Disclaimer: I do not own anything related to Phantom of the Opera. Only original stuff is mine.
AN: Guess who shows up in this chapter? I know, some of you might hate me because of this, but it's still critical to the storyline, so there it is. Don't forget to review and let me know what you think about this! Thanks!
Chapter 14: Emotional Turmoil:
Despite having a patron for the Opera House, as well as the almost never-ending funds that came along with it, Roland Craven could not stop pacing his office. Monsieur Alain Aubert was the patron every opera manager could hope for; he handed out money without asking what it was being used for, and he was present at every waking moment, his eyes eagerly watching the opera come together. Since Monsieur Aubert was such an admirer of music, Roland and Gregory had decided to let him choose the next performance piece, which would be the scandalous Carmen.
Although the running of an opera house tended to keep him busy, Roland was unable to put much of his heart and soul into it. Aria had been gone for well-over a month now, and even though he had received occasional notes about her welfare, they had been too few for his liking. Not long after Aubert had become the Populaire's patron, he'd gotten another note from his daughter. This one had been short and included Aria congratulating him on getting such a wonderful patron, and saying that she hoped that the next performance would go well. That note had been delivered a week ago, and Roland, much to the annoyance of his brother, was still fretting over it.
'I cannot believe that she sent me a note that was so short!' he thought to himself as he paced the floor. 'And for it to be so impersonal…it is not like her. Why, it's almost as if…'
No, it couldn't be. Aria could not be growing comfortable with being a prisoner of the Ghost! No, that could not be. She was a smart girl; surely she knew that given the chance, the Ghost would kill her without a second thought. Perhaps she wrote so impersonally because she did not wish the Ghost to guess how much she meant to her family? If the Ghost ever found out how precious she was to others, he might take advantage of that, exploiting them to his own ends…though he did that already.
'Whatever it is, it has to stop,' Roland thought, halting in his footsteps. 'I have to get Aria back, but how? There is no way I could get her back on my own!'
There was certainly no hope in receiving aid from the authorities; they did not believe that the Ghost existed, and would not grant him the manpower it would take to perform a search and rescue of the caves below. Gregory was no help, either, as he believed that if they merely kept the Ghost happy and paid off, no harm would come to Aria or anyone else. Even Madame Giry refused to help him!
'A man would think that, with a young daughter of her own, Madame would be one of the first to offer help so I could get my child back from that madman!'
The thought angered Roland to no end. How could a woman with a daughter not want to help a fellow parent in distress? Had the Ghost threatened her in some way, thereby preventing her from assisting others in trouble?
'If Madame Giry is unable to help me, then there must be someone else who can aid me in this.'
Gregory was no help, and Roland truly did not wish alarm his sisters, mother, or father to what was happening. The senior Lord Craven was rather sickly, and anything alarming would surely send him to his bedchamber, especially if it concerned his eldest grandchild. If Roland's father discovered that Aria was missing, Roland had no doubt that there would be an army of detectives and privately hired, fully-armed men storming the walls of the Populaire within a month. When it came to his family, Lord Craven would do everything in his power to keep them safe and protected.
'No, I can't tell Mother or Father that Aria's been taken,' Roland thought with a wince. 'If they decide to overreact and send in their own private army, the Ghost will probably kill Aria or run off with her as a hostage. I cannot let that happen!'
His sisters would be useless in these matters, as they would likely pressure him into getting the local police involved. That would do no good, as the Chief of Police would refuse to lend even one man in the effort to locate and retrieve Aria from the Ghost. Perhaps his brothers-in-law would be of some help, but if they chose to side with their wives on the matter, then Roland might as well not have asked for assistance in the first place!
Suddenly, it hit him. There were two people who knew the Ghost very well, and Roland was willing to bet that at least one of them still feared the actions of the Ghost. Surely they would help him if he asked for it.
'Well, there's only one way to find out.'
"Welcome to the Opera Populaire, Monsieur and Madame de Chagny," Roland said with as sincere a smile as he could force onto his face.
The smile, however, was a mask meant to fool the servants presently setting out trays of refreshments for the guests and their host. As the de Chagnys seated themselves on the couch across from Roland's chair, he took the time to examine them thoroughly.
