Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Phantom of the Opera. Only original stuff is mine.

AN: Sorry this is late: I was gone last week and couldn't post. Also, I'm reposting this chapter in the hopes that it allows my readers to actually see this, since the website is being a pain in the butt for some reason this week. If you can read this, please say so in your reviews!

Anyway, there's just the tiniest bit of sap in this chapter, but not much. It could have become much sappier, but I didn't want them to fall in love too quickly; it would have made it too much of a Mary-Sue, and nobody wants that! Well, someone might, but the romance will take a little while. Thanks for reading, and please review!

Chapter 10: What to Do:

Days passed, and Roland and Gregory Craven were near-frantic in their attempts to put on an opera. Hanging over their heads was the fact that they had to lie to everyone in the Opera House, claiming that Mademoiselle Craven had unexpectedly been summoned back to England by her grandmother. Some of the workers had looked skeptical, but when they remembered how much Mademoiselle Craven loved her family, most shrugged their shoulders and accepted it.

However, the managers could not fool one person into believing their stories. Madame Antoinette Giry had lived in the Opera Populaire for most of her life, and she knew fear and lies the moment she encountered them. Fear was evident on the Craven brothers' faces whenever they happened to glance up into the flies above the stage, and the moment that anyone asked when Mademoiselle Craven would return, they would cough and prattle out an answer, their eyes glancing away as they spoke.

As the opening night for 'The Magic Flute' drew nearer, Madame Giry found herself growing more and more worried about the new managers. Where, in fact, was Aria Craven in the first place? As far as Madame Giry knew, no messengers had come bearing an urgent note for Aria to return to England, nor had she seen any messages leave the Populaire bound for the island nation.

For Madame, there were only two explanations as to why or how Aria Craven had left the Opera House. The first was that Aria's father and uncle had sent her away before anything could happen to her. This seemed the most likely choice, as Madame Giry was sure that the men now knew who and what they were dealing with. Madame also saw that Roland Craven was a doting father, and knew that any father would protect his child.

However, the second explanation over Aria's unusual disappearance was just that: she had literally disappeared and her father and uncle were trying to pretend otherwise. It worried Madame to think that Erik had taken Aria for reasons unknown, but if that were true, then there was nothing she could do about it. If she tried to enter the caverns beneath the Populaire, there would no doubt be a dozen traps waiting, and Erik would probably be angry enough to leave her there to wither and die.

As sorry as she was for Aria Craven, there was no possible way that Antoinette was going to risk her life to save her. After all, there was little Meg to consider; who would take care of her when she was gone? And as abnormal and angry as he was, Erik was not a killer of women; he was rather afraid and uncomfortable around them, so he tried to keep as much space between him and them as possible. If Aria was with Erik in his lair, then she was safe from harm and would likely be returned to her family as soon as Erik (or the Ghost) grew tired of her. And if Aria was, in fact, with her grandmother in England, then there was nothing to worry about, now, was there?

For now, all Antoinette could do was wait and see what the future brought.

Yawning, I rolled over in the large Phoenix bed and slowly fluttered my eyes open. Every morning, I would open my eyes in the golden bed I had first woken up in and let my mind wander. I hadn't examined it the first day, but when I had, I saw that it resembled a beautiful Phoenix in flight. Best of all, it was the product of Erik's own hard work, and when I had praised it, he had actually blushed slightly before fleeing the room.

Sighing, I rolled onto my back and stared at the black silk of the canopy, from which fell the sheer, black lace curtain that isolated me from the rest of the cave. As of this morning, I had been in Erik's home for ten days, and it had been both a fascinating experience and a boring one as well.

After my first day here in the caverns, Erik had allowed me access to practically every room in his home, except the one which held his tribute to Christine. He didn't know that I had already been in there, of course, and since he seemed to value it so highly, I decided to keep quiet and agree to leave it be. However, I was allowed to use the library as much as I wished, and he even let me inspect his workrooms, so long as I didn't touch anything.

On my second day, I learned that Erik was not that well-learned in the kitchen. An artistic genius he may be, but when it came to the arts of the kitchen, he didn't do much more than toast cheese over bread and add a slice of already cooked meat to it. This, I discovered, was why his pantry was so full of dried and preserved goods, but was severely lacking any fresh fruits, vegetables, grains, or milk. In the end, I'd resorted to begging him to let me make a list of groceries that needed to be bought. To my amazement, the food arrived a day after he'd taken the list from me.

