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

AN: Okay, I know that people are going to want Aria to start smacking people around for taking her away from Erik, but please remember the following: women didn't do that sort of thing very often, and were often repressed. However, our dear leading lady will be acting against the norm of those days, and will shock quite a few people. I hope you'll enjoy the chapter and will review! Thanks!

Chapter 22: Trapped:

Not even a full day back aboveground, and already I felt as though I were going to lose my mind. Father and Uncle Gregory had been hovering over me like worried old nurses, asking me if I needed anything or if I was alright. I finally had to be rude to them and say that I was fine, and to stop fussing over me. Reluctantly, they stopped, but only after I had practically ordered them to go back to work, turning their attention back to where it belonged: overseeing the production of Carmen.

Thus far, I'd been attended to by no less than two or three people at one time. Meg, upon hearing of my return, practically skipped into my room right after her morning ballet rehearsals with her mother. Christine arrived with the petite blond ballerina, since she was such a close friend of Meg's, and the two of them filled my ears with light, nonsensical chatter until lunchtime, much to my annoyance.

Our afternoon meal arrived with Madame Giry in tow, and the three of them started a conversation that left me feeling shut out of their little world. For appearances, they were there to "attend" to my needs; in truth, however, they were using the opportunity to get together in one place and talk about people, places, and private events I didn't know anything about. I was left sitting in my chair, bored out of my mind with a pounding headache forming behind my eyes while they talked.

When the evening hours approached, they finally left without even giving so much as a nod of farewell or apology for taking up so much of my time. Thankfully, I was left alone for the rest of the evening, and was able to enjoy a quiet meal with just myself as company. My father and uncle were busy seeing to the details of the opera, Madame Giry and Meg probably had dance things to see to, and I was sure that Christine was chatting mindlessly with her husband, Raoul.

After my supper dishes were cleared away, I sat down and began composing a letter to Erik. I wished that he would come and see me, but I didn't want us to get caught unawares and in each other's company. Maids and other servants were prone to entering rooms unannounced, especially if I had any unscheduled visitors, so it did not surprise me that Erik did not appear to me once I was alone. Besides, I knew that he probably felt the same way about being discovered, and that we would have to come up with a plan by exchanging secret messages, one of which I composed once I was alone.

It was a brief note, but it would have to do. I could not afford to write something extensive, as anyone could enter the room and catch me writing it. I also couldn't risk the message being seen by any other eyes but Erik's, as that would ruin everything. Instead, I wrote a short note, one that told of my desperate need for the man I loved. I even included his name, since I doubted that anyone besides myself knew it.

Dearest Erik,

Only one day of separation, and I miss you more than anything else in this world. I dare not write a long message for fear of being caught, but I must be sure that you know how much I love you and miss having you near me. Even though I long for a quick rescue, I know that is not possible as of yet, for I have no doubts that my rooms are being watched. I hope that you will give me a sign that you are watching over me and that I may see you soon.

Love, Aria

I quickly sealed the note with a drop of wax and drew a little heart on the corner of the envelope. Smiling at my work, I stood up and pulled a cloak around my shoulders, knowing that the chapel would be cold at this time of day. Quickly, I made my way to the little stone room which served as the Opera House's place of prayer, but I was certain that I was being followed. The footsteps trailing behind me were unknown to my ears, so I did my best to appear calm and collected as I walked from one end of the Populaire to the other.

My heart beating like mad in my chest, I stepped through the doorway of the chapel, the hinges squeaking loudly as I shut it behind me, thankful that I could be able to hear if someone tried to enter. I then went over to the candelabra that Erik had made a point of mentioning and knelt down, wincing as I felt the chill of the stones through the material of my dress. Searching quickly through the portraits, I found the one labeled as Madame Giry's late husband at the end of a line of candles and dropped my gaze to the floor. There, directly underneath the portrait, was a small stone square tile.

Smiling, I bent down and began to fiddle with it. There was no dust on the floor, meaning that the cleaners had been here recently, so there would be no sign that I had disturbed one of the floor stones. Carefully, I managed to wiggle the granite out of its place and saw a wooden box inside of it. The box was small, about the size of my hand, and of simple design, much like what a child would use to store a few small trinkets they had found. In fact, that's what I believed it to be, and for a moment I thought that I had pried up the wrong floor tile…

Until I saw the rose design carved into the wood.