When he'd first become interested in purchasing the Opera House, Roland had done his best to research everything he could about the past of the Populaire. He had heard and read a great deal about certain events, many of which had occurred more than twenty years before the horrendous fire. However, the most intriguing was the story of the soprano Christine Daae, her suitor Raoul de Chagny, and their involvement in the tragedy that took place over five years ago. However, Roland had not seen a single photograph of the couple, and he was shocked at how young they appeared.
Raoul de Chagny was everything a person imagined a nobleman to be. Tall, blonde-haired, blue-eyed, and with boyish features, he was extremely handsome. Even though he was rich and had just inherited the title of Count from his deceased brother, Raoul had an easy air about him that did nothing to indicate that he was spoiled. In fact, Roland felt quite comfortable with the young man, and if there was anyone he wished Aria to be wedded to, Raoul was the example to compare other men to.
'He's even got that noble air about him,' Roland thought as the young man handed his wife a cup of tea with a loving smile. As the Countess de Chagny accepted the cup Roland began to discreetly examine her as well.
A remarkably beautiful young woman, Christine was a sight to break any man's heart. Wide brown eyes, full of innocence and wonder, were set in a lovely face the color of pale porcelain. Faint touches of light pink in her cheeks gave Christine a bit of color, though it appeared to be natural instead of added by a face brush. Roland could also tell that nothing had been added to bring out the rose-petal pink in Christine's lips.
'She is like a living representation of Snow White,' Roland thought, nodding respectfully towards the Countess as she smiled at him. 'I can see why the Ghost wanted her so badly.'
Well, if beauty was any indication to talent, then Christine must have been a glorious singer as well. Even though he had never seen or heard her sing, Roland had heard so much praise about the young woman that he often envied those who had. Hannibal, Il Muto, and the horror that was Don Juan had all been widely praised, and both Roland and his entire family wished that they had been in Paris to see them performed.
"Thank you for inviting us here, Monsieur Craven," the Countess said with a sweet smile. "It's been so long since we've been here, and I have missed my childhood home."
Ah, now if there was ever a friend that Roland wanted for his daughter, the Countess Christine de Chagny was it. Even though she had been brought up in the Opera House, Christine clearly had elegant manners, and was quite graceful in her movements. Aria would be sure to like the Countess, and it would be a great advantage to the family if the women could become friends.
"What was it you wished to speak to us about?" the Count asked, a glass of brandy in his hands.
Roland shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Well, you see…I'm afraid I have a rather…unique problem, Monsieur and Madame."
"Oh, please, call us Raoul and Christine," the Countess said with another smile. "We are all friends here, are we not?"
Roland found himself smiling back. "Well, then, Raoul and Christine…I am afraid that I face a dire problem, one that is very similar to the one you both experienced five years ago."
The young couple froze in their seats, staring at him for a moment before Christine spoke. "The Phantom of the Opera? He came back after the burning of the Opera House?"
Roland watched as the Count reached out and took the hand of his wife. "You are sure that the monster has returned?" Raoul asked, blue eyes sparking with anger and just a touch of fear. "You said that you face the same problem that my wife and I suffered through those years ago."
Guilt rushed through Roland Craven's chest as he saw the couple cling to each other as though they were too terrified to let go. It pained him to force them into facing this situation once more, but he had no choice; they were his only hope of ever getting Aria back home safely.
"Yes, Raoul and Christine," the older man replied. "It is the same situation. Months ago, my brother Gregory and I purchased the rebuilt Populaire in the attempt to become more involved in the art scene of the world. We thought it a great investment, and once the transactions were complete, Gregory and I moved here, bringing with us my daughter, Aria."