Also on that second day, Erik had discovered that if he was polite and behaved (somewhat) decently, he could have me cook anything he liked. For some reason, my kindness towards him seemed to make Erik act a bit cold towards me; however, after the meal was over with and he realized that I had, in fact, cooked what he had wanted me to, he warmed slightly. It seemed as though he were unused to someone being kind and considerate to him and he didn't know how to react to it. Thankfully, this only lasted for a few days, after which Erik did his best to try and thank me for what I did for him.

Before a week had passed, Erik and I were able to fall into a routine that we were both comfortable with. In the morning, I would wake up and prepare breakfast for myself while Erik slept late. He was often up late at night working on an opera or art piece, and I learned the hard way that waking him was probably the worst thing I could possibly do. So I ate whatever I could find as my morning meal, alone, and then found my way to the library to read until lunch.

The time period after breakfast was far different than the quiet early mornings. A little after nine o'clock, I would hear Erik stalking from his room to the kitchen to make his own breakfast. Moments later, he would go to his organ and compose until lunch. At noon, I would cook a simple meal for us both, though I always had to put Erik's meal within arm's reach as he worked. When his food was gone, I would wash the dishes and go to the library, where I would meet Erik for our afternoon talks.

A recent addition made to the library was a mahogany table, which was set in between the two chairs. Erik had placed it there upon the afternoon of my fifth day in the caves, just so that we could sit and talk over cups of hot chocolate. Nothing personal was discussed, but he would ask me about what books I liked to read, or had already read. If there was time, Erik would ask which topic I would be willing to attempt to read from the numerous shelves surrounding us, and offered suggestions.

Although I was a prisoner here, I couldn't help but savor those conversations with Erik. My father had never tried to persuade me to read Aristotle or Homer, but Erik said that these were classic texts that many scholars read, and which I could also benefit from. He emphasized that if I wanted to have any sense in my head, I should read something challenging in order to keep my mind occupied. It was very flattering, and I did my best to pour over any book that caught my eye or that Erik suggested.

If asked, though, I would have to say that I enjoyed the evenings best of all. I, of course, would cook a supper that Erik preferred, but once the dinner dishes were cleaned and put away, Erik would let me read in the music room while he played for me. Usually it was some piece of music that he had already completed the day before, but mostly it was something he made up right then and there. The passionate and bold way he played his music often left me breathless, and most of the time I could not focus on my book no matter how hard I tried. I would often go to bed with my bones feeling as though they were both vibrating and melting at the same time, so powerful was Erik's music.

Yawning and stretching once more, I sat up and reached out for the black cord that would raise the lace curtain. Up it went, and as I swung my feet over the side of the bed, I noticed that a deep red gown I had never seen before rested on a nearby chair. Sliding my feet into my slippers, I moved over to it and picked up the note that lay on top of it.

Please accept this token of my thanks for such fine meals and many nights of conversation. – Erik

I put the note down and blushed. In society, it was highly improper for a man to buy a gown for a woman, especially if they were unmarried. Well, a husband could purchase a gown for his wife, but even then, he only gave her the money or permission to buy it. For any man to merely buy a gown for a casual acquaintance as Erik had…well, it simply was not done. Did he know that?

'Probably not,' I thought as I picked up the dress and looked at it closer. 'He's never had a proper upbringing, so of course he wouldn't know that it was taboo to have this done for me!'

It was unlike anything I already owned, and Grandmother had made sure that I had a full wardrobe. Most of my clothes, of course, were still in England, though I had brought some of my most favorite outfits with me to France. I had elegant dresses for house calls, parties, balls, and important guest visitations, but I also had common dresses for lounging about my rooms all day. It had been the common, most sturdy dresses that Erik had brought down to me that first night here, and apparently he approved of my tastes, as he had chosen an informal gown to give me as a gift. The red material of the gown was of very strong, very good quality. It was also very soft, and didn't even rustle as I picked it up. Holding it up to my body, I realized that it would probably fit quite well if I tried it on.

'But how had he known my size and measurements?' I thought, eyeing the dress as I held it before me.I could hardly imagine him picking up one of my existing gowns and folding a tape measure over it! Perhaps he is just observant?

Well, Erik was a genius, after all, so it really wouldn't surprise me if he did, in fact, correctly guess my dress size. As an artist, he did have the skill to look at something and capture it perfectly in stone or on paper, so why would he not be able to guess a woman's dress size?

'Now you are being silly,' I silently laughed to myself. 'Put on the dress and wear it; you would not want to offend him, now, would you?'

