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

AN: Yes, it sucks to have Christine and Raoul coming back and meddling in the whole scene. However, after failing to give them an appearance in my last story (as was requested by a reviewer), I decided to bring them back. Don't worry, I plan on Aria not being nice to them, so you can all rest easy. Feel free to tell me what you think in a review! Thanks!

Chapter 16: Love and Plans:

I could feel Erik's eyes on me as I read my book. We were seated in the music room, and the two of us were at our usual places, me on the couch with a book, and Erik at his organ, composing his music. Right now, all was quiet; Erik was currently hovering over several pieces of already written music, not playing anything at all, and the only sound was that of water dripping somewhere. However, I knew, even without looking at him, that Erik wasn't even looking in the direction of the desk.

Deciding to humor him, I slyly looked out the corner of my eye and tried not to smile. "It's very rude to stare," I said, my mouth twitching up just a little.

I heard him chuckle just the slightest bit, and finally let a real smile pull my lips upwards. Then, to my surprise, I felt a weight on the cushion beside me, causing me to look up and almost yelp in surprise. I hadn't even heard him move from his desk! I pouted as Erik chuckled at my surprise, his hand taking mine before raising it to his lips.

'We declared our love only a few days ago, and already he makes me feel as though no other man will do for me,' I thought as my cheeks flushed.

In fact, ever since I had first put that ointment on Erik's ravaged cheek, he had been far more affectionate than I could ever imagine a man to be. Perhaps it was because he had been without love or a gentle touch for so long, for he often sat as close to me as he could without intruding on me. I always looked forward to his gentle hand on mine, or his kiss against my cheek or lips. However, what I looked forward to the most was our time together in the library.

The layout of the library was vastly different than it had been when I first arrived. The chairs were now pushed out of the way, and several thick blankets and rugs were now spread out on the ground before the fireplace, ready for someone to come and relax upon them. A dozen pillows were neatly stacked on top of the pillows and rugs, with the lamps strategically placed so that the reader could have light to read by. It was far cozier now, and I liked it very much…though not just for the new way it had been rearranged.

Along with the new shifting of furniture in the library came the chance to be closer to Erik. Sometimes we would curl up next to one another and open a book, though I knew he was not reading his. Not once did I ever see or hear him turn a page whenever we were in the library together. More often than not, I could feel his eyes on me as I read, though I never got far; before I could get ten pages into the story, I would feel strong arms wrap around me and pull me close to a warm chest. I would giggle, of course, and Erik would laugh before he joined me in reading the book I had chosen. We managed to finish an entire text that way, and could hardly wait to start another.

I smiled and squeezed Erik's hand as he returned mine to my possession. I watched as he stood up and returned to his place at his organ, his fingers now dancing across the ivory keys as he thought up new music. Watching Erik as he played was like seeing a dance; his body swayed back and forth in a passionate, rhythmic pattern, his head rolling, jerking, and twisting as the notes he played came to life around him. I could not help but become disappointed whenever he stopped in the middle of his performance to write the notes down, or when he paused to think something over.

As though sensing my eyes on him, Erik turned around, his fingers still gliding and dancing over the ivory pieces as he continued to play. A green eye gazing out from semi-twisted flesh, sparkling in the candlelight around us, and my breath caught as he smirked at me. It was as though he knew I loved watching him, and that he liked being watched by me. I couldn't help but smile and blush a little as he grinned and turned away so that I could return to my book.

Even though my eyes were resting on the pages of the text, my mind was elsewhere. I couldn't help thinking about Erik's face and how it had made him so tormented and miserable. For me, it was not that terrible to look at; it was red, puffy, and the skin appeared to be peeling off in pieces, but really, it wasn't that revolting to look at. Even the swollen flesh around the right eye didn't faze me.

When I had first seen his face, I had first thought to use the burn ointment that Erik had stored in his kitchen. Not long after I had begun cooking for him, Erik had realized that I might burn myself while making supper, and so he had shown me the ointment he often used whenever he had injured himself while in the kitchen. That same medicine was now applied to Erik's right cheek twice a day by my own hand, and it was already doing wonders.

'The redness has certainly gone down,' I thought with a smile. 'And his skin isn't peeling as badly as it once had. At least we now know that it was the mask that was making it worse than it appeared.'

Although his face was still a bit twisted and bumpy in a few places, and the modest swell he had underneath his right eye was permanent, it was still a nice improvement. Erik had added soft linings of velvet or silk to his masks, and now they were all cool and comfortable to wear, though he did not wear this mask a great deal anymore. Since the sight of his face did not bother me, we both agreed that it would be best for him to do without them.

Sighing, I leaned back on the couch and lost myself in Erik's music and the written words of my book. All too soon it would be bedtime, and I wanted to savor every wondrous moment here that I could.

