Disclaimer: I am so tired of these.

A/N: This was the hardest chapter to write. For weeks I had trouble figuring out where it was going. As you can see, it had a number of directions. It also ended in a way I hadn't intended, but it just felt right when I wrote it. Unfortunately, now I may have to do a lot tweaking when it comes to the outline I have for the rest of the story.

A/N: I have churned this out so quickly to celebrate the end of this school year. I am now a senior in high school. I just hope I didn't fail my Pre-Cal final. I never should have taken Algebra 1 a year early. Anyway, that's enough of my self-pity. A new chapter for everyone!

Chapter Twenty-One: Delicate Matters

Erik

The run of Robert le Diable closed a week later without any other incident. Christmas was close upon the city, so the management closed for the remainder of the year. This gave everyone time to recoup before a new season and the new production. The first production was always the greatest because that would be the most memorable. Almost every lover of music went to the first opera of the season, even if they didn't see any others. Every member of the company needed to be at their best, so a long rest was the perfect gift.

Fortunately for Erik, he had finished Danielle's Christmas present by this time, so he didn't need to hide any of his doings from her. He was ready to spend every day in lessons, but, much to his displeasure, Danielle was prepared to spend more time than usual in her bedroom. She slept very late every day and went to bed very early every night. Erik was beginning to worry about her health; she had never required this much rest before. Danielle insisted that nothing was wrong, but Erik was unsure. He could tell that she was losing patience with his concern, so he eventually ceased to press her, but the concern would not pass.

His spirits still managed to remain high. For the first time in his entire life, Erik knew that he wouldn't be spending Christmas alone. He wouldn't be holed up in his bedroom wishing that the world would simply end so he would never need to face such solitude in a normally joyous time. No, this year he would have company, and what company! He would spend Christmas with the greatest singer in France, the woman of his dreams.

Erik was also looking forward to the new opera season. It would be glorious. The managers were bound to give Danielle all the leads after La Cenerentola. They couldn't possibly ignore her any longer. She was already the talk of all the Parisian drawing-rooms. Soon, everything would be perfect.

Danielle

Danielle had been working feverishly for weeks to get Erik's gift finished. She wanted to get done early so she could spend more time with him while she could. She couldn't wait to see his face when she gave it to him. He would be so surprised when he realized what it was! It would be priceless.

Danielle decided to make a visit to Madame Giry. They hadn't really had time to speak for more than five or ten minutes at a time, usually in a hall on their way to their respective living quarters. Marie seemed a little wary of the subject of Erik, but it was impossible to tell whether this was because she didn't want to be overheard, or because she felt awkward discussing him. The fact that they had been living together for several months must have scandalized her sense of propriety, but she appeared to understand the necessity and the safety of the arrangement.

Danielle sincerely hoped she understood. If she didn't, Danielle could expect an ear full on just that subject. Marie often felt that she needed to be a mother-figure for Danielle since she had lacked one all her life. Yes, Danielle could expect that topic to come up. Oh, the joy.

Madame Giry

Seated in Marie's quarters, Danielle was all smiles. Marie couldn't imagine what could have caused so drastic a change in the girl before her. Before Erik had swooped back into their lives, Danielle had been a wilting, depressed flower, desperately in need of sunshine. Now, the young lady perched lightly upon the loveseat was almost unrecognizable.

Gone was the chalk in her cheek. Danielle was vibrant. No longer melancholy, Danielle's eyes were laughing. She had bloomed in the darkness. How could a girl thrive in a cave with only the company of a brooding, dark-hearted man? Surely, not even music could create this transformation. And, she wondered, what was Erik like now that he was under Danielle's effervescent influence every day?

"Danielle, my dear," Marie began, "how have you been these last months?"

"Well," Danielle answered, "you already know about the upswing in my career. That was particularly exciting."

Ah, so it was this sudden success that made her so light-hearted.

"I see. That would certainly thrill anyone, especially someone who has worked so diligently for it," Marie told her with sincere warmth.