"Aria," Christine whispered. "That is a sort of song…and it would explain some things, if you say next what I think you will…"
Roland sighed and ran a hand over his face. "Things were progressing quite well after we first arrived. Gregory and I both have a head for business and art, so we merely jumped right into creating a production for the public. Everything up until rehearsals was going absolutely wonderfully; the singers sounded good, the dancers were practicing like mad, and all of the artists had the props and backdrops being created with great speed. It was all so perfect…
"About a month and a half ago, I received a threatening note from a man claiming to be the Opera Ghost. He demanded money, Box 5, and gave orders on how to proceed to run his Opera House. Of course, I thought it all a joke. After all, even the police denied that Phantom ever existed, so why should I have worried?" Reaching out, Roland poured himself a brandy and took a deep drink to calm his nerves. "Then the threats came along, saying that if I did not do as I was ordered, the Ghost would take something I treasured above all else. And six weeks ago…" Tears began to form in his eyes. "He took my daughter, Monsieur…he took my daughter Aria, and she is not much older than your wife is now."
By now the Count and his wife were both in shock. They looked as though they could not understand how the Phantom could have returned to Paris, and how no one would try and hunt the monster down and arrest him. The man was a criminal, an extortionist and a murderer, so why did the law sit back and allow this creature to continue preying on others?
"My daughter is not even gifted in music, Monsieur," Roland said, his voice soft as he spoke. "I cannot think of why he would take her, as she is not musical like the Countess is."
"She is not musical?" Christine asked, staring at him with wide brown eyes. "She is called Aria, but she has no musical talents, not even instrumental?"
Roland shook his head. "Aria is named for the sort of music her mother and I danced to when we first married," he explained. "She cannot play, sing, dance, or do anything even remotely musical. I believe she was just taken in order to keep me obeying the Ghost's demands."
"That might be the case," Raoul muttered, staring into his glass. "If Aria is not musical, then she cannot help him with his music. The only way she would be useful would be as a hostage to keep you and your brother bound to obey every note that arrives."
"Can Madame Giry not help you?" Christine asked. "She helped Raoul rescue me, after all."
"Madame Giry is useless in this case," Roland said in disgust. "She must have been taught a lesson after helping you, as she is not eager to help me locate and retrieve Aria."
Raoul turned and looked at his wife, who had lost all color in her cheeks. "The Phantom must have threatened to hurt Meg," he gently told her. "Madame would not risk her own daughter getting hurt or losing her place here for any reason."
Christine sighed and looked down at her hands. "You are right," she said. "But, Raoul, how are we to help this poor girl? You barely got out alive the last time you went down into the caverns, and I cannot bear to lose you now!"
Silence followed as the three sat there, thinking of how to help the poor woman being held prisoner down below.
Sitting in the comfortable atmosphere of the library, my book lay forgotten in my lap as I stared into the fire. My mind whirled around in circles as I tried to sort out all of the thoughts and emotional ideas going on inside my head. Everything had become so different since the night I had kissed Erik on the cheek, and that had been two days ago. Erik had retreated into himself a little, and I felt horrible for causing him such distress.
'You shouldn't have kissed him,' I lectured myself. 'Erik has never known what it is like to have affection plied on him, and you just had to thank him with a kiss. No wonder he's so distant! He's probably confused as well, you silly thing!'
Well, kissing him hadn't been so bad. I'd only ever kissed my grandfather, uncles, and Papa on the cheeks, and all of them had had some kind of rough stubble on their cheeks. Erik was different. His face had been smoothly and perfectly shaved, and the lotion he'd likely rubbed on had smelled both sensual and masculine at the same time. Where he'd gotten such a scent, I had no idea, but I knew that it had left me feeling a bit lightheaded.
'But was it his aftershave?' I asked myself. 'Well, it was either the aftershave or I am in-'
No, I couldn't think it. Besides, I highly doubted that Erik did care for me in that way. I could not compare to his soprano in talents or in looks, so why would he fall in love with me in the first place? I could not sing, dance, or help him express his music; all I could do was write silly children's stories, and even then, it was only for my cousins! I had no real talent for artistic expression, so what did I have to offer a musical and artistic genius like Erik?
'I have nothing,' I thought, a tear running down my cheek. 'He wouldn't want my dowry, since he would never come aboveground to claim it. I'm no beauty, not like some of my cousins will be when they grow up.'
