was it the chorus again?" His eyes flashed dangerously. The managers, the casting-director, and Reyer were fools if they thought it was wise to stifle Danielle's talent. His brilliant mind was beginning to devise malicious ways to get back at them all when Danielle's head shook from side to side. "What part did you get," he repeated.

"A-Alice," she stuttered, sounding lost and confused. Her head finally came down a bit so she was looking him in the eyes. A smile crept over her face as she said it again. "Alice. I am to play Alice, Erik."

Erik felt triumphant. His pupil, his beloved, was going to shine soon. The world would see her at her best, her most innocent. Her voice would, in a matter of weeks, sing its way into the hearts of the Parisian upper-class. People would come from all parts of France to hear her. She would entertain the wealthiest men and women in the country.

Erik's thoughts were interrupted when Danielle, once again, threw herself around his neck. This time she was crying. He was a little awkward. He had comforted a sobbing female only once. That had been the day that Marie had lost her husband, Jules. Erik rubbed Danielle's back and made soothing noises in her ear, praying that her tears would dry soon. He really didn't mind feeling her body pressed against his chest, or her head in the bend of his neck, but he hated it when a woman cried, especially if she was dear to him.

"Why are you crying," he crooned. "There is no reason for tears."

Regrettably, Danielle pulled away to face him with a watery smile. She looked adorable, even when her eyes were red and swollen.

"I'm so happy, Erik," she choked out. "I've never felt like I belong anywhere but the stage, and now I'm going to be in the spotlight. And it's all because of you," she whispered, hugging him again. "And God," she said quickly, lest she seem ungrateful to her creator.

"Surely you had some part in it, Danae," he murmured.

"I couldn't have done it on my own, Erik. I know; I've tried. Many times. How can I ever thank you," she asked suddenly.

"You don't have to," Erik assured her, finally letting his arms fall away from her. "I only request that you sing for me."

"I sing only for you and God," she whispered, as if he should have realized that by now. Erik could only swallow nervously and help her up.

Why did her every passing statement sound like a declaration of love? Why was his heart forced to take these beatings? Why did he need her so badly?

That was easy enough to answer. Danielle was wonderful. She was the most caring individual he had ever met, or at least the one who showed him the most kindness. Not counting Marie, of course. Marie had saved him, had fed him, and had helped him in a million different ways. She had also feared him. He couldn't say that about Danielle, at any rate. That was where the difference between Danielle and every other woman in his life truly lay. She didn't fear him at all. She had given him a chance, knowing that the very thought of him petrified everyone else in the company. That was why he loved her. That was why he needed her love so badly. That was also why he couldn't take it by force.

A/N: Yay for the fluff! Isn't Erik so sweet? I just love my Erik so much right now. He is a bit high-strung when it comes to this reading between the lines thing. If only he could see the forest through the trees.