Grinning broadly, I opened the container and looked inside, nearly squealing with glee upon seeing a rolled bit of paper nestled there. I bit back my cries of joy and took out the small rolled piece of parchment, my fingers caressing the black silk ribbon that held it shut. I quickly folded up the envelope that held my note to Erik and put it into the box, shutting the wooden lid and putting it back in the floor, covering it with the stone tile just in time.

Behind me, I could hear someone moving outside the door, so I twisted myself so that I was looking at an image of the Virgin Mary etched in the chapel's stained glass window. Bowing my head as though in reverence, I closed my eyes and clasped my hands together before my breast as though in prayer. The door swung open and I heard someone pause in the doorway, but did not look up to see who it was. The intruder stood there in silence for a moment, then shut the door, their footsteps retreating down the hallway as they walked.

Letting out a quiet sigh of relief, my shoulders sagged just the slightest bit. However, I did not move from my position, instead remaining there for another five minutes so that it did not look like I had been there for something other than prayer. If someone was watching, they would merely think I had been there for a bit of spiritual peace before bed. It was only when my knees were beginning to ache that I decided to leave the chapel with Erik's note tucked up my sleeve.

The walk back to my rooms was like my departure from them, as I could again feel myself being followed. I managed to keep myself calm and collected until I entered my room, locking the door behind me before stripping off my cloak and pulling out Erik's message. My fingers slowly removed the black ribbon and unrolled the parchment, revealing Erik's note to me.

To my surprise, it wasn't a message that involved words. Instead, the paper held a profiled image of me while I was reading a book in Erik's music room. I was seated on the red velvet couch that sat there, and my head was bent over the text I held in my hands. I could see the corner of my mouth pulled up into a small smile and the sparkle of laughter in the eye facing the observer/artist. It was a very sweet and detailed drawing, one that made my breath catch in my throat at the sight of it.

I quickly made a vow to keep all of my notes from Erik safe, and so I searched around until I found a small lock box that I had yet to use. The key was on a small chain that could be worn around the neck, so I quickly opened it and put the drawing inside, locking it securely in its place. I pressed a small kiss to the top of the box and smiled, knowing that I was loved and missed by the man who held my heart.

Pacing back and forth through his house, Erik waited until the midnight hour tolled on the clock above his organ. Midnight signaled the usual time that most Opera House workers were either asleep or drinking themselves to sleep at some sort of party or another. No one would be near the chapel at that time, leaving it open for him to go in and see if Aria had left him anything.

When the clock struck, Erik was up and running, his cloak swirling into place as he ran down the passageways. Thanks to his long-legged speed, he was at the hidden doorway to the chapel in minutes, his fingers prying the hidden eyehole open so that he could see inside. No one was there, and the door was shut tight to prevent animals from getting inside and upsetting the candles. Smiling, Erik slowly opened the door and peeked inside.

Still nothing. Good. In a few quick strides, he was at the loose stone and prying it up. There was the box, and with a flick of his fingers, it was open and revealing its treasures to him. There was a folded envelope there, and Erik gently picked it up with gloved fingers before returning the box to its place. Aria had gotten the carefully made drawing he had made of her, and now he would see what she had to say to him. If he was quick, he would have a reply back before supper tomorrow night.

Tucking the envelope into his vest pocket, he replaced both box and stone before heading back towards his home.

I woke my second day aboveground feeling comforted in the fact that Erik missed me and loved me in my absence. For some reason, I felt as though I were only temporarily apart from him, much like when a wife leaves a husband because she is obliged to go and visit her family. I knew that I would not be here for long, and that I would soon be returning to the arms of the man I loved.

'Of course, convincing Papa and Uncle that I am truly in love with the Opera Ghost is another matter entirely,' I thought as I rolled over in bed.

I got up and washed my face and neck, then dressed in a white gown that I had brought with me from England. It was a simple dress with dark green trim along its many white ruffles in the skirt, as well as green ribbon on the bodice and sleeves. I added a cameo broach at my throat for a bit of simple elegance. After that, my breakfast was brought to me, and my happy time of quiet was over.

With the arrival of my morning meal came the Countess Christine de Chagny, Meg Giry, and Madame Giry. All three arrived unannounced and all of them sat down and began chattering, exactly as they had the day before. While they talked about the latest fashions, social gossip, and other pointless things, I managed to keep myself occupied by eating the pastries on the breakfast tray and drinking the wonderful Chinese teas that the serving maid had brought.