I sighed in envy, just imagining all of my blonde-haired, blue-eyed cousins growing up to become beautiful young women or handsome young men. It hurt, knowing that I didn't have anything that would make me remarkable. Well, I could cook, but what good would that do once I was mistress of a house and had two dozen people working in the kitchens? Perhaps this was why no one ever arrived at my father's office with a marriage proposal: there was nothing unique about me to make me stand out amongst the other women in society.
Sighing once more, I rose from my chair and marked my place in my book, setting the text aside as I walked towards the library door.
'You're avoiding her,' chastised that voice in the back of his head.
Erik growled and tried to ignore it. He'd long dubbed the voice as his conscience, and he found that he did not like it one bit. He had managed to live so long without one, so why was it suddenly there now? All it did was lecture him on what he was doing, then it had the audacity to say that what he was doing was wrong. It annoyed him to no end, and when he tried to ignore it, it merely 'talked' louder than before.
However, he couldn't admit that the little voice was wrong. He had been avoiding Aria, and it was all because of that kiss she had given him. To her, it had probably been a simple peck on the cheek, but to him, it was the world. Thus far in his life, Erik had only experienced two kisses, and the first had been out of desperation. But the one Aria had given him…
Sighing, Erik tried not to think about it, but the feeling of her lips brushing his cheek was burned forever into his mind. Her mouth had been soft and smooth, warm and slightly moist from her breath. The gentle brush of her lips had been unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, and he wanted desperately to feel that again. But how could he get Aria to grace him with another one of her kisses?
'Go ask her,' the voice suggested.
No, it could not be that simple…could it?
'It wouldn't hurt to ask,' the voice whispered again. 'If Aria was willing to do it before, she could be willing to do it again for you.'
His need for Aria's lips against his unmarred cheek overwhelmed him, and before he could stop, Erik found himself standing before the doorway to the library, his hand turning the knob as he rushed to get inside. Imagine his surprise at the feel of Aria almost stumbling into his arms as he stepped through the doorway.
The last thing I had expected was for Erik to come storming into the library, a determined look in his eyes as he pushed through the doorway. I, myself, had been ready to exit the room, but when the door flew open, I lost my balance and nearly fell over in surprise. In my attempt to regain my footing, I threw myself forwards, only to fall into Erik's strong arms.
"Oh!" I gasped, not really understanding what was happening or why.
Looking up, my eyes met a deep emerald gaze that burned with a fire that I could not begin to describe. I swallowed hard as my mouth went dry, my tongue dashing out to run along my lips in a nervous gesture. I watched as Erik's eyes drifted down slightly, those beautiful green eyes darkening nearly to black as they saw me lick my lips.
'Dear God in heaven, her mouth!' was all Erik could really think as he watched the pale pink tongue run over those lovely lips.
How could she do that? Did she not know what she had already done to him with one innocent kiss? Was she trying to drive him mad by tempting him with what he could only dream to have?
'But I must have it,' he thought. 'I must have it…I must…'
And so he leaned forward…and took it.
The feel of Erik's lips against mine was something I never dreamed of experiencing. His mouth was so soft and gentle, like warm silk rubbing against my own, and I found myself melting. I had to be dreaming, this could not be real. Erik loved his soprano, this I knew from the shrine he had dedicated to her memory. How could I possibly have made him forget a woman who looked and sang like an angel from heaven? No, it couldn't be…and yet a strong but gentle hand, pulling me against Erik's wonderfully muscular body as his mouth devoured mine, convinced me otherwise.
Now I could feel his other hand slipping into my hair, pulling me tighter against him. It was surreal, like a dreamy fog was floating through me, and all I could see/smell/feel/taste was Erik. It was incredible, and I did not want it to stop. Sighing, I lost myself even further into the kiss.
Heaven on earth was the only way to describe what he was feeling. Aria's lips and body were fully pressed against him, but he still wanted more. Slowly, he pulled away, gasping for air, his breath hot as he let it out and pulled it in. Leaning closer for another kiss, three words left both his mouth and Aria's…three simple words he never thought to hear from a woman being held in his arms, or ever hoped to say to someone he truly cared about like he did with this woman.
"I love you," they both whispered.
AN: (Gasp) They kissed and said they love each other! Review!