"I'm not sure that I'm even the one who has worked the most for my career," Danielle laughed. "I owe more to Erik than I could ever repay."

Well, at least Marie wouldn't have to bring up the subject herself.

"I know. Erik can be a difficult task-master."

"Not as much as you, Madame," Danielle joked, dipping into a little mock-bow. "The honor of most dictatorial teacher belongs entirely to you."

"I thank you," Marie replied with a formal inclination of her head. "How has Erik been? I haven't seen or heard from him since he whisked you away to the underworld."

At this, Danielle colored a little, strangely shy to discuss her time in the cellars. Perhaps it isn't success that's gone to her head, after all.

"Erik is…Erik. There is almost no other way to describe him," she stuttered.

"Surely there is some other epithet you could give him," Marie teased. "I can think of several: arrogant, pretentious, gloomy…the list goes on and on."

"Marie," Danielle said, feigning shock. "Really, how can you say such things about a dear friend of ours, even if they are true?"

"How would you describe him," Marie countered.

For a moment, Danielle's eyes became glassy, distant, and even pensive. Marie would have given almost anything to know what was going on inside the younger woman's head. There was something so wistful about her face that Marie's curiosity was positively killing her to find the meaning of that enigmatic smile tugging at the corners of Danielle's rosy cheeks.

Finally Danielle spoke. "He isn't like he used to be, Marie," she said softly. "At first he was cold, but now I feel as if his smile is brighter than the sun. He used to be mournful, but now he laughs and teases me all the time. He no longer hides anything from me. I'm stunned by his openness, his generosity. I can't begin to tell you how it feels to be in his presence every day."

Marie, too, was stunned. She had expected to hear that Erik was the same as he had always been, just as menacing as she remembered. It was strange to learn that he was so normal with this girl. He even sounded charming. Maybe she had done the right thing, helping him meet Danielle. She detected nothing wrong. Obviously, Danielle was happy with her dark companion. Good for you, Erik, she thought to herself once Danielle was safely out of the room. It's about time you both fell in love.

Danielle

Danielle was making her brisk way towards the main foyer. Everyone believed that she had moved into a small apartment on the Rue Scribe. That was the story she fabricated to draw suspicion away from the fact that she no longer resided in the opera house. Now she was on her way out the entrance where she would round a corner. Once she knew that no one was watching her, she would duck into the secret passage that lead straight to the lake. From there it would be childishly easy to find her home.

Normally this journey was easy, but today it was not. Before she made it the grand entrance (or exit, in her case), she was stopped by a timid ballerina.

Her little hands twisting her tutu, this little dancer, who couldn't have been more than fourteen years old, piped, "Someone is here to see you, Mademoiselle."

"Who is it," Danielle asked in the kindest of tones.

"He said...he said he was your father," the girl squeaked.

A feeling of dread settled into the pit of Danielle's stomach. She had known that this would happen, eventually. Someday her father would have to stick his long nose in this Latrec business. Of course, he would come here and embarrass her. She had never given her father her fictitious address. The only place he would know to look would be the opera.

Her displeasure must have been apparent because the ballerina's knees were quaking dreadfully. No doubt the administration had warned every man, woman, and child to be wary around the new prima donna. Primas became divas in short order.

"Thank you, dear," Danielle said sweetly. "I'll go see him right away."

At that moment, all Danielle wanted to do was go back to the cellars and spend some time with Erik, but filial duty called. What will Father say today?, she wondered as she turned on her heel toward the dressing-rooms. It would probably be some of the usual nonsense about her responsibility to the family.

Her temper was flaring by the time she gripped the doorknob and glided into the room, reminding herself that she had risen above her father's station. She was the leading soprano at the leading opera house of France. She wouldn't be brow-beaten by her father.

Her righteous anger died ever so slightly when her stormy, gray eyes met his stern, unforgiving, blue ones. It never failed to astound her that she was the offspring of this cold, unbending man. There are some things even she couldn't get used to, and this concept was one of them. She softly shut the door, hoping that no one would walk by and overhear this conversation. She didn't think her pride could survive such mortification.