With Aria so close by, Erik felt as though all of his senses were heightened to some animalistic level. He could hear her every movement, every single swish of her skirt or small cough she made, he could hear it as surely as if she sat right beside him. He could still smell the spices she used in the kitchen, the aromas of spicy pepper, fresh rosemary, and the exotic smell of the curry she had used on the roast all blended together in an intoxicating scent that was threatening to drive him mad. Good God, he could even hear her breathing through the music he was playing!

Never before in his life had he felt this way, and it was as though he were seeing, smelling, hearing, and experiencing everything around him for the very first time. With every touch, every kiss, every smile that Aria bestowed upon him, Erik could feel something inside of him spark with warmth and bliss. Was this what love was like? Would he feel this way from now on, whenever Aria was nearby or when she called his name? He had never felt this way about anyone before, not even Christine. Erik bit back a snort of contempt, both for himself and for the young woman he had foolishly called an angel.

Angelic she had appeared, but in truth, Christine had been a fragile, naïve child in a woman's body. Erik knew now that, even if he had somehow managed to keep her with him, he could never, from that day forward, act towards her with anger or exasperation, even if he wanted to. Christine had always had difficulty understanding why someone was upset with her, and with Erik's temper and patience always on short supply, Christine's spirit would have broken within days. The poor young thing would probably never mature enough to understand why she had made him angry, and would likely have drowned herself in tears before he would know how to stop them.

Also, Erik knew that Christine was in possession of a pure spirit that could never thrive in darkness, and that he had been the wrong suitor for her. The Count de Chagny was a good, kind man, even if he was a fop, and Raoul had the patience and the love it would take to coax Christine towards becoming a true adult woman. Hopefully it would be before they had children to raise…

Smiling, Erik looked up at the clock he had set into the wood of the organ and sighed. It was getting late, and was time to sleep. Aria was not the sort to stay up late, and would be departing for her room soon. He would miss her presence, but the knowledge that she was only one hundred feet away comforted him. He would retire later, once the music within his mind was fully played, and those note were sure to help Aria fall into sleep and dreams.

From behind him, Erik listened as Aria yawned, closed her book, set it aside, and rose from the couch. The soft padding of her footsteps arrived at his right arm, and he turned his ravaged cheek towards her, knowing that it didn't bother her. It still amazed him that she could look at him without disgust, and that made him love her even more. Here stood a real angel who did not judge him for his appearance, and instead accepted him, just like any divine being would.

Still playing, Erik smiled up at her, a smile that was quickly and genuinely returned. "Goodnight, Erik," Aria said as she bent down, pressing her lips to the middle of his forehead.

He merely nodded and continued to play as she walked towards her room. He was not angry that she had not kissed the damaged skin, nor did she have reason to suspect that he was angry at her for her course of action. The aloe-infused ointment that he used twice daily had been applied less than an hour ago, and it would not be good for Aria if she were to ingest it somehow by kissing him. She knew this, and therefore never kissed him on the treated skin. Instead, she pressed gentle kisses on the left side of his face or on his forehead after the ointment had been applied.

Finishing his song with a dramatic flourish, Erik cocked his head to the side and listened. No movement could be heard coming through the red velvet curtain that served Aria as a door, so he knew she was asleep. She would not wake until an hour or so after dawn, and by then he had plans to be gone. It had been a few days since his last visit up to the Populaire, and it was always a good idea to keep everyone on their toes, especially when it came to a new production.

Chuckling, Erik cracked his knuckles and began a new piece, one that was a bit softer so that Aria would fall into a more blissful sleep.

Early in the morning, inside the managers' offices, Monsieur Craven was serving drinks and food to his guests. The Count de Chagny and his wife happily accepted the offered tea, and the three sat back in their chairs to think about what could be done to save the young woman imprisoned deep beneath the Opera House.

"We could take a mass of armed men down there," Raoul suggested as he reached for a small pastry full of fruit and coated in frosting. "The Ghost would be no match for so many, if we were to swarm him from all around."

"No," Roland declared in a firm voice. "No, I won't involve anyone armed in this matter. There is the chance that Aria might get caught in the gunfight, and I couldn't bear to lose her in that way."

"Monsieur Craven is right, Raoul," Christine gently told her husband. "It would be horribly ironic to try and rescue Mademoiselle Aria, only to lose her to a stray bullet."

Raoul sighed and shook his head. "Are you certain that Madame Giry will not get involved?" he asked. "It was she who led me down to the cellars and pointed me in the right direction, when I went to save Christine. Could she not be persuaded to join us in this matter?"

A sigh also left Roland's lips. "No, I'm afraid not," he replied. Anyone with ears could hear the disappointment in his voice as he spoke. "I have tried everything to enlist Madame Giry, including bribery, but all I receive is a refusal."

"Then the Phantom must have threatened Meg," Christine softly said, her eyes turned down towards her cup as though talking to herself. "She would not refuse, otherwise."

"There is also the chance that she will not help, as it concerns a young woman she does not really know." Raoul turned to look at his wife. "Madame helped me because you have always been like a daughter to her ever since she brought you to the Populaire after your father died. She raised you, taught you to dance alongside her own birth-child, and supported you. She loves you."

