Disclaimer: I don't own The Phantom of the Opera, or Robert le Diable.

A/N: I did this while I should have been doing my AP Latin Literature homework. If I fail, I blame you! Anybody else out there doing Distance Learning Latin? I hate internet classes.

Chapter Twelve: Fault and a Debt That Must Be Paid

Danielle

Rehearsals for Robert le Diable began two days later. Danielle's private lessons with Erik intensified. He was determined to secure Danielle's place as the new prima donna of the Opera Populaire. After her stunning performance at the gala in one month, Danielle would be welcomed with rave reviews and thundering applause. All he had to do was get her ready. All she had to do was get used to the idea that soon all of her dreams would come true.

Well, she thought sadly, looking at Erik over dinner one night, perhaps he won't make all of my dreams come true.

Danielle's task was daunting, to say the least. Suddenly she was to have an aria, solo parts, and attention at rehearsals, attention during the performance, and even more time with Erik. Not that she really minded spending more time with him. It was just a little distracting, and she was always a little afraid of doing something foolish like drool over him, or blush when he said her name, or faint. All she really wanted was to please him, not make him run from her as if she were the plague. Erik was her best friend, not to mention her fondest dream.

More time with Erik invariably meant more time with Nadir Khan, though she couldn't for the life of her understand why that would be. But she liked Nadir, so she wasn't complaining. This odd foreign man was very interesting and quite nice. Danielle respected the calm wisdom and gentility she saw in the depths of his green eyes. He was more than a little refreshing after Erik's sullen fits and quick temper. Nadir was almost fatherly in some ways. He seemed to genuinely care about her in a manner she wished her father would display.

At the moment, Danielle was anything but pleased with her father. Two days after she had sent him a letter explaining her big news, she received a letter from Jean D'Artoi that made her blood boil and freeze at the same time.

Erik

Erik was in the study, writing a note to his publisher, when Danielle brought in a letter. She greeted him with a smile, took a seat, and reached for the letter opener on his desk, a lovely souvenir from his time in Persia. It was ivory carved in the shape of a scimitar with gold filigree in the blade. She quietly sliced through the envelope's flap. Erik could see that she was very excited about the content's of the letter. Her hand was shaking. Irrational suspicions flew through his wary mind. There wasn't anyone in her life now, but what if there had once been a sweetheart, another Vicomte de Chagny?

Erik knew that something was amiss as soon as she started reading the letter to herself. Danielle seemed severely shocked by the contents. Her face went from white to an angry red in seconds, and her eyes began to tear up. The lines of her face were set rigidly when her head finally rose.

"Is something wrong," he asked worriedly.

"Here; read this," she muttered, thrusting the offending document into his hands.

"Danielle,

I am glad to hear that you have finally decided to make yourself useful. As you know, you owe your brother and me quite a debt. You will now have a chance to repay a little of what is due to me. You say that you will be earning fifty francs a week as opposed to the regular twenty. I have allowed you to keep five of those francs. I will raise your allowance to seven francs a week, as an incentive for you to work harder in the future. In your next letter, be sure to tell me when you will start earning more money.

Jean D'Artoi

"This is all your father has to say to you," Erik exclaimed. "No 'congratulations?' Not even a 'thank you' for the money you send him every week?"

"No, Erik," she said, her eyes glistening with tears of hurt feelings and indignation. "Father thinks I'm worthless. Besides, he need not thank me for the money. I owe it to him, just as he says."

"Why do you owe him anything," Erik asked cautiously. "What is this 'debt' he speaks of?"

Danielle's shoulders fell a few inches, and she bowed her head before she looked up at him. "I assume that, when you were pumping her for information, Marie told you that my mother is dead." It wasn't a question.

Erik nodded his head, a little ashamed at her frank description, as well as her knowledge of his "sources." "She told me that your mother was dead, but she didn't know how."

"I haven't told a soul how she died," she continued. "It's not really a secret. Plenty of people outside my family know about it, but I'd rather not speak of it. You see, some people might blame me for her death. My father and Luc certainly do." She paused, collecting her thoughts and, perhaps, her strength. "She died the day after I was born. Complications of child birth. Bed fever, or something like that. I am beholden unto my father because I took away his wife. I am indebted to my brother because I took away his mother. They both loved her dearly. I don't think they were what they have come to be before her passing. I suppose that her loss changed everything, including their capability to love."

Danielle sighed heavily. Her eyes were on Erik, but he knew she couldn't see him.

"Neither of them has ever forgiven me for her death," she said emotionlessly. "Father has always been cold and, at times, cruel because he resents the fact that I lived, instead of the woman he loved more than anything, or anyone, else. My brother only wants to use me for his own gain. He gets that from his papa." She paused. "That's what Luc calls him, papa. I have to call him sir."

"You aren't to blame for your mother's death, Danielle," Erik said firmly. "You had nothing to do with it. There's nothing you could have done."

