Meh. This chapter kinda sucks. 'Scuse meh for it.

oo0o0oo

"You what?!"

Tori waved her hands in the air, trying to make her point to Erik, who stood by the piano fumingly the next morning. "I'm aware that you're thinking the same thing that I am, but I-"

Erik snorted and crossed his arms. "But what? You thought it would be 'nice'?"

She dropped her hands in defeat. "I don't know him, Erik. There must be some way to clean up bad blood between Raoul and I."

"What bad blood?" But before Tori could answer to his sarcasm, Erik turned to face the window opposite of where she stood near the door. "Go."

And go Tori did.

All during the carriage ride into the city, Tori sat in silence, mulling over her argument with Erik. Why had she bothered to tell him and cause tension between them so early in their marriage? Worse still, what would have happened if she didn't tell him? Would he have found out? Erik had always had an eerie way of knowing everything and anything that happened, especially with Tori, but that was during their days in the Opera House. Now that they had moved out, living a little over an hour away from their old home, did he have the same sort of knowing that he used to? There was the cemetery, where he had found her regardless...

Finally the carriage shuddered to a stop in front of the Opera. Tori thanked the driver as he helped her step out, and entered, quickly losing herself in the hustle and bustle before practice.

Raoul had said that he would take her to dinner that day, during the small slot of time the actors were alloted for a meal at noon. By then, Tori thought bitterly as she dressed herself, she would have fainted from exhaustion. Everyone who had even stepped in for a performance knew how hectic and uptight things became before opening night, and sometimes the dinner break was nonexistant.

All that morning Tori strutted, leapt, and sung, nonstop. Same songs, repeated for clarity. Same dance routines, brushing away cobwebs. The screaming of Carlotta, the annoyed attitude of the conductor...it was all there. Despite Tori being thankful for the escape, it didn't help her problem any further, only took her mind off of it and put her attention atop a new one as the minutes, then hours, ticked by.

Thankfully, the dinner break came quickly, and Tori stumbled towards the dressing room, wanting some quiet time, which she knew she wouldn't get. The ballet rats were gossiping, giggly and quick as always in their speech. She didn't feel welcome in the flirty and fast-paced atmosphere, alienated from talk of men and routines and dancer life.

She wasn't one of them anymore, she realized sadly. She was commited.

"Did you hear about how many things they found in the cellars?" she overheard one dancer chirp.

"Yes! So many expensive and exotic things...I only wish I had the money!" another replied cheerily.

"Don't be silly, you two! What is down in that musky old hellhole that you could possibly want?!" an older singer chided.

Tori had found something down there, a something that was too protective, and she was attached to that something for the rest of her days. She had wanted it then.

Now she was just being spiteful. She shook her head and rubbed her eyes. Focus, her mind whispered. Focus.

------------------------------------------

"Have you considered anything other than being an actress?"

Tori sipped her coffee quietly. This escape wasn't looking too inviting, either. She avoided Raoul's intense and interested gaze.

"No," she said. "I quite like the Opera. It's my home." She leaned forward and rebounded the question right back at him. "What about you? What do you do for work?"

(Okay, excuse my crappy knowledge here.)

He waved his hand in the air. "My family has enough money to sustain ourselves. I won't need to take the reins for quite a long time."

Tori stared down at her shoes. She wished she could live like that. "I see."

"What do you do in your spare time?"

"I...practice dancing. Singing. Think. Write, if I am feeling creative."

"Ah." Raoul leaned back in his chair, smiling pleasantly. "What manner of writing?"

"Whatever catches my eye, I suppose."

And it went on like that for a long time. Raoul attempted small talk, which Tori returned. He did indeed have a very welcome personality, knowing how to discuss even the most cryptic of topics with someone. He could make you feel very welcome and as if you could tell him anything and he would not turn you away. To her surprise, Tori found herself opening up to him, telling him of the happier days of her childhood, the life of a dancer, singing techniques, and under what different singing professors she had been under (omitting the part about Erik). He did not poke at the subject of who her new spouse was, although she guessed that he probably knew. The time was not uncomfortable, as Tori had imagined, but instead rather pleasant.

Finally Tori and Raoul returned to the Opera house, still talking. Tori wished not to dwell on how to explain or talk to Erik once she got home. There would be ample time to figure that out on the way home.

All during the afternoon, Tori found herself reconnecting with her old life, in spite of all the stress surrounding her and some of the heckling of the ballet rats for her occasional clumsiness.

This was her home.