Disclaimer: Nope, don't own Phantom of the Opera. (looks around) Erik, get back in the closet before someone finds you! (looks back at readers) Nope, don't own Erik at all…

AN: Yes, Aria is with the Fop and the Twit, heading up towards her family. I know lots of people will be mad, but I love a good conflict, don't you? Enjoy the chapter, and please review!

Chapter 21: Home Again:

The walk upwards was strained, to say the least. The Count was behind me, and the Countess was practically dragging me along behind her like a rag doll. She was also chattering softly to me, as though filling the air with sound would keep any danger at bay. I was just beginning to get annoyed when we stopped before what appeared to be a doorway leading into the Prima Donna's room.

'So this is how he managed to get me out of my bedroom!' I thought, very impressed with Erik's ingenuity. I doubt that such a thing existed anywhere but here in the Opera Populaire.

I watched as the door opened and was quickly pulled though the opening by the Countess. Once Raoul had stepped in behind me, I turned around, watching in surprise as the doorway became a mirror. It was a brilliant design, and at least now I knew how to get out of here, if I had to.

"We'll have to ask Monsieur Craven to block up that doorway," Raoul was saying as he tucked away his weapons. "We can't have the Ghost sneaking in here and trying to steal you away again."

"Oh, for Heaven's sakes!" I muttered, pulling my hand away from Christine and backing away from the two of them.

I wanted to say more, perhaps throw a few insults at the people who had taken me from Erik's arms, but the real entry door to the room opened, and in walked Madame Giry. The ballet mistress gave us a stunned look before rushing over to Christine and pulling her into a tight hug.

"Oh, thank goodness!" she exclaimed, pulling back from the former diva with a smile. "I'd heard that you were here at the Populaire, and when you did not show up at the managers' offices or at my rooms, I'd feared the worst!"

Christine gave her foster mother and former instructor a bright smile. "We're safe and sound, Madame, do not worry. See? We've brought Aria Craven back from the depths of the Opera House!"

Madame turned and looked at me. For a moment, her stern gaze examined me intensely, so much so that I felt like an insect being studied. I watched as Madame's eyes looked me over from head-to-toe until she finally looked away, apparently satisfied with my appearance. I was puzzled at her behavior, but said nothing while she turned her attention back towards her former charge.

"Well, at least you are all well," Madame stated. Her eyes now turned towards Raoul. "Monsieur, it would probably be best if you went to the main offices and informed Monsieur Craven that his daughter has returned."

Raoul gave a formal bow. "As you wish, Madame," he said. "Christine, would you accompany me? I'm sure that Madame can look after Mademoiselle Craven while we speak with her father."

Christine gave him a beaming smile before walking over and taking his hand. In seconds, the two immediately left the room, leaving me behind with my new caretaker. There was a brief, uncomfortable silence as we both stood there in the middle of the room, trying to look at each other out of the corners of our eyes. As one, we both took a step closer to the chairs, I myself picking the one closest to me so that I could sit and fiddle with my skirt. While fidgeting with my dress, I could feel her eyes studying me once more, almost as though she were trying to look into my heart and soul in an attempt to see if I was hiding anything from her.

"You did not wish to return," Madame said in a clipped voice.

I looked up at her in surprise. "I'm sorry?" I blurted out, confused at the question.

"I said that you did not wish to return here," she waved her hand around. "You did not want to come back to the Populaire, to your rooms, to your family. Why?"

My chin tilted upwards in defiance of anything she might say or accuse me of. "That is none of your business," I retorted, turning away from her.

Besides, how could she understand what I was going through? How could she possibly understand that I was in love with the man who had burned down the Opera House, extorted money from its managers, and even committed murder in front of live audiences? Even if I wanted to tell her, I wouldn't; she would have me sent to the mental asylum, and Lord knows that there's no escape from there once you're sent in!

"It is my business," Madame snapped back at me. "Do you know what he is?"

I flippantly waved my hand in a dismissing gesture. "Yes, yes, murderer, extortionist, arsonist, etc, etc, etc," I said, my tone uncaring as I looked over and saw Madame's shocked face.

"You do not care?" she said, her voice soft. "You do not care what he has done to others and that he must pay for it?"

Now I was getting angry. "Despite what you might think of me, Madame, I am not some naïve child like Christine Daae," I snapped. "I know what he's done, and I do not care, simply because of the fact that he did those things because he has been deprived of love, kindness and understanding. It is because of his face, and because society will not accept him for the genius that he is, that the poor man has been forced to live the life of a criminal. Therefore I blame everyone else in the world but him."