However, eating and drinking could only occupy me for so long, and when the meal tray was gone, I was left with three chatty women who were all ignoring me as though I weren't even there. Of course, there was the option that they thought of me as an audience and observer to their chats, but I was not amused by them or what they had to say to one another. In fact, I was growing angrier by the minute, and didn't want them here any more than my grandmother wanted filthy animals wandering through her house.

Finally, after putting up with three women who were driving me insane with boredom, I stood up and ordered them out of my room, telling them that if they wanted to chatter like a bunch of squirrels, they could do it somewhere else. They looked shocked at my rudeness, and Madame tried to protest, but I would have none of it. I was tired of having them about and treating me as though I weren't in the room, a room which happened to be my very own.

"As much as I respect you, Madame Giry, I'm afraid that listening to the three of you talk around me as though I am not here is far ruder than my throwing you out for being rude in the first place," I snapped. "I do not appreciate having my rooms invaded upon in this manner. If you and your daughter wish to talk to the Countess, you may do so in your own rooms or elsewhere. Now, if you please, leave."

The three of them sat there in shock for several moments, almost as though they could not believe what they were hearing. An entire minute passed, and I had to restrain myself from rolling my eyes in annoyance as I emphasized my point by pointing towards the doorway. Madame was the first to stand, her grey eyes snapping to meet mine.

"I had thought that a family such as yours would have taught you manners," she stated in a cold voice. "It appears I was wrong."

My own eyes narrowed. I would not be talked to in such a way. "Yes, you are wrong," I said, my voice as icy as hers. "In fact, it is because of the good manners taught to me by my family which prevented me from throwing you and your girls out of my rooms yesterday."

While Christine and Meg started at me, horrified at my defying the feared ballet mistress, I continued on. "Furthermore, I do no appreciate you barging into my rooms as though they were your own. Nor do I like having nonsense such as gossip and fashion being spoken of so frequently. I am a young woman who likes intelligent conversation; if you wish to enter my rooms again, please educate yourself in more substantial topics than what I have already heard."

Complete silence filled the room as Madame Giry looked me in the eye, our gazes clashing: my brown eyes against her grey. I heard Meg and Christine quietly leave the room, breaking into a run the moment they were safely in the hallway. Madame and I stood there for another moment before I saw the corners of her eyes crinkle in amusement. I could resist blinking in surprise.

"You have spirit," she said, a smile pulling at the corners of her stern mouth. "Had you been a dancer, you would have gone far in my corps."

I stood there in surprise. Was she happy that I had stood up to her? "I'm sorry?" I blurted out, my voice full of confusion.

Madame smiled, just the slightest bit. "You are right; we had no right to intrude on you, and I would not have done so, had it not been for your father and my two girls, Meg and Christine. Your father asked me to look in on you, and my girls insisted on coming with me. I hope you will excuse their childishness and need for talk; it is all they have ever known in the Opera House, and the girl's dormitories here are hardly the ideal place to learn the manners that you are so accustomed to."

Giving me one last look of amusement, she turned and left, leaving me standing there, gaping, in the center of my room.

'The girl has courage,' Antoinette thought to herself as she walked towards her small suite of rooms. She knew that Christine and Meg were already there, since the ballet mistress's rooms were the only place where the three of them could talk privately.

Yes, Aria Craven had courage, as well as a stronger, bolder spirit than either Meg or Christine. As a widow, Madame Giry had been forced to raise the two girls alone, all while trying to provide a good life for the three of them. As much as she tried not to blame herself for the girls turning out the way they did, Antoinette knew that she had not been there as much as she should have. After all, her work with the corps de ballet had been (and still was) a demanding job, one which required much of her attention and firm discipline. In the end, Madame had been forced to choose her work over her children, just so the three of them could eat and have shelter.

The result of Antoinette's sacrifices resulted in Meg and Christine having only each other as the true constant companions in their lives. Without a real mothering figure to help them grow emotionally and mentally, both girls had grown up as innocent and sweet as girls could be. As much as Antoinette loved her girls, it was rather refreshing being confronted by someone of a more mature nature. Aria Craven had spirit, and an intelligent mind as well.