Even though it made me uncomfortable wearing the red gown, I felt I should. Social norms dictated that it was wrong, but there was no one down here to see my behavior anyway, so why not try and please Erik? In spite of everything, he had been kind to me, and never once had he threatened or harmed me. Oh, there were times when he was angry that I had touched one of his art projects when he wasn't looking, but I had deserved those!

'Besides, I could have broken something beyond repair,' I chided myself as I slipped out of my nightgown and pulled the red material over my head.

Once the gown was on, I reached behind me and tightened the ribbons, just enough so that I could breathe and tie them securely. There was one advantage to living down here, and it was that I did not have three maids attempting to force me into a corset! Thankfully, all of the outfits that Erik had brought down to me had bindings already made in them and did not require assistance to get into.

Now fully dressed, I looked about for a pair of shoes. I found a black pair by my wardrobe and slipped them on, tying them securely before going to the kitchen to make breakfast. I was shocked to find Erik already there, a cup of tea before him as he sat at the square table. He was clad in a white shirt, black pants, and his hair was mussed. Since he was not one for waking up early, I was immediately concerned.

"Erik, are you alright?" I asked, keeping my voice soft so as not to startle him.

He jumped in his seat and looked up at me. "I am fine," he grumbled, green eyes turning downwards so that he could stare into his white china cup.

I sighed and sat down across from him. "Erik, I know that something is wrong," I said, keeping my voice soft. "Please, tell me."

Erik fidgeted in his chair for a moment before frowning deeply, his hand briefly raising the cup to his mouth. Slowly, he set the cup back down at looked up at me. "I am restless," he muttered.

A smile found its way to my lips. "So you are tired of your art and music?" I gently teased. "If only for now, you want something new to your life?"

Again he fidgeted. "Yes." I could hear the reluctance in his voice as he admitted it.

My fingers began to softly tap upon the table as I thought. There was a way to turn this situation to my advantage. I, too, was bored with the monotonous tone my life had taken, but I had never told Erik that. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt his feelings or, worse yet, anger him! Secretly, I longed for sunshine and flowers, though I could certainly be happy with merely the sun's rays falling on my shoulders. I longed for golden light that did not come from a candle or a fire; I needed a kind of warmth that surrounded my whole body like a hug, not the sort of one-sided kind that came from a fireplace underground.

'Carefully, Aria,' I warned myself. 'Erik is a brilliant man and could easily see through your plan.'

"Perhaps it would be best of you went outside?" I suggested, keeping my tone light and carefree. "You know, sometimes the wind and the sun are all that is needed to clear one's head."

For a moment, all Erik could do was stare at me with blank eyes, just before shaking his head and withering my hopes of seeing the outside world. "I never spend more than two or three days outside per month," he said. I could hear the anger and frustration in his voice. "Only then it is because I need something urgently. The outside world has no need for me, and I have no need for it."

I refused to give up, though. "But it will do you some good," I gently prodded him, making sure to give him a smile as I spoke. "You are so pale, and it would be nice to see a touch of golden tan or the pink of warmth in your cheeks."

For a moment, I thought he would yell at me, declaring my ideas foolish and my words insulting to him because of his face. To my surprise, he looked as though he were considering my idea. I nervously sat in my chair and waited for his answer.

In his heart, Erik knew that no human could live without the sunlight. He, of course, shunned it because of the way it revealed his imperfection to the world; the rest of humanity, though, loved the brilliantly shining orb that hung amidst beautiful white clouds and blue sky, and needed to bask in its gifts when the weather was fine. That very need was always obvious in the eyes of all mankind, and right now, it was Aria's eyes that showed that same desperate desire to be out in the open sun and air.

But could he do it? Could he, the hated Phantom of the Opera, go out into the sun with this woman? True, he had gone out before, but those times had been brief, and only when he needed something to sweep away thoughts in a head filled with ideas for art and music. Those few trips into the sun had also been when he was sure no one would be out and able to see him. As an outcast of society, he tended to prefer the hottest days of summer or the coldest in winter, when everyone was inside their homes and not out in the streets where they could see him walking around.

'But Aria actually cares about my health,' he thought, flicking his eyes up to gaze at her. 'And perhaps a visit into the sun will do me good, after all…'

"Very well," Erik told her, though he was still reluctant about going outside. "Be ready in a few moments; spring time in France tends to turn wet in an instant." 'And it would be a pity if the red gown you look so radiant in were to be ruined by the rain.'

He became a bit more optimistic when Aria clapped her hands and smiled, acting more like a little girl than a grown woman. "I'll get my cloak," she said as she leapt from her chair and ran for her room.