'I will accept him for the man that he is and the good man that he wants to be, whether she believes me or not.' I held my head up, looking down upon a woman most considered intimidating, a woman that was a driving force within the Opera Populaire.

It looked as though Madame wished to reply to my words, but was unable to do so, since at that very moment my father came flying in through the door.

Roland whirled around as the door to his office flew open and in rushed Raoul and Christine de Chagny. Normally, he would have been either annoyed or alarmed at the sight of the pair rushing in on him, but the broad smiles on their faces spoke volumes. Hopefully he was reading them correctly in what they were trying to tell them with their facial expressions.

"You've rescued her?" he breathed. "You've brought my daughter back to me?"

"Yes, Monsieur," Raoul declared with a broad smile. "Your daughter is home, safe and sound."

"She is in the Prima Donna's rooms," Christine said, a lovely, joyful smile on her glowing face.

Not bothering to reply, Roland was rushing out the door and up towards the main dressing rooms, his heart beating in his chest. Aria was finally home where she belonged. Who knew what sort of horrors his poor daughter had suffered at the hands of that madman?

'Perhaps I should move her out of the Opera House?' he thought as he ran down the hallways.

No, Aria would never forgive him if he did that. She loved the Populaire with all her heart, and was such a lover of music that he doubted that she would want to leave. However, she might be persuaded to change her mind, and if she agreed to it, he would buy a separate house in Paris and move them both into it. Besides, he highly doubted that the Ghost would leave the Opera House he haunted.

'Well, we'll save that for later,' he thought as he arrived at the Prima Donna's rooms.

Grinning, Roland burst inside, his heart soaring at the sight of his daughter. Rushing forward, he lifted Aria from her chair and enveloped her in a tight embrace. He was relieved to feel that she looked very well and healthy, since no ribs could be felt through her clothes. She had been well-fed, at least, and that was a blessing. The Ghost hadn't tortured her with starvation and thirst.

Pulling away, Roland looked down at Aria and studied her. She was dressed in a lovely red gown, and had a white-and-gold silk shawl about her shoulders. Apparently the Ghost had used his stolen funds in order to provide a wardrobe befitting a young woman of Aria's social status. The scent of roses lingered in the air about her, and Roland suspected that it was a perfume of some sort.

'But why would he give her something as costly as perfume?' he wondered before pushing the thought aside.

Well, it didn't matter. For whatever twisted reasons the Ghost had for giving Aria gifts, Roland was sure that it was only to make her believe that her imprisonment was anything but that. Now that she was safely home, they could put this whole mess behind them. Hopefully she would agree to live somewhere other than the Opera House, someplace that was safely away from the ominous reach of the Phantom!

'Perhaps Christine de Chagny could help persuade her. After all, she already knows all about the dangers, and she might have an easier time convincing Aria to leave the Populaire.' Roland looked down at his daughter, who was gazing back at him with serious brown eyes. 'Besides, Christine is a Countess, and Aria could benefit from a friendship with such a good role model.'

Smiling, Roland reached up and pressed his palms to his daughter's face.

Looking into my father's blue eyes, I could tell that he was planning something that wasn't going to make me happy. He always got this determined look whenever he thought of something that would be 'for the best,' or something he thought would 'do me good,' and he always brought it up at the worst possible time. I was currently not in the mood to hear what he had to say or recommend, but I could see that he was going to tell me, nonetheless.

"Aria, I've been thinking…." Father began, a concerned and focused look on his face.

'Oh, dear.' I inwardly winced, knowing instantly what would come next.

"Aria, I believe it would be best if you left the Populaire," Papa said, his eyes filled with worry as he looked at me. "I would feel better if I knew that you were no longer at risk of being kidnapped in the middle of the night from your room."

For a moment, I felt terribly guilty. When I had been with Erik, all of my troubles had vanished to the point where I no longer thought about them. I had not thought about my father or what he had been suffering through the entire time I had been down in the caverns. Had I been selfish in forgetting those who worried about me and my life while I was gone? Had I become a bad person in my time away from my family?

In the meantime, my father had still been talking while I had been lost in my thoughts, and I had missed most of what he had speaking of. What he said next, though, made me want to retch.

"Furthermore, I think that you would benefit greatly from the friendship you could forge with the Countess," Father was saying, his face beaming with joy at the prospect of being friends with a French aristocratic family.

I barely bit back a snort of contempt at the idea. There was no possible way I was going to become friends with the woman who had broken Erik's heart and left him in torment. Besides, the Countess possessed the mentality of one of my little cousins: hopelessly innocent and naïve, and if you wanted to distract her, you could probably do it with some shiny new toy or trinket.