'She will go far,' Madame thought to herself as she entered her rooms. 'And she is not greedy, childlike, innocent, or naïve. Because she is smart, bold, and thoughtful, she may, in fact, be able to do what no other woman has been able to do.'

In her heart, Antoinette knew that Aria Craven just might be the one to tame the heart of a Ghost.

Lunch time came and went, and just as I was about to go into Paris for a walk, my father came to visit. From the look on his face, he was not very pleased with me. I put down my parasol, took off my hat and gloves, set them all aside, and sat on the couch, waiting for the lecture that I knew was coming. It was a well-rehearsed action, since Papa and I always went through the same motions every time he was displeased with me, so I patiently sat and waited for him to make the first move.

"Aria," my father finally said, his voice full of exasperation and a touch of annoyance, the same tone he used every time he was displeased with me. "Aria, I have heard that you turned not only Meg and Madame Giry out of your room, but also the Countess de Chagny. What is the meaning of this rude course of action of yours? Have you no respect for others?"

I bit back a sigh, as I knew it would only anger him further. "Papa, you know that I would never treat anyone with anything less than the respect they deserve," I said, keeping my reply as truthful as possible, but wondering if he would be able to see between my words and into my actual thoughts on my uninvited visitors.

My father stood there for a moment, obviously contemplating me, my words, and their meaning. After a moment, his eyes narrowed slightly. "And what manner of respect do you think Madame Giry and the Countess deserve?" he asked while looking down at me from his standing position.

A true smile found itself to my lips. "Well, I happen to think of Madame Giry in the highest regard," I replied. "In fact, she did not mind my asking her to leave, and actually smiled at me as she left."

"And the Countess?" Father asked, his arms crossed over his chest.

Now I did sigh. "Father, I have absolutely no interest in becoming friends with the Countess de Chagny," I said, putting my opinion out for him to see.

"Aria, the Countess if of our society, and is well-connected with the French aristocracy," Father said as he sat down across from me. "She is a dear young woman, and I am sure that you could be friends if you truly made the effort to do so."

I winced at the thought of actually trying to become Christine's friend. "Father, even if she is of our level of society and is as connected as you say she is, Christine de Chagny has not had the sort of education that my cousins and I have had," I said, shaking my head. "She is not as well-developed in mind, heart, or spirit as we are. Instead, she is hopelessly naïve and innocent, and to be honest, I just cannot stand the topics of conversation that she so enjoys."

Father rose from his chair, his blue-grey eyes still focused on me. "Christine is a young woman of good manners and behavior. She is graceful, charming, and a joy to be with. She practically lights up a room when she smiles! Why would you not want to be friends with a young woman like that?"

"Because the Countess does not have one single decent thought in her head!" I cried, jumping from my chair. "She talks of frivolous things, like fashion, gossip, and who is marrying who! You above all people know that I cannot abide those who have nothing intellectual to talk about."

"She is young and will learn those things," Father replied. "As you said, Christine has not had the upbringing that you have, and I am sure that you can provide as good example to her as she to you."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "She is as old as I am, and yet she has learned nothing," I retorted angrily. "I will teach her nothing, as she has nothing to teach me. If you wish for me to be a naïve simpleton of a child, then you would be the fool, not me."

For a moment, my father looked at me as though he had never seen me before. "Aria, what has happened to you?" he said, his voice soft. "You have changed…you are no longer the dear girl you were before all of this. What has the Ghost done to you to make you so defiant of me?"

"Don't you dare accuse him of anything," I hissed, my arms dropping to my side in fists, clenched tightly in anger. "He has been nothing but good and kind to me, and I could never repay him for all of the wonderful things I have experienced in his home."

"My God," Father said, his eyes studying me intensely. "You make it sound like you want to go back to him! Aria, that is insane!"

For a moment, I felt anger race through me. I couldn't believe that my father asked me to be friends with the Countess and learn to try and be more like her. However, I refused to be that hopelessly childish for the rest of my life. The last thing I wanted to was to lose all interest in the world around me and end up having a husband who would have to shelter me from everything I should be able to see and experience for myself.

But in spite of my anger, I was terrified of my father's claim that I was insane. The last place I wanted to be was an asylum, as I would never be able to escape from there as long as I lived. Erik would not be able to save me, and we would be separated from each other forever. I could not bear that, so in my anger and terror, I turned and fled, heading for the one room in the Opera House that could offer me hope when I needed it the most: the chapel.

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