Shaking his head in amusement, Erik also rose from his chair, set his cup in the sink, and headed for his room to change and fetch his own cloak.

I could barely contain my excitement as I ran into my room and chose a black cloak. It was one of my own, something that Erik had fetched down here for me, and it was sure to keep the wind, rain, and other unpleasantries off of my head. Securing it to my neck, I went out into the cavern to find Erik already there, fully dressed and ready. He offered me his arm, which I happily accepted, and led me towards a floor-length mirror. His fingers pressed a hidden switch in the gilded wood and the mirror swung open, revealing another cavern.

"You must never wander into the passageways alone," Erik firmly declared, his head turned so that he could face me. "I have set many traps, and most of them are deadly or lead to someplace that would frighten you out of your wits. Promise me that you will never go out without me present."

The mere mention of his infamous deadly traps chilled my blood. "I promise," I said, my fingers clutching his elbow as shivers ran through me.

Erik nodded and began to lead me down the path, one hand picking up a lit torch from the wall and using it to guide our steps. I soon found myself growing lost with all of the twists and turns of the caverns; the eerie stone walls all blended together to look alike, and even the smooth pathway seemed to become one and the same. It almost seemed like the walls and floor were conspiring to keep intruders lost, forever protecting the Phantom's secret lair from those who would seek him out.

In the darkness, my hand continued to clutch Erik's arm. As it did so, I could not help but notice how strong he was. Beneath my fingertips, I could feel the muscles in his arm tense and relax as we walked, and it was then that I realized that he must have carried me, unconscious, down here in his arms. For some reason, that seemed to thrill me, my mind wandering as we moved through the caves. I began to think about how much Erik could actually lift with his bare hands, my mind so focused on possibilities that I did not notice we stopped, right beneath a trapdoor that lead up to the roof of the Populaire. Goodness, I had not even bothered to memorize how we had gotten here so that I could later escape! Perhaps next time I would do better…provided there was a next time…

We emerged from behind a large statue of a rearing winged horse, and as Erik pulled me up through the trapdoor, I took a deep breath of fresh spring air. I could smell the scents of the city of Paris: dust, flowers, food, and wood smoke, everything mixing together and tickling my nose. It was a bit cloudy today, but it only made the day pleasantly cool instead of warm. I closed my eyes and savored every single moment of it, my mind etching this day into my memory.

Beside me, I heard Erik take a deep breath, just as I had. Turning my head slightly, I saw that as the sun emerged from behind the wisps of cloud overhead, his face was slowly turning a golden color. He was quite striking, and with the pale porcelain of his mask turning into a polished piece of molten gold, I couldn't help but stare.

Just then, green eyes opened and turned towards me.

Erik could sense she was looking at him, and hated it. For all of his childhood, he had been stared at and tormented because of his face, and now Aria was doing the same thing when he had thought she was different. Opening his eyes, he looked down at her, catching her in mid-stare.

"What is wrong?" he asked, his voice trapped between angry and curious; well, there was the chance that there was something the matter with her.

"Oh, nothing," Aria blurted out, a blush tingeing her cheeks. "It's just…you look better with some sunlight coloring your cheeks." She blushed harder. "It becomes you."

For a moment, all he could do was stare at her. She thought he looked better up here in the sun? Perhaps she even thought him…handsome? No, that could never be, but perhaps she thought he looked healthier with some touches of natural coloring instead of the pale sheet he usually resembled. It probably would do him good to go out into the sun more often…

Taking a deep breath, Erik said a pair of words that rarely left his lips.

"Thank you."

I had almost fainted when I complimented Erik of how nice he looked in the sun, fearing that he would think I was patronizing him. When he thanked me, I felt as though my cheeks would burst into flame. Blushing, I began to point out various rooftops and landmarks in attempt to hide my embarrassment. For a while, it worked, and Erik began to teach me the history of bits and pieces of Paris. My interest in history goes far back to my childhood, but it was deepened by the beautiful quality of Erik's voice. He must be a glorious singer, and I would give anything to hear him do so.

But the last time he had done so was with the soprano during the performance of his failed opera, and I refused to bring up bad memories of that day. The poor man had suffered enough in life; it was time to move on. Instead of saying anything regarding my thoughts, I stood and listened to him talk, my heart filling with disappointment when he declared it time to return to the caves.

As he led me back to the darkness, I silently vowed to bring him back up into the sunlight once more.

AN: Cute sort of bonding in this chapter. Hope you liked it! Please review!