Jean D'Artoi surveyed his daughter from his seat on her sofa as she settled herself on the rickety chair in front of her vanity mirror. Danielle knew that she looked just like her mother, a fact she hoped wounded him deeply as she glowered at him. Her face was statuesque in its contempt. She would give her father nothing but stony disapproval in answer to whatever he said to her.

"Danielle," he began after a pause, "surely you must have wits enough to understand the situation. It could not have possibly escaped your notice that a friend of your brother's has paid great attention to you in these last few weeks."

"It certainly has not escaped my notice," Danielle retorted unconcernedly. "The man has been more than a little worrisome. I can scarcely shake the dandy off every night. What is your point," she asked with marked suspicion.

"My point is that there is a reason for his attention," D'Artoi snapped.

"Which is…?"

"He wishes to gain your affection, which you will give him," her father practically warned.

Danielle laughed gaily, though sarcastically. "Why ever would I do that? I can't bear to be around Latrec. I would sooner find affection for you than he."

"You will give him your affection, no matter how false, because it is very important for your family that you do," he barked.

"It is," she asked innocently, and then with pathos, "How much would he give you for me?"

"Fifty thousand francs," Jean answered bluntly. He seemed pleased that she had finally become sensible about the matter. Danielle, however, was deeply wounded. She had never really tried to deny her family's true motive for this match. To be honest, she hadn't expected Latrec to offer them that much. Of course, her father would have sold her to a prospective husband for five thousand, maybe less. Fifty thousand must have seemed like manna from Heaven to the greedy wretch.

"Well," she retorted, holding tears of both anger and hurt, "perhaps I don't care if he'll give you any money for my… 'affections.' What then?"

"You will obey me," her father growled. That fierce, bestial tone in his voice made Danielle suddenly remember all those days in her childhood when his rough hands had bruised her tender skin. Still, not even the threat of another beating could make her agree to the unholy union he was proposing. She wouldn't marry for money; she was above that. Besides, she always thought of Erik when marriage crossed her mind. She was prepared to wait for him until she expired, even if he died first.

"I will not obey you, dear father," she spat.

"You will do what is best for your family," he snapped. "You owe your brother and me too much to refuse us this. You killed Luc's mother," he reminded.

"She was my mother, too," Danielle choked out, sobs burning her throat as she attempted to keep them at bay. This confrontation was too much for her. The shaft had hit the mark. She rushed from the room, running wildly toward the safety of the cellars.

Erik was understandably furious when he heard what had passed between Danielle and her father. He couldn't comprehend how evil the man was if he was willing to sell his daughter for so little.

"How much would you demand for me," Danielle teased once she had calmed down.

"Every centime to Latrec's name for starters," he assured her. "And his eternal soul," he added.

"I wouldn't want it," Danielle muttered, disgustedly.

"I would," Erik told her, sincerely. "The first thing I would do with his soul is send it to Hell where it belongs."

"Would you really do that," Danielle asked, suddenly a little frightened (and a little attracted) by his flashing eyes.

"I would do worse if I could," Erik answered. "There is no punishment too harsh for a man who wishes to harm you."

Danielle believed every word of what he claimed he would do, given the chance. If felt oddly comforting to know he wanted to protect her. No one had ever had the need to defend her. She blushed, gazing into his hard eyes, which immediately softened.

"Thank you," was all she could say, not really sure of what she was thanking him for.

Erik

Christmas day finally arrived. Erik had been waiting almost breathlessly for the chance to give Danielle her gift. He idly tried to imagine what her reaction would be. Visions of Danielle throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him frantically danced around in his head. That wasn't the reaction he was expecting, but it was nice to dream.

All day, Erik was looking out for the perfect moment. They sang and ate to their hearts content. Of course, Erik was so nervous that he had trouble concentrating on the music, but they enjoyed a happy day. After dinner, as they were sitting by the fire in the study, Erik looked over at Danielle and knew that it was time.