'Oh, now, that was cruel of me,' I chided myself, even though I was smiling on the inside.

It was still amusing, though, as horrible as it was for me to think it. Of course, I would not say any of my thoughts out loud, since they would anger my father, but if he tried to throw the Countess de Chagny and myself together as friends, I would be making life very difficult for her. I did not like Christine, and I highly doubted that anything would change my mind on the matter.

'Unless she grew a mind of her own and apologized to Erik for what she did to him,' I reasoned. 'If she did that, I might possibly consider the idea of forgiving her, just a little.'

"Aria, are you listening to me?" my father demanded.

Pulling my attention back to the present, I gave him the most sincere and apologetic smile I could muster. "I'm sorry, Papa," I said, my shoulders sagging in an exaggerated manner. "I'm afraid that I am rather tired right now. Would you mind if I got some rest and spoke to you tomorrow morning?"

I heard my father step back from me and run to the cord that would summon a maid to us. In minutes, the maid had arrived and received instructions from my father, most of which were orders to do everything I asked and to make me comfortable. The maid curtseyed and went to ready me a bath, which Papa believed I needed and which I did not argue against.

In less than twenty minutes, I was settled in a hot bath and left alone with my thoughts, the steam from the hot water clearing my head. The soap that had been added to scent the water was crisp and intense, relaxing my mind and body at the same time. Leaning back in the tub, I relished the feel of the water as I tried to think of a way to out of this mess and back to Erik's home.

Something was wrong. She could feel it in the air, and if there was one thing that Antoinette Giry could detect, it was when something was wrong in the Opera House. The return of Mademoiselle Aria Craven to her father should have been a joyous occasion, but it wasn't.

'Well, Monsieur Craven was happy enough,' Madame thought to herself. 'He ordered several large casks of wine to be brought to the Populaire so that everyone could celebrate her return to us.'

Of course, the employees of the Populaire had no idea just where Aria Craven had returned from. Madame knew that the girl had been kidnapped by the Phantom, but the other workers thought that the girl had merely been in England with her grandmother this whole time. No one but Roland and Aria Craven, the de Chagnys, and Madame Giry herself knew where the young woman had been for the past two months.

'And yet, despite all that she has been through, Mademoiselle Craven does not appear to be happy to be home.'

That was very odd indeed. Christine had looked beyond ecstatic at escaping the Phantom's lair, as had Raoul. Why was it that Aria Craven did not have the same air of joy and relief at being brought back home to those who loved her?

'It makes no sense at all,' Antoinette thought as she returned to her rooms, slipping past giggling cleaning maids and drunken stagehands as she walked.

The two Cravens had forgotten her presence in the room, so before the serving maid had arrived, Madame had taken careful note of their reactions. Roland Craven was beyond happy at having his daughter back, that was perfectly clear. He had reacted like any other father would when his missing child came home: hugs, affectionate glances, and the ordering of servants to make his daughter happy and comfortable after her ordeal. It was Aria that Madame was actually worried about...

As a lifelong student of dance, as well as a ballet instructor, Madame Giry possessed the skill of reading body language. With this skill, she could make her students tell a story and show emotion through dance, hopefully in a way that the audience could see. And since she knew so much about the way a person should respond to a welcoming hug, Madame was shocked at the manner in which Aria had reacted to her father's embrace.

She shook her head and entered her rooms, frowning in thought. What could possibly make that girl so cold to the reception her father had given her? Christine would have been thrilled to have her father standing there with open arms of welcome, and yet Aria didn't even bat an eye. In fact, Aria seemed to not want to be there in the first place!

'That's absurd,' Antoinette thought with a shake of her head, then stopped.

But what if it was true? What if Aria truly did not want to be back home with her father? What if she had wanted to stay down in the caverns with the Phantom? But why would she want to stay down there in the first place? Had the Ghost made any threats, declaring that if Aria did not stay with him, he would hunt down her family and destroy them? Could that be the reason?

'No, that could not be it,' Madame thought as she went to her dressing table and sat down, her eyes focused on her reflection as she lost herself in contemplation. 'The only other possibility is…'

No. It was not possible. That man was not capable of that particular emotion. Hate, anger, aggression, obsession and a dozen other dark emotions were more his forte than the one he had demanded of Christine five years ago. There was one emotion he longed to have, but could not experience, and that was love. The Opera Ghost cannot love. It was not possible…was it?

She would have to find out, one way or another. If not to ease her mind, then to at least help Aria Craven, for if she could learn to love a Ghost and get him to love her, then she was certainly worth helping.

AN: Yay, Madame Giry's going to help out Aria and Erik (in her own way). Please review!