"Erik," she retorted wearily, "I am the reason that she is dead. If I had died, Father would have gotten over it. He wouldn't have become the ruthless shell of a man his is now, and he wouldn't have turned Luc into such a depraved ne'er-do-well. They would have been happier if I had never existed. The world, itself, would be a lot better if I had never been in it."

The tears were finally spilling over now. Erik considered trying to make her feel better, but her last remark had sparked his ire. He roughly pulled her chin up so he could look into her swollen, blood-shot eyes.

"What makes you think that the entire world would be better off without you," he spat. "My world would certainly be worse without you in it."

Danielle stared at him uncertainly for a few moments. Erik wasn't sure if he had frightened her with his sudden burst of anger, or not. He couldn't imagine what she was thinking or feeling right now. He had enough trouble with that on her good days.

"D-Do you mean that, Erik," she quavered, suddenly timid.

"Of course, I do, Danae," he said, more gently this time, and forcing his hand to leave her face. "My life is meaningless if I have no one to share my music with, no one to teach. I would be miserable without you here. I was filled with despair until I met you. Now, I feel that I have a purpose again."

Danielle smiled at his words. He couldn't imagine why they meant so much to her. He supposed that she needed to be needed as much as he did. Perhaps every human wanted to touch someone else's life and make it better. Yes, that had to be it. Surely, she didn't want to touch his life specifically. Ideas like that only led to disappointment.

Danielle

Danielle couldn't agree with Erik, though she did appreciate his kindness. He was wrong: she was to blame for the death of Adele D'Artoi. She regretted her own existence, and she always had. Or at least since she'd found out how her mother had died.

Danielle had suffered greatly from her father's apparent loathing of her. Her child's brain was unable to comprehend why her father reprimanded her so often. Father would shout at her everyday, even if she hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't fair, and it hurt her feelings. His outbursts scared her, too. He even hit her sometimes, and always over the most insignificant offenses. She wanted desperately to know what she was doing wrong so she could make it better.

One day, when she was five years old, Danielle asked her father what she had done to offend him. That's when she found out exactly how her mother had died. That's when she was faced with the awful truth that she had killed her own mother. That was the beginning of years of self-loathing. She knew that she had been born under an evil star, a star that marked her as a bringer of unhappiness, a curse upon those she loved. At five years old, Danielle had wished she were dead. That feeling was not to change until she was sixteen when a pastor showed her the light.

That was the real reason that she was so fervent in her faith. For the first time in her life, she had been at peace with the fact that she had been the cause of her mother's death. She still felt that she was responsible, but, thanks to Jesus, she didn't have to pay for it. Not in Hell, anyway.

Danielle knew that she could withstand the accusations of the world as long as God didn't blame her. Come what may, she was a child of God, the One who forgave all the sins of the repentant. His was the only opinion of her life that mattered…except that of her father, brother and, now, Erik. It had always stung that her family had not seen fit to forgive her, but Erik didn't care. He didn't think any less of her knowing that her mother's life had been forfeit at her birth. Danielle really couldn't have been more grateful to Erik if he had made her the reigning queen of the artistic world. No one had ever forgiven her after hearing the truth before him. It meant more to Danielle than she could say.

And he had told her that she meant everything to him. Did he really mean what he said? Could he…

No! Erik had only wanted to cheer her up. His words didn't imply that he cared more for her than a teacher would care for a student. He was trying to show her that her life wasn't worthless, not that she was his life. Danielle couldn't let her imagination run away with her. Erik was a man (and what a man!), while she was just a girl.

Nadir

The former daroga of Mazenderan was sitting in his study pondering this strange development. He could scarcely believe that Erik would fall in love again. And of all people, who did he choose? Another young soprano, another student. When would Erik learn? What was he thinking?

Nadir frowned at the Persian carpet at his feet. What was the girl thinking? Did Danielle D'Artoi have any idea with whom she was dealing? Did she realize that she was living with a murderer? If she did, he couldn't imagine her trusting him. But even if she didn't know anything about Erik's past, surely she would have seen the lack of wisdom in her decision to stay with him?

There was only one thing for him to do: warn the girl somehow. Like it or not, Nadir was responsible for the monster. He would have to risk Erik's wrath for the sake of the girl. He couldn't let another ordeal like the one with Christine Daae occur. Erik would have to be stopped. Unfortunately, Nadir was at a loss of how best to continue.

A/N: This was the hardest chapter to write. It took me two weeks to get it this good, though that isn't saying much. It was important, so I persevered. Now we know why Danielle doesn't have much of a spine where her family is concerned. Would you call this chapter fluff? I'm not sure what to call it. Getting her feelings hurt by her dad again, and recounting her bitter memories of religious persecution, probably didn't make Danielle's day very good, but I'm sure being held by Erik, and then told that she was his reason for living, improved things a bit. I know I'd stop crying if he told me that.