"Danielle," he ventured, "would you like your present now?"

"Erik," she cried, "you shouldn't have gotten me anything."

"Oh, but I did," he announced, smugly. "Actually, I didn't technically get you anything. I made it myself."

"Then I'm sure I'll love it," Danielle told him.

Erik disappeared for a moment and brought back a large package, wrapped in a deep crimson paper. He handed it to her, just as excited as she was to have it opened. Danielle glanced up at his barely controlled expression. Her curiosity was piqued. As she ripped away the paper and opened the box inside, she gasped with glee.

What she found was a shiny, black portfolio. This could be only one thing: sheet music. She eagerly turned the cover over to expose the name of the piece. The title Cupid and Psyche proclaimed the theme of the work. It was an opera.

An opera by Octavian Gautier, Erik's pseudonym, would be the most celebrated production all season. His instruction had guaranteed success, but a lead in the debut of his creation would mean fame and glory. He wasn't sure if this possibility occurred to her, or whether she was just supremely grateful for his thoughtfulness, but he found her in his arms before he could blink. She then kissed his exposed cheek, giving him almost exactly what he had wanted for Christmas.

"I knew Cupid and Psyche was your favorite story," he said, pulling away from her.

Suddenly she dashed away from him, leaving him considerably bewildered. He heard the door to her bedroom open and shut. For a moment, Erik wondered if he had done something wrong, but he heard her coming back. There was a strange, rustling noise accompanying her. She came to the door, but didn't enter. It was obvious that she was hiding something.

"I made you a present, too," she said, shyly. "I'm afraid I couldn't wrap it up. I hope you won't mind." As she said this, she dragged his gift into the room. It was several feet of paper cranes sown together in a chain. She brought them over to where he was still seated on the sofa. He stood up and took them from her. "It's exactly one thousand."

"I don't think I can make a wish, since I didn't make the cranes," he muttered, embarrassed, but pleased by her gesture.

"I know," she admitted. "But I can make the wish for you. I've been planning this since I met you. I had to work frantically to get them finished in time. I wish that you will receive your heart's desire," she said softly, gazing at him with those astonishingly beautiful eyes.

Erik's breath caught in his throat. How could she possibly understand what she had just wished? How could she know that she was his heart's desire? The poor girl had, unwittingly, wished him herself. It was a good thing that Erik didn't believe in wishes, or he would have been very sorry for Danielle.

"Well, Danae," he declared, changing the subject to something more comfortable, "why don't we go see if you can sing the opera I wrote for you."

"Is that a challenge," she asked, cheerily.

"Of course," he responded, trying to match her attitude of gaiety. They walked arm-in-arm to the organ and began their rehearsal. Erik soon realized that this subject wasn't much more comfortable than discussing that wish. Every word he had never dared to say to Danielle was said in this opera. Every note of longing he felt for her was sounded. And what was worse, she insisted that he sing the part of Cupid, so he was forced to expose himself with every passionate syllable.

By the end of Cupid's song to Psyche in the second act, Danielle was weeping. She stared at him as she had done that night long ago when he had first brought her to his subterranean home. There was an almost wistful look of desire in that steady, trance-like gaze that made his heart pound against his ribcage. In that moment he knew it: she was his for the taking. He just had to find the best approach. Maybe there was some truth in that wish story, after all.

A/N: At first, I planned to make Danielle give Erik a hand-written collection of mythological tales, all of which had a romantic ring to them that I thought might give Erik a hint of Danielle's true feelings. But then, we learned how to do paper cranes in school, and I decided that this would be the perfect gift. I'm afraid Danielle wasted a wish, though. Erik already had his heart's desire; he just didn't know it yet.

A/N: Erik discovering that Danielle was "his for the taking" was the end I hadn't planned. Originally, he was going to languish in his ignorance for another chapter at the very least, but somehow it slipped. I hope everyone enjoyed a whole lot of EOW in this installment.