Christine nodded. "For many years, it was just the three of us living together in Madame's rooms," she said. "Madame would never let any harm come to those she loves, but since she does not love or know Aria, she is not willing to risk her life in order to help us."

For a moment, there was silence. Inside, Roland Craven feared for his child, the only one left to him after his wife left him for America. Since the sad day he kissed his son goodbye for the last time, Roland had always been frightened of losing his daughter. He had lost one child, and to lose another would surely kill him. He had always cherished his daughter, and had given her everything he thought she would need to live a privileged life, even if it was alone as an unmarried old maid. With a good education, a loving family, and enough wealth to provide a good dowry for a marriage or a home of her own, Aria had everything she could possibly need in life.

'And now she's gone,' Roland thought, his heart twisting within his chest. 'My precious child…'

Meanwhile, the Count and Countess were lost in their own thoughts, though it all revolved around the being that had caused so much pain and suffering in their lives. Their encounter with the Phantom had left them emotionally and mentally scarred, though the pain was fading with time. The love they had for one another was like a sweet, soothing balm to their hearts, and so Christine and Raoul basked in that love every moment they had together. Society thought them overly affectionate, but since no one else had had their beloved threatened by a madman, their shortsightedness could easily be forgiven.

For several moments, the three conspirators each struggled with their own thoughts and emotions on the situation, all lost within the fear that now gripped their minds and hearts. All of them had their own pain and suffering to struggle with, and not one was less than other. In the end, though, there was still the matter of how to rescue Aria Craven from her cold, hellish prison.

It had been quite early in the morning when he had left the house on the lake, but Erik had been sure to get some rest the night before. Normally he slept quite late, but Erik wanted to be sure that everything was in order for the newest performance currently being pieced together. Carmen was a rather strange choice, but he was very much pleased with it, as it had been some time since it had last been performed at the Populaire.

'Actually, the last time Carmen had been performed was when Carlotta had first arrived here,' Erik reminisced to himself. 'Once the audience had heard her sing in her native Spanish, they thought she was the greatest thing to happen to the Populaire.' He winced. How wrong they had been.

Knowing that the managers' office was the best place to get started, Erik silently slipped through the hidden passages, occasionally peeking out to see who was on the other side or seeing what was going on. Mostly it was workers on their way to their jobs, so he quickly pushed all his concern about that aside, his mind focused on what might possibly be going on inside the main offices.

When he reached the wall that looked into the main seating area, Erik stopped and pulled out the little knot of wood so that he could better hear what was being said. Curiously enough, he heard two males and one female voice inside the room, and all of them were eerily familiar. Looking through the knothole in the wall, Erik nearly cried out in surprise and horror.

'What the hell are that Fop and Christine doing here?' he thought, furious at the sight.

Had they come to taunt him with their happiness and their marriage? Or perhaps they were here for another, far more twisted reason than that. What that other reason might be, he didn't know, but he was certainly not going to let them accomplish it!

"Well, if we aren't going to send any law enforcement or armed men down there, then perhaps I should go down there myself," the Count was saying. "I partially remember the way, and perhaps I would be able to get Mademoiselle Craven back without difficulty."

"Oh, Raoul, no!" cried a heavenly voice that sent stabs of pain throughout Erik's very being. "If you are going down there, then so am I!" There were tears in Christine's eyes as she spoke. "If you were to go down there and not come back…I could not bear to lose you!"

"I am afraid that I don't like the idea, either, Monsieur," stated Monsieur Craven. "If you were to be killed, tour blood would be on my hands, as well as Aria's, and I cannot allow it. Aria would be heartbroken if she were to learn that a rescue attempt meant to save her cost a man his life."

Fuming, Erik put the knot back into place and turned to head back home. They were going to take Aria away from him! It was unfair that there was a force trying to deny him of happiness. Just when he had found a woman who loved him in spite of his face and in spite of everything that he had done, the Fop and his Countess had appeared to try and take it all away from him. He could not allow that to happen…he wouldn't let that happen.

'Aria is mine,' he thought to himself with a snarl. 'She is mine! I will be dead before I let that fool or any other man take her away from me!'

Fortune had smiled upon him the night that he had brought Aria down here, and he had savored every moment he had shared with her. She was his companion, the one who took care of him when so many others had spit or thrown stones at his head. Aria had cooked for him, talked with him, and even laughed with him whenever he managed to gather the courage to tease her about something. She even allowed him to snuggle close to her as she read; never before had he enjoyed reading so much as he did with Aria. How could he possibly let someone come and take that away from him now?

But he would have to keep this matter of Christine and Raoul to himself. Aria knew about Don Juan, and might fear that he would return to Christine when that idea was the furthest from his mind. Worse, she might just try to be noble and attempt to return to the surface in order to spare his life in the event someone came for her. No, this would have to kept secret from her, if only for her own good. He would think of something…after all, he was a genius.